Chapter 58
chapter fifty-eight
Audrey
Today's vocabulary word: instigate
My stomach was a swirling cauldron of stress and anxiety and pure, uncut rage.
It simmered the entire trip to my parents' house in the Hamptons, so much that my heart thudded in my chest and my jaw ached from clenching.
I wanted to press a finger to the place where it twisted inside me, to hold it down and suffocate the strength from it.
I might've been able to do that if not for the prenuptial agreement that'd been delivered to my door this morning.
Silly me to think I'd seen the last of Brecken Wilhamsen. For another woman living another life, he'd probably make for a thoroughly adequate husband. Hell, there was a time when I was that different woman and I would've taught myself how to be content with him. But I wasn't her anymore.
I knew it wouldn't make me any less swirly and stressy but I opened my phone and went to the link Jude sent last night when he'd arrived in Saginaw, one with all our missing messages. It opened on that day, the one where it'd all fallen apart.
Audrey,
What the hell is going on? Why aren't you answering your phone?
Call me. I'm freaking out over here.
j
Audrey,
I don't know what the fuck is happening but Cassidy said you changed your mind about Barnard and decided to go to Pepperdine instead? I don't trust her and I'm not going to believe it until I hear it from you.
Love you,
j
Audrey,
It scares me that you haven't responded to any of these messages or texts or calls.
This feels like one of your dad's power moves and I don't like any of it.
Please call me. I don't care what's going on, I just need to know you're okay.
Love you.
j
Audrey,
Everyone's saying you wanted a change but you never said anything to me.
Tell me what's happening. Tell me anything. Please. Even if it's that you don't want to talk to me, tell me that.
Love,
j
Audrey,
I love you. I miss you. I'm really nervous that something's wrong and I don't know how to fix it. Please respond.
Love,
j
Audrey,
I'm at Columbia now. Mom moved me in this morning. She cried for an hour and made me pose for photos all over the damn place.
I don't know how to be here with you. It feels wrong.
I still love you, even if you won't talk to me. I always will.
j
Audrey,
Can you just tell me what happened? I need to know what I did or what changed for you.
I'll leave you alone if that's what you want but I need to hear you say that. I'm going to keep writing to you every day until you do.
Love,
j
Audrey,
Did you really think you could just leave town and I'd forget about you? That's not us. That's not how we do it, princess.
I'm going to see about transferring to Caltech for the spring semester. If you're going to ignore me, you can at least do it in person.
Love you, you beautiful pain in my ass.
j
Audrey,
Yeah, I was drunk when I sent that last message but I stand behind it. You're beautiful. And a pain in my ass.
Also, Caltech won't take me until next fall so I'm fucking stuck here.
It would really, really help if you could send some proof of life. If I'm not careful, I'll spiral and convince myself you're locked in a basement somewhere.
Promise me you're not locked in a basement.
Love you,
j
He did lock you in a basement, didn't he? That's why you won't answer me. You're literally being held in a fucking dungeon. It's the only thing that makes sense.
I've always known he was a cruel bastard but this is unreal. I should've realized Cassidy was a co-conspirator.
I don't know what to do but I'll figure something out.
I love you. We'll fix this.
j
Audrey,
The ring came today.
It's yours. You didn't need to give it back.
I guess you're not locked in a basement.
By the way, you said a lot of shit in that note. I'll believe it when you say it to my face.
Love you regardless of your bullshit,
j
I had to press a hand to my mouth to keep a sob from breaking free. I didn't think I could handle much more of his anguish. I swiped all the way to the end, to the last message.
Audrey,
My mom sent me your engagement announcement today.
Maybe I'm fooling myself but I still don't get it. I've spent four years trying to figure it out and I just don't understand any of it. This isn't who you are and I refuse to believe you woke up one morning and threw away the person I've always known you to be.
I don't know if you're reading this. One of the theories I've nurtured since the start of your disappearing act is that you've had me blocked or muted for years, and I'm just screaming into cyberspace.
But if you are reading this and you need help, I'll do anything I can.
I don't care how long it's been or what's changed between us. I'll always be there for you.
I think I should probably stop writing to you now.
Jude
I didn't like being the person ugly-crying on public transit, but here I was, tears streaming down my face while I loudly sniffled. Mortifying. Yet I couldn't bring myself to tighten the laces on these emotions.
I tried to rehearse what I'd say, but nothing came to me. As much as I wanted to—needed to—I couldn't call up the words. I was terrified I'd walk in there and have…nothing. That I'd cower from the confrontation like usual. That, once again, I'd make the worst choices when it meant the most.
It turned out that I didn't need to worry about any of that.
As I stepped inside my parents' home, I noticed an ornate ship in a bottle displayed on a hall table. It was made to look old, an antique, but like everything else here, it was fake and soulless.
I knocked it off the table.
A housekeeper came running at the sound of shattering glass. When she skidded to a halt, I said, "Make sure they know it was me."
With a nod, she motioned toward the backyard. I let myself believe that tip came from a place of solidarity even though it probably had more to do with the fact I walked in here and started breaking shit, and she didn't want any part of that.
I pushed a large vase to the edge of a table and grinned when it crashed as I strolled out toward the flagstone patio.
My mother was seated near the pool under a massive umbrella, a tablet in her lap and several newspapers fanned out on the table.
A tray with half a grapefruit and an empty glass streaked with swampy green debris was parked off to the side.
My father stood at the edge of the yard, a golf club in hand as he surveyed the balls scattered in the grass.
Neither noticed me and I decided that was a good thing. I was the one in control this time. Calm clarity settled over me like I'd finally found the eye of my hurricane.
"I know what you did," I said. "When you sent me to California. I know everything."
My mother startled in her seat, a hand fluttering to her chest. "What in the world? Audrey? What are you doing here?"
No, there was nothing orderly about this conversation and I wanted it that way.
If I'd thought it would help, I would've built a slide deck and clicked through a bullet-pointed presentation.
But I couldn't rely on reason with people who hacked email accounts and filed bullshit restraining orders.
People who believed quite earnestly that marrying me off to Chris had been a good idea.
It wasn't like they'd hear my concerns and acknowledge the harm done.
Breaking shit and yelling was the only option.
"I'm not going to bother asking why you did it," I said. "But believe me when I say this is the end."
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, turning back to her tablet, "but I won't tolerate you storming in here like this and creating a scene."
I gestured to the space, empty save for my father. "You're the one making the scene."
"Cassidy is here for the week and she's on the beach with the children," she said. "They don't need to come up here and find you in the middle of a breakdown."
"All I'm doing is asking you to explain the shit you pulled when you shipped me off to Pepperdine."
"Would you listen to yourself? You're hysterical. You sound like you've lost your mind," she said. "Go inside and get a drink. I'll talk to you when you're thinking clearly again."
The shrill cut of her words must've gained my father's attention because he ambled across the yard, the putter loose in his grip. "When did you get here?"
That was his version of a warm greeting.
"She's having one of her tantrums again," my mother said to him. "She's speaking in riddles and nonsense. She's going to make herself sick if she doesn't calm down."
"I'm perfectly calm," I said, "but I'm not leaving here without some answers."
"If this is about Wilhamsen, I've already looked over the documents. You'll sign them," he said. "No arguments."
He eyed me with resentment so thick and profound that I could taste it in the back of my throat.
Now that I saw it from this distance, I knew it'd always been this way.
I'd put everything into being right, being good enough—and for what?
Because this wasn't family. It wasn't love.
And I'd let myself linger in this sodden place too long.
"Please don't tell me that lowlife is back," my mother said. "After everything we did to protect you from him? What could he possibly want from you now?"
"Can you hear yourself? Do you hear what you're saying to me?
" When she only turned an impatient glare in my direction, I clapped my hands together and barreled ahead.
"I'll simplify it for you. I know about the emails you blocked, about the forged note you sent with the ring you hid from me, and I know about the restraining order. Explain."
My mother went back to aggressively swiping her tablet. "I don't know which ring you're talking about."
"But the emails and the restraining order? That rings some bells?" I asked.
"It's ancient history," my father said, lolling the club back and forth.