7. Chapter 7
seven
W ounded beasts rarely led to reasonable conversations, and Chris was as sullen as they came. Annie regretted even picking up the phone when he’d called the next afternoon.
“Sure things aren’t amazing,” he gushed , “and we’re both feelin’ neglected… We can work this out, babe. We’ve always made it work.”
Annie clutched her phone and scooted further down into the family room couch. “I’ll get my things soon,” she said. “You don’t have to pack for me… But if you could save some boxes–”
“I love you, Annie, very much. So goddamn much. Nobody understands me like you do. Just tell me what even started this.”
“I… I know we both want the best for each other, and I don’t think that’s each other. ”
“I don’t understand... Look. I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear?”
She bit the inside of her cheek. “And...?”
“...And... What? I said sorry.”
“For what? Say for what.” Asking for a real apology was a waste of breath.
Demanding that he stop partying was pointless.
“N-nevermind. I don’t blame you for our differences, but I should’ve known that a…
people person… wasn’t going to be my best match.
That’s unfair to you. I’m sorry for making you worry. ”
“You still won’t tell me where you are,” he replied dully.
Something terrible stirred in Annie’s gut.
“Hell no, don’t tell him where you are!” Serene Hallowbrew said, fists on her hips. "Boy doesn’t deserve to act like a knight in shining armor when he keeps getting too smashed to stay on his white steed.”
“Annie, you can’t leave. Come home. We can talk–”
“I getting off the phone now,” Annie mumbled, staring into space. “We’re done.”
“Wait, An—!”
She ended the call. Two seconds later, he was already texting her.
I’m scared I’m losing you. I think this is one big misunderstanding. You can continue down this path alone, or we can have an amazing life together. Luv you. (sent at 6:44 pm)
She felt dizzy as a sob escaped her. She’d been upset these last few days, but not bawl-your-eyes-out-like-a-toddler upset. Maybe her heart just hadn’t caught up with her brain. Taking off her glasses, she wiped her face before she texted Molly.
I broke up with him. Officially. He’s putting up a fight but I'm so done. (sent at 7:04 pm)
Molly replied after a few minutes.
Not surprised. He’s allowed to be upset. You are too. He's bothering you? (sent at 7:07 pm)
A bit (sent at 7:07 pm)
A lot actually (sent at 7:07 pm)
Let me or Peter know if you need anything. (sent at 7:08 pm)
In her heart she knew she’d be forever sensitized to anyone drinking, but it wasn’t up to her to police their behavior and stop their fun. She’d grown up with someone in the thralls of drunkenness. They hadn’t.
A memory from half a lifetime ago resurfaced.
“Love yourself,” Mom said out of the blue, more miserable than usual. “Men will always put their vices first.” Two weeks later, Mom had run away from home.
More memories followed like a flood. Little snippets that ran together…
“I didn’t think much of his drinking. At first… Things don’t work themselves out… I wish the happy times with your dad lasted longer… Women who stay with an abuser can be too stupid for their own good… You have to let go and run… Run if a man ever treats you like your dad treats me…”
Furious, with tears rolling down her cheeks, she shot Chris a text.
It’s the parties! It’s all your drinking. It’s a lot, and it’s escalating to a point I’m uncomfortable with. I think you’re an alcoholic. I can’t be around someone like that. You should know that. I’m not coming home. We really are done. (sent at 7:14 pm)
Shaking, she watched the text-dot bounce dance of doom.
What? You don’t even come to my parties half the time.
Don’t be judgmental of what i do with my free time.
How could you fucking say that tome. Of course it looks like a lot u never drnk.
I knew u hated it but r u really calling me an alcoohlic now?
??! That’s messed up. I willing to do whatever it takes to get u to come home, but that really hurts.
I was considering couple’s counseling. I think it would help us both. (sent at 7:25 pm)
I feel like my observations are sound. I'm not going to counseling with you. I'm sorry. (sent at 7:30 pm)
U r letting your childhood dictate to much. It's like you're brainwashed. And I thought you knew me better. You're overreacting. Sorry I'm not mr perfect. (sent at 7:33 pm)
W hat a mess. Blood drained from her face. She just wanted this to be over. Her hands shook and she could hardly type out her reply.
I’ll talk to you later. I’m sorry. (sent at 7:33 pm)
Annie lost track of time while she stared into space. Thankfully, Chris had the sense to shut up. She took one of the deepest breaths she’d taken in what felt like ages, triggering a fresh batch of tears to erupt from her puffy eyes.
What could she do more if he was blind to how things were? Nothing.
"It's like you're brainwashed..."
That stung.
For someone who was feeling so neglected lately, Chris sure hadn’t sent much attention her way, either. Almost more than not, he’d come home late from work, giving them just enough time to make the essential chitchat, before falling asleep.
When he’s not forcing us to stay out partying all night...
Annie picked at a hangnail. She realized then that she’d all but given up on begging him to stay in with her and find a movie to watch, or to at least let her stay back so that he could enjoy his friends alone. An argument from months prior emerged from her memory hole .
“That’s depressing. We’re not staying home.”
“But I just want—”
“You act like an old woman sometimes, Annie.”
Annie’s face flushed hot.
“That’s right. Get mad, poppet. Get furious,” Serene Hallowbrew whispered. “He acts like a teenager. Someone could take a switch to his behind, take the boy down a peg. He’s no man.”
Realizing that ruminating wasn’t spinning her any favors, even in the lonely company of Serene, Annie got up from the couch.
She’d intended to query a new client, amongst other writing, but she had been too braindead to work all day.
Although it wasn't very productive, she had showered and gone for a short walk. Outside, the sunlight turned golden, then a pale twilight blue-gray. It was almost six o’clock now.
About time to cook something, she thought. Maybe food will calm my mind.
She rebuilt a small fire in the fireplace to warm up the cabin while she meal prepped.
When she’d cooked her supper, Annie looked down at her plate of fried potatoes, eggs, and toast, and was eager to dig in.
Famished, she went back for seconds, plating up all the extra food she’d originally designated as her future breakfast.
Sitting at the dining table, she finished her orange juice. A drop of it splashed her glasses. With a groan, she pulled them off her face, and rubbed them beneath the hem of her shirt.
If only all my problems were this easy to—
A knock at the door shattered the silence.
Knock knock.
She jumped an inch out of her chair, then sat in disbelief. Her heart pounded as she strained to hear any other noise.
Knock knock.
She stood, senses on alert .
Should she answer? Ignore it?
Would they just return in the middle of the night?
The sudden snap of a log from the fireplace jolted her out of her paralyzing fear. She clutched her neck. Glancing over, she noticed the black, heavy iron fire poker hanging from the tool stand.
She peeked out the front windows, but couldn’t see the front door clearly. Feeling stupidly brave, Annie grabbed the poker and opened the S.O.S. function on her phone. She made her way to the door.
Annie gulped several times, her mouth gone dry.
Slowly she unlocked the door, opening it a few inches.
Every muscle was tense. She felt exposed.
Only the porch light illuminated the night beyond the wooden deck.
Her back stiffened rod straight as her eyes scanned the parking area where her car sat amongst the various weeds and flowers making their home in the gravel drive.
No one was there. Panic seized her. She wondered if they were still lurking in the shadows.
It was difficult to see into the darkness beyond the incandescent glow.
Annie opened the door wider with trembling hands.
She poked her head out, hoping that she wouldn’t be a nail under the blow of a hammer.
“He-llo?” Embarrassed, she swallowed the pitiful crack of her voice.
“Hello?” She clutched the fire poker, holding it just out of view inside the doorway, lightly swinging it.
Every fiber of her being urged her to slam the door.
Lock it tight. Curiosity and fear egged her on.
With narrowed eyes, she scanned the darkness again.
Then, she heard it.
Footsteps crunching on the gravel, breaking the peace of the twilight.
She fumbled her phone, dropping it.