––––––––
Friday evening I was late coming home.
Late-late.
I hadn’t told him that I was going anywhere, and my cell phone hadn’t rung in hours, which was unusual, but I knew I had to get dinner started and the house ready. It was well after six, and he was usually home just about this time. It was only then that I looked at my cell phone and saw that it was off.
“Idiot.” I muttered aloud, realizing that I’d forgotten to charge it again, pretty sure my phone had been dead for a while.
Please don’t let him be home, yet
Please don’t let him be home, yet
Please don’t let him be home, yet
Like a mantra, that sentence ran through my head, repeatedly, as I fumbled for my house keys. I hurried down the carpeted hallway to the door of apartment 23-E and quickly unlocked it. As I got inside, I listened for the sound of a television, radio, anything at all to indicate that Evan was at home.
I didn’t see him at first, but he suddenly sprang from the leather sofa, where he’d been lying in wait in the living room as I entered it, and I let out a shriek of surprise.
I pivoted and tried to run back towards the front door, but bolting past me, he got there first and slammed it shut, just as I had opened it, blocking it with his athletic body.
Evan held my stare as I backed away from him and he advanced towards me, closing the gap between us. I shuddered as I felt the wall up against my back, realizing that he had me trapped.
He put his large hands up on the wall directly on either side of me, causing me to flinch, as he leaned close to ask me his question in a dangerously quiet and calm tone.
“Where were you?”
It was a simple question, and I knew the answer, but I was so scared of him that I couldn’t even speak. My lips moved, but no sound came out. All I could see was his cold expression and unwavering glare as he repeated his question in a slow and deliberate tone, and this time I knew I’d better answer.
Apparently, I didn’t react fast enough and I saw the slap coming just before I felt it explode against my face, my cheek stinging from the blow as tears sprang to my eyes.
“Do I have your attention now? Huh? Where the fuck have you been?” he demanded, delivering another, harder, slap to make my nose bleed as I tried to explain my absence.
“I...I..” I faltered, before the tears came on full force and I started to cry.
“I’ve been calling you for over an hour! Do you know what I’ve been through, wondering where the hell you were? Why do you provoke me, Daphne?!” he snarled as I fought to stop crying, because it only enraged him when I did.
I sucked in my tears as we both took a moment to calm down, swiping at my bloody nose with the back of my hands, Evan’s broad chest heaving as his lips tightened.
“I had a doctor’s appointment.....” I finally said, quietly.
“A doctor’s appointment? Now what’s wrong with you?” he interrupted, as I told him that I hadn’t been feeling well lately. I still hadn’t said anything about the baby, because I didn’t know how he would take it. The morning sickness was pretty bad and I knew that I wasn’t going to be able to keep my secret much longer. As it was, my clothes were tight and I’d bought some things in slightly larger sizes to try and hide what was going on.
We’d never discussed children, but I had a feeling that Evan wasn’t going to be happy about this. He was very career-oriented, and he only cared about getting to the top. He didn’t have time to deal with a baby. And then there was me, driving him absolutely crazy, just by being myself.
Evan had me walking around on eggshells lately, and I kept messing up, despite knowing how quick his temper was.
“You’d better not get me sick, Daphne.” He threatened, shaking his head in annoyance, as he glared down at me. “I’m serious. I have to go to Chicago tomorrow and I don’t have time for you and your shit.”
We stared at each other for a long moment before I finally gathered up enough courage to speak.
“I can fix dinner, if you want...” I said, meekly, trying to appease him, as he continued to glare at me, his eyes so hard.
“You’re an idiot, just as stupid as they come. If you’re sick why the hell would I want you touching my food? Go on, get out of here. I can’t even look at you right now.” Evan snorted derisively, effectively dismissing me, as I slowly made my way to our bedroom. I went into the bathroom once I got there, and closed the door.
My entire cheek was red and there was some swelling around my nose. My wild hair was all over my head as my eye makeup ran in rivulets down my cheeks. I began to cry again as I stared back at myself in the mirror, realizing I was getting tired of going through this with him. I could see the angry fingerprints on my upper arms where he’d grabbed me, the bruise beginning to appear underneath my left eye from when he’d struck me. I tried to imagine life here, with him, once the baby came. Would becoming a father change him? What would happen the first time he lost patience with our child? I shuddered at the thought as tears streamed down my cheeks and I moaned softly as I began rocking myself.
I was trying to get myself together an hour later, when I heard a soft knock on the bathroom door just before it opened, and Evan came into the room wearing a sheepish expression as he hung his head.
“I’m an asshole.” He said, moving to press his muscular body up against my backside as his arms slid around me from behind, cupping me to him as his lips found the nape of my neck in a gentle kiss. “Daphne, you know how I get when you aren’t where I expect you to be and then you don’t call or answer your cell. Can you understand how worried I was?”
I didn’t say anything, but I felt my eyes welling up with tears. I didn’t say a word as he promised he would seek treatment when he returned from his trip. He admitted that he needed some help in controlling his temper.
I’m sorry, Daphne
It’ll never happen again, Daphne
I love you, Daphne
And on and on and on he went and then came the tears as he begged me to forgive him and he apologized profusely.
When he was in a great mood, I loved Evan more than anything. He was sweet and kind, thoughtful and loving. When he was in a bad mood, which seemed to be all the time now, I was frightened of him and of his hair-trigger reactions. Everything in Evan’s world was wrong, according to him and he’d try to convince me that everyone was against him, trying to keep him down.
I thought of our wedding coming up in April, right after my birthday on the twenty-third.
Over five hundred invitations had already been sent out, the reception hall’s non-refundable deposit secured, the honeymoon reservations in Hawaii booked, and my beautiful, custom-made, gown was hanging in the closet hidden from Evan’s view in its locked garment bag.
How could I call it all off now?
I blamed myself and no one else but myself for allowing this shit to go on for as long as it had.
“Forgive me?” he asked, kissing me as he pulled me against him in a crushing embrace. I sniffled as I pasted on a fake smile, and nodded. He left me alone then, and I was relieved that all was well, at least for the time-being.
I got into my nightgown and went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. As I sat drinking it, I wondered how someone could change so drastically in such a short time. Evan hadn’t always been like this.
I had met Evan two years ago while working at an upscale restaurant back home and he’d come there for a business lunch with some clients.
He had flirted shamelessly, leaving me an insane tip. Of course, I wouldn’t accept it because it was far too generous. He had asked me out as he and his associates headed out of the restaurant, charming me to the point that I couldn’t say no if I’d wanted to.
It was on our first date a few nights after, that I learned Evan Mitchell was one of the top architects in a prestigious firm, whose main offices were in New York City.
I’d tried to tell myself that he couldn’t possibly be interested in me, even as his eyes had stayed glued to me the entire time we’d had dinner.
He was a major hunk and all of the females in the restaurant, and at the show he’d taken me to afterward, were throwing themselves at him like crazy. But Evan hadn’t paid any of them a lick of attention, having eyes only for me as he gently held my hand while we watched the performance.
We went for drinks afterward. I normally didn’t drink, but he’d ordered some fruity concoction that I ended up liking a lot. I had a couple of them, before my head started to spin and Evan took me home. I allowed him to kiss me at the front door of my parents’ house, with him promising to call me after making sure that I was safely inside.
After that, my cell phone was ringing constantly as Evan pursued and wooed me with a flurry of dinners, dancing, gifts and the dazzling nightlife. He didn’t move too fast, and he didn’t pressure me about sex at all, which was a plus in my book.
The one sore point about our relationship was Brent, my foster brother. I felt a stab of guilt as I thought of how long it’d been since I’d last spoken to him, over a year ago.
Brent and I had been best friends since we were both nine years old. He had been the one that had told Mom and Dad what had been going on with me, and that’s how they got involved.
My foster dad had been a family court lawyer, and he did everything he could to get me released to their care so that I could heal, grow and be nurtured in a stable environment.
We were thick as thieves, rarely fought, and were like two peas in a pod.
Brent and I had each other’s back, no matter what.
My best friend had always been overprotective of me, especially since kids were cruel despite knowing just how horrible my situation was. I’d hated going to school, and I had been unmercifully bullied for just about my entire academic career until I got to college.
Brent had gotten into plenty of fights and had gotten his ass kicked trying to defend me, more times than I could count, well into high school. But to everyone's surprise, Brent had suddenly grown taller and had filled out the summer before our junior year.
After a while, they realized that they’d have to deal with Brent if they messed with me, once he started doing the ass-kicking.
I had less problems then, and over time the other kids grew bored with me and I was left alone, finally free of the bullies that had tormented my everyday life at school.
I had come out of my shell somewhat by senior year, and then started college while working at the restaurant. Guys hit on me all of the time, but I just ignored them and did my job. I didn’t really feel all that comfortable in male company, and had never even been on a date.
The job was fun. I got to meet lots of people, and I needed my paychecks to help offset the expense of college textbooks and other stuff. I hadn’t wanted to bother with men, period, sure that I was going to die an old-maid.
Then one day Evan walked into my life.
In all of this, during my whirlwind romance, Brent was the only one who hadn’t liked Evan on sight. The two just could not seem to be able to tolerate each other, at all. It was more than a little uncomfortable when the two were in the same room together, but thankfully it hadn’t happened too much before I’d moved away.
I tried to tell each of the men that they had the other pegged all wrong, but everything just fell on deaf ears on both sides. I hadn’t pushed it, but I wished that Evan and Brent would try and get along.
I was so relieved that Evan still wanted to bother with me, despite my history, that I didn’t know what to do. I knew that I wasn’t normal, compared to any of the other women he could have had, but yet he still hung around.
He had been respectful with his advances, just holding my hand as we’d go for long walks or have a quiet dinner at one of his fancy restaurants. We talked about everything under the sun during those dinners, growing closer as the weeks passed and Evan wanted to know my dreams for the future.
My feelings about marriage was a subject that he’d touched on, often, and I grew giddy hoping that he was going to propose. And when he did, five months into our relationship on a trip to Paris for the weekend, I’d cried with happiness as I told him that I wanted to be his wife.
Evan was smooth.
And I had fallen for it all, hook, line and sinker.
A few weeks after moving to New York City, and after the initial bliss of being with him wore off, little things about Evan began to bother me.
For instance, I wanted to work, but he wouldn’t allow me to have a job. I had seen plenty of openings in the zillions of restaurants all over Manhattan and I was stoked. So, I was very surprised when he flat-out told me no.
“My wife doesn’t have to work.” He’d proclaimed, kissing me as he told me to just take care of the household and he’d do all the hard stuff. I quickly grew bored sitting at home all the time, but my cooking skills increased as I watched The Food Network religiously and actually learned how to make some really good dishes. I watched Chopped, Master Chef, Hell’s Kitchen and Top Chef religiously, looking and learning. I really wished that I had the brains to open my own place someday. I wished I had just gone ahead and at least tried it in Virginia instead of abandoning my dream and moving to New York so quickly. Evan knew that I dreamt of it, but I never really brought it up anymore for fear that he’d mock me, or make me feel stupid for not seeing it through. My plan hadn’t really worked out once I started seeing Evan, and I had just let the silly notion go, eating and watching others live their dreams as I sat in front of the television day in and day out, growing fatter.
When some courses were advertised at The French Culinary Institute, I begged Evan to let me take them. He’d hemmed and hawed, but he finally relented when I told him that I needed something to keep me active during the day while he was at work. I told him that his meals would be a lot better, and since he already liked my cooking, he was sold. He was impressed with the new dishes I’d learned, and often praised my talent to others.
I had even made a number of friends in the class, a welcome change from being alone for most of the time. I was invited out for drinks and just fun stuff like lunches, movies and concerts in the park, loving the fact that I had finally met some people that wanted to be real friends, unlike the phonies that Evan hung around with. But Evan had complained that all of these activities would keep me out of the house too much, and that my place was at home.
I had been mad as hell about this one, because he couldn’t really expect to be my only friend in the entire state of New York.
I wanted to go out.
I wanted to see the city, the sights and taste the different foods that we didn’t have in Virginia, just have fun with my new friends. But to keep the peace, I started to decline whenever I was invited out. This had happened over a year ago, and after not hearing from me for so long, my new friends slowly stopped calling and finally ceased altogether.
One of the other things that really bothered me was that Evan would pick fights over little, stupid, shit for no reason, because he could be incredibly anal about things at times. Lord knows, I tried to be better and do everything I could to keep the peace, but Evan wanted me to be perfect and I had learned a long time ago that nobody was perfect.
Sometimes I just got tired of trying to be something I wasn’t. In Evan’s eyes, I had to look and be perfect all of the time. Deep down inside, I think I antagonized him out of spite because the pressure he put on me was enormous.
I thought about killing myself sometimes, just to end it on my terms instead of waiting for him to lose control one day and do it for me.
I lay awake for most of the night, with all that had transpired since I’d discovered I was pregnant, while Evan snored loudly next to me, not knowing what to do. And as the sun rose the following morning, after an agonizingly long and sleepless night, I knew then exactly what I had to do.
I had to get out.
***
When his alarm went off a short while later, I got up and made the bed, and while he showered, I laid out one of the more casual business suits that he reserved for traveling. I dutifully packed his suitcase and I made sure that he had all of his toiletries and other things he’d need for his business trip. I picked out his best suits and put them gently into the garment bags where they belonged. I checked the shoes, from an expensive label that he insisted on wearing, for scuff-marks and packed them neatly.
Evan strode out of the bathroom, naked and smiling and he slipped his arms around me, pulling me close as I fought the bile rising in my throat.
He took his time getting dressed and then making phone calls to his office as I made a breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast which included freshly squeezed orange juice. His New York Times lay at the side of his plate, the business section on the top, just the way he liked it.
Evan told me all about his upcoming business trip as he ate, snatching up a third piece of toast to slather it with some of my homemade orange marmalade.
“Aren’t you hungry?” he asked, directing his gaze to my plate which was scantily filled with eggs and bacon, dry toast.
I hadn’t taken a single bite yet, sitting at my place across from him with my hands folded neatly in my lap. It was to the point that I almost hated to eat in front of him, because he always had a comment waiting.
“I’ll eat some in a bit. I still don’t feel too well.” I answered, in a near-whisper.
“It’s probably for the best, right now.” He said, thoughtfully, as he appraised me. “We need to get you back in the gym. You’ve really put on some weight lately. I don’t know how you think you’re going to fit into your dress in April.”
I didn’t even bother to respond to that one as Evan prepared some peppermint tea for me, setting it down next to my plate, as he rubbed my back affectionately.
I winced as the stinging bruises there came alive at his touch, the ones he’d given me a few days ago when he’d shoved me so hard that I fell against the wardrobe in our bedroom.
“Drink this. It’ll help.” He said, softly, as I sipped it gingerly, after thanking him.
“Better?” he asked, moving my hair aside so that he could press a kiss against the nape of my neck, as I nodded. “Good.”
I got the dishes cleared, washed and put away as Evan checked last minute emails and got some papers from his home office. I waited for him at the front door as he made sure he had everything. He pulled me to him, placing his hands on my backside and gave my buttocks a gentle squeeze.
“Have I told you how much I love you, today?” he murmured against my hair as his grip on me tightened. Evan was gazing at me now, as he leaned closer and then paused.
He was still convinced that I was contagious.
“You’re sure you’re going to be all right, Daphne?” he was asking now, clutching me to him as we stood in the foyer. “I can call off the meeting, if you need me to. That’s what Skype is for.”
I shook my head, and pressed my cheek against his broad chest as he hugged me.
“When I come back, we’ll go somewhere nice for the weekend. Anywhere you want to go.” He whispered as I nodded against him and he cupped my face in his large hands as he stared deeply into my eyes, stroking my cheek.
“Hurry home.” I said, before he gave me a tender kiss just off the side of my mouth.
“Behave yourself, and watch your intake.” He reminded me, as I nodded and hoped he hadn’t seen me roll my eyes at the comment. Even though he was heading out the door, my diet was still foremost in his mind.
“I will.”
And then he was gone down the hallway to get the elevator down to the lobby so that he could catch a cab to JFK.
I was starting to have second thoughts about everything as I began to pack a suitcase for myself, feeling sick about my decision to finally leave him once and for all.
I ran to the bathroom to throw up, rinsing out my mouth afterward as I tried to get my stomach to settle down. I raised my nightgown up over my stomach and I could see the faint swell that hadn’t been there a few days ago and I thought of the baby that I was definitely carrying.
This was not the only time I’d been pregnant, losing the first baby to a miscarriage not too long after Evan and I started living together. I was sure it was due to that first beating Evan had given me, and I’d never said anything to him about it.
Ever.
He’d never even known that I was pregnant and I’d silently mourned my loss, convinced that the next one would survive, the child cementing our relationship and possibly even calming him down some.
But it hadn’t happened that way.
Stress, not eating well and my fragile nerves from dealing with Evan’s Jekyll and Hyde routine had caused me to lose the second baby I’d gotten pregnant with, less than a year ago.
This was my third shot, and I didn’t want to imagine anything happening to it.
I may not have made it past the first trimester with the other two, but this baby was going to be protected and loved.
Would she have my personality?
Evan’s good looks?
My hair?
What about his smile?
In my fantasy world, where Evan was kind and even tempered, I imagined a beautiful little girl for him to spoil rotten or a handsome boy for him to play sports with in Central Park.
It was stupid of me to even dream that things could possibly work out at this point. And I refused to put my child through a life with a father that would resent, batter and abuse. Evan’s own father treated him indifferently, and that was a big part of his problem. They had a strained relationship, to say the least, and I hadn’t even met his parents yet. I found all of this odd, and more and more I was convinced that I was doing the right thing by escaping the abuse.
I’d seen enough of that to last me two lifetimes and I was going to protect my child at all costs.
I slept for most of the day, intending to leave first thing the following morning. I thought about calling Brent to tell him that I was coming home, but I was sure that he would ignore my calls as I’d stupidly done his since I’d left home.
He’d tried to warn me about moving in with Evan, especially out of state and so far away from family, so quickly. I hated that fact that Brent had been right about Evan being everything he’d predicted and more, even though I knew that he would never berate me for not listening to him.
He had called me a number of times over the past few months, yet I had never bothered to return them, lest it start an argument between Evan and me.
Evan had an insane jealous streak, and in his world men and women could not be friends without something going on. I saw Brent as a friend, and nothing more, despite the fact that Mom and Dad had tried to push us together as teens, failing miserably.
But Evan could not be dissuaded of his beliefs, no matter what, so I’d just stopped mentioning Brent altogether.
On a whim I picked up my computer tablet and looked up Brent’s Facebook profile and saw that he was in a relationship with someone named Courtney-Jane Meadows now. Had been for at least a year, or so it seemed, as I’d done some more digging. Further clicking brought me to her profile, and what appeared to be a photo of a gorgeous fashion model staring back at me from the screen.
This girl was definitely high maintenance.
Her long, shimmering hair was a bold, brassy red color and her meticulously lined eyes were narrow, like a cat’s, and were a light, pale green color. Her lips were wide, and she wore a glossy red stain on them. Her pert nose had a smattering of freckles across it, but you could barely see them underneath the professional makeup job she’d done on her face. I looked at a picture of her nestled in Brent’s large arms, shaking my head at just how stick thin Courtney-Jane was. The woman had no breasts, hips, thighs or buttocks, to speak of. I had never seen someone so rail thin before, her thighs, underneath the very short skirt she wore, not even touching each other at all. It looked like she could wear a bracelet for a belt, with her tiny waist, no fat of any kind anywhere on her lithe body.
Courtney-Jane’s fingernails were long and painted a fiery red color, as were her toenails in the designer sandals she wore, with very high heels.
She had put pictures of her and Brent up on her wall from a recent event, a gala of some sort, but I couldn’t see everything on her timeline because she and I were not friends, at least not yet.
I smiled faintly to see Brent looking so well and happy.
His hair had grown quite a bit, which was very different from the short style that he normally wore and a look I’d never seen him try before. I liked it on him.
Brent was tall, about six feet, four inches in height, with a muscular physique not betraying an ounce of excess body fat. His thick golden, blonde hair was styled in gentle waves, off his face. His beautifully shaped mouth always offered an easy-going smile to everyone he met, with his white teeth straight, even, and perfect. I shook my head with faint smile at the memory of how much he’d hated wearing those damned braces.
Brent could have easily landed a successful career as a model, with blue eyes the color of the Caribbean Sea that sometimes seemed to change shades depending on his mood as they went from light to dark. He’d actually had offers to model in the past, agents sometimes stopping him on the street, but it just didn’t appeal to him.
He loved finance too much.
People never believed what he did for a living, as his size always seemed to belie his occupation, and often people showed surprise that this handsome, brawny, blonde had some serious brains in addition to his good looks.
Brent had an IQ of one-hundred and twenty-nine, just shy of being gifted. Very few people knew this about him, and he liked it that way. Despite his humbleness, people were drawn to him like moths to a flame, and he got on famously with just about everyone that he met.
I knew that Brent would do anything for me, without regard for himself. He was like that, and that’s why I loved him so much.
I felt my eyes fill with tears as I realized just how much I had really missed Brent and needed to talk to him. I probably should have called him and told him what was going on long ago.
But what good would it do to have him in jail?
I clicked through some more of the photos on Brent’s profile, his blue eyes were shining in just about every one that Jane accompanied him in. Brent was smiling broadly in a photo of them in fancy restaurant somewhere, his arm slung familiarly around Courtney-Jane’s petite shoulders and I read the caption she’d written beneath the photo.
OMG! Just got engaged!!!
The photo was dated about three weeks ago. There was another of Courtney-Jane smiling happily, with teeth I was sure had been whitened, perched on Brent’s lap. His face was pressed against her cheek, his lips kissing it, his eyes closed in romantic bliss.
In another photo, her slender fingers showcased the impressive engagement ring that she wore. I stared at the large, elaborate ring, pretty sure that it had cost Brent some serious money, judging from the size of it.
I went back to Brent’s profile, starting to type something along the lines of congratulations in the comments section and then thought better of it.
He probably didn’t want to hear from me, anyway.
We’d grown so far apart since I’d left Virginia, and I knew that seeing him again might not be the happy reunion that I was hoping for. He hadn’t even told me that he had a girlfriend serious enough that he’d proposed marriage to her, and that hurt.
We had always told each other everything, kept each other’s secrets. Literally, if you saw one of us, the other one wasn’t too far behind. But I had no one to blame for our deflated relationship but myself.
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Survival Tactics