Sisterhood

Chapter 2-2

Ow. Rubbing the bump, I turned to see what I’d hit my head on. A pistol grip protruded from a snapped leather holster attached to the underside of his desk. I stared, not breathing, my brain trying to make sense of the thing. It was like one of those tests I took too many of in school: one of these things does not belong. I leaned back against the side of the desk and fingered the ebony textured handle of the gun. It was big, like something a movie action-hero would wave at a nunchuck throwing native. Not round, it was flat like the kind cops used. It would take both hands for me to lift it, should I want to.

There had been a few break-ins in the area of late. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to worry me?

I climbed back into the chair and noticed the corner of a paper sticking out from under Donald’s blotter. I glanced at my watch. No chance of his coming home for a couple of hours. I knew better than to be curious, but pulled it out anyway.

A love letter.

I slipped out of the over-stuffed chair and found myself sitting under the desk again. The old familiar nausea foamed up in my gut as anger and defeat mixed. I’d been here so many times before, it was almost routine.

The letter was in my hand. I struggled to read it through the blurred tears of frustration. Whoever Caprice was, he was excited to tell her he’d be coming for Christmas.

They could start planning their wedding.

Stress was bad for my blood pressure. It was always the same. If I asked him about it, there’d be the usual flurry of angry accusations, the apologies, the flowers…and then it would start all over. One thing about Donald: he was predictable.

I shivered thinking of the arguments and battles we’d had last time, before I’d given in and stayed after finding myself pregnant. I pulled myself back up into the chair. That formidable gun was pointed right at the doorway. Tempting, but not tempting enough. After all the cheating, I couldn’t even get decently angry.

Years of marriage to Donald had left me numb. This time, I’d be smart. I’d get proof, and I’d get away.

I ran a copy of the love letter before putting the original back. I’d given up on his giving me a peaceful divorce after his last escapade. Caprice might believe he’d leave me, but I knew he wouldn’t. For whatever reason, Donald wanted to stay married. I would add this to the other bits of evidence I had collected. When I got back from Paris I’d get a lawyer.

Again.

Donald came home to find me glaring at an over-sized suitcase and muttering.

“Honey, what are you doing taking that one?”

“The wheel on the other one is broken. I don’t want to buy new luggage.”

“I’m cursed with the one woman on the planet who hates shopping.”

“Maybe you should trade me in for a better model.”

He laughed. “How about I get you a new suitcase? I know you hate checking luggage and that monstrosity will not fit in the overhead bin.”

“Fine.” I continued sorting my underwear, folding the new thermals Marie had sent me after her last trip to Switzerland. These were soft as silk, but warm as flannel. Perfect for Paris.

Donald admired the lacy clothing. “Mmmmm. Wish I was going with you. Paris is such a romantic city.”

I glared. “You’ve got plans.”

“I know. I hate that I have to work. You’ll enjoy seeing Marie, though.”

“And you’ll have a good time with Caprice.”

The silence bounced off the vaulted ceiling and crashed back down around us. “Caprice?”

“Yes, your fiancée? Did you forget her already?”

“Dana, I don’t know what you’re….” He looked pathetic, struggling to come up with an answer, a light wash of sweat forming on his forehead.

“Oh, Donald, stop.” I tossed a deep blue skirt on the pile. “I don’t even care any longer. Be honest. You’re having another fling and when you’re done, you’ll be glad I’m still here.”

“With losing the baby, you’ve been so distant….”

“Don’t you dare blame this on me.” Nausea was dancing in my gut. If only my body could get used to dealing with stress.

“There are two sides to every situation.”

“Of course there are. The problem is, I no longer care about yours.” My blood was a rushing crimson wave in my head. I massaged my temples. “Just go finish your letter, will you?”

“Dana….”

“Are you sleeping in the guest room or am I?” I asked, forcing my voice to be cold.

He exhaled loudly. “I will.”

I went into the bathroom and fumbled for the prescription pain killer I kept on hand for dealing with Donald.

He stood in the doorway. I washed my face and brushed my hair, letting him stare as long as he wanted. I forced my reactions deep inside my disintegrating digestive system.

At last, he coughed. “I’ll have a new suitcase delivered in the morning.”

As soon as he left, I turned and leaned my head on the wall. I looked around the room at the fine furniture, everything tastefully designed by his chosen interior decorator. It was a nice home, but I would be happier living in a tent.

I woke up in my foam-soft bed, disoriented, my stomach churning, unable to go back to sleep. This would never do. I was scheduled to leave for Paris in two days. I didn’t want to be exhausted and jet lagged when I saw Marie. I went down into the kitchen and made a mug of peppermint tea. The door to my studio was open. I slipped in and pulled the door shut before turning on a light.

I flipped through my latest landscapes, picking out a few to send to the gallery. Maybe I could sell something while I was gone.

The echo of quiet voices surprised me and I stood still, glancing at the overhead vent. What was Donald doing in his office at this time of night?

“You were not supposed to leave her alone.”

“She asked me to take the dry cleaning….”

“Since when do you work for Dana?”

“It isn’t me who botched this, Don. What kind of i***t leaves something like that lying around? You couldn’t wait a week before setting up your vacation? She’s supposed to be kept calm. Remember? She’s supposed to be happy.”

“I don’t know why she isn’t. I’ve given her everything she could ever want!”

The response was an impressive string of French that I couldn’t even begin to follow. The door slammed.

I didn’t breathe. Apollina stormed down the hall and into her room. In a few minutes, I heard the door to Donald’s study open and the stairs creak as he went up to the guest room. I sank into the sofa and tried to think. My head was throbbing again, making clarity impossible. At some point I fell asleep and dreamed of the Christmas lights in Paris being buried under a blizzard.

The sun streamed through the window in an early-morning fog of pale colors. Sweat matted my hair and my neck ached. What was I doing in my studio? The previous night’s events came flooding back along with the seeds of another headache. I went upstairs to shower and noticed the new suitcase on the landing outside my door with a vase of red roses sitting next to it. The roses could rot in the hallway, but I took the suitcase into my room and packed the laid-out clothing.

The birds outside were chirping, and I stood by the window to watch a pair of starlings chasing a hawk. Marie loved to watch birds. It would be good to see her. My head was spinning, thoughts coming through a haze in stray wisps. I was so tired, tired of dealing with Donald and his affairs.

I showered and dressed, half-way thinking through my plans for the day. Had I dreamed the conversation between Apollina and Donald last night? Was she supposed to be watching me? I came out of the bathroom to find the vase of roses placed in the center of my dresser. I looked at the flowers and felt the last remnant of my sanity unraveling. The threads slipped through my fingers like corn silk. My neat orderly life was a trap. Donald was a control freak.

How long had it been since I’d been dancing? How long since I’d been to a movie I wanted to see? How had I come to sit here in silence, sketching sunsets? This was ridiculous. I was a long way from helpless. I picked up the phone and called for a cab. There was no need for me to spend even one more night here. I could sleep at the Marriott next to the airport. I’d just need to pick up my dry cleaning on the way.

Apollina came in as I was zipping the suitcase shut. “I’ve got your breakfast ready.”

“I’m skipping breakfast today. Can you bring me the receipts for my sweaters? Keep the ones for Donald’s shirts, but I’m going to pick up my clothes for the trip and then spend tonight at a hotel.”

Her teal eyes grew wide. “I’m not sure which are which. Why don’t you let me go and get them for you?” She stood in the doorway, resting her hand on the door post.

“I’ve already called a cab.”

“I’ll see if I can find them,” she said, turning and dashing down the stairs.

I went to the safe and pulled out the money I’d gotten for the trip. I could get new sweaters at the Christmas markets. I had a couple of outfits, enough to get by. Forget the sweaters. I went to the door to tell Apollina not to worry about it, to see Donald rushing up the stairs two at a time.

“Dana, wait. You can’t leave like this.”

“You know what? I can. I most certainly can leave just like this.”

“At least let me drive you to the hotel.” He took the suitcase from my hand.

“You want to drive me to the hotel.” It was an odd request.

“So we can talk. I promise, I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” That sounded like a stupid question, but I asked it anyway.

“My wife leaves the country tomorrow. I wanted us to have a day together, so I canceled my appointments.” He hefted the suitcase. “This is really light.”

“Half of my clothes are still at the cleaners.”

“Fine. We’ll go and get them, then I’ll drop you at the hotel.”

It was senseless, but I went along with the plan, collecting my purse and coat on the way to the car. “I should call the cab company and cancel.”

“Apollina called for you.”

Only later did it occur to me to wonder how she’d known which company to call.

Donald was the picture of an attentive husband as he gathered the dry cleaning, sorted it in the trunk and even put my sweaters in the suitcase for me. We pulled to a stop in front of the Marriott, and he handed me the suitcase.

“Thank you. We’ll talk when I get back from Paris.”

“Don’t make any decisions until then, okay?”

I nodded and watched him drive off, leaving me to check in at the hotel and enjoy the first full night’s sleep I’d had in months.