The Girl in the Comfortable Quiet (18 page)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I
lie in my bed, staring at the ceiling as soft shots of dawn peek through the
half-open slats of the shutters. An impenetrable numbness has settled over me
through the sleepless hours of the night.

Snippets of yesterday return to me, but I feel no
reaction. Nothing. Good, it’s better this way. It is better not to feel, at
least until I can process what has happened and figure out a way to deal with
this.

My mobile phone rings and I switch it off without
bothering to check the caller ID. I can’t talk to Neil. Not yet. Maybe never.
I’m not certain of anything today and no words from either of us will ever
change
this
.

I feel half-insane and half-dead. How does a
woman deal when life throws at her the inconceivable? Can it even be dealt
with? Neil is in love with Andy.

So many of the things, the clues I missed along
the way, those things always nagging and troubling me, suddenly make sense. He
loves Andy. Before me. During us. And today. That is the only thing I am certain
of this morning.

It was forced in my face too brutally. Even I
can’t run from that truth. The look in Neil’s eyes when he saw me watching them
in bed, before he could alter his expression; it was love shining in those lush
green eyes. For Andy.

The only question is where we go from here. Is
there even any place for us
to
go?

My gaze shifts to my walls with the hideous pink
flowered wallpaper. Inside me a memory stirs. Jack shaking his head the day I
picked it out.
Do you really want to be surrounded by Pepto-Bismol pink
until you’re thirty?
 

Ha, ha, Jack. Thirty. You were funny when I was
little, but I didn’t know it. You always seemed sad and serious and distant to
me. But I missed that one, too, I guess. You were a humorous dad. A good
parent. A loving man. As a child I didn’t see it and I was angry with you.
Wrongly. I miss everything.

I even missed the opportunity to back out of my
crummy decision decorating my bedroom. I stared at him, afraid to say no so I
said nothing. Jack made a silly face, kissed me on the nose, and for all his
warning bought it anyway.

A ragged laugh pushes out of me. I hated the
wallpaper the second it went up. I just learned to live smothered by
Pepto-Bismol pink. The sight of it this morning makes me want to vomit.

I push back the covers and climb from the bed. I
feel like I’m going to suffocate. I have to get out of this house. I can’t hide
in my room like a child forever. And I don’t want to wait until Jack finds me
here. Better to cut out early before he spots me, traps me, and forces me, in
that paternal way he’s cultivating quite expertly of late, to relive the worst
Chrissie
moment
ever, my marriage ending over Andy.

From my drawers I pull out an old pair of sweats
and quickly dress. I chide myself to stop thinking. It’s a long drive to
Rene’s, and I need to keep myself focused at least until I get there.

I can’t stay here and I can’t unravel again. I
have too much to do. Very soon my child will be awake, wanting and needing me.
I have the same list of commitments that I had yesterday, appearances I can’t
cancel and have to make it through.

The world is not going to stop for Chrissie.
Whether I’m heart-broken or panicking or having life-altering decisions forced
upon me willy-nilly out of nowhere. Whether my husband loves me or not. Whether
my marriage is over. Or even if Andy has now replaced me in my life.

My stomach turns. I go into the hallway. I need
coffee for me. A sipper juice for Kaley. Maybe some Cheerios or something for
her until I can cope with thinking about eating.

As I step into the kitchen, bright light streams
through the back wall of glass. Fuck, it’s after dawn. I search the patio area.
Good, no Jack. I so don’t want to face my dad today.

I go toward the fridge and my heart skips a beat
as another shock rockets through me. The refrigerator door is open and a lean
body clad only in a shirt—
my dad’s shirt
—is standing there leaning
against the frame, a coffee cup in hand. Her back is to me, but oh no, I don’t
need to see this woman’s face.

Short dark hair, stylishly cropped.

Pansy tattoo on wrist.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

I stare at her in disbelief. I say the first
words that form in my head. “How long have you been fucking my father?”

The mug drops to the floor. Startled, Linda
whirls to face me, her dark eyes flashing with surprise and her tense features
awash with just a hint of a blush. Then, all emotion is stripped from her face
and she calmly arches a brow.

“Fucking your father?” she repeats with just
enough criticism to make me inwardly flinch. “This morning about an hour. Or
are you asking something more significant, Chrissie?”

The air in my lungs is knocked out of me. Linda
has nerve, I’ll give her that, but how dare she answer me glibly?

I stare at her, wounded and confused. “I thought
you were my friend. Or is that a lie, too?”

She shakes her head, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be
a bitch, dear. It’s too fucking early in the morning. I am your friend. A damn
good one. And let’s not talk about lying. You don’t want to go there. I’ve got
a thing or two in that department that I could say to you.”

She says that in her superior all-knowing way and
my entire face covers with a burn. She closes the refrigerator and moves until
she’s across from me at the center island. She gives me a sharp once-over.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, frowning.
“Is everything all right?”

My eyes go wide and my mouth drops.
Really?
That’s all she has to say to me?

“I don’t think that is any of your business,” I hiss.

Linda crinkles her nose. “Seeing as how you are
kind of ruining my morning, I think it is.”

The heat in my cheeks has spread into a full body
burn. I don’t know what she sees in my expression, but her eyes soften and
worry replaces exasperation on her face.

She relents. “I’m sorry. This is an awkward
moment for the both of us. I wasn’t expecting to run into you in the kitchen
either.”

Good point. But it does nothing to soothe the
things running through me, and a part of me wants to slap her.

I look away first. “How long have you been having
an affair with my dad?”

Linda takes in a steadying breath. “Almost twenty
years.”

Twenty years? How could they be involved for
twenty years and keep it a secret from me?

I shift my gaze back to hers. “Why didn’t my father
tell me? Why didn’t you?”

Her mouth turns into a stiff line. “It doesn’t
matter, Chrissie, and I am not explaining my relationship with Jack to you. You
are the last person on this earth who has a right to answers or to judge me.
Let’s leave it at we did what we thought best for everyone we love.”

Her matter-of-factness stirs up the disquiet in
me. Neil, Andy, and the mess in my own life currently.

“I don’t understand how you could do this to Len.
Doesn’t anyone fucking believe in marriage?”

I’m yelling at her, but not really. Not inside
me, and the change of her expression makes me regret those words and feel badly
for her.

I am disoriented, frazzled and ready to melt down
again. Damn.

Her temper flares. “Don’t you dare toss my
husband into my face. It’s not smart to be opinionated about things you don’t
know anything about.”

Her anger is a good thing. It stirs mine in
return and blocks out all the other things I don’t want to feel, not now, not
here in the kitchen with her.

“Well, someone has to think of him, don’t you
think? You sure as hell aren’t thinking of Len. Doesn’t marriage mean anything
to you? How can you live with yourself, lying every day to your husband and
son? Fucking my father. Being my friend. Lying to me. What kind of person can do
that?”

There’s a sharp sound and then a heating sting
shoots down my cheek and I realize, in shock, Linda slapped me.

“Don’t get righteous with me, Chrissie. You
understand nothing. You never have. And you are too old for me to explain it to
you. Take care of your own marriage, and I’ll take of mine.”

My marriage.
Direct hit. It all comes
tumbling back in nightmarish images and leveling waves.

Without another word I run from the kitchen back
to my room. As I jam my feet into my shoes, I frantically search for my keys.

I need to get out of here. Quickly. Being here,
having Jack and Linda shoved in my face before coffee, it’s too much after the
shocks of yesterday.

I feel hands on my arms. Linda’s eyes are
anxiously searching my face. She is worried. Very, very worried. I can feel it
through everything else I’m feeling.

“Wait, Chrissie. Wait. I love you. I’m sorry. I
shouldn’t have slapped you, but sometimes your mouth gets the better of me. You
hit a nerve, baby girl. Because I’ve loved you every day of your life for the
past twenty years without being allowed to show it or you even knowing it. But
I shouldn’t have reacted that way.”

Now I want to cry. And if I start again I won’t
ever stop.

“I’m getting out of here,” I manage to choke out.
“That way I won’t hit any more nerves or ruin your morning with my father.”

She makes an aggravated growl.

“That was snotty and petty. Please, will you
stop? I don’t want to fight with you. I don’t want to say things we’ll both
regret, and I can tell when something is pretty fucked up with you. I’ve not
been a casual observer in your life, Chrissie. Settle down and talk to me.
There must be some reason you snuck into the house and spent the night here.
Did something happen with Neil? Please, I don’t want to leave things between us
this way.”

With the mention of Neil’s name, any chance I
could manage this without being completely pathetic flies out the window.
Worse, suspicion is curling through my digestive tract since there is something
in the way Linda asks about Neil.

I frantically try to read her face and I can’t,
but the fear won’t silence inside me. Does Linda know about Neil?

I can’t look at her any longer. “I’m not leaving
anything any way. I’m just leaving, Linda.”

She turns me back toward her, her eyes wide and
alarmed. “Chrissie, what the fuck is going on with you? Can you just talk to me
straight for a change?”

She’s doing it again—all-powerful woman and
motherly. The
Linda can fix anything
demeanor. Only today it pisses me
off. She can’t fix my world. Hell, right now I don’t even trust her.

I feel totally betrayed by her. Stupid, but
that’s how it feels. Betrayed.

She does another sharp inspection of me, and then
says imperatively, “You are not leaving this house until you talk to either me
or your father. You are in no condition to go anywhere. And you sure as hell
are not in any shape to take care of a three-year-old. Nope, not letting you do
it. Kaley stays with us until you pull it together.”

“Screw you, Linda.”

That was said at a bellow, but her out-of-nowhere
take-charge-over-my-life manner is just too much to bear today. She’s not my
mother and I don’t have to stay. Even if she likes to behave as if she is
because she’s been fucking my father forever.

That last thought makes my stomach turn and I
push it away. I’ll deal with that bombshell later. That Linda stepped into my
life, not because she is friends with Alan, not because she really cares about
me, but as some sort of weird surrogate mother only because she’s involved with
Jack.

I can hear her following me to Maria’s room. I
knock once, don’t wait for an answer, and open the door wide.

The wood bangs against the wall and Maria does a
little start. She’s in her rocker, Kaley against her breast, and they were both
sound asleep—
before I barged in
—and look as if they passed a rough night
together.

Kaley’s dark eyes fix on me, and she immediately
erupts into tears. I freeze in the middle of the room. Shit, what am I doing?
I’m careening out of control again.

Linda is standing close beside me. “Leave the
baby with Maria, Chrissie,” she orders quietly yet firmly. “You shouldn’t be
with Kaley right now.”

I ignore her and reach for my daughter, even
though I know Linda is right, but the angry girl in me doesn’t want to listen.
The angry girl doesn’t want to stay in this house another minute with
her
.

“You are not taking the baby,” Linda announces,
and before I figure out what she’s done, Kaley is no longer in Maria’s arms but
in Linda’s. “I not letting you leave this house with Kaley.”

I’m about to argue the point, then I don’t have a
choice but to let Linda have her way. I sway on my feet and it starts again.
Like a panic wave. Stomach sick. World spinning. Flashing images in my head.
The way Andy stared at me, cruel and gloating and pleased.