Dark Corners READY FOR PRC (35 page)

“We never meant for it to happen. It just did. Danny broke it off before you came back from you book tour. We were both lonely. Doug had pulled away and you . . .”

“I what?”

“You tried to kill yourself.”

“I did not!”

“We thought so at the time. You’d been so out of sorts. Then with losing the baby—he’d convinced himself you never wanted the baby, since you were so unhappy here and that’s why you did it.”

“I didn’t even know about the baby.” For some reason talking about the baby that I never knew existed drained all my rage away and left me feeling empty. “Go.”

“Ella, we still need to talk about this. You can’t tell Doug. It will be the final straw in our marriage.”

“You disgust me. Call yourself a cab and leave my house.” I walked away from her, leaving her in the kitchen alone. I went to the family room and curled into a ball on my couch, waiting for her to leave. I couldn’t even stand the sight of her. I felt sick and betrayed. About ten minutes later, I heard a car pull up, Susan sniffling, and then the front door close behind her. I couldn't find the tears in myself. I felt hollow. Unable to feel anything. I’d been so close to getting out of the hole I’d dug for myself, but I could feel it pulling me back. I was slipping, sliding, falling back into the nothingness.

I picked up the phone and called Gabriel. He was my last ally, my only line of defense.

“Troy.”

“You missed quite an evening.” My voice was raspy from unshed tears.

“I'm getting ready to leave now. What happened?”

“If you’re on your way, I’ll just tell you when you get here.”

“Okay. Are you all right?”

“Do you ever get tired of asking me that?”

“No. Are you?”

“Not really. I think I plunged backwards tonight.”

“I’ll be there soon.”

I didn't say anything further, just hung up. I poured myself an impossibly large glass of vodka and eased back into the couch, trying to become one with it. My mind drifted.

I sat in the overstuffed chair in the living room, thinking of the fight Danny and I had. He stormed out of the house, angry with me again. We’d been fighting so much recently. I wish I knew how to stop it, but I didn’t. We were spiraling downwards fast, but I couldn’t reach the brakes.

I knew I was moody and defensive, but he left me little choice. He didn’t want to see that the house was evil. My dreams were getting worse and I’d been keeping Danny up too. Now we were both exhausted and irritable. Some days were like World War Three, others we barely spoke. Less and less we had those moments of feeling truly connected.

I knew I was partly to blame. I was closing myself off from him as well. I couldn’t stand him making fun of me anymore, so I stopped telling him about the things I saw and heard. He all but accused me of lying about everything. Said that I’d never really wanted to move here, so I was trying to make him miserable so he would sell his family’s home. Pointed out that everything conveniently happened while he was gone or in another room, that nothing ever happened to both of us.

I told him that was bullshit. He just wasn’t watching. If he’d stop worrying so damn much about renovating the damn house and pay just a little bit of attention to what was happening right in front of his face, maybe he’d see it too. Then he accused me of shutting him out, shutting everyone out. He wasn’t wrong. I completely stopped really talking to him, afraid of what he thought of me.

I also stopped going to game night, because Susan and Doug began expecting a weekly crazy Ella story. The last game night I went to, I completely lost it during Danny’s latest Ella story.

“I don’t appreciate being mocked,” I yelled and stormed out, beginning to walk home. Danny caught up in the car and demanded I get in, but I refused. I was far too angry to listen to him or be in such an enclosed space. I wanted to shake him, make him understand. The frustration that I couldn’t, made me resentful. Eventually he drove off, leaving me.

Tonight’s fight, however, was different. I didn’t instigate it. I was collecting clothes to do laundry and checking pockets to make sure they were all empty when Danny walked in the room. He stared at me in horror.

“What are you doing?” he snapped.

“Laundry,” I said, my eyes widening at his reaction.

He crossed the room with such force I flinched and pulled his pants from my hands. “Are you snooping through my pockets? What do you think you'll find?”

“I'm not snooping. I'm just checking that they’re empty—wait. What are you so afraid I’ll find, Daniel?” I asked, my surprise giving way to anger.

“Damn it, Ella, don’t lie to me. What happened to when you used to trust me?”

“I'm not lying; I’m doing the wash. What are you hiding?” I snapped.

“Nothing, you’re paranoid.”

“Ha, I am—good one. You’re the one acting paranoid.”

“Ella, you've been nothing but a ball of nerves and baseless worries since we moved here. I'm not going to feed it. You're here looking for something you can use against me.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of pants he was holding and turned them inside out. “See? Nothing.” He tossed the pants on the floor in a huff and stormed out.

I sat of the edge of the bed at a complete loss for words. Eventually I finished collecting clothes and put on a load, then I sat in the living room and waited for Danny to come back. We had a problem, a big problem.

When he finally returned, I didn’t say anything. Just watched him silently. Eventually he turned to me. A frown on his normally happy face made him look older. He knelt on the floor in front of my chair and took my hands in his.

“I’m sorry I flew off the handle.”

I nodded, but still said nothing. I waited for him to explain.

“It's just there’s so much going on. You're unhappy. You've stopped talking to me—and you were my best friend. I thought we were in this together. We don’t even feel like a couple anymore.” I turned my head away from him not wanting to see his liquid eyes as he made excuses.

“The restorations seem endless. I'm exhausted all the time. I know you are too. All of these things keep happening to you and I don’t have the answers,” He turned my head back towards him “I don’t know how to fix it,” he said squeezing my fingers. I could see the intensity in his eyes as he willed me to understand his point of view.

I pushed the thought that he was having an affair to the back of my mind, but couldn’t make it leave all together. “You don’t have to fix anything, just believe me.” I could feel myself softening.

“But it's impossible. These things can’t be happening. My family’s lived here for hundreds of years—no one else ever had problems with ghosts. Hell, Ella, I don’t even believe in ghosts.”

I pulled my hands from his.

“Fine. But never yell accusations at me again, unless you want me to leave.” I stood and left the room, leaving him on the kneeling on the floor.

I made myself stop remembering. I didn't move a muscle, I didn't think, I just sat. I couldn’t tell if I waited hours or seconds before Gabriel knocked on my door and I answered. The very sight of him made me burst into tears. All the emotions I hadn’t been able to feel hit me and there was no holding them back. Sobs ripped through my body and I collapsed into his arms. At first, he was confused. He kept asked me if something happened, what was wrong? I couldn't answer. He ushered me back to the couch, holding me until I calmed down enough to talk.

“What happened?”

“Susan. Danny had the affair with Susan. And he blamed me for losing the baby. I didn’t remember, but I do now,” I said through sobbing gasps for air.

“Wait. What?”

I shook my head. I couldn't say it again.

“It was Susan? How do you know?”

“She mentioned how her marriage to Doug was on the rocks. I told her she should fight for her relationship—that I would if Danny were here. Then she asked why I’d even need to fight.” I sniffed, took another deep breath and pushed on. “I told her he’d been having an affair and she asked how I knew for sure and I listed the things we found. When I got to the hair, I looked at her and everything hit me. She denied it at first then she admitted it.”

“Wow.” he seemed stunned. “What did you do?”

I recapped the rest of the evening, including her accusation that I’d tried to kill myself—and the baby.
The baby
. The baby stung.

“How could you forget about that?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I remembered it in a dream I had earlier, but for some reason my mind overshadowed it with indignation over people thinking I’d tried to kill myself. It didn't sink in—I didn't know I was pregnant. I was hurt, had hit my head hard, was heavily medicated by the good Dr. Livingston—I’ve been in a haze for nearly two years. I've lost two years of my life.”

“I'm so sorry all of this has happened to you,” he said, wiping the tears from my cheeks. I closed my eyes and lay pressed against him until morning.

Morning was slow going. Little sleep partnered with suffocating thoughts of the night before made finding motivation to move quickly impossible. Retreating to my warm, safe bed where I could pull the covers over my head and let the world disappear seemed ideal, but I had to wait for Gabriel to leave. He lingered though, as if looking for an excuse to not abandon me.

“I’ll be fine,” I told him quietly.

“Of course you will be,” he said with too much confidence, “but if you need someone, you know . . .  I can take the day off.”

“You should go to work.”

“I can stay.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at his persistence. “What about tomorrow, or the day after that, or the day after that? I appreciate that you are trying to be here for me, I do. But I have to be able to do things on my own without slipping into a deep dark depression. I have to be able to handle setbacks without shattering into a million pieces. I’ll try some writing today.”

“If you start—if anything . . .” His concern for my wellbeing warmed my sad heart a little.

“I know.”

He kissed my forehead, pulling me in tight. His tenderness brought fresh tears to my eyes. I crawled into bed immediately after he left, not even bothering to change out of my clothes from the night before. As my head sank into the soft, silken pillow stillness surrounded me and I drifted to sleep.

My sleep was deep and filled with dreams of violence, blood, and terror. I awoke several times, cold sweat beading on my forehead as my mind fought the lingering images. However, I was too tired to not continue to try to sleep.

Eventually though, the distant sound of the phone ringing was the encouragement I needed to give up the ghost and just get out of bed. Unfortunately, I was more exhausted than I’d been originally. My eyelids drooped and my legs were stiff as I stumbled to the phone I had unplugged in my bedroom. I managed reconnect it, but I had missed the call. I stretched the muscles in my back and neck as I went to check the answering machine.

“Ella. Ella, are you there? Pick up.” Gabriel’s voice was hushed, yet had a sense of urgency in it. He gave an impatient sigh. “If you don’t call me in the next five minutes I'm coming over.”

His anxiety put me on edge. Something had happened. I quickly dialed his number and by the fourth ring I had half talked myself into going down to the police station.