So Much for My Happy Ending (26 page)

“Why don't I tell you everything tonight at the Bubble Lounge.”

“You got it. Are you going to call Caleb or shall I?”

“I'm headed down to see him now.” I did a few jumps of my own, and Allie laughed.

“You know, if you had shown that kind of enthusiasm at the Appreciation Meetings, Liz would never have let you go.”

I giggled and went to the escalator where it took all my willpower to keep myself from pushing past the throngs of shoppers in order to take the moving steps two at a time down to Cosmetics.

Unfortunately, I was paged before I got to the first floor. I reluctantly made a pit stop at Sassy and dialed the operator from the phone at the register.

“April Silverperson here, you paged me?”

“I have a Tad Showers on the line for you, shall I put him through?”

“Oh, yes!” I said with enough zeal in my voice to cause Dorita, who was across the floor, to look over at me curiously.

“April?” Tad's voice floated through the receiver.

“Tad,” I said in an eager whisper. “I did it! Can you believe it? I did it!”

Tad let out a gleeful laugh. “I'm so proud of you. Everything's going our way.”

“It is, isn't it?” I shook my head, still having a hard time wrapping my mind around the idea.

“We have to celebrate tonight,” he said.

“Oh, you're not working late?” My mind went to the invitation I had just extended to Allie.

“Not tonight. Tonight's about us.”

“Well, I was going to go to the Bubble Lounge with Allie and Caleb, do you want to make it a foursome?”

“Can you tell them that you're going to have to reschedule? I have a surprise for you and I want to be the only one there when I present it.”

“Why's that?” I asked suspiciously.

“Because when you see what it is you're going to want to thank me properly.”

“Properly, huh? Does properly involve a conspicuous absence of clothing?”

“Just meet me at home after work and we'll see where it leads.”

I hesitated, but only for a moment. Tad had been swamped at work lately and I knew that his taking this time to be with me meant that he was making some sacrifices. “I'll meet you at home then,” I agreed. I hung up the phone and tried to take a deep breath. I didn't want to tell the staff just yet, which meant that I was going to have to keep it together a little better in order to avoid questions. But they knew something big was up. How else could they explain my new smile that simply wouldn't go away?

W
hen I got home Tad's car was blocking our one-car garage, violating our rule that whoever got home first parked in the garage so that the other person could have the spot behind it. But Wednesday evenings in Laurel Heights weren't the worst in terms of parking and I found a spot less than half a block away. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except that I was on my way to making my dreams come true. I bounced in the door and smiled when I heard Everclear's “I Will Buy You a New Life” coming out of our speakers.

Tad was waiting in the living room with a chilled bottle of champagne. I caught a whiff of something scrumptious coming out of the kitchen. He instantly pulled me in for a kiss. It was long and eager and full of promise.

When he finally let me go I smoothed out my shirt and walked around him, examining his efforts. “A home-cooked meal, champagne.” I clucked my tongue appreciatively. “I guess this makes up for making me park on the street.”

“I think you'll forgive me.” Tad snatched the champagne out of its decorative ice bucket. “I have a little congratulations present for you.”

I held up a protesting hand. “Now let's not get ahead of ourselves. I haven't even been accepted into a program yet.” But I couldn't stop smiling. It did feel as if a token gift was appropriate, if only to commemorate my moment of courage.

Tad shook his head. “You're always so cautious.” There was a gleam in his eye that spoke of his mounting excitement. I was touched that Tad would be this happy for me. I had never believed he understood how I felt about all the things I had given up in the name of practicality, but watching his movements as he popped the cork and poured the champagne it was clear that he was having to work extra hard to keep himself from breaking into a jig. He seemed even more hyped than when he had announced his own accomplishments.

He handed me a glass and grabbed my free hand, nearly crushing it in his current state of exhilaration. “We need to toast.”

I lifted my glass. “To fresh starts.”

Tad shook his head. “To mind-boggling success. To showing all the assholes who held us back what we're really made of.”

I didn't like that toast. But I didn't want to break the mood, so I managed an appeasing smile and drank.

I then promptly spilled half my drink down my shirt as Tad yanked me through the kitchen. “Are you ready for your surprise?”

I didn't answer. If I had been ready, my silk Theory top wouldn't be saturated in Dom Perignon.

He stopped in front of the door to the garage, his face alight with…with what? A little chill traveled up my arms. This wasn't just excitement. This had an edge to it.

“My surprise is in the garage?” I asked carefully.

Tad nodded with the vigor of a little child. He grabbed the doorknob and threw the door open.

I gasped. Parked in my spot was a BMW Z3. The chill was gone, now I just felt ice cold.

“You…you bought that?” I whispered. He couldn't have. Surely it was a rental, a loaner; there was some reasonable explanation.

“Yep! I saw a woman driving one today and I knew I had to get one for you. So what do you think?” He ran down the three steps that took him to the car. He whirled around and made a little “ta-da” gesture. “Is this great or what? We are now a two-BMW family!”

“B-but,” I stammered, still glued to my spot in the doorway, “I don't need a car.”

“April, this isn't about needing, this is about wanting! Don't you get it? We can get the things we want now! Our days of penny-pinching are over!”

“Penny-pinching?” I heard my voice rise an octave. “Three days ago we had a two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar dinner at Maas!”

“And now we can do that every weekend!” Tad exclaimed. “And next time you can give this baby to the valet! And they'll know! They'll know what kind of people we are!”

“You mean crazy? Or were you aiming for bankrupt?”

Tad stepped back as if I had just dealt him a physical blow. “What are you talking about?”

“I just quit my job!” I screamed. “We should be saving! You said you would support me if I went back to school!”

“And I will!” he shot back. “What the fuck is your problem? I bought this for you!”

“But I don't want it! Take it back! Take it back! Take it back!” The words kept tumbling out, each syllable hitting a new note of hysteria. He couldn't return it, not a car. I turned and ran back into the kitchen, slamming the door behind me. I gripped the back of a kitchen chair and tried to calm myself. Okay, we couldn't return the car, but we could sell it. This was fixable.

I heard the door slam against the wall as Tad shoved it back open. He grabbed my arm and whirled me around. His other hand went to my opposite arm and he pulled me to him, almost lifting me off the floor with the force of the movement. “You bitch,” he seethed. “You still don't believe in me. You've never believed in me….”

The shock of his violent behavior had an odd steadying effect on me. “This isn't about my believing in you, Tad.” My voice sounded cool and detached. “Now, let go of my arms.”

He pushed me backward, releasing me as he did. I fell, knocking over the chair as I hit the floor. Tad flinched but he didn't offer his hand in assistance. Instead, he turned on his heel and stalked toward the front door.

“What are you doing?” I asked, pulling myself to my feet and following him despite the sharp pain in my ankle. My heart stopped as I watched him retrieve an old baseball bat from the hall closet. “Tad…”

He didn't respond, just opened the front door and disappeared outside.
Let him go
. But I couldn't stop myself from following him. There was something very strange going on and I knew it wasn't over.

When I stepped outside I could see Tad on the sidewalk looking this way and that. “Tad!” I called after him.

He didn't turn. He was staring at something that I couldn't see. Then he turned to the right and ran down the street. “Tad!” I screamed again. I hobbled after him and then stopped in horror as I saw the baseball bat make impact with the windshield of my car.

No
. I mouthed the word but no actual sound came out. I stood paralyzed as he smashed every single one of my windows. Then he turned around and walked back in my direction.

Run,
my little voice said.
Get out of here now!
But where should I go? Into the house? To the home of a neighbor I didn't know? Tad was getting close. I started to back up, wincing as I inadvertently put weight on my injured ankle. Tad stopped when he was only a few feet in front of me. I looked him in the eye, expecting to see rage. But all I saw was pain.

He dropped the bat and I stood speechless as his face twitched with the effort to hold back his mounting tears. Then he walked past me, stepped into his car and drove away.

Less than a half hour later the police came to my door. They claimed to have gotten a call about a possibly violent domestic disturbance, and seeing that the vandalized car down the street was registered to me they thought I might know something about it. I leaned against the door frame in order to hide the fact that I was favoring one leg and shook my head. I told them that I had seen my car, but only after the fact, and had written it off as the work of some drunken teenagers.

The police officers seemed satisfied with my account. They babbled something about how I was welcome to report the vandalism at the station and then wished me a pleasant evening.

As if that was possible.

That night I packed and unpacked my bags five times. At ten I was standing in my bedroom looking over an empty suitcase. What should I do? Leave? I could stay with Caleb or Allie but then I'd have to admit to them what had happened. If they knew…

I shook my head. I couldn't share any of this until I was sure of what I was going to do. I looked down at my ankle. The sharp pain had mellowed to a persistent ache. I wriggled my toes. It was twisted but not broken or sprained.

I looked around the room. Everything was neat and in order. Everything except my life. “Think, think, think,” I muttered to myself. If I could just find a way to put what had taken place into logical terms, I could figure out how to deal with it.

But you can't make the illogical logical
. As usual my little voice was right. Nothing that had happened had made sense…unless Caleb had been right, and Tad was on drugs.

I immediately turned to the dresser that contained Tad's clothing and started opening all the drawers. I pulled all the clothes out of each one, unfolding the socks while looking for a little plastic bag containing a white powder, a syringe, papers to roll joints—anything. My breathing quickened as I tossed the searched items on the floor and reached for the next. There had to be some evidence of a reasonable explanation. I couldn't accept anything else. I wouldn't.

The phone rang and I straightened up, clutching a pair of Tad's jeans in my hand. “Tad,” I whispered. What felt like a wave of ice water rolled from my chest to the pit of my stomach. I walked to the phone, counting the steps as I moved, nine, ten, eleven…“Hello,” I said quietly into the receiver.

“I'm glad to hear that you're not dead.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “Not now, Mother. I can't do this with you now.”

“Have you gotten my messages? Do you understand how—”

“I understand that I can't talk to you now.”

“April…”

“Not now!” I screamed so loud that my throat hurt from the effort. I slammed the phone down and then quickly took it back off the hook. I sat down on the chair by the phone and a single tear trickled down my cheek. I quickly wiped it away and blinked back the tears that threatened to follow. I needed to go over the facts. Tad had bought a car…How much did it cost? He had to have gotten a loan. But were we even eligible for a loan, considering the recent delinquent credit card payments?

I retrieved my purse from the coatrack by the door, pulled the navy checkbook out of my wallet and examined the balance. Five thousand four hundred and nineteen dollars were in it last I checked, and we had another nine hundred in a savings account that was exclusively in my name. I went back to the phone and put the receiver in its cradle long enough to get a dial tone again. Then I dialed the number at the bottom of my check.

“Hello, you've reached Bank of America's automated account services,” said the recorded voice. I pressed the necessary numbers until I got to the part that recited our balance. “You have an available balance of fifty dollars and three cents in your checking account…”

My stomach did a flip-flop. I checked the savings account. “You have a balance of zero dollars…”

I hung up the phone. Okay, okay, I could deal with this. I would have to hold off on getting my car fixed but I could still sell the Z3. It might take a few days but that was okay. I had two weeks left at Dawson's, so I could focus all my energy on selling, and collect as much commission as possible.

The phone rang again. I pressed my fingers into the bridge of my nose. Of all the nights for my mother to try to reach me she had to pick tonight. I picked up the receiver. “Listen,” I started.

“April.”

I stopped at the sound of Tad's voice. I racked my brain for an appropriate thing to say. “Where are you?”

“I just needed to drive around. April, did I hurt you? God, if I hurt you—” His voice broke and I could make out his muffled sobs.

“I twisted my ankle, but other than that I'm okay,” I said, unsure if it was my duty to reassure him. “Tad, I don't understand what's going on.”

“I never wanted to hurt you.” His voice was weak and shaky. “Please, tell me how I can make things right. Please…”

“I need you to help me make sense of this. Can you do that, Tad?”

I could hear him begin to cry again and I struggled to keep my own throat from constricting. I didn't want revenge. I just wanted all of this to go away. But since there was no magic genie around to grant me impossible wishes, I would settle for understanding.

“I promise we'll talk,” he said. “But not tonight, okay, April? Please, we can't talk tonight.”

I hesitated. The suggestion that we put this off seemed like a colossal joke. Tomorrow he would be going on a two-day business trip, and in the meantime every window in my car was broken and my bank account was practically empty. What was I supposed to do, plant my ass on some broken glass and pay for my gas with chocolate gelt? On the other hand it seemed like a very unwise idea to push Tad tonight. Better to allow him some time to calm down and then strategically approach the problem.

“We'll talk about it when you get back from L.A.,” I agreed. I took a deep breath before I asked the next question. “Are you coming home tonight?”

“Would it be all right if I stayed at a motel—just for tonight?”

“Yes!” I cried, and then instantly regretted my unbridled enthusiasm. “I mean, sure, if you think the alone time will help you.”