Page 36 of The Liar I Married

THIRTY-TWO

In the middle of the night, I’m not sure if I’m awake or asleep.

Dreams cling to my reality and I sit up, shaking my head to rid myself of the disturbing images.

Sweat coats me and my PJs cling to my cooling flesh.

I put my head in my hands trying to extract the truth from the dream.

Has my damaged mind decided to reveal itself when I’m asleep?

I’m trembling but not in fear—I’m angry.

I slide out of bed, grab a fresh nightgown, and push my walker into the bathroom.

I lock the door and take a shower as the memory of the night of the accident slowly slots into place.

It’s our wedding anniversary. The girls are asleep and I’m making salad to go with the steaks I purchased today from the market.

John’s voice comes from the hallway but he’s not alone.

I look up from the table as he comes into the kitchen with a wide grin on his face; behind him is Rebecca Lawson.

She pokes him in the back and giggles. I’d looked from one to the other, waiting for an explanation.

Who brings a lawyer to their anniversary dinner with their wife?

“Rebecca is moving into our guesthouse.” John smiles as if keeping his mistress on the grounds of our home and within a stone’s throw of our children is perfectly normal.

I look from one to the other. Ms. Lawson is practically glowing. “I believe we need to discuss this in private.”

“Don’t be silly, Jessie, there’s nowhere else for her to go.

You know how difficult it is to get a place in Manhattan.

Her apartment was damaged in the storm and it needs to be repaired.

She’s only going to be here for a week or so.

” John frowns at me and then turns on his heel.

“I’ll help her with her bags and then come back.

” He glances at the salad and raises an eyebrow.

“Is there enough for three? If not, I’ll take Rebecca to the bistro, we can worry about getting extra groceries tomorrow.

It will be nice having company, won’t it? ”

Anger grips me, and I’m seeing red. How dare he bring that woman into my home?

I somehow keep my voice low and in control.

“Ms. Lawson, would you mind waiting outside while I speak to my husband, please?” I wait for her to go and when the front door clicks shut, I turn to John.

“How dare you? You swore to me that you weren’t having an affair with that woman and now you want to move her into our guesthouse—and on our anniversary?

How gullible do you think I am? No woman in their right mind would agree to something like that.

You can go and tell her to find a hotel because there is no way I’m staying in this house while she’s here. ”

“I gave her my word.” John looks taken aback. “Why are you making such a fuss over nothing? She’s only going to be here a few months.”

I toss the salad into the garbage, and glare at him. “In seconds it’s gone from a couple of weeks to a few months.” My heart is breaking as I turn to him. “It seems to me you’ve already made your choice.”

“Oh, I have.” John turns away from me and heads for the door. “She’s staying.”

I run for the stairs and throw clothes into suitcases, making sure I have enough for the girls, including a few of their favorite toys. I leave a note on our bed. I don’t want him coming after me. It’s over. I scribble a note:

I can’t live like this any longer.

John has underestimated me. Before I inherited my grandmother’s house, I had nowhere to go and no money to support myself but, in a few weeks, the house will be transferred into my name and I will be a multimillionaire. I wake the girls gently and tell them we’re going on vacation.

They’re in the SUV, wrapped in blankets and safely secured, when John arrives. He tries to prevent me from getting into the car. “Let me go. If you think I’m staying here with her, then you are sadly mistaken. I do have some pride, you know.”

“I won’t let you.” John yanks the door from my grasp. “Get back into the house. You’re making a spectacle of yourself.”

I push him hard in the chest. “If you don’t let me go, I’ll scream the place down and the neighbors will call the cops. Your face will be all over the Sunday paper by the time I finish telling my story. Get out of my way.”

Before I can drive away, my brother arrives. I buzz down my window to speak to him. “I’m going to Grandma’s house.”

“Maybe we should talk before you go.” Michael is eyeing me critically. “You need to calm down and think this through.”

The memory from that point blurs into the dream I had about the accident.

I don’t remember John getting into the car and grabbing the wheel.

Did I dream that part? No matter how angry I got I’d never speed with the girls in the vehicle.

So how come I hit the tree? Confusion grips me.

There’s still one piece of the puzzle missing.