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“What’s going on, Simon? What are you doing here in the middle of the night climbing through our window?”
“You changed the alarm combination?”
“We didn’t change the combination, Simon.”
“Well, then it must be broken.”
“Sure, it’s broken. But why aren’t you at Bridget’s? Did you two have a fight or something?”
“Nope. Everything is brilliant.”
“If that’s the case, then why are you here?”
“Ah.” I held up my pointer finger. “Because incest is bad. They could have a two-headed baby. I went to medical school. I know these things.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Suddenly feeling like the room was spinning and a giant weight was crushing my chest, I leaned my head back on the couch and shut my eyes. “I love her, you know.”
“Who are we talking about? Bridget or the two-headed baby?”
“I’d love the shit out of a two-headed baby if it was Bridget’s.”
“Okay, Simon. It’s four in the morning and you’re talking in drunk circles. Why don’t we go into the kitchen and have some coffee. Whatever is going on, we’ll figure it out.”The following morning, Bridget was already dressed in her maroon scrubs, getting ready for work when I walked in the door. I’d texted her last night before heading to Calliope’s, explaining that I was too wankered to drive. Thankfully, Calliope’s house was only a half-mile walk from the pub.
Leading Bridget to believe that it was simply the deposition that had me stressed, I knew she was probably confused as to why I’d chosen to drown my sorrows alone in a bar instead of coming home and relieving my stress inside of her. That was uncharacteristic of me, for damn sure.
I placed my hand around her cheek and kissed her forehead. “Brendan’s at school?”
“Yes. I just got back from dropping him off.” Bridget seemed oddly sympathetic when I had expected her to be more pissed at me for not coming home. “How are you feeling? Want some coffee?”
“Sick. I nearly honked on their couch. No coffee, thanks.”
“Honked?”
“Vomited. I was stupid to drink so much.”
“Well, you were stressed. We all deserve an escape once in a while. As long as you don’t do it all of the time.”
“Believe me, I don’t intend to, my luv. I’m fucking miserable away from you at night. Thank you for being so understanding.”
Her warm lips covered my stale mouth. “I missed you.”
Anticipating what was to come, my heart was breaking as I whispered, “I missed you, too.”
I longed to return to the days before this mess came about.
She frowned. “I wish I had more time to spend with you this morning, but I’m already late for work. I just stuck around long enough to say hello. You’re off today, right?”
“Yeah. I don’t have to go in until tonight. We’re going to just miss each other’s shifts by like an hour, I think.”
“You can catch up on rest today then, stay hydrated.”
“I intend to.”
God, I hated this façade.
After she left for the hospital, my mind was racing. Calliope had warned me I could probably get in trouble for contacting Gina Delmonico directly because I was a party to her lawsuit. I’d watched enough Law & Order reruns to think she was right—but I needed to talk to her privately before telling Bridget anything at all. That way I could go into that inevitable conversation armed with information. As much as it made sense, I dreaded calling the woman. I just wished all of this were a bad dream.
Wandering around the quiet house aimlessly, I stopped into Brendan’s room. There was a framed picture of his father atop the chest of drawers. It was in a baseball-themed frame.
I lifted it and spoke to him. “What the fuck were you thinking…messing with that broad when you had Bridget? If you weren’t already dead, I’d fucking kill you, you know that?”
This situation was causing me to completely lose my marbles; now I was talking to a dead man and threatening his life.
“Alright, maybe I don’t mean that, because you’re Brendan’s dad. But I’d definitely rough you up a bit, maybe make you watch while I fucked your wife nice and good right in front of you. Although, maybe you’ve been seeing us from where you are. If so, then you’ve already bore witness to that. Serves you right.”
I looked up at the ceiling before talking to the photo again.
“Thanks a lot for leaving me to clean up your mess, mate. You’d better hope this little girl’s not yours. Get to work…talk to some people up there and bloody fix this.”Gina agreed to meet me at a coffee shop on the East Side of Providence. Bouncing my knees up and down and surrounded by Brown University students and their MacBooks, I sipped my coffee and anxiously awaited her arrival. The only thing pleasant about this was the smell of cinnamon wafting from the baked goods shelf.
