“No, we don’t.” My brows furrow.
“I’ll talk to you soon, Kat. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
“You too, Britney.”
I hear the front door open. Jumping off the couch, I run to the foyer and wrap my arms around Oliver.
“I’m happy you’re home.”
“Me too.” His lips press against the top of my head.
After we arrive homefrom dinner, I kick off my shoes and go into the living room while Oliver pours us a drink. We sit on the couch, his arm wrapped around me, and my head on his shoulder.
“Dinner was wonderful. Thank you,” I say.
“It was. Wasn’t it? Now, I believe you told me earlier that you would show me how much you forgive me.”
I lift my head and smile at the playful smirk across his lips. I brush mine against his, and his fingers unbutton my blouse. His lips trail the side of my neck and then stop.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“That painting is watching us.” He stands, grabs a blanket from the corner, and tosses it over the painting. “There. Nobody is going to watch me make love to my wife.”
13
DAHLIA
I’m five years old,crouched in the living room corner, my knees to my chest and arms hugging them. My mother is shouting at my father. She knows I’m in the corner and doesn’t care. She doesn’t send me to my room. My father admits to the affair.
“How long has it been going on?” my mother demands.
“Twenty-two months.” My father runs his hand through his dark hair.
“Twenty-two months!” she screams. “You’ve been cheating on me for twenty-two months?” She pounds her fists on his chest. He grabs her wrists to stop her.
“Calm down, Renee.”
“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down!” she shouts, breaking from his grip.
He paces the room, unaware I’m in the corner. I’m partially hidden on the side of a large wooden bookcase. “Things haven’t been good with us for a long time. You know that!” he shouts.
“So instead of talking about it, you go out and find someone else?”
“I tried to tell you multiple times I wasn’t happy anymore, and you ignored me. But now that you found out, it’s time for me to leave. I’ll contact my attorney in the morning and start divorce proceedings.”
With his back turned, my mother ran out of the room and into the kitchen. Within seconds, she returns, holding a large, black-handled kitchen knife.
“Bill?” she says.
He turns around, his face contorted in fear. She lunges forward, the sharp blade glinting in the dim light as she thrusts it into his stomach and twists it before pulling it out. Her once loving eyes were now cold and dark with rage. My father stumbles back and falls to the ground, gasping for air. She stands over him, her hand clutching the bloody knife as she repeatedly stabs him, each strike accompanied by a thud. I cower in the corner, my heart racing as I count each brutal stab wound inflicted on my father's body as blood pools underneath him.
“One stab wound for each month you were screwing around behind my back!” my mother shouts.
Stab number twenty-two. She realizes he’s dead and leaves the knife buried in his chest. She stares over at me, cowering in the corner, tears streaming from my eyes.
“Your father did an evil thing, and he needed to suffer the consequences. All men who cheat on their wives or girlfriends behind their backs need to be punished for their sins. They need to be punished. Do you understand me?”
I slowly nod, my frightened eyes staring into hers.
