Page 109 of Requiem

He looks down at me and shaking his head with faux disappointment. “Oh, Jules, that was a very bad idea. You were supposed to stick to our script. Now, I’m really going to have to punish you,” he sighs, leaning down.

I try to pull my broken body inward, curling into a ball to protect myself from his next kick or punch. When he realizes what I’m doing, he starts to laugh.

“You stupid bitch! I’m not going to kick you!”

He scoops me up in his arms and brings me back to the bed, like a groom carrying his bride on their wedding night. “No, no, no! I’ve got something much more fun planned for the two of us.”

He smiles down at me as I turn my head away. It’s quite clear to us both that I’m done fighting.

Trudy 41

I don’t know this house, but I know something doesn’t feel quite right inside of it as I roll the baby’s stroller through the front door. I stand there for a long moment, listening to the silence. Nothing. I’m letting my imagination get the better of me, I think, shaking my head as I unbuckle David and hoist him up onto my shoulder. The two of us make our way up the stairs to the nursery, and his crib. When I lower him down into it, he fusses for just a second before sighing contentedly, as if he knows he’s home. Where he’s supposed to be.

I start at a loud thump coming from the other end of the hall. I realize instantly that my original instincts were right. We aren’t alone in this house. And that’s when it hits me, like a vision from the Lord Almighty, Himself. I slip my shoes off and take a deep breath before returning to the upstairs hallway and making my way to the closed door at the other end. I place my ear against the hollow panels and listen carefully to the muffled sounds within.

“Jules, if you fight me, you’re going to get hurt. Just relax. It’s not like we haven’t done this before.”

I’d know that voice anywhere on the face of this earth. A softer voice, Julia’s, follows, but I can’t make out what she’s saying. He comes back at her, his mocking tone loud and clear through the door.

“I’ve already told you. It doesn’t matter what you promise or offer or threaten. Once I’m through with you here, it’s a couple of sharp blows to the gut and no more baby.”

More soft murmurs and some crying. He’s laughing at her.

“Stop begging, you stupid cunt. You should know by now it’s not going to help. Neither is the crying. So, unless you want me to gag you while I fuck you then I suggest you shut up right now.”

“Go to hell!” I hear her spit. That’s followed by the sound of a hard slap. I have to put a hand over my mouth to keep from crying out as I slowly, carefully, pull back from the door and retreat to the nursery.

Once I’m safely inside, I rummage around in the diaper bag until I find what I’m looking for, some baby allergy medicine. I fill the tiny spoon and poise myself over the crib. This has to be so quick that he doesn’t fully wake up and cry. I count to three in my head and, with my left hand I pluck the pacifier from the little boy’s mouth and then spoon the sticky, sweet liquid into his mouth and down his throat. The instant I see his face start to crumble, I pop the pacifier back in, lay him back down, rubbing his tummy until he drifts back to sleep. That stuff will keep him sleeping for a while. I hope.

I hesitate for just an instant before I leave the nursery.

“Oh, dear God in heaven,” I whisper. “Lord, give me the strength to do what I have to do. Give me the words that I need to speak. Give me the light with which to follow your path through the darkness.”

I step into the hallway once more, slowly closing the door behind me, and tiptoe back down the stairs, cringing with each little creak and groan of the wooden steps. I hold my breath until I am safely on the first floor again, and out of sight of the upstairs.

Calling the police is not an option. I’ve learned that lesson the hard way over the years. My son can talk his way out of anything. He could be holding a bloody knife, standing over a dead body and still find a way to divert the blame to someone else. No, I’m going to have to handle this myself.

After one last deep breath to try and calm my racing heart, I start my preparations, praying all the while that Julia can hold on just a little longer. I consider where I saw the garage from the outside of the house, then push the stroller in that direction, opening doors as I go.

A closet, a guest room a playroom and finally there it is. One stop down and I am surrounded by the smell of oil and gasoline. This is the smell of my sweet husband. I close my eyes for just a moment and breathe in deep. He is here with me, just as he said he would be in his letter.

Yes. I can do this.

I feel along the wall for the light switch and flip on the bright florescence overhead. Once I’ve moved the stroller out of sight, I stop and survey the shelves around me. Tools hang from hooks on pegboard. There’s a hammer. That might do. If I can find the car keys I might find a tire iron in the trunk.

I scan the big cardboard boxes on the shelves labeled CHRISTMAS and MATERNITY CLOTHES. Then I spot something on the other side of the car. It’s a baseball. Well, where there’s a baseball, surely there must be a … And there it is. I stretch to reach the wooden bat and pull it to me. I let it fall into the palm of my hand a few times. It’s got good weight to it. Yes, this will do quite nicely. I can almost hear Danny’s voice in my ear.

“Time to play ball, Trudy, my love.”

Yes it is. And I’m ready.