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Devin: You didn’t sign the papers.
Nina: You aren’t allowed to text me.
Devin: It’s not over yet.
Nina: Tomorrow.
Devin: That’s tomorrow, see me tonight.
I didn’t bother entertaining him and completely ignored the ache in my chest. I climbed out of my car, determined to find more answers.
But the truth was, I already knew somehow they were connected. I felt it in every fiber of my being.
“Your conscience is the measure of the honesty of your selfishness. Listen to it carefully.”
? Richard Bach
§§
Devin
I arrived at my anniversary party thirty minutes after eight, and an hour and a half after she was expecting me. Knowing I’d raised my wife’s blood pressure considerably before I’d got there was a small victory. Eileen’s parents and sister were seated in our dining room and looked at me expectantly for an explanation, which I didn’t give.
“I apologize,” I said, quickly taking my seat at the head of the table then grabbed my glass. “To my wonderful wife, happy anniversary.”
The rest of our guests, minus her sister, raised their glasses in praise of their fair hostess then began to devour the first course. Always in fucking courses with Eileen. She considered dinner an event. It was never a quick bite, just a slow and agonizing task, especially with her choice of company. Our anniversary gave reason to prolong it even further, a celebration of our farce of a marriage. She’d even brought out her eighteenth-century china. As the drab conversation rolled on, I drank, heavily, ignoring the second and third course, opting for a courteous nod or short sentence of reply. Looking over at Eileen, I recalled our wedding day. I was fond of her then, and she was once a tiger in the sack. I was never a man for sentiment, and love wasn’t a requirement for me. Love wasn’t the reason for my union, though I couldn’t deny I’d felt strongly about the possibility when I married my wife.
It was a part
nership. I didn’t need her money. I wanted to play the game. I was in it for the thrill. I wanted to drive a stake into the heart of the city, make my claim and start my empire. Although I had my partners, I needed the connections she had in Charleston to grow my business. I married her for her name, but it didn’t hurt I was fond of her classic beauty and her wit. She was sharp and stealthy when she worked a room, and I needed someone beside me that adhered to the wealthiest appetites, to attract them and bring them in. I was old money, but when I moved here from Savannah ten years ago, I needed a shoe-in, a way to easily marry myself with the elite. Something she could do with her name alone. The world was my oyster at twenty-nine when I married her.
I got that so fucking wrong.
After a few years of ignorant bliss, she started withholding sex at her whim. She’d made it perfectly clear that I was to do as she wished. Happy wife, happy life.
I ignored her. I was busy growing my firm and didn’t bother to try and save the marriage. She had her agenda: to live and die exactly like her mother. And I had mine. She thought I was weak.
Stupid cunt.
“Seven years, Devin,” her mother piped. “It’s time for the itch.”
She couldn’t have handed me a more loaded statement. I caught Eileen’s gaze that told me not to go there and gave her a small smirk.
“I have a feeling I will fare well.”
Eileen plastered a smile on her face.
The truth was, no one at the table was blind. There was a giant elephant stomping all over the Renaissance style, oak dining table that we all ignored.
Her mother numbed herself with her anti-depressants while her father aided me by taking advantage of my abuse and cruelty with my new ten-thousand-dollar bottle of Macallan, an anniversary gift from my wife.
Her sister, Sandra, glared around at all of us while we ate. She apparently was in a good mood, because insults weren’t flying between her and Eileen. When the two were amicable, it usually had something to do with me. There was only one woman I despised as much as my wife, and that was her sister.
Sandra lived in Savannah in what I was sure was a dark cave where she sacrificed defenseless animals and small children before cleansing herself in their blood. There was no deity worthy of her praise that she could possibly hold in higher regard as much as she did herself. She radiated evil and I, along with my wife, shared open contempt for her.
I would normally question her presence in the house, but it was evident to me Eileen had her here as a subtle reminder of her case against me and to keep me on my toes. Sandra was as much to blame as my dear wife for my predicament.
“Sandra, how good of you to come.” I raised my glass, prodding her with my wolf grin.
