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I’m a coward. I’ve never claimed to be anything else. There is no moment of triumph of finally knowing the truth. I can’t open my eyes, hiding in the dark.
“Yes.” The word comes out of the darkness. It is the darkness. The darkness I used to feel safe in. The darkness I belong in. It’s as much a part of me as I am of it. Damn him for pulling me in and tricking me into thinking it was safe here.
“You groomed me! You lied to me! You knew! You knew I could never be with you if you killed him. You knew and you manipulated me! I hate you. I fucking hate you!” I’m screaming. My throat hurts from it.
“It wasn’t like that. Don’t you fucking lie to me or yourself. You knew I killed him, Phoenix. You knew the moment you met me. Since you were seven years old we were on this collision course. Neither of us knew it but both of us felt it. We are fucked up but we are meant to be. Do not think I will ever let you go. I warned you from the beginning. There is no going back, there is only forward. Feel your feelings and then remember who you are and what you are. You are Phoenix Levin. My wife. My woman. My every fucking thing. I will never let you go. Till fucking death. Get over it.”
“Get over it? Are you serious? This isn’t you spanking me too hard or hurting my feelings. You killed him. Tell me why, damn it. Tell me why you took the only person I’ve loved from me. If you had told me from the beginning we wouldn’t be here. If you want me to stay, you’ll tell me.” I don’t make sense and I don’t care. I need him to understand I have to know.
It’s the Aleksander from before. The flash of Aleksander in the back of the car a few hours ago. “No. Let it go. He’s dead. It cannot be undone. We are here now and that’s all that matters. You go, I follow. There is nowhere in this world I wouldn’t follow.”
Rage fills me, I open my mouth to argue but a cramp low in my pelvis sends me to my knees. I never hit the floor, I’m in his arms and he’s carrying me into the bedroom. I’m torn between wanting to cling to him and pushing him away. Before I can make up my mind he sets me down gently on the bed. His phone is in his hand and he has a call in for Amaya to come check on me.
“This is exactly why we aren’t discussing it. If something happens to the baby, you’ll never forgive yourself or me.” Then he’s gone, slamming the door closed behind him.
I want to follow him but the baby is scaring me with the way he’s moving and I can’t say the pain isn’t terrifying. Closing my eyes, I fight the tears. How can we just not talk about this? How am I supposed to look at him the same way again? He didn’t want me to name our baby after the man he murdered—my uncle and this baby’s great-uncle.
How could he yell at me like that? Of course I didn’t know he killed Ray…tears slide out below my closed eyelids. Did I? No, this is Aleksander manipulating me—twisting things to suit his narrative. I didn’t know.
Amaya appears without knocking. She’s in her second year of medical school at Northwestern. “Baby not behaving?” Is her greeting.
I shrug. “It hurt for a minute but it hasn’t happened again.”
She pulls out the fetal heartbeat monitor. Because of the HG I’ve been experiencing she’s come by to give me an IV of saline for dehydration and every week for a B12 shot that have helped. The hardest thing of this pregnancy hasn’t been the HG, it’s dealing with the constant touching I’ve been subject to. Amaya is the only one I’ve truly felt comfortable with. While I did like my doctor, I’m not comfortable yet with her completely.
“Everything sounds good. I’m seeing your veins a little. You want an IV?”
I nod, the idea of eating or drinking anything has me nauseous. “Thank you.”
In minutes she has it in. With a wave she leaves. As badly as I hate needles, I’m able to remove the IV myself once it’s empty after far too many times of experience. It was usually D—Aleksander who removed it.
Closing my eyes, I work to take a deep breath. He doesn’t feel like Daddy anymore. Everything feels wrong and broken. I even hate the way I smell him in the room around me. Unable to take it anymore I grab the IV and go into the nursery.
It isn’t decorated completely. I wanted to wait until we knew if it was a boy or girl to pick colors. There’s still the large king bed and bedside tables in it. All I have for the baby is a velvet nursing rocking chair with ottoman I hadn’t been able to hide how much I loved when I came across it in the store. I climb onto the bed. I’m grateful for the housekeeper changing the sheets weekly even though this room was used on only two occasions since I’ve been here. Both times it was Damien who stayed with us for business to run audits on the books.
I’m about to pull out the IV when the door opens. Aleksander’s frown is dark. I can’t look at him. He crosses to my side and removes the IV. I loathe him and myself for the way my body reacts to his touch even though I hate him right now. The words out without thought. I need him to know. “I’m going to the house tomorrow. It’s where I’ll stay until the baby is born. Once he’s here if you want to see him it’s fine but I want a divorce.”
“If you want to go to the house, fine. As far as divorce, it’s not happening.” He turns to leave.
“I mean it, Aleksander. I want a divorce. We can do it the easy way or the hard way. You’ll have a few months to figure it out.” I turn out the bedside lamp and burrow into the comforter.
There is no response but the door closing.
* * *
Phoenix
I’m not sure what I’m expecting from him but Aleksander doesn’t do anything. As in nothing at all. I wake up alone in the condo. George is expectant I’ll be taking a bag with me. So he knows I’m not coming back immediately yet he doesn’t appear as if it’s a big deal. When I arrive at the house it’s empty of even our housekeeper.
Mother texts me a housekeeper will arrive tomorrow, our usual housekeeper is visiting family for the holidays. She also asks if I want company. I decline, asking for space. I’m grateful when she doesn’t press me.
For the next week there is no sign of anyone. No texts, calls, or visits from Mother, Celia or Aracely.
I tell myself it’s what I want. Yet I cry myself to sleep every night in a guestroom I’m positive there are no cameras in. There is no work from Valdez or the FBI. Aside from the housekeeper, who is rarely seen, I’m completely alone. It’s the way I lived for so long I don’t understand why I feel like I’m climbing the walls by the second week.
I’m so miserable and dehydrated from crying and not being able to keep anything down Amaya has to come out three times to give me an IV. The third time I call her she reads me the riot act on taking care of myself and the baby.
I give in and text Mother if she could visit for lunch. She’s walking through the door ten minutes later. And I’m crying in her arms in less than two minutes. Despite my fear, she doesn’t urge me to do anything more than to sleep and eat more. When I admit I can’t sleep she makes me a tea she promises will help. She never mentions Aleksander or Ray. It could be any lunch from the past. Except it’s not, we both know it. But the way we do, we pretend everything is fine.
