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Not only was I going back, but I was doing something I previously thought impossible. I was bringing my child with me.
But just Clara.
Seth and I had both decided that there was too much trauma to be endured from the other two to bring them back.
When the police came, and they would, I would claim they were at a sleepover.
“No,” I admitted. “But I can do it. It’s just a day or two.”
Though we both knew it could be longer than that, making my heart ache in my chest, never having been away from Simon or Hazel even one night of their lives, let alone several.
I knew they were in good hands, hanging out at the house with alternating babysitters. Repo and Maze, Seth’s parents. As well as Layna and Kit, who said they would introduce some of the other girl cousins who would help out if or when needed as well.
They were safe and likely more entertained than they would be if I were there.
But I was Mom.
They’d miss me, no matter how busy they were.
It had to be done, though, so I was trying not to focus on it.
Seth was staying nearby in a hotel. We’d agreed that if this went on longer than a day or two, I would go ‘run errands’ and meet up with him, decompress a little, that sort of thing.
“You have your other phone, right?” he asked for the third time. I did. Hidden in a diaper in the baby bag. Just in case the house was searched, which I was sure it would be at some point. Or, at least, I was mentally preparing myself for that.
“Yes. And my makeup,” I said, waving at my face that you would never tell was beat to hell. I’d gotten good over the years with Simon at covering up the damage he’d inflicted. Once I put on the makeup, and iced my lip to its normal size, there was no evidence of what had happened. I even had my side wrapped in elastic bandages to make moving around easier, so it didn’t look like I was hurt.
“I will check in,” he assured me, giving my hand a squeeze.
I wanted to throw my arms around him, to have him tell me just one more time that this was just a speed bump on the way to our happily ever after.
But this neighborhood was expensive. People had cameras. I had to be careful.
“I’ll be looking forward to it,” I agreed, getting out, grabbing Clara, then Rodney’s leash, and walking up to the house like nothing at all was wrong, like a part of me wasn’t dying a little as I put my old key in the lock, as the door slid open.
I knew it was irrational, but some part of me tensed, sure Simon was going to come charging at me, fists first.
But all there was in the world was silence. Save for Rodney’s ever-present loud breathing.
The house was the same as I’d left it, albeit dirtier. We never had a housekeeper. It was my job to keep things tidy.
And that was exactly what I set out to do once I got Hazel’s old playard out of the nursery, and set it up with some toys.
I needed to stay busy, sure, to keep myself from going crazy. More so than that, though, I needed it to look like I’d never left, that I’d been around for the past five months, being a partner and mother.
So I cleaned, but then I spread some toys around. I put my purse by the door. I put my shoes and a sweater in random places, like I’d been wearing them and had taken them off.
I threw clothes in the laundry and threw some food on the stove.
I wouldn’t eat it.
I felt too sick for that.
Because it didn’t matter how much I cleaned, Simon was all around.
His cufflinks on the nightstand, his clothes in the hamper, his cologne clinging to the sheets.
I swore I could just feel him watching me as I walked around, even though Seth had assured me that the man was not coming back to ruin my life any more than he had.
He hadn’t given me many details, save to say that I should try to sneak it in that I suspected Simon was having a drug problem, that he’d been erratic because of it, was going out at odd times, that sort of thing.
Once upon a time, I’d been a terrible liar.
But years with Simon had turned me into a great one.
No one knew what was happening to me.
And Simon never knew when I was stealing and socking money away.
I had faith in myself that I could pull this off.
There wasn’t much to lie about anyway.
I had been with Simon for eight years. You know, minus just about six months.
