How to Kill Your Husband (25 page)

“Hello?”

“Hey, Becky.”

“Claire! Oh, my God! What took you so long to call back?”

“I'm at the hospital. Where are the kids?”

“We're here at your house,” Becky said. “What are you, you're where?”

“At the hospital,” Claire said. “George had a heart attack.”

Becky gasped. “Oh, no!”

“It's okay,” Claire said. “He's going to be all right. I'm on my way home. What are the kids doing?”

“I took them out to breakfast,” Becky said. “And then we went to the mall because you weren't answering your phone. I kept them out as long as I could, but we ran out of stuff to do. I brought them back two hours ago.”

“You're still with them?”

“Yeah, I'm here.”

“That's good,” Claire said, and then she had a horrible thought. “You didn't let them go in the garage, did you?”

“The garage, no. I didn't let them, and I don't think they did.”

“Oh, man,” Claire said with a hand to her chest. She started the Lexus and backed out of her parking spot.

“What's wrong?” Becky asked. “What happened to George?”

“I broke his bike,” Claire said. “I went to town on it this morning before the constable showed up.”

“George has a bike?”

“His Harley,” Claire said. “When he saw what I did to it, that's what made him have the heart attack.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, but it wasn't all my fault. He's been having chest pains for a while now. I didn't even know he had heart problems, but yeah, when he saw the bike, that's what made him fall out. I was standing there, yelling at him, and he had a heart attack right in front of me.”

“Why'd you break his bike?
How
did you break it?”

“We have to talk about it later,” Claire said. “Where are you now? Where are the kids?”

“They're in their rooms, I think. I'm in the living room.”

“Becky, I need you to make sure none of them goes down to the garage. If they see that bike, I don't know what I'd do. I don't know why I did that. I still can't believe it.”

“Okay,” Becky said. “No one will go down there. Are you gonna be here soon?”

“Fifteen minutes,” Claire said. “Thanks a lot, for everything. I gotta go.”

“Okay,” Becky said, and they disconnected.

Claire called information next looking for a nearby wrecker service. The operator gave her the number she needed and then transferred the call to them. Claire chewed off her pinky nail while the phone rang.

“Plummer's Towing.”

“Hi,” Claire said. “I need to get a motorcycle picked up from my house.”

“Where you taking it to?” The man on the other end had deep southern twang, and he sounded like he had a jaw full of snuff.

Claire racked her brain for the name of George's favorite motorcycle shop. “Um, Cycle, no, uh,
Custom Cycles
, on Camp Bowie.”

The man on the other end grunted. “Where we picking up?”

“My, my house,” Claire said. She gave him the address.

“That's a nice little trip,” the tow guy noticed. “What's wrong with your bike?”

“It's smashed up,” Claire said. “It got wrecked pretty bad.”

The man grunted again. “Hmph. I cain't get nobody over there for at least an hour.”

“That's fine,” Claire said. “Thank you.”

* * *

When she got home, Claire didn't want to park in the garage, but she couldn't park in the driveway either because she'd have to move when the tow truck got there. She left her Lexus on the curb instead, and it looked so out of place she knew she wouldn't get away with her plan. The kids were going to find out about daddy's bike no matter how diligent she was.

Inside Claire found Becky in the living room alone.

“Hey, girl.”

Becky jumped up to embrace her.

“Claire! How's it going? Are you okay?”

“I'm all right,” Claire said. “Where are the kids?”

“They're still in their rooms. They're so quiet. Did you serve George the papers this morning?”

Claire put a finger to her mouth. “Shhh! We'll talk later.”

“Oh. Okay. How's George?”

“He's doing well,” Claire said. “Listen, I appreciate all your help today, but I have to talk to the kids. Lord knows this is going to be one of the hardest things I've ever had to tell them.”

“You're going to tell them about the divorce?”

Claire put a hand to Becky's lips this time. “Shhht! No, not yet. I'm talking about him being in the hospital. They're going to be so worried.”

“Oh,” Becky said. “It'll be okay. You sure you don't need anything else from me?”

“No,” Claire said. “You've already been such a big help. I appreciate everything, really. I love you, girl.”

“When are you going to tell me what happened?”

“How about later on tonight,” Claire offered. “I'll call Melanie, and maybe we can get some more bumpy face.”

“That's a great idea!” Becky exclaimed. “I love that bumpy face!”

* * *

Claire thought she'd have a hard time explaining George's heart attack to the kids, but they were surprisingly brave throughout the whole ordeal. Once they were assured their father was definitely not going to die, every question they asked was to feed their curiosity.

“Did he die for a minute, and then they brought him back to life?” Stacy asked. She sat on the couch on her mother's right side. Nikki sat quietly on Claire's left, and George Jr. sat Indian-style on the floor between her legs.

“No,” Claire said. “At no point did your father die for a minute.”

“That would've been cool,” George Jr. said. “If he saw a light, and then he had to run
away
from the light so he could come back alive.”

“That's not
cool
,” Nikki said. “Don't you know Daddy's hurt right now?”

“Mama said he was all right.”

“He is going to be all right,” Claire confirmed. “But right now he is still sick. He's in the hospital, and I don't know how long he's going to be there.”

“Does he have a zipper on his chest?” Stacy asked.

Claire frowned. “A zipper?”

“When Bridgette's dad had a heart attack, he came back home with a zipper on his chest,” Stacy informed.

“That's because he had
surgery
,” Nikki said. She was more solemn and irritable than the younger two.

“Could they unzip it and see his heart?” George Jr. asked.

“I should hope not,” Claire said with a frown. “What she's talking about is probably staples they put in to keep his chest closed. Once it heals, they'll take the staples out, and it will just be a long scar.”

“They really use
staples
?” George Jr. was astounded.

“They do if you have surgery,” Claire said. “But we don't need to talk about that, because your father didn't have surgery. He had a small heart attack, and if he takes care of himself when he gets out, everything will be fine.”

“When is he going to get out?” George Jr. wanted to know.

“I don't know,” Claire said.

“Can we go see him?” Stacy asked.

Claire nodded. “We're going in a couple of hours. Did y'all eat lunch yet?”

“I ate a corny dog,” Stacy said.

“I had some chips,” George Jr. reported.

Claire shook her head in dismay. “Why don't y'all go find something to wear to the hospital, and I'll make something to eat before we go.”

George and Stacy scurried off, but Nikki lingered on the couch. Claire put an arm around her shoulder.

“You all right?”

Nikki nodded. “Is Dad really going to be okay?”

“Of course,” Claire said with a furrowed brow. “Why would you ask that?”

Nikki shrugged. “I didn't know if you trying to make it sound good so the children didn't get scared.”

Claire chuckled. “No, I wasn't. And I take it you're not a child anymore?”

Nikki shook her head. “I'm not a child. I'm a young adult.”

“Oh, well excuse me, madame,” Claire said.

“I forgive you,” Nikki said and got up with the gracefulness of a princess.

* * *

With the kids busy in their rooms, Claire got started on a tuna salad. She still didn't think she could get George's bike picked up without anyone knowing about it, and she was right.

The wrecker showed up at three o'clock, and his arrival was nowhere near secretive. Not only did he pull his noisy truck into the driveway, but he got out and knocked hard on the front door. Claire rushed to answer it, but by then Stacy and George Jr. were on their way as well.

Claire cut them off in the hallway. “Y'all go back to your room!” she ordered.

“Why?” Stacy asked. “Who's that?”

“It's a tow truck,” Claire admitted. “He's going to take your daddy's motorcycle to the shop again.”

Luckily George shipped his bike off fairly often, so they swallowed the story easily enough.

“Can I watch?” George Jr. asked.

“No,” Claire said. “Go back to your room.”

“Why can't I watch?”

Nikki emerged from her room then, and Claire was at her wit's end.

“None of you can watch! Now go back to your rooms. All of you! Your dad's in the hospital, and I'm stressed enough as it is.”

That didn't make a lot of sense, but the kids didn't argue. They went back to whatever they were doing, and Claire went outside to direct the truck driver. They got George's busted bike loaded up and shipped off in just fifteen minutes, but Claire was sure she hadn't heard the last of it.

* * *

And she was right.

After lunch Nikki crept into her mom's room looking more forlorn than a gazelle at a hyena convention. Claire was ironing a blouse, but she stopped to see what the girl's problem was.

“What's wrong, honey?”

Nikki made her way to her mother's bed and took a seat slowly. Claire went and sat next to her. Nikki wore blue jeans with a long-sleeved black button-down. Her long hair was down, and she had a large bang hanging over her right eye.

Claire thought she wanted to finally give her feelings on George's heart attack, but it turned out her daughter was a lot smarter than she gave her credit for. Nikki had her mom's intuition as well.

“What happened to Dad?” she asked as soon as Claire sat down.

Claire's heart shot up in her throat, but she tried not to show it. Her thoughts immediately returned to the night before, when she held a gun to George's head and thought she heard a sound behind her. If that was Nikki, then this child had to be on the verge of a mental breakdown.

Claire got up and closed her door. She came back and sat with her hands in her lap. “What do you mean, honey? I told you, your father had a heart attack.”

“Why did the tow truck take his bike?” Nikki asked.

Claire couldn't believe the bad vibes she was getting. “Nikki, why are you asking me about your father's bike?”

“You asked George how he would feel if Daddy didn't come home,” Nikki reminded her.

Claire knew right then she was in a heap of trouble. She regretted ad-libbing such a delicate conversation even more now.

“What are you saying?” she asked her daughter.

Nikki sniffled and a thick tear rolled down her cheek. Somehow she still had the strength to look her mom in the eyes. “I just want to know what happened.”

Claire wished there was a big hole she could jump into. “Nikki, you're just a—”

“
I'm not a baby
,” the adolescent spat. “I'll be fifteen in
four months
.”

Claire was startled at first, and then she reached for her daughter's hand. She cradled it and squeezed softly. “Yes. You will be. You are a big girl.” Claire still didn't want to tell her about the bike, but Nikki would think horrible things about her mother until it was out in the open. That was even more unbearable.

“I can tell you what happened,” Claire said, “but you're not going to like what you hear. This is
real
big girl stuff I'm talking about. I didn't do anything wrong. I think you should just accept that. But if you want the truth, I won't keep it from you. It's going to hurt, though.…”