“Not as much as you think, I’m sure…”
“Still,” she sighed. “I’m so lucky to have him. I’m so lucky that he loves me…me, Tallie…”
“You deserve it, Sophia…you deserve him…you deserve to be happy…you two were always meant to be…”
Sophia reached for her hand. “Come, Tallie…it’s time…”
“Miss! Miss, are you okay? Answer me! Are you okay?”
Stop with all the fucking yelling! She was trying to sleep! What was the big deal, really? What could be done? What would change? She was a loveless creature, caught adrift in a blue chasm, absentminded and cold.
Why call? Why care? Why?
So there she stood, behind Sophia at the altar. The unity candle flickered near her face. She watched Brandon. She watched him smile, cry, laugh. He was in love with the woman in white. He was fucking in love with her. What could be done? What could be said?
He was beautiful – fucking beautiful. Tall and dark and thick-haird.
Fucking beautiful.
She thought of a million ways to scream out her misery, but when she parted her lips, no sound escaped. Only invisible life, emptiness.
“I do,” Brandon said. “I really do…”
And Natalie felt his words.
There was a loud sound near her head, a cracking noise against glass. Shattered glass. And a man’s voice. It wasn’t nearly as deep as Brandon’s. But more articulate and accented. It was strange.
The idea that it wasn’t Brandon calling for her, pushed her to crack her eyes open and begin to sob uncontrollably, tracing the tips of her fingers up her face and through her hair. She felt a wetness, and a muted stinging sensation that throbbed a little when her touch connected.
She groaned.
“Miss, I’ve called the police, I need to get you out of this car…open up…”
Natalie blinked several times to focus, and her head lopped forward as the tears moved through her.
“No…” she moaned. “No, please…”
“Miss, the door is jammed. I’ve called the police. Are you okay? Are you hurt? What’s your name?”
“Does it matter?” she muttered. The sobs took over her voice.
“The sun is coming up,” she continued. “And my marriage will be over.”
“What? I can’t understand you. Do you have a name, Miss?”
“Sophia,” she whispered. “Sophia Baldwin…”
The next thing she remembered were flashing red and blue lights, a cop with a notepad and a man dressed in all black standing nearby with his arms crossed.
She was in the back of a cop car, drowning in a peculiarly anxious disposition, teeming with wrought emotion.
“I need your license and registration, ma’am…”
“I don’t have it.”
“Insurance information?”
“Don’t have it.”
The officer lurched closer to her with a furrowed brow. The air was chilly, achingly numbing.
There was a slight pause before he continued with, “Ma’am, whose car is this?”
“My husband’s.”
“Does he know you have it?”
“Not necessarily.”
“Where is he right now?”
Natalie looked toward the cop. The man in black remained stationary.
“In our bed, naked and asleep. We made love tonight, and I knocked him out with my insatiable appetite.”
“Is that the truth?”
“That or he’s passed out drunk. Either way, he’s in our bed. And I refuse to go back to that bed, you see.”
“Are you inferring that you had a domestic dispute, ma’am?”
“Nope. I’m simply saying that I left the house while he was asleep and decided to take a joyride in his car. The rest, I’m not so sure of.”
“We will need to contact your husband for insurance and registration.”
“Does this conversation have to include me?”
“That’s a strange question, ma’am.”
“There are no strange questions, officer. Only strange reactions.”
She was feisty. She half expected the cop to wrangle her into handcuffs, but he didn’t. He just stood there.
How disappointing.
“Would you like to at least tell me your name?”
“Which one would you like? My full name? My nickname? My maiden name? Or my married name?”
“Ma’am, it’s been a long day. Please. Indulge me.”
The cop was young and clean and attractive. He was barely out of the academy, given a shitty shift to test his natural fortitude.
Natalie respected his forbearance as much as she did his face.
“Natalie. Natalie Chandler.”
“Is that your maiden or your married name?”
“Greene. My last name is Greene.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Greene,” he replied, jotting down something on the pad. “And your husband’s name?”
“Brandon.”
“Thank you. I’ll give your husband a call in the morning. In the meantime, I’ll contact a local tow truck service and have his truck pulled out of the ditch. You did a pretty number, avoiding the other driver. I should add least give you credit for your evasive driving.”
“Thank you. And I’m sure my husband will thank you too. Should I decide he’s worth speaking to again.”
For the sake of his own professionalism, the cop attempted to stifle a chuckle.
“If he’s got a firecracker of a wife to deal with, I’m sure he’s worth the trouble.”
“I appreciate your honesty, officer.”
“Where can I take you?”
“I’m not sure. I have no license. I have no money. I’m still in my bedroom slippers, you see.”
Then she laughed heartedly at the thought of the letter she left on the nightstand beside her husband’s phone.
You two deserve each other. Time to end the charade. Have a nice life.
“My husband won’t be very happy with me when he wakes up,” she remarked, settling down. “And I have no friends or family in the area. It’s just us. Do cops provide plane tickets back to Georgia.”
“On my salary, no,” he smiled. “But I do have a friend who owns a hotel. I’ll take you there.”
“No.”
The man dressed in black stepped forward. She could barely see his face in the flashing hazard lights.
“I’ll take her.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I’m not very accustomed to taking rides from strangers.”
“We already met, you see,” he said. “When your truck almost totaled mine.”
He drove a large black SUV, a real shiny clunker of a thing that looked as though it belonged to a Dr. Carrievan of Secret Service agents. And he had a really nice watch on his hairy wrist, similar to the one she’d almost purchased Brandon but stopped herself when she realized she wasn’t rich.
He would’ve loved it, though.
The sun was starting to peek up ahead, and she winced her eyes toward the horizon. They stung with fragments of tears. She felt weakened and sore and empty.
“There’s a better establishment downtown,” the driver muttered. “That cop would’ve taken you somewhere crappy.”
“I like ‘crappy’,” she remarked idly. “It’s what stories are made of.”
“I don’t think you would’ve shared the same sentiment had you actually have stayed there.”
She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You have no idea.”
They didn’t speak for several minutes, and the coral sky took over her perception.
She was in love with what she saw. It made everything easier to deal with.
“That young cop must’ve really liked you. They usually slam people with drunk driving charges like they’re candy.”
“I wasn’t drunk.”
“Oh, that was your normal way of driving.”
“My emotions have become something I cannot control. I’m existing for two now.”
“That’s poetic.”
“Yes. And it also means that I’m carrying my husband’s child. And I’m not sure that I want to.”
“That’s an honest statement.”
“No more talking, please. I just want to sleep.”
The next thing she knew, she was waking up in a swanky hotel room, flanked in silk and lace and modern accents, with the smell of fresh flowers filling her every sense. And there were at least twelve missed calls from Brandon, half of which he had taken the time to leave voicemails.
“Tallie, where are you? Why aren’t you answering your phone?”
“Are we really doing this again? Is this really us?”
“Let me explain myself. I do have an explanation.”
“I know what you’re doing right now. You’re sitting wherever you are and you’re stewing.”
“Come home and talk to me, baby. I need you.”
“I love you.”
She shivered at the sound of his voice, melting away the anger she quickly woke up with. She knew what she had to do, just that quickly. She knew how much easier it would be once she did it.
She sat up sharply, shuffled the ridiculously comfortable covers aside, and slid her feet to the floor. Her feet sank into the plush carpet.
“Where the hell am I?” she questioned aloud. “And where are my clothes?”
Damn it, she thought. I’m dreaming again. I got too drunk in said dream over the loss of Brandon and I’ve sunk into a very depressive subconscious. Help me.
She reached for her phone again. She hated when her anger for her husband collapsed swiftly. She hated how much she loved him, even then, when things were so haphazardly fucked up between them.
She dialed a series of familiar numbers, inhaling and exhaling deeply.
“Brandon Greene, speaking…”
“Brandy…”
And she crumbled into tears. Right there with her husband on the other end. They tumbled through her like a miserable orgasm, taking over every inch of her body, leaving her helpless, exposed and weak.
She heard her husband release a heavy breath into the receiver. She couldn’t tell if it was a sigh of relief or exasperation. Nevertheless, she collected her senses, wiped her eyes and her nose and continued with, “I’m sorry.”
He breathed heavily again. “I’m sorry, too.”
“I’m sorrier than you.”
“Not possible.”
“I can’t believe you went to work.”
“I had no other choice. Though, I’m not really sure I should have. Cab fare here is ridiculous.”
She felt a pang in her chest, remembering the accident. Her purpose for being in that hotel room came flooding back to her violently.
“Are you at least safe?”
She surveyed the room; it was the nicest one she’d ever been in. Period.
“Yes. I am.”
“I won’t ask where you are. Just as long as you’re safe.”
“Baby, I want to see you. I need to see you.”
“I thought you’d never want to see me again after the things that came out of my mouth last night.”
“You were drunk. And I did something very foolish. We’re even.”
“True,” he replied. “It’s almost ten. Want to meet for lunch in an hour or two?”
“Yes.”
“Good. The thought of losing you, Tallie…I can’t…”
“Don’t. You never will.”
“See you soon, baby.”
“I can’t wait.”
But she had a lot to do before then. A lot.
She needed to get to the hospital to speak with her boss as soon as she could. She had a lot of explaining to do. She had a lot to say. This conversation wouldn’t be easy. It wouldn’t be light. It wouldn’t be quick. She was starting to establish a deeper relationship with them. She was starting to have a life that wasn’t there before. She actually appreciated these people.
But she knew what she had to do. She knew what had to be done to save her marriage.
She got on the phone as soon as she could. Dr. Carrie answered on the second ring.
“Hi, Natalie, where are you? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Dr. Carrie,” she replied. Her voice was still scratchy from all of the tears.
“I just overslept. I’m coming in as soon as I can.”
“No worries, take your time. We’ll talk when you get here.”
Phew. One fire put out for the time being. Who next?
Ah, yes. The officer she’d smart-mouthed the night before. Where was his number? Did she even save it in the chaos?
And what about the man in black? Where the hell was he? What was his name again?
She’d been drunk with tears, weakened, immobilized completely for hours.
She found the officer’s card on the nightstand, as though it had been placed there on purpose.
She dialed the numbers hastily.
“Officer Drew.”
“Yes, this is Natalie Chand…I mean, Greene.”
“Ah, Mrs. Greene. I trust you slept well?”
“As well as I could considering the circumstances…”
“Very well. I bet you’d like to know where your husband’s car is?”
“Yes. And I’d like to know the damage. And I’d really like to not involve my husband in the cost if necessary.”
“Hold on one second…ah yes…the black 4Runner, correct?”
“Yes.”
She braced herself for the worst. The absolute worst. She was going to see Brandon in an hour and had to explain herself. What the hell was she thinking?
“Hmm, that’s strange.”
“What? It’s ridiculously expensive and you don’t want to tell me the truth?”
“Quite the opposite. Apparently the truck got fixed very early this morning. It’s been sitting at the dealership for a couple of hours now all shiny and new.”
“But…I didn’t even talk to the insurance people yet.”
“No kidding? Well, I’m not sure what to tell you. The dealership said it’s good as new and already paid for.”
“Well, that’s absurd,” she said. “But I suppose I can come and pick it up…”
SHE HAD ONLY BEEN PARTIALLY SURPRISED that a shuttle had been arranged to pick her up at the front desk in the hotel lobby. Confused, but not strong enough to question why, Natalie arrived at the Toyota dealership in record time, freshly showered and clear-headed.
She would go to the hospital, pack her belongings and tell Dr. Carrie that she couldn’t do it anymore. She wouldn’t waste her words with details as to why she couldn’t. She would just say it, frankly, and walk out. Nothing more complicated than that.
She pulled into the parking lot of the hospital and rode the elevator up to her floor. Her particular wing was alive, bustling, foot traffic everywhere. She could’ve slipped into routine without the fuss of having to call Dr. Carrie to tell her she was going to be late. Nobody would’ve known the difference.