Authors: Tessa Saks
“And that’s why you
are here in Ellen’s room, snooping?”
“I
…”
Ellen couldn’t think of a decent
lie. “I was curious.” She hung her head in shame.
“What’s this?”
Jonathan pulled the journal out of Ellen’s hands.
Ellen pulled the
book away from him. “It’s her journal. I told her I would come here and get it
for her. I went to see her
…
I
didn’t want to tell you
…
in
case you didn’t approve.”
“Why would you go to
see her?”
“I wanted to see
…
her condition.”
“You are the last
person she should see. Did she throw you out on your ass?”
“I
…
I think I can help.”
“You? You’re a
fool.” He grabbed the journal and tossed it onto the bed.
“Jonathan, she needs
to get out of there.”
Jonathan looked at
her, his face twisted in contemplation. “You should be happy about this—she’s
out of the way for us.”
“I’m not. It isn’t
right.”
“Isn’t right? I
don’t like what you are insinuating. You think I’m a monster?”
“No, I just
thought—”
Jonathan sat on the
edge of the bed. “You do want to get married, right?”
“Yes. Yes, of
course,” Ellen said, and sat beside him.
“Well then, she
stays there. She will find a way to mess everything up if she’s free to run
around town. You don’t know her.”
Ellen’s anger rose
at his disparaging comment. But to whom was he referring?
“Frankly, I’m sick
and tired of all of it. So no, she’s staying. End of discussion. How is your
own problem?”
Ellen stared at him,
unable to respond.
“The appointment.
The abortion. Your goddamn decision. Twelve weeks, right?”
“Yes. I
…
I, can we talk about this later—”
“Damn it, Samantha.
You’re stalling. You don’t need more time—it’s obvious what the answer is. The
appointment is now Tuesday at ten. I’ve already canceled this once and you are
running out of time for
…
well,
you better do what you promised.” Jonathan stood and started out the door, but
stopped and turned to face her. “I love you and I’m committed to spending the
rest of my life to be with you, but I am not committed to being a father again,
not at this age.”
“But Jonathan, I—”
“Sam, we’ve talked
about this. You told me—no—you assured me you would do this.”
“I don’t think I
can—”
“For crying out
loud, you’ve done it before.”
“But this time it’s
different—”
“Damn it, Sam! What
do you want me to think, that it’s different because I have money? Is this a
trap? Because this is starting to look like one. You knew I had a vasectomy
specifically to ensure I wouldn’t be in this mess. I’m beginning to think it’s
not mine—”
“No
…
no, Jonathan, it’s not a trap. I
just can’t—”
“Well, you can. You
have to—if you want to be with me.”
“But I do. I want
that more than anything.”
“Then prove it. Do
something for me. Show me just how committed you are
…
.”
Ellen couldn’t
speak. Words failed to materialize.
“Let me make this
simple. Me, or the baby. You decide. Who would you rather spend your life with?
Because I won’t be around if you have that baby. It’s up to you.”
“I can’t give you an
answer, not now. I have to get this journal to Ellen first.”
“Right now, I’m
pretty fed up with both of you.” He hit the wall with his fist.
“But Jonathan, I
wanted—”
“I’m tired. Please
go. Get Weston to drive you home, unless you plan to walk.” He turned before
she had a chance to respond. His bedroom door slammed, causing her to flinch.
Ellen tucked the
journal into her purse and quietly put as much as she could back into the
drawers. As she closed the last drawer, she noticed a velvet bag tucked under
some lingerie. It felt heavy and lumpy. She tucked the bag into her purse,
along with the baby pictures from the desk drawer. As she closed the door
behind her, she wondered if she would ever return.
She glanced down the
hall toward Jonathan’s closed door, and knew that if she did not go through
with the abortion, she would never return as Mrs. Horvath. She also knew where
she stood. She just wasn’t sure if she liked being there anymore. In fact, she
wasn’t sure about anything anymore. But as she walked down the stairs, past the
furniture, past wealth and privilege, and out into the garage to meet Weston,
one thing suddenly became abundantly clear. She knew what she had to do. She
just wasn’t sure she could actually do it.
The next morning,
Ellen sent a courier with the hair sample to Brianna.
After several hours,
Brianna called back. “I spoke to Mr. Maxfield, and he has already requested the
documents, he’ll have them tomorrow. I gave the sample to Nadia this afternoon
and she will know something by noon.”
“Tomorrow will
certainly be an interesting day,” Ellen said. “Brianna, I have another favor
…
can you phone Patty for me? I’ve
tried already, but she won’t return my calls—”
“No kidding.”
“I need you to ask
her about the prescriptions I
…
er,
your mother took before the coma.”
“What about them? I
think the doctor said they were tranquilizers, very high dose.”
“Well, anyway, I
need to speak to her about them. It is very important. I need to get another
batch. She’ll know about it and where to get them, she bought them before.”
“She bought my mother’s
drugs? That explains a lot.”
“No, she helped her,
that’s all. I think the exact pills will help reverse what has happened to your
mother and make her better.”
“What are these
pills?”
“Patty will know.
Tell her we need the exact same kind, same exact dose. And hurry, we need them
right away.”
***
Ellen stood in the
bus terminal, figuring out which bus to take to get to the jail in Montgomery
County. She was tired of filthy buses, the stifling air, the constant noise of
crowds, and realized, as she boarded the bus, nothing about her situation was
comforting, and there was certainly no comfort in being poor. As if life
weren’t hard enough, you had to have every step filled with challenges and
danger as well. She never felt safe. Since her first moment as Samantha Miller,
she hadn’t felt safe and secure once. Except with Jonathan. Good old Jonathan,
secure and reliable. With Rory, she hadn’t felt scared either, but she was more
energized and nervous with anticipation, the good kind.
But traveling around
on foot and by bus or subway left her vulnerable, always on alert. The streets
were not safe
…
men constantly
hitting on her, weird people talking to her, losers following her. The value of
riding around in a comfortable air-conditioned car with a driver to see to her
every need could not be underestimated. She longed to drive her own car again,
something she rarely did. As soon as an opportunity presented itself, she would
drive, perhaps even out to the country.
She almost caught
herself imagining traveling with Rory, but stopped herself. Rory was a good
man, but he didn’t love her and she knew it. He was a great guy. He actually
reminded her of Jonathan when he was young. Adventurous and happy. What had
happened to the two of them? How did they both age so fast? Now she could see
what Jonathan had been trying to tell her, all those years, repeating his
desire to be young and free.
It did feel good to
be free. She had to admit that not worrying about everything you did had its
advantages. And why did she stop having fun? Why did getting wet and dirty and
playing and having adventures no longer interest her? Why did she always have
to be so comfortable? Was that part of the price for comfort? Had she given up
too much?
And it seemed
strange now, being nice to women who you know despise you, and to pretend you
enjoy their friendship all the while worrying that they might be gossiping
about you behind your back, preventing you from doing anything reckless or fun.
You had to play by their rules. But here, now, in this uncomfortable world
filled with danger, there was no danger with friends. There was no danger in being
yourself. No one really cared. Most people accepted you in spite of your flaws
and odd hang-ups. Young, old, thin, fat, rich, poor, none of it mattered to
them. There didn’t seem to be any rules of conduct, and now, after having it
and enjoying it, Ellen wondered if she could ever go back. Could she return to
her old life if she married Jonathan? Would that be enough?
The bus pulled into
the station and Ellen rounded up her belongings and stepped out into the calm,
October night air. Taxis were waiting along the curb, ready to carry her to new
danger, to a place she never imagined she would set foot in—ever. What other
adventures lay ahead?
***
She sat waiting for
Bob to arrive, surrounded by the damaged wives and lovers, restless for their
sacred allotment of time. The entrance and visiting room were painted a liver-toned
beige, with no artwork or decoration to make it inviting; instead, it made her
feel more nervous than she anticipated. It felt like a prison. The echoes and
clanking and voices were just like the movies, as were the guards, standing to
attention with concern etched across their faces and an intense energy hanging
in the air. Her heart sped up as they unlocked the door and inmates entered the
visitor area.
She had no idea what
to expect. A tall, tattooed man, with dark hair pulled tight into a ponytail
and a thick handlebar moustache, approached and said, “Hey, Sammy girl.” He
reached over and gave her a strong hug, crushing her against his hard chest.
His arms were massive and thick, wallpapered in tattoo designs all the way to
his wrists. They sat at a table, facing each other, hands on the table as
instructed.
“So Sammy doll, what
brings you here? Miss me?” He reached down and placed his hand on her thigh.
Ellen blushed and wanted to slap his hand away, as it seemed to burn into her
skin, but kept her hands on the table, and stared at the tattoos across his
knuckles.
One of the guards came
over. “No more contact or you’re out.”
Bob rolled eyes, and
glared at the guard as he walked away. “Prick.”
“How are you, Bob?”
Ellen asked, unsure how to start.
“No, how the hell
are you, my sexy girl?” Bob smiled at her as if he was getting ready for
dessert, a decadent, forbidden dessert.
Ellen cringed and
dove into her rehearsed line, ignoring his brashness. “I would be much better
if you hadn’t arranged a
…
remedy
that will destroy my future marriage.”
Bob looked confused
for several moments, trying to read an answer on her face. Ellen held fast
under his scrutiny. “You know exactly what I mean, Bob. I spoke to Mother
…”
Bob sat back,
pulling on the edge of his fat moustache until his eyes narrowed and his smile
faded. “What’s it to you? That’s my business.”
“No, that’s my
business. Did Mother tell you what I told her, what has to happen?”
“Your momma’s a mess
…
I never listen to nothing she
says.”
“Well, I’m not a
mess, and I am here to tell you that whatever plan you made for a job, cannot
happen because I will never see a penny from the man.”
“Bullshit. That’s a
crock of shit. You should thank me.” His voice sounded coarse and angry, almost
raw.
“No, Bob, I can’t.
You see, if your job works out, I will be out all that money, which means no
money for Mother or Benny or you. See? Nothing.”
“Too late.” He
leaned forward and touched her cheek. “God, you’re so fuck’n pretty. Sure you
didn’t miss me? It’s been a while since
…
”
Creep.
Ellen
shuddered in disgust. “You don’t understand
…
his wife knows everything.”
“You skanky little
bitch, you fuck’n told her?” he hollered.
“No, I didn’t tell
anyone, she
…”
Ellen’s hands
quivered as she stumbled to remember her excuses. “She figured it out herself.
They sent her to a lab for blood work. It’s over. Your man better flee before
they figure it out.”
“Son of a bitch!” he
yelled, and kicked a chair away in frustration. “Fuck!” The guard gave him a
cautionary signal, his hand resting on his gun.
Her heart beat wildly
as she spoke in a low voice. “And the worst part is she had a new will drawn up
that cuts the husband out completely. You see, they think it’s him, that he’s
the one doing it and the law says that if you try to
…
well, finish your partner, you get nothing in a divorce.
Zero. And if she dies, all the money goes to charity. It’s rather severe, but
that’s just the way it is.”
“Fuck’n hell.”
“Either way, I get
nothing. He might even end up in jail. A big fat waste of two years.”
“Bloody fuck’n
bullshit.” Bob slammed his fist against the table several times, albeit
quietly. “What about you?”
“Me? Oh, I got some
money out of it, not a lot, but something. I’ll try again with someone else,
someone richer this time.” Ellen smacked his arm with nervous humor, like
slapping solid granite. “You know me, men are never a problem to catch.”
“I’ll say. Damn.” He
shook his head in frustration. “The plan
…
it was kickass perfect.”
Ellen nodded. “Yes,
it was. You are very clever.” She forced a flattering and coy smile across her
face. “Much too clever to be in here. I gave Mother some money to give to you.
Now we can forget this whole thing and put it to rest for good, call it even.”
“Yah, sure.” His
voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “Don’t worry, I’ll come up with something
…”
“Just don’t involve
me anymore, this one cost me a bundle. Okay?” Ellen smiled at him. “One
question, did Rory help in this? Do I need to worry about Rory?”
Bob let out a hearty
laugh. “That pansy-ass lover boy? No. He couldn’t hurt nobody. You must be
fuck’n kidding me—Rory!”
Ellen reached into
her pocket and the guard shot her a look. She smiled at the guard and raised
her hands in innocence.
“You can’t do that,
you damn fool,” Bob said, his voice sounded angry again, or perhaps it’s how he
always sounded.
“But I have some
money for you.” She was about to reach into her pocket again but he grabbed her
hand and pulled it down under the table.
“You trying to get
me into more shit?” He gave her a hard stare as he squeezed her wrist so hard,
her fingers went numb.
“No. I only thought
it would help.”
“You’re as fuck’n
dumb as your momma.” He let go of her wrist. “God help us. You can’t hand
anything to me in here, stupid. We get strip searched after we see anyone and
they take whatever shit they find on us and toss it.”
“Sorry, I just
wanted to help.”
“Has to be a money
order, given to the clerk, then they put it in my account here.” His face
softened and he looked at her for a long moment. “That’s real good of you.”
The bell sounded.
Ellen stood, eager to get away from him. “Take care of yourself.”
Bob stood and smiled
a wicked smile. “I take care of me, don’t you worry. These ass wipes are afraid
of me. I fuck’n own this place.”
“That’s good to
hear. I’ll tell Mother.”
“Do I get my final
goodbye body contact now?” Before she could answer, he reached out and gave her
a hug, pressing his body, grinding almost, against hers. His arms locked around
her, engulfing her and his heartbeat thumped against her head for several long
seconds that seemed eternal. He smelled surprisingly clean, like fresh laundry.
When he finally released her, he punched her lightly in the shoulder, a sort of
affectionate but manly gesture.
As she walked away,
Ellen turned and waved, but he kept walking, the heavy metal door locking
behind him, entrapping him for five more years. Ellen put her hand in her
pocket and touched the money she got from pawning some of the jewelry from the
velvet bag she had found among Samantha’s things. This would tide Bob and the
crazy mother over for a while, but she would have to wire or send it somehow,
anything to avoid another visit.
Ellen flinched as
she imagined the horror of living with a perverted stepdad like Bob. She tried
to imagine how dreadful it must have been for Samantha, so pretty, and all
these lecherous, drunken and drugged-up men, together in a crowded small
trailer with no one to save her, no one to shield her from the ugliness and
selfishness of others.
She was grateful her
mother never remarried or attached herself to any strange men. As she rode the
bus home, she thought about all the things she was grateful for, all the good
things in her life and all the things she wanted to change. The two-hour bus
ride gave her lots of time to come up with a very long list.
***
When Ellen returned
home from visiting Bob, a message was waiting on the table.
Brianna called.
Said call her. Good news and bad news.
Ellen dialed the
number on the sheet and waited while Beth called Brianna to the phone.
“Hey Sam,” Brianna
said, her voice animated. “You’re never going to believe what the sample
showed—”
“Let me guess,
poison?”
“Yeah, it’s
arsenic!”
“Oh no, it actually
happened.”
“Just small amounts,
but regular enough that no one would ever notice, except for how consistent
they are.”
“But arsenic?” Ellen
said, unable to comprehend how something that lethal could go unnoticed.
“Wouldn’t that kill you fast? Why is she still—?”
“I was told it can
be given very slowly, so it’s not obvious to any doctor. She was slowly
slipping toward death. Once she reached a coma, there would be certain death.”
Brianna sighed into the phone. “She’s pretty close now, dangerously close,
judging by her hair loss, skin sores and her incoherent speech.”
“I can’t believe
this. We have to tell them, they have to stop it.”
“No, we can’t say
anything. I spoke to Leo Maxfield and he said not to raise any suspicions—they
might try to cover up or destroy evidence.”
“But we have to stop
them, they’ll kill her.” Ellen couldn’t believe this was real.
“First, we must get
her out of there. I think she is planning a suicide soon.”