Читать книгу Merciful Law - Darby Sr. Rae - Страница 15

Looking in the mirror at my swollen eyes, one would have sworn I had been beaten. I must have been crying in my sleep. I wondered how long Emmet had stayed and if he had heard me. I draped a cold washcloth over my eyes and lay back in bed. I debated. Would Emmet listen if I explained everything to him? Was it fair to wait until Sunday—fair to me; fair to him? No, it wasn’t fair, and, surprise or not, I would tell him this morning after the boys left for school.

I fixed a wonderful breakfast buffet and coffee exactly the way Emmet liked it. The table was set perfectly, Ms. Manners herself would have been proud. I stayed in my room until just before the boys left for the bus, remaining completely out of Emmet’s way to guarantee nothing would happen to make him gnarly at me. In fact, I went out of my way to put him in a good mood. I even double-checked his pinstriped suit was pressed well and ready for his meeting that afternoon before heading downstairs.

Something was already wrong. Emmet was in his office banging things around and he barked at me to walk the boys to the bus stop. They looked at me and shrugged. I shrugged back and the three of us made our way out the door and down the driveway.

When I came back inside Emmet was on the phone berating someone. I took a deep breath and headed back upstairs. Although a little part of me was glad Emmet was criticizing someone besides me, this was not the time to try to make amends.

The boys arrived home at 11:30. It was their last day of school—a half day. The weather was miserable and after lunch they were complaining there was nothing to do. They enjoyed the reptile room for a couple hours, but when we walked out the look of boredom returned to their faces.

“What’s in these rooms?” I asked pointing to two closed doors.

“Christmas decorations, winter stuff, some of Mom’s stuff,” Josh

replied, uninterested.

“Maybe there’s something in there we can play with.” They were both skeptical but followed me in anyway. We searched through boxes until an idea hit me. “Let’s play aliens and astronauts.”

“Aliens and astronauts?” Eli asked.

“Like cowboys and Indians, but much more fun!”

Neither of the boys sounded impressed.

An hour later we had transformed the basement into an intergalactic world. There were white Christmas lights, three lava lamps, and alien creatures made from some of Emmet’s clothes using balloons for heads and bodies stuffed with newspaper. We searched the garage for weapons and came upon short pieces of PVC pipe. Decorating the piping and ourselves in tin foil and sparkly Christmas cotton it all came together. Now, we were ready for battle.

Josh turned on the movie Star Wars and I cranked up the volume until the walls were reverberating in surround sound. We ran through the basement shooting at each other with mini marshmallows propelled through the PVC piping—our weapons. Josh and Eli also had toy guns with suction cup darts they shot at the other aliens.

The two had hunkered down behind one of the couches and I was tucked behind the entertainment center reloading. They jumped out ready to pepper me with more marshmallows when the sound gradually went quiet. In the heat of battle I absently turned my “gun” toward the stereo and fired. A marshmallow hit Emmet in the head—right between his eyes.

“Good shot,” he scolded.

“Daddy!” Eli yelled, bounding toward him in his makeshift astronaut suit. Fastened to his clothing was a blanket of glittery Christmas cotton, his snow boots and bike helmet were both covered in tin foil. “We’re playing aliens and astronauts,” he exclaimed. “Annie’s the alien.”

“Creative,” Emmet remarked, taking in the adapted surroundings of lights, aliens—dressed in his clothing—and marshmallows littered on the floor.

“Josh and I are winning,” Eli said, pointing to the other aliens wearing plastic suction cups on their heads. I was momentarily speechless.

“For dinner we’re having peanut butter and alien slime sandwiches,” Josh added. Emmet looked to me for translation.

“Peanut butter and jelly,” I stated, feeling ridiculous in my alien outfit. Emmet gave me a slow look up and down. I had a foil-covered colander tied to my head, a white dress fastened with a foil-covered belt, a crisscross of foil across my chest, and foil-covered calf-height boots. I was dressed for Halloween and Emmet looked impeccable in his pinstriped suit and power tie.

“Peanut butter and alien slime,” he repeated.

“And alien urchins…,” Josh continued. Emmet’s eyes were on me again for translation.

“Bananas,” I whispered.

“With alien eyeballs—covered in alien blood,” Eli added.

“Red grapes and citrus yogurt,” I finished, with my eyes on the ground feeling like a complete moron in my alien outfit.

“Creative,” Emmet commented again.

“We did Annie’s hair too. Just like Princess Leia,” Josh continued. “Show him Annie.”

“Yes, show me, Annie,” Emmet echoed. I removed my headgear, wishing I had the power to disappear, and unveiled my lopsided hair style the boys had fashioned me with: two braids twisted and affixed to my head with enough bobby pins to set off a metal detector. Emmet pursed his lips, possibly hiding a grin.

“I didn’t come home to spoil the fun. I had to change my tie before my dinner meeting,” he said, motioning to a barely noticeable coffee stain on his tie. I put my alien helmet back on not sure if it was better or worse than showing off my hair style.

“We’re going to write a story too, Dad,” Josh said, without prompting. “Annie said since you like to tell us stories we should make one up for you.”

“So, Annie’s heard my stories?”

“Just the King’s Secret, but she liked it,” Josh said, standing proudly. I closed my eyes regretfully. Was there anything else they could say to make this worse?

“Did you tell her the secret?” Emmet asked, looking a bit concerned.

“No Dad. It’s a secret,” Josh said with a roll of his eyes.

“We have a secret too!” Eli squealed. “A secret mission you don’t get to know.”

Perfect, I thought.

Emmet raised his eyebrows at me.

“Shut up Eli! You weren’t supposed to tell,” said Josh.

“I’ll start dinner,” I muttered, pushing past Emmet. “Right after I slit my wrists.” Emmet laughed…actually laughed. I guess he wasn’t worried about the secret mission.

The boys joined me in the kitchen after a few minutes. I almost hoped Emmet had been able to persuade them to tell him what the secret mission was about. I agonized he would pull me aside and give me another verbal what-for. The boys sat down for their alien meal and Emmet came in to say good-bye. Once more, he looked me up and down, this time shaking his head. I went from feeling foolish to feeling indignant.

“That’s enough,” I warned, shaking my finger at him. “We were making the most of a rainy day. I’ll have it all cleaned up before your company arrives tomorrow.”

“I wasn’t criticizing,” he claimed with an innocent grin. “I’ll be home in time to let Romulus out.” He walked out of the kitchen. I wanted to throw something, but restrained.

With Emmet gone for the rest of the evening, the boys and I almost finished the scrapbook. By 8:30 they were in bed and I was in the basement cleaning up. I couldn’t distract myself from the encounters with Emmet this week. My emotions swung back and forth from feeling sorry for him to wanting to choke the life out of him; two horrible days of servitude plus the humiliation of this evening’s alien spectacle. Nothing I did—big or small—seemed appreciated. It was amazing I had made it to Friday night without internally combusting.

Then, I thought about moving out Monday. In less than two weeks I had become attached to the boys, Susan, and, though I wouldn’t admit it out loud, somehow, to Emmet. But even if he apologized when he received the scrapbook, I just couldn’t imagine recovering enough to return to a working relationship with him…so why couldn’t I just let it go? Why was I dwelling on the small glimpses of time we had together and wanting more?

Because I am an idiot; he’s treated me worse than terribly. And the horrible names he’s called me…I am a pathetic doormat, used to getting emotional crumbs from my husband. I deserve to be treated better than this...even from my employer. My nerves can’t handle the conflict.

Those thoughts made my hostility rise and my blood boil. I questioned what made me more furious, Emmet’s insensitive pompousness or that it affected me. Why did I care if he liked me or not? Why would I ever allow anyone to make me feel that way…again? And why the hell couldn’t I stay objective and emotionally neutral? Maybe I was more angered with my own inadequacies than with Emmet’s behavior.

Unfortunately, the ugliness of my thoughts transmuted from Emmet to Lawrence. Apart from the previous night, my emotions had been so engaged with Emmet I had hardly thought about Lawrence. That was a disturbing silver lining to this whole incident. Though the unfortunate reality was in two short days I would be homeless and without the protection of a security guard or attack dog.