Stay Tuned

Chapter 52

After the ten o’clock news, I went straight home. Chris was downstairs in the office, waiting for me. It was late, almost midnight; he was probably dozing.

I managed to get up the stairs and lock him out of the bedroom before he realized I was in the house. I switched off the light, crawled under the sheets, and turned up the volume on the television.

Minutes later, I could see the shadow of his feet where he stood. He hesitated before he put his hand on the doorknob and tried to turn it. He knocked once, twice, then again, louder.

I didn’t answer or move.

“Melissa.” Chris’s voice sounded garbled and broken. “Open the door. I need to talk to you.”

I inhaled and blew out the air in my lungs before I tried to speak. Every word hurt. “No.”

Chris was quiet then. His hand slid down the door. He jiggled the doorknob again. It wouldn’t budge more than a few millimeters in any direction, though I knew if he wanted to get inside the room bad enough, he could smash the door down or break the lock.

“Melissa. You have good reason to be upset with me,” he called. “I know that. I’m sorry I was late. I apologize a thousand times. I couldn’t get to the phone. I thought you’d already left the restaurant until

I saw your car in the parking lot.”

A likely story. No phone? At a meeting? How much of his story did he think I was going to buy into?

Every muscle in my body ached. I rolled over on my side. It wasn’t healthy to be this upset, Dr. Freeman said so. I closed my eyes and pressed my head into the pillow. Legs curled up, I pulled the blanket over me and held the edge under my chin.

“Melissa—”

I sat up and cleared my throat. With the remote, I turned down the volume of the television low enough so that he could hear me clearly. “Chris. Go away.”

“I’m not leaving. Now or later.”

That was Chris’s answer. Fine. He could rot out there and lie in the hallway all night if that’s what he wanted to do.

One last time, I took the remote and turned up the volume loud enough to drown out anything Chris tried to say. He could beg all he wanted. He could cry and scream. With the pillow over my head, I tried to sleep. Except that didn’t work. Every time I drifted off into what seemed like a peaceful slumber, five minutes later I’d jerk awake with some horrible thought.

How long has this been going on? Why didn’t I know? How am I going to explain this to Kelly? To Candace? Where am I going to live? Should I move out? I can move to California, to be near Kelly.

But wait. Shouldn’t Chris be the one to leave? He’s the one who screwed up, after all.

No, I wasn’t going to even think about it now. I just wanted to be left alone.

Propped up on my elbows on the bed, I peered into the darkness at the sliver of light from the hallway.

No visible shoes or feet. Not even a hint of a shadow.

What time was it anyway? Infomercials were on instead of the news or sitcoms, so it had to be late. I squinted at the clock on the dresser, but couldn’t make out any numbers.

I grabbed the remote and flipped through the channels aimlessly. It was one o’clock in the morning. I had to get some sleep. I turned down the volume, a little at a time, expecting Chris to be in the hallway and start in again with the begging and pleading.

Nothing. The house was still. He’d probably left.

On tiptoes, I made it into the kitchen without making a sound. When I flipped on the light, Chris was waiting.