Felix shows up at the condo the day before New Year's Eve. His eyes are wide like those of a madman, which he explains away with jet lag. I can't shake the feeling, though, that he's in a terrible mood. He confesses that the issues his company is facing in China have been escalating and that the new game release just before Christmas suffered a big blow.
Not eager to aggravate him further, I don't bring up my chat with Deborah. Anything to salvage our time together. We can discuss it when he's feeling better. I lure him into the bathtub with the promise of some tender loving care. The warm water and my shoulder massage seem to relax him. He leans his head against my chest while my fingers draw little squares on his stomach.
"I could really get used to this," he mumbles with his eyes closed. "There's nothing better than coming home from a stressful day at work into the arms of a loving woman. I'm just so glad to have you in my life."
His words drive a snippy "then why haven't you told Deborah you're leaving her" onto the tip of my tongue, but I swallow down the sudden resentment. I'm sure there's a logically explanation. He came home to me—not her—right after the long flight. That counts for something. It's obvious he's making an effort.
"How was your Christmas?" he asks.
"Alright." I grimace behind his back, not eager to admit is has been shitty.
"When did you get back?"
"Already on Monday."
He shifts around and stretches his neck to find my eyes. "Weren't you supposed to stay until this morning?"
"I didn't feel like it. The weather was dreadful and I missed the Californian sun." I omit that the walls at my aunt's house were closing in, making the whole atmosphere suffocating.
"Next time you tell me when your plans change." He cradles back against my chest with a low huff. "I don't like it when I don't know where you are."
"Why?"
His body tenses. "Because I'm worried. You're pregnant and I need to be sure that you have medical support in case of an emergency." He pulls my hands in his and squeezes them gently. "I think it's only normal that couples tell each other these things. I'm not trying to control your life."
The words are laced with a certain coldness, and the snappy reminder that he left for China without informing me is swallowed down. I don't want to argue after we haven't seen each other in almost two weeks. To ease his tension, I run my hands further south. It doesn't take long for his body to respond. His breath becomes heavy, and he pushes me onto my knees, sliding into me without consideration or foreplay. It's not the way I like having sex, but I let it slide. He is under so much pressure and pampering him for a change is the least I can do.
After we get out of the tub, he massages lotion onto my back when his cell phone buzzes. Checking the display, he gives me a crooked smile. "Sorry, I have to take this."
He disappears into the spare bedroom, the heel of his foot closing the door with a bang. Since I'm not sure if he has dinner plans for us later, I postpone getting dressed and slide on my bathrobe. Absentmindedly, I scroll through my emails on my computer. I stop on a message from Patrick dated prior to the holidays which accidentally landed in spam.
'Hey Ashlynn, sorry we weren't able to connect yet. I lost my job and life has been a bit hectic, but hopefully, things will look up in the new year. Let's keep in touch.'
I stare at the words swimming in front of my eyes. This must be some type of a sick joke. Why would Felix fire him after I specifically promised I wouldn't see him again? A pang of guilt crawls up my spine—this had been Patrick's dream job and I had to ruin it for him.
When Felix suddenly squeezes my shoulder, I squeal. He rests his chin on my head. Before I can close the laptop, he has already read the email out aloud. The silence that follows is so thick it couldn't be sliced with a knife.
Deciding to stop tiptoeing around the issues that have been bothering me, I load my first torpedo. "Why did you fire Patrick?"
"Staff cuts. I'm sure he got a good redundancy package."
I gaze up at Felix who is looking down on me, his lips pressed together in a thin line.
"No offense, but that's a bunch of crap. A week after he accidentally bumped into me at your office, he gets the pink slip. That's too much of a coincidence."
Leaning against the desk, Felix sighs. A hint of annoyance gleams in his eyes. "I don't make HR decisions for entry level jobs. We had to cut ten employees and the decision was based on seniority and family status. Patrick is young without a family to support and worked at Gamestoon Entertainment for less than two years. He just happened to fall into the redundancy pool, and I resent that you are accusing me that it was personal."
I arch a brow. "You know a lot about him for someone who was not involved."
"Truthfully, I don't have to justify a business decision to you." The disapproval in his gaze has multiplied.
"Fair enough." I smile sweetly at him as I load the second torpedo. "What about Deborah? As fifty percent owner, did you have to get her okay?"
His jaw drops, though the surprise is not reflected in his eyes. They have turned an icy shade of green. "Where did you hear that Deborah owns shares in the company? She's a silent partner and this information isn't public."
"She told me."
His jaw drops even further. "How?" He runs his fingers through his hair—that answer was obviously not what he expected.
"She invited me over to the house for a chat when I first got home from New York after the holidays."
All color leaves his face and he mumbles something under his breath that sounds very close to "fuck". "She shouldn't have. What else did she tell you?"
Too aware I'm stepping onto thin ice, I carefully prod around the surrogacy issue and her opposition. His face darkens the more I talk.
"That's bullshit. I swear the surrogacy was her idea. I admit, in the beginning, I only went along to make her happy, but now that you're pregnant, I'm thrilled to become a dad. Not sure if you can hold that against me."
"And all those presents under the tree, who bought those?"
"She did. You have to believe me, Ashlynn. What she told you was a lie. She's trying to break us up." Panic strains his voice and his wide eyes stare at me with desperation.
"I saw the ornament. Are you telling me that's also a coincidence?"
"I was just as surprised as you when I found it on Christmas morning hanging on the tree. She probably went through my stuff like she usually does when she's jealous. When she found yours, she must've thought that getting her own is a great stab at you since she intended to ask you over. It's her desperate attempt to hold on to me. She knows she is about to lose me. I'm amazed you can't see that."
When his pleading eyes penetrate every fiber of my soul, I can't hold his gaze. So far, his story is at least as plausible as hers.
"What about the company?"
"Oh, she does own half, but that wouldn't stop me from divorcing her. Like I said, she's a silent partner, so she has no right to interfere with the day to day operations. All she'd get are her annual dividend payments, same as she is getting now. There is nothing more to it."
He spins around without a warning and kicks the little stool I use to elevate my feet on when I work on the computer. The wood moans as the stool slides across the floor before the wall stops its journey. When he turns back to face me, I recoil. Now is definitely not the time to question him about Deborah's accident. On the other hand, I'm not prepared to sweep it under the carpet.
"I can't believe she is stooping this low, just to keep us apart." Invisible steam pours from his nose, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
"There is more." I clutch the armrests until my knuckles turn white. How do I tell a man who's already that enraged that his wife accused him of abusing her?
When he keeps glaring at me without breaking eye contact, the words just bubble out. "She said you caused her accident." I don't hold back this time, describing in every detail what Deborah confessed to me.
The whole time, he stares at me with this stunned expression as if he couldn't believe the words coming out of my mouth. After I'm finished, his gaze is even more insistent than before. "That's absolutely ridiculous. Did she seriously claim I'm abusing her?"
"Not physically anymore, but she said you'd tie her to the bed as punishment."
He sucks in a deep breath, mumbling "that bitch" under his breath. "Ashlynn, Deborah is a pathological liar. Mental illness runs deeply in her family, her mother is even a full-fledged Schizophrenic. I don't doubt that in her mind, these things are true, but in reality, she's the one who has been abusing me for years. She slaps me all the time whenever I disagree with her and even punches me when I don't keep my distance. The day she had the accident, we were taking a stroll along the cliffs, and she got mad when she thought I looked at another girl's butt. She started hitting me like she had lost her mind, even cracked one of my ribs. At some point, she lost her balance and fell into the water. I never shoved her."
The desperation has been replaced by a genuine sparkle; his words are so adamant that it's hard to fight them. My head is buzzing. Even though he gave me the answers I was looking for, there's not a shred of proof that his version of the events is true. As the warning bells go off left and right, I ignore my gut feeling. To tackle this with reason, I need time to think—and for that, I need to be alone.
Luckily, he gives me a way out without a further confrontation. "I should go home and give you some space. I'm sure all this is overwhelming." A small smile scores him a few plus points. He must understand that some of this can't be easy for me to digest.
"Thanks, Felix."
"Are we still on for tomorrow night?"
"Of course." I hope that neither my voice nor my crooked smile give away that I'd rather be alone for the next few days. Our conversation didn't leave the image of the prince charming I held onto for so long; the pedestal on which he has been standing has crushed underneath his feet. I guess when people say it's just too good to be true, it often is.
~~~~
I barely sleep all night, tossing and turning until my eyelids grow so heavy that they refuse to reopen. The telephone wakes me up after what appears only seconds. Squinting at the display, I barely make out the number over my pounding headache. It's Felix. What does he want now?
"Sorry, I hope I didn't wake you."
I stare at the display of my alarm clock. It's just after eight. "Is everything alright?"
"I spent all night with Deborah in the emergency room."
"Oh my god, is she okay?" An uneasy stone settles in my stomach. What if Felix beat her after our conversation? When he left, he was so mad.
"Luckily, she only broke her wrist after her wheelchair tipped over. It could've been much worse, and the doctors had to do a lot of tests to ensure they didn't miss anything."
I want to keep my prying in check, but the words are out before I know it. "How did her wheelchair tip over?"
"There's this slope by the terrace that's uneven. Deborah knows she shouldn't drive her wheelchair down there on her own, but after we had a fight, she just went ahead and did it anyway. Then she was sorry and turned hysterical, so I had to call my doctor to give her a sedative before taking her to the hospital. All in all, it was a horrendous experience. I'm beat."
Guilt nags at me. Somehow, I can't shake the feeling that I'm partially to blame. Without a doubt, the fight they had was about me. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Not really, but can I give you a raincheck for tonight? I'm afraid I'll collapse if I pull another all-nighter. I hope you're not mad."
"No, no, that's perfectly fine. Just take care of yourself and I hope Deborah is feeling better soon."
"You have such a big heart, Ashlynn. After the stunt she pulled, most women would be mad. You shouldn't have to deal with a maniac like her."
I grimace, not really comfortable how he talks about her behind her back. "Look, I'll talk to you tomorrow."
After he promises me that he will plan something special for next weekend, I finally get him off the phone. My heart pounds heavy in my chest and I stroke over my growing baby bump. What if Deborah was telling the truth about him and he really is abusive? It's not a gamble I want to take with the life of my child—any child—surrogacy or not. In undergrad, I took a psychology class and the teacher stressed that the mere observance of domestic violence in a household could make a child prone to turning into an abuser or victim themselves. The thought is unbearable.
I'm still brooding in the semi darkness of my bedroom when my cell rings again. At first I fear it's Felix calling back, but when I check the display, I don't recognize the number. The caller is persisted. After the call goes to voice mail, he or she immediately tries again. I pick up, more out of curiosity about who it is.
"Hi Ashlynn, it's Patrick. Really sorry to call you this early."
For a beat, I'm taken aback, a creepy feeling of being stalked prickling under my skin. "How did you get my number?"
Ignoring my question, he sucks in a deep breath, as if he's trying to find the courage to continue. "I need to see you. There's something you don't know about your boyfriend and I'm afraid you're not gonna like it."
~~~~
© Sal Mason 2019
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