When the elevator doors opened on the floor of my apartment, I breathed a sigh of relief. It was ten to nine and I'd made it back with time to spare. We didn't live far from the restaurant but because I didn't have a car, I had to walk. Which left me half n hour to get home on time. I slipped the key in the door and walked inside with an accelerated heart beat. It was never guaranteed what I would come home to and I said a quick prayer in the hopes that Desmond wouldn't be in a volatile rage.
I dropped my keys on the foyer table and glanced in the mirror on the wall, wincing at how flushed I was and what a mess my hair had become. "Desmond?" I called and walked with soft footsteps across the tiles and on to the carpet. I glanced to the right, but the living room was empty and when I turned to the left, I saw my husband standing beside the kitchen counter, watching the night below us.
"What's for dinner," he questioned, not bothering to glance at me as he ran his hand across his slicked back brass head of hair. Desmond had ten years on me and while I'd thought he was gorgeous when we met, he now appeared gross and unattractive. I'd seen too much evil to think anything else.
"Oh," I walked further in and swallowed. "I thought I could get a pizza delivered. Sorry I thought that you would have eaten. You usually do when I work late."
He turned around and fixed me with his cold blue stare. It wasn't a beautiful blue, it was ice and deprave of warmth. It caused a chill to run up my spine. "If I wanted pizza, I would have ordered the fucking thing myself."
It was then that I noticed the glass of scotch beside his hand. I inhaled and thought of what to do next. There was never any definite way to soothe or calm him when he became hostile. But I tried. I started walking towards the fridge. "Sorry," I smiled. "What would you like, I can make some—"
His hand flew out before I could grip the fridge handle and his back hand sent me stumbling backwards into the cupboards. I froze and kept still, clutching the handle to keep me upright so that I didn't sag to the floor. Sometimes it was over quicker if I just became docile. "Forget it, I'll go out to eat. But I fucking expect a meal when I've been at the office all day. Sort it the fuck out."
He threw the cup of scotch at me before he stormed out of the room. It missed but it shattered beside me and the liquid splattered my white waitress shirt. The stench was awful and I waited, barely breathing until I heard the apartment door close. And that was when I sagged in relief and began cleaning up the mess to distract me from falling apart. There was no use doing that. If I didn't clean up, that would be my fault as well.
One day. It's going to be okay one day. Hang in there Arian. Hang in there.
I'd been married to Desmond for one year. One entire year of being a human punching bag. We dated for a year before that and during that time, he was a different man entirely. We'd met when I was fresh out of culinary school. I hadn't even had a proper job at that time and the romance that we shared was a whirlwind.
It wasn't until we exchanged vows that his true nature and temper, came to the surface and life as I knew it, took a turn for the worst. My husband was one of the most respected and sought after lawyers in Fort Lauderdale. He had friends in high places. The police knew him well. To the outside, he was a charming and charismatic man. But behind closed doors his true self was saved for me.
My hands trembled as I fumbled with the broken glass. But I inhaled and chose to ignore the ache in my cheek or the hint of metallic in my mouth. I believed that I could get out of this. I believed that I could be free. But it required patience while I saved what I could from work. A small portion of my income went into a secret savings account each week. Unfortunately he would notice if too much of it went missing. So it was a slow process.
The one other time that I had threatened to leave was after the first severe beating that he gave me. He threatened to kill me. And it didn't matter if I went to the police. He'd developed a close relationship with the authorities, he assured me that no one would believe a word that I said. And he was right.
The one chance that I had was to save enough so that I could disappear and hide. I was determined to make it happen.
_____
Sunlight poured through the bedroom window. It made it almost impossible to open my eyes but when I did, I suppressed a quiet groan. The night hadn't been long enough. I hadn't been offered enough oblivion in the form of sleep. Dreams were a safe place. The one time that even nightmares were preferred over real life.
When I sat up, there was a steaming hot coffee on the bedside table. I ignored it and snuggled back into the California king bed. We lived a glamours life, so some would say. The apartment was modern and our appliances were state of the art. I had an incredible view of the ocean and beach front from our bedroom window but I would have traded it all for peace of mind.
I would have taken a single spring bed over goose down to not feel as though I was walking on eggshells. I would have taken track pants and hoodies over designer brands if it meant that I didn't have to hide bruises. I would choose instant noodles and bread over fine dining and dinner parties if it meant that I could feel safe and at ease instead of on the edge of panic attacks.
I would give it all up.
When I eventually got out of bed and trudged into our ensuite, I assessed the small red welt on my cheek in the mirror and felt relieved that it wasn't worse. It wouldn't be hard to hide. After a shower, I slipped on a pair of jeans and a long sleeve top, tucked in and finished with a belt. It was hot, but there were still remnants of the punishment that I'd received earlier in the week, all over my arms and legs.
"Good morning babe," Desmond smiled from the kitchen where a breakfast was laid out on the countertop. Waffles, bacon and orange juice. He was dressed in a pair of fitted jean shorts and a t-shirt and I felt a simmering rage that he was able to be comfortable while I had to hide in hot clothes.
He sauntered towards me and pressed a demanding kiss against my lips. It was an effort not to shudder and retract. But I let him control the kiss until he was done and forced a soft smile. "Good morning."
"I bought some breakfast from Ginny's, that place on the corner that you love and," he strolled backwards with a satisfied grin. "This, isn't it beautiful."
He held up a large velvet box and inside was the Cartier logo and a beautiful necklace. It was incredible. Part of me wished that I could have appreciated it more. But the thanks that I gave him, was forced. "It's gorgeous Des. What's the occasion?"
"I just wanted to treat my wife."
My smile hid how disgusted I felt. He couldn't even admit that it was a hush present. That it was just another piece of jewellery that would be added to the collection of guilt gifts. Although, I didn't think that guilt was the right word.
I wandered towards the food and feigned interest, smelling it and smiling before I turned to him and took a deep breath. "I was thinking about going to see Mom and Dad this morning? Would that be alright? It's the third of June."
"Oh of course," he nodded with understanding and closed the box, placing it on the countertop before he leaned on it with a thoughtful expression. "Yeah, how about I take you?"
"You don't have work?"
"It's Saturday Arian? Don't you pay any attention?"
The fact that he'd worked almost every Saturday for the last six months was what I'd paid attention to. It was the one day of the weekend that I had the house to myself. But I kept quiet and shrugged. "Sorry. You don't have to come though. I can manage the drive."
"Why don't you want me to come?" He straightened up with a suspecting scowl. "What are you really doing?"
"Nothing," I quickly defended, taking a small step back. "This is an important date. I'm going to see Mom and Dad. I just didn't want you to feel like you had to come. But if you want to, then that sounds great."
"Good," he stepped forward and I flinched as he pressed a rough kiss on my mouth. "Eat. I'm going to have a shower and then we'll leave."
As soon as he'd left the room, I wiped my mouth with my sleeve and screamed with a closed jaw. I didn't want him there. I didn't want him tarnishing the time that I spent with Mom and Dad. It was special to me. With tears brimming, I scooped the food up and threw it in the trash. I couldn't see properly but I tied off the bag and carried it out into the corridor, sending it down the garbage chute.
Tampa was almost a four hour drive and I couldn't think of anything worse than being stuck in the car with Desmond for such an amount of time. It was part of the reason that I didn't visit Mom and Dad all that often. The other reason was the fact that I was so ashamed of the life that I'd ended up in.
We arrived in my home town at around one in the afternoon. The journey wasn't unbearable. I'd nodded along to what he said and let the music fill in the quiet when he eventually stopped talking. I wasn't sure how long he'd be in this calm frame of mind but I didn't want to be the one to break the peace. So I let him follow me through the head stones once we arrived at the Cemetery.
"Hey Mom and Dad," I knelt down brushed a hand along the top of their headstone as I peeked a glance back at Desmond. He was a fair few meters behind, scrolling through his phone as he had a cigarette.
It was the sixth anniversary of the passing of the best people that I had ever known. I had barely graduated high school when they were shot in an armed robbery. It was a freak coincidence. They were in the wrong place at the wrong time and it had brought my world down on top of me.
I couldn't live in Tampa after that. I needed a fresh start. Their house, which was left to me, was still sitting and I hadn't been back since I left. I wasn't sure what to do with it. If I should sell it or rent it out. Each time I gave it thought, my chest felt tight and it sent me into a panic. I couldn't deal with their things. But I knew that I couldn't put it off forever.
"I miss you both, so much," I smiled because while it hurt, remembering them was a gift and I had worked so hard to keep their memory alive.
I opened my mouth to tell them about what I had been doing since I last came. But I couldn't get the words out. There was nothing worth telling them. I had become a prisoner to a toxic marriage. I wasn't allowed to chase my dream to become a chef. I'd become isolated from friends, I didn't have any family left. I hadn't made them proud.
"I'm so sorry," I quietly sobbed, not wanting Desmond to approach me. "I know this isn't what you wanted for me. I've made a total mess of things and I don't know how to fix it. You would never have let me get into such a situation. You would have know that he wasn't the one for me. You always knew these things."
I held on to the top of the head stone and let my head hang as tears fell on to the blades of grass below. I would have done whatever it took to have them back with me. Sometimes I just wanted to reach out and feel their hand take mine, to hear their voices, to embrace in their hugs. But it was like a rope slipping through my fingers. I could never grasp them again and it was a hopeless feeling.
"You good?"
I peered over my shoulder and saw Desmond standing behind me. He was still on his phone, disinterested of course. I stood up and swiped at the tears that sat on the apples of my cheeks. "Mhmm, I'm okay. It's just hard. I wish I coul—"
"Let's go and get something to eat before we get back on the road," he slipped his phone into his pocket and gestured for me to follow.
As much as it didn't surprise me when he was cold and uncaring, it still stung a little. It made me feel stupid but occasionally, I just wanted to tell someone how I was feeling and have them comfort me. I shouldn't have wanted that from him. It just added to the self loathing that I battled with at a near constant. I needed to quit expecting him to be the man that he was before we married.
Flashback to seven years ago
"I thought that you knew how to cook child," Mom laughed and fanned the smoke from the oven door.
I'd burned the wrapped chicken breasts, that was for sure. But I wasn't totally to blame. They would have been delicious if it weren't for Dad and his tall tales.
"It's my fault," Dad leaned against the countertop, shaking out his copper locks while he wore a guilt addled expression. "I dragged her out to the garage to show her the boat. We got to yarning."
"You got to yarning," Mom pointed at him, her long blonde hair fell over her shoulders as she leaned into the oven and retrieved the dish of black food. Dad couldn't deny that he was to blame. But of course, I'd become immersed in his stories and lost track of time. He couldn't shoulder it all.
"It's not all his fault I suppose," I gave Dad a supportive smile.
"This was going to be so delicious," Mom cried to the ceiling as she dropped the dish into the sink. "It smelled amazing!"
"Where were you?" Dad suddenly straightened up as though he had solved the mystery. "You should have realised it was burning."
"I wasn't here," she shrugged and folded her arms.
Dad and I exchanged confused glances.
"I was at hogwarts with Harry and the crew," she explained and I began to laugh.
"You were reading?"
"I'm not here when I'm reading. We've talked about this."
"Come on," Dad sighed with amusement. "Let's go to Table 32. Lana can cook us up some burgers."
"No one tell Lana that I burned the chicken," I ordered as we gathered up our things before we wandered towards the door. "She'll never hire me if she thinks that I can't cook chicken breast."
Back to present.
"This looks alright," Desmond parked the car beside the curb outside Table 32 and I felt bile rising in my throat. "Come on."
All I could do was hope that Lana wasn't working. But that wasn't even the worst part. This place was a frequent spot for Mom, Dad and I to eat. It was filled with some incredible memories and I never wanted Desmond to step foot inside somewhere so sacred to me.
"Why don't we just get some McDonalds from the drive thru and head home?" I suggested before he could pull the door open.
He turned around and fixed me with a frustrated glare. "Cool, so I can drive and eat because that's real easy."
"I can drive?"
"We're here now," he snapped. "Stop being difficult."