“No,” I said and shook my head.
“Go to sleep,” he said and tucked meagainst him just a bit more. A little closer, a little warmer. The airconditioner kicked on and I heard the whistle and whir of the forced air in thevents.
“Okay.” And I shocked myself byfalling asleep.
I heard the phone ring once. Heard himmutter and murmur. Heard him hang up. It was like coming up from a deep dive. Iswam to the surface of consciousness, pushing away the murk of sleep. But whenhe stopped talking the nonsense words I could not make out, I let the tide ofsleep drag me back under a bit. I opened my eyes to his broad, naked back. Tohim running his hand through his dark hair. I watched him stress, my eyelidsweighing heavy. The sun wasn’t up yet, the sky was not yet light. The air was aheavy periwinkle I always associated with pre-dawn. Air colored so that I feltsafe and warm and tucked away. The way I imagine a child swaddled just so wouldfeel. I let myself drop back under the purple blanket of sleep but as I driftedI heard Gil whisper “I can’t do this.”
A flower of fear blossomed in the pitof my belly but my tired body wouldn’t have any of it and I fell back into adream where Gil and I ran on a beach that seemed to have no end under a sun thecolor of lemons and the warmest breeze I’d ever felt. Too warm and perfect tobe real.
Chapter12
The phone rang again. A blaring,bleating, shameful sound that made me want to find a baseball bat and beat theshit out of the fragile bit of plastic. Another ring and I groaned, thesunlight blaring like loud music through the window.
One more ring and I heard the machinecut on. The shower was rushing and racing on the other side of the wall so Iknew Gil was in there getting clean. I wanted to tiptoe in there and slip intothe hot steam and water that would turn me bright red, I knew. I sat up to dojust that when my mother’s voice rushed over me, felling me like a downed tree.
“Gil? It’s Marian?” she said it likeit was a question. Like she wasn’t sure if it was her or not. “Gil? Pick up.”
I picked up. Fire and anger and ragegrowing in me like an uncontrollable force. “Mother?”
“Jennifer! Oh, hello, honey. I wascalling for Gil.”
“I know that mother.” The indignationin my voice swelled like a red wave.
“He called--”
“I’m in his bed, mother.” My voice wasa slide of brittle words. All my hurt and all my ire, all directed at her. Forleaving Gil, for leaving me. For walking off as if we were so insignificant. Nomore important than cheap flip-flops purchase for the beach and then forgottenthere. “Or should I say your bed? We’ve been together.”
“Jennifer!”
“And when I say together, I mean inthe biblical sense,” I said and laughed. It was a short brutal ugly laugh. Ifit had a color it would have been muddy yellow. “He fucked me. More than once.”
I heard her silence like a loud drumbeing beaten. It was crushing and overwhelming in its completeness. On theother side of the wall the shower cut off. “Jennifer,” she said again, as if Iwere squeezing all the air out of her. “Gil called and--”
That made me see red, quite literally.Anger so consuming the light in the room was swallowed. I heard the sink, thedoor, the movement of a handsome man I was swiftly letting myself fall forafter all these years. Why had he called her? Why? Wasn’t she gone yet? If shewas leaving us shouldn’t she just fucking leave and be done with it. Notcalling Gil from some unknown place with some unknown person doing some unknownshit that did not involve her husband and her daughter.
“I don’t care if he called you. I’m tellingyou don’t call here anymore. You don’t live here anymore,” I said. “You chosefor things to be that way Marian, so you can go fu--”
The phone was removed forcibly from myhand and Gil pressed it to his ear, murmured, “I’ll call you back.” He set thephone in the base and turned to me, his face angry and stark.
“Gil, I--”
“What the hell was that?”
“I can’t stand that she called you,” Istammered.
“She’s my wife,” he said and I couldtell that they way he said it was to hurt me. He was annoyed with my behaviorand my actions. I had seen it many, many times in my youth, I knew the look ofGil’s discontent when I saw it.
My cheeks flamed hotly and Istiffened, my shame turning swiftly to anger. “Well, by all means, have herback. Fuck her again and again. Do you make her call you daddy in bed,too?” I said before I could stop myself.
His hand was a blur and his open palmconnected with my cheek where a blossom of heat and pain sprang up. “Shut up,Jennifer. Stop now while you can.”
I stared at him, rubbing my cheek. Theanger at my mother, the hurt, the pain and now the physical sting of hisretribution all came crashing down around me and though I tried to stave itoff, I burst into tears and started to shake.
“Jennifer.”
I bolted past him, hurled myself intothe shower. The steam in the bathroom was still cottony around my face.Gripping at me with fingers of thick, muggy hair. I turned the spray on hot andfull force and cried my way through a Silkwood worthy scrub down. My skinsizzled, hot and raw from my scrubbing and when I opened the bathroom door, hestood there. Gil slouched against the wall in nothing but his old favoritejeans and a grim look.
I tried to walk past him and he almostlet me. At the last minute, his strong arm lashed out, quick like a snake andhe caught me up. Hauled me back. Held me to him. He said right up against myear so I broke out in goose
