“I am. I’m so stupid. Been stupid for three years and I’m still…” She shakes her head and shudders.
I empty my lungs of breath and stare into the flames with her.
Have I inadvertently thrown my marriage into the fire.
No. I refuse to believe that.
That fucker downstairs is the bad guy, not me.
“Are you gonna try to eat something?” I ask.
“Am I ever going to be able to eat lasagna again without thinking about that? Without thinking of that smell?” she asks, grabbing a Kleenex. “He spit out a tooth after you hit him. He’s a mess. You’ve… you’ve…” She shakes her head and pulls her lips tight, eyes swimming with more tears.
“You should not give a fucking shit about him,” I growl, then lift both plates and take them into the kitchen.
I eat half of mine before dumping the rest into the garbage. Sticking hers back into the fridge in case she’s hungry later. I didn’t taste what I forced down; I just knew my body needed fuel. When I get back, she’s not on the couch. I rush to the front door to look out, but it’s still locked.
The sound of the taps springing to life upstairs makes me exhale relief. She’s taking a shower or a bath. Looks like we’re spending the night here.
I tap into the camera feed for Raymond’s cell and see he’s lying in the bed, staring into space with a smile on his face. I’ve left his light on. It can stay on indefinitely as far as I’m concerned. Now he gets the opposite of darkness. He gets unending harsh light. He gets to see where his actions have brought him. A cold, dirty cell without comfort. He’s got his cot with the thin mattress, his sub-zero sleeping bag and a bucket to piss and shit in. I slide my finger over to my music app and turn it on to play in that space.
Now he’s got company.
Last time I blasted his ears with music it was 50 Cent. Because it was music that made Violet happy, and I know he knew that when I mentioned it by the look on his face, telling him all about her dancing in the club, teasing me with her swaying hips and come-hither eyes. I looped that playlist for twelve hours.
Tonight, it’s gonna be country. Because he hates it. He hates it because his folks used to fight to it late at night when he was trying to sleep as a kid. The asshole made the mistake of mentioning that over beers that night he fucked me over with the coin toss when someone requested the DJ play a Shania Twain song. It was a joking comment, one of the guys from the hood saying, Go tell the DJ to play I Feel Like a Woman. And Raymond went off on a tangent about being unable to stomach country and western music because that’s what his folks fought to when he was a kid.
I hit play on the New Country’s Greatest Hits playlist before I pour a glass of whiskey and then after downing it, I head upstairs with a glass of wine for her. I doubt she’ll drink it, but it’s an excuse to see her.
She’s still in the bathroom, so I set the wine down on her nightstand and lift her phone from the wireless charger beside the lamp.
I glance at the recent call list and then the recent text messages.
A message from Susanna asking her if they’re on for Susanna Sunday this coming weekend. Violet hasn’t responded.
A text string with Shara, Violet’s boss. I scroll back to the start of the conversation a few hours ago.
Violet: I’m sorry, but I need tomorrow off, too. I’ve got a personal emergency. I don’t have my laptop or I’d work from home.
Shara: Is everything ok?
Violet: Personal emergency. I’m sorry for the short notice.
Shara: ????
Shara: What’s happening?
Shara: Are you going to just need the one day off?
Violet: I’m not sure yet but I’ll let you know ASAP.
Shara: Pls do. You’re out of vacation days, and it’s not easy to cover your duties if it’s more than one day. Please let me know ASAP what’s going on.
Violet: Sorry. I will.
Shara: That’s it? No explanation? I’m not sure what’s going on but I need to say that if it’s more than tomorrow you need off, I’ll need a doctor’s note or reasonable explanation for this absence and a formal attendance warning will be on your file if not sufficient. Please get in touch with me tomorrow to let me know if you’ll be in Friday or not.
That’s where it ended. And I’m a little pissed seeing that. She doesn’t need her boss hassling her like that. What happened to Shara being supportive? Being Violet’s friend? Nosy bitch, trying to get Violet to say what’s “going on” and because Violet hasn’t, she’s getting bitchy. The rant she went on when I looked in on Violet’s office today shows the bitch is jealous of Violet and doing a shitty job of hiding it.