I nodded. My heart was breaking. Only he would remember how much I loved that movie. Only he would make a gesture like that. Only I would be stupid enough to not go. I kissed him once more, savoring the feel of the playoffs beard and the softness of his lips. My tears crept into our kiss. I sobbed as I left the room. Leaving him for good. I heard him say something but I didn’t wait for the elevator. I pulled my shoes off and ran down the stairs.
When I got to the door to the main floor, I put them back on and wiped my face. I took a deep breath and walked out into the lobby. My father saw me, stood and walked from the hotel. Phil gave me a look of remorse. I walked past him and out of the hotel after my father.
At least at home I had more of the little blue pills.
Friday
"Where is your ring?"
I looked up at my mother, "What?"
"Your engagement ring?"
I looked down at my hand, "The Atlantic Ocean." I almost laughed when I said it but the blue pill was working. I was almost the woman I had been the week before. The woman my mother was and had been for years.
She smiled the fake fucking smile I detested, "Darling, we can't go throwing forty-thousand-dollar rings into the ocean. What if some poverty-stricken person comes upon it? They'll pawn it or worse, keep it."
I snorted, "I hope they do find it and pawn it and get a lot of drugs, food, or booze. I hope it means something to someone someday."
She maintained the forced smile until Diane stormed in. Mom stood, "Oh thank God, Diane. How are you?"
She gave my mother a look, "Leave us please, Mrs. Croix."
My mother ignored the rude tone coming from Diane and took her chance to leave me with someone else.
Diane did the thing I couldn’t possibly imagine her doing. She walked to me, dropping to her knees and grabbed my hands, "Run."
I looked down on her face. I saw it. "What?"
She nodded, "You can't marry him. Run away and never come back."
I shook my head, "My dad said he'll end Mike's career. I don’t think he has the power, but I bet Phil's dad does. I have to go through with this for him."
"You’re an idiot."
I nodded, "Duly noted."
She sighed, "Trust me, don't do this. You are slowly going to die inside and end up sleeping with random bartenders like me."
I winced, "Hottie from Sunday?"
She nodded and sniffled.
I grimaced.
She shrugged, "J.D., you do what you have to do to get through."
I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to get through. I didn’t want my life to be about surviving it. I didn’t want to take another blue pill. I never even thought about them with Mike. There in the house, I was almost chopping them up and snorting them in the bathroom. I grabbed one and slipped it between my lips.
My sister Brandi came in with a glass of champagne for the three of us. I took mine and swallowed the jagged little pill that made me ‘me’ again. Not the me I wanted to be, but the me I had to be.
Brandi was beaming, "Did you at least fuck his brains out? Mike France is the hottest piece of ass in the NHL. Tell me you got yourself enough to get you through, with the gift I got you for your bridal shower."
My cheeks blushed before I could say no.
"Of course you did, good girl." She shot the champagne down her throat and shuddered, "How are we doing this?"
Diane shook her head.
I frowned, "What?"
She gave Brandi a nervous look. Brandi nodded at her and scowled at me, "We need to get you the fuck out of here. Dad is a tyrant and the fact he sold you into this bullshit wedding is like some third-world-country craziness. Like did he get cattle for you? No. He got a country club invitation from the blue bloods. Fuck them all." She looked at Diane, "Except you."
Diane snorted, "My family is the worst."
I shook my head, "I can't. They'll get Mike fired or arrested for drugs, or frame him for something. I was warned. I need a bigger fish than Dad to protect Mike." A light came on in my mind. I looked up at my sister, "Can you stall them? I need to go see Muriel."
She cocked an eyebrow, "Are you serious?"
I nodded.
She sighed, "Fine, slip back into charity bitch and drug ho role."
I laughed, "No, not for that. Just trust me, and cover for me." I got up and ran to the back stairs and across the grass. I ran to our backyard neighbor's house and down the block. I stood on the side of the road and pulled out the new cell phone Phil had gotten me and dialed.
"Can I get a cab at the corner of Mohawk and Westview in Short Hills?" I hung up and stood there, waiting and wondering if it would work at all.
Later that night when I got back from Muriel's house, I had a slight pep in my step when I walked into the house. My plan was playing out. Phil walked out of the office, looking exhausted. He glared at me, "Where were you?"
I sneered, "Why? Are you going to beat me if you don’t like the answer?"
He shook his head. I could see the regret all over his face. I didn’t care. He could regret all he wanted. He had hit me and that was where I drew the line. I would never let him near me again. He took a step towards me, "I told you, I'm so sorry."
I shook my head and walked past him to the kitchen. I pulled out a bottle of Chianti from the Italian wine tasting I had been to. I poured it into the decanter and swirled it around. Phil sauntered in after me, leaning against the counter, "What's it going to take?"
I looked up, "For what?"
"For you to forgive me? What do you need? I'll do it. I'd do anything to take back the last week."
I shrugged, "It's only been a week, it's still pretty fresh. Check back in a decade and see how I am. Say hi to Ashley too. Tell her to ask her mom if we are still on for yoga and let her keep those other heels. I don’t need two pairs."
He clenched his jaw. His blue eyes grew cold, "You will be a good wife. Do you want our life to be like this? Do you want me to force your devotion to me?"
I poured my first glass, "I wanted it from the start. I never knew I was competing against seniors in high school for it."
His hands clenched. I winced, remembering the feel of his hand across my face.
He pointed at me, "Your father has Doctor Michaels coming tomorrow. I think he'll remedy everything for us."
I felt a sickening twist of a knife in my guts. I didn’t make a move, beyond lifting the glass to my face and smelling the Chianti. Phil patted his hand on the counter, "See you in bed."
I shook my head, "No thanks."
He stormed across the kitchen. I put my glass down and backed away. He grabbed my wrist, pushing me against the fridge, "We can make this work, Jacqueline. You just have to try to. You have to choose to love me, instead of him. Give me the fair chance to win your heart."
I shoved him back, "With this? With anger and rage and cheating and getting my father to drug me? That’s what you think wins me over?"
He dropped to his knees, "I don’t know how to love you. I know I don’t deserve you, but I want to try."
It was a weird moment.
I wrapped my arms around his head and buried his face in my ribs so he couldn’t see the face I was making. It had to be part horror and part disbelief.
He looked up at me, "Tell me what to do?"
I shook my head, meeting his blue gaze head on, "I don’t know. We pushed it so far, I don’t think we can fix it."
He shook his head, "Neither of us comes from failures. We are both bred to be successful and strong. We can do this. Promise me you'll try."
I nodded, "I will." It was a lie, but I wanted to sleep without the worry of sleep assault. "I think we should spend the next two weeks just figuring ourselves out. Sleep separate."
He stood up and looked down on me, tilting my chin up, "I will do anything to win you back," he smiled, "Or win you for the first time."
I smiled and let him walk out of the kitchen. I trembled a little when I lifted the wine to my lips.
Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.
Saturday
I sat at the makeup table and let my mother ramble on as I dressed for the day. She had been coming over and acting like she gave a rat's ass about me since I had come back. Two days of hell, really.
I dusted the powder over my face and looked at the faded mark on my cheek. Makeup covered it completely, but the fear of him hitting me again, was always going to be there.
"So you see why it's important to marry well?"
I looked at her in the mirror and smiled the same fake-ass smile she always gave me.
She nodded and left the room, "Excellent. We'll be downstairs."
I went and sat on the couch on the far side of my bedroom and waited for Dr. Michaels. He was my father's solution to everything, from my sister's morning-after pill to the mental health of the women in our family.
Finally, after a few moments he walked in, looking old and creepy as always.
"How are you, Jacqueline?"
I smiled and pointed to the other couch, "Excellent. How are you?"
He nodded, "Well enough. So let's talk about the issues you've been having."
I shook my head, "I am not having any I am aware of."
He studied my face, scrutinizing. After a moment he smiled, patronizingly. "Are you still taking the medication I prescribed you?"
I nodded.
"Do you still feel the same anxiety you were before or is it helping?"
I sighed, "It's helping. What has my father told you?"
He chuckled, "Nothing much. Just that you were under the weather, a little depressed maybe."
I folded my hands in my lap, "My father is forcing me to marry someone I don’t want to. My fiancé is having affairs with young girls. And even with all of that, I am not depressed. I think that earns me some sort of medal, don’t you?"
