Aggro - CoraLee June Page 0,129

Breeze was gone more. I figured she was just lonely. Maybe occasionally she looked at Brian. I thought her flirty eyes were harmless. My husband was attractive, of course. Young girls were prone to fantasies that never came to fruition.

But this was one fantasy that crossed the line.

He was mine. Brian was my husband. My fucking husband. I hated her. I pitied her. I wanted to claw her eyes out and give her a hug. I wanted answers.

A message came through.

Violet: Baby, I’m in the woods. Can you come get me please? Cops broke up our party.

My chest constricted tighter. Baby? He used to hate it when I used pet names with him. Did he like hearing her soft voice calling him that? Who was this man?

Violet: Brian? I need you. Please.

Violet: I know we were fighting about the baby, but I made an appointment. We can go back to normal. I won’t push you anymore. I promise. Please.

A baby? A fucking baby? Blinding rage struck me at those simple words. For years Brian and I tried. We desperately wanted a second baby. After failed treatments, traumatizing miscarriages, and pain that still haunted me, we gave up on the idea of having another.

Violet was giving my husband what I couldn’t in more ways than one, and the thought of that cut deeper than the betrayal of his affair. But what did she mean she made an appointment? Would she not be raising the child I tried and failed to create? Brian and I had wanted another one so fucking badly. How could he do this with someone else? Was she going to terminate it?

I needed answers. I needed to talk to Violet. Maybe I could help her. It would kill me—it would end me. But I was no stranger to being the martyr. Hadn’t I been working doubles at the hospital to fund my husband’s dreams? Hadn’t I given him everything?

I typed my response without thinking. She replied immediately.

Brian: I’m coming to get you. Stay put.

Violet: Thank you. I love you so much.

Love. This child didn’t know what love was. Her own parents abandoned her. Did my husband prey on her because she was easy? Lonely? Was she a victim in this, or was she the one that shamelessly pioneered the wrongness of it all for the sake of feeling something? I wordlessly tied my hair up. I could talk to Violet. I could figure this out. Tears streamed down my cheeks. My chest constricted. So much. It was so much.

I started walking through the grove that connected our house to the Joneses’, knowing Violet was there. My fists were clenched. My heart raced. My tears dried up, and rage spurred each step. How could he do this to me? How could she? My husband made a vow, but Violet was like a daughter to me. Did she have remorse?

Blue lights flashed in the distance, burning brighter the closer I got. I looked for Violet, smiling when I saw her crying against the base of a tree. The night sky and thick greenery hid me from view. I watched her sob for a moment, shamefully reveling in her pain. I wanted her to feel what I was feeling. I knew it was wrong, but my world was destroyed because of this girl. My daughter would never be the same. My marriage would never be the same.

“Wh-who’s there?” she asked. “Brian, is that you?”

With a deep breath, I stepped closer, forcing a smile when her pretty little mouth popped open in shock. “Mrs. Shirley?” she asked while scrambling to stand up. Her movements were slow. It didn’t take a genius to know she was drunk. Her sluggish, swayed movements and the smell of alcohol were proof enough. She was always so destructive. Did Brian like broken things? I’d always been the strong one in our family. Always taking on the load of responsibilities because that’s what you did when you loved someone. Maybe that’s what pushed him away. He wanted to feel like the hero for once. He wanted to feel like a man. I’m sure it was emasculating to know he couldn’t provide for our family.

“You’ve been fucking my husband,” I said. It was a stark statement. Like a punch. I should have eased into it, but that anger was still there. Violet had the good sense to recoil at my harsh words. I couldn’t force myself to feel regret. That anger burned, burned, burned. A single candle now a