in the morning, make a decision, and then take the consequences as they came. She popped a single sleeping pill into her mouth, uncapped her bottle of water, and swallowed it down with a long drink. She put the bottle down, turned off the television, and accepted the darkness for what it offered.
In the darkness, there was no truth, no thought, just blackness that drew her into its waiting arms. She snorted and wondered if her sudden poetic bent was down to the pills or her emotional state. The rustle of the covers as she pulled them further up her neck was somehow as reassuring as the darkness. It was a familiar sound that meant she was wrapped in pure cotton sheets and a comforter that kept her warm.
It was a unique feeling at this time of year. The air conditioner kept her room cool, cool enough to need the comforter, something she’d never experienced in her life during the hot Louisiana nights. Not until after her mother’s death, that is. Not until she’d spent the night at Matteo’s home.
She could crank the air conditioner up until the damned thing froze now, either way, she wouldn’t have to worry about the power bill. She would have to worry about getting out of bed though, and now that the pill was kicking in, that wasn’t something she wanted to do.
Her eyelids became heavy, and she stretched out a leg to relieve the weight on her hips. A final sniffle and her eyes closed completely. She was done with this day, with her own thoughts, and fell into a dreamless sleep with a sigh she didn’t even know she sighed. Tomorrow would come soon enough, decisions would have to be made, but for now, she was only going to sleep.
5
The smell of bacon and eggs lingered in the air, a reminder of the breakfast she’d made herself, as Marie left the house. She didn’t look back or glance around to search out memories, she closed the door and walked to the car.
Matteo might be at home, she wasn’t sure, but if he wasn’t, she would wait for him. The logical thing to do would be to call him, but she was afraid that she’d change her mind or that he’d say something that would make her walk away. This was the only real “out” she’d been offered. She had to take it.
The obvious answer was to run far away, to get away from all of them. Leave the bill collectors and Matteo and his vengeful aunt behind, but she couldn’t. She didn’t want to live on the run, always looking over her shoulder, afraid to answer the phone or open mail, always working to stay one step ahead.
Which meant the best thing - the only thing - she could do was take his offer. If she wanted to be cynical about it, she knew that she could stay married to him long enough for the debt to be cleared, divorce him with a nice alimony payment in tow, and get on with her life. Or, maybe, just maybe, he’d been a little bit honest with her. Maybe some of the adoration she’d seen in his eyes was real.
Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel as she pressed her foot down harder on the gas pedal. She couldn’t afford to look at it that way, though, or to hope. That path would lead her only to folly, to the same kind of heartache that left a trail of disillusioned ex-wives with twisted lips and hateful eyes scattered along the edges. Nope, best not to even think the word “love”.
Even if the whole idea of marriage nowadays was to seal the deal and offer the world proof that you were in love. Well, that and to make sure Uncle Sam didn’t take more taxes from you than he should. No, cynicism might be sneered at by so many, but after her life, it was practical to be cynical. It was safe.
And all that Marie wanted in the world, all that she craved as her world crumbled around her, was safety. She wanted to be able to buy a new dress without worrying if she’d be able to eat the next week. She wanted to not be afraid of assassination, and she had to guess that was a very real possibility if she ran away. You didn’t mess with Mafia people, not unless you wanted to get burned.