Unhinge - Calia Read Page 0,54
comfort that made me happy. And I thought of how I had moved out of the master bedroom and into the guest bedroom, refusing to let Wes touch me or be in the same room as him, all in a last-ditch effort to protect myself.
“He’s been stressed with work, hasn’t he?” my mother prodded.
“Yes.”
“Honey, everything is okay. Arguments are going to happen. It’s inevitable. But that doesn’t mean you should run and hide. You have to face each problem head-on and you have to do that together.”
“It’s not that simple. None of this is.” Nervously, I licked my lips. “There’s something wrong with him, Mom. I mean, something seriously twisted,” I said.
“Victoria, that’s just your imagination. You’ve—”
“It’s not my fucking imagination!” I dragged my hands through my hair and fought the urge to tug at the strands. God, I really felt like I was going crazy. “You haven’t seen him when he gets all angry. It’s beyond anything I can explain. He turns into a different person!”
“Victoria,” she said calmly. “Listen to me, okay?”
Slowly, I met her eyes.
“It’s a constant battle to keep your head above the water. If you try to work past this, the two of you will make it to the other side.”
My mother has always believed that every challenge has a solution if you try hard enough. But this wasn’t a challenge. It was a living, breathing nightmare.
“And what happens if we don’t?”
She looked me in the eye. “Then at least you know you tried.”
There was nothing I could say to that.
“I have to get going.” She stood and gave me a weak smile as she hugged me. I was in such a state of shock that I stood frozen, like a block of ice.
When she pulled back, she looked me in the eye. “Why don’t you look through the box I gave you?”
I frowned. “Old memories aren’t going to help me.”
“You’re wrong,” she said softly. “They help all of us.”
We walked toward the front door. My mother opened up the box she had brought over. She pulled out a photo album, looking ready to take a trip down memory lane. I had no desire to join her; I was still reeling from our conversation.
She flipped through the first few pictures before she pulled out a photo and handed it to me. It was of me as a little baby. “Why are we looking at this?”
My mother plucked the picture from my hands. “Maybe you two should consider starting a family.” She brushed her thumb across the glossy surface of the picture. “Having you and your brother was the best thing I’d ever done and brought your dad and me closer than I ever thought possible.”
She had no idea that we’d been trying for a child for a while. I had no desire to tell her either. So I nodded my head and followed her to the door, yet all the while, my heart was breaking apart.
When the door closed behind her, I leaned against it and closed my eyes.
Deep down I knew there was no amount of sorrys, no gifts or child that could ever bring Wes and me back together again.
July 2014
“What do you think about this one?”
Sinclair peered at the flower. “The black rose?” He shook his head. “Too dark.”
I brushed my fingers against the deep purple petals. “I kind of like them.”
“You’re supposed to be helping Renee make a bouquet for a wedding, not a funeral.”
We were in Renee’s flower shop. It was downtown, in the heart of Falls Church. It was a quaint little place with a green and white striped awning that had seen better days. The front door was painted black, with chips of paint flaking off around the doorknob. A bell was looped around the door handle. People seemed drawn to its exterior, and curious to step into a place that looked like it had been there for decades. When the weather was warm, plants and bouquets would be displayed right outside the store.
The shop was Renee’s pride and joy, and the fact that she trusted me enough to let me run it, even for two hours, was shocking. The first thirty minutes I fidgeted behind the cash register, completely clueless about what to do. Sinclair showed up an hour ago. He was just as clueless as me and we made a useless pair.
The weather was bleak. Rain clouds came in and thunder rumbled in the distance; only one customer had walked in.
“This could be for a wedding.”