Then I felt it. That tightness in my chest.
The one I knew too well. My hand shot into my coat pocket for my inhaler. Empty.
I rummaged through my bag and found the old one.
Almost empty.
For a few minutes, I tried to calm down. But every breath came harder than the last. I stepped outside.
Linda’s neighbor, Gloria, was watering her flowers in the middle of the night.
“Marie? What are you doing out here this late?”
“Gloria… I’m out of… asthma meds… I need to drive home… get my inhaler…”
I was gasping between words. “Please… can you stay with the kids?
I’ll be back in an hour.”
“Go, sweetheart. I’ll keep an eye on them. They won’t even know you’re gone.”
I thanked her, though my mouth felt dry as dust.
I got in the car. My inhaler was waiting for me at home, right on the shelf by the bed.
Home greeted me with darkness. Except for the light in the bedroom.
Why is Jack still up?
And why is… Linda’s car here?!
It felt like someone slapped me across the face.
A woman’s.
In the bathroom!
I moved slowly, like I was wading through mud. Before I even reached the door, I saw the clothes scattered along the stairs. Jack’s shirt.
Linda’s bracelet.
I could hear their giggles and the faint smell of wine. I threw the door open.
Jack leaned back in the tub, soap bubbles covering his chest. Linda laughed, swirling her glass with a strawberry on the rim.
They looked at me like I was a stranger in my own house.
“Marie, what are you doing here?” Linda snapped. “You were supposed to be with the kids!”
“With the kids?!” My throat was so dry I could barely speak. “I trusted you with my husband… How could you?!”
Jack lifted his glass.
My hands didn’t know where to go.
The pain in my chest got sharper, stabbing me from the inside. I turned and ran into the bedroom. Rose petals were scattered everywhere.
I grabbed my inhaler, sank to the floor, and hugged my knees to my chest.
Breathing hurt.
Why? Why did I let everyone walk all over me?
The familiar laugh echoed through the walls. Their splashing in the tub.
For the first time in years, I knew something for sure: the good, sweet Marie died right there, at that moment.
And someone else was born.
A woman ready to get revenge.
On her husband.
And on her own sister.
I came back to Linda’s house at sunrise. The kids were still sleeping.
Cindy’s hair was stuck to her cheek with sleep. Little Tommy — her youngest — lay on his belly, drooling onto his dinosaur pillow.
People always said, “Funny, how Tommy doesn’t look like Linda’s ex.
Or like Linda, really.”
I knew better.
I sat down beside Tommy. He didn’t even stir. I ran my hand through his hair, slow.
My heart was too calm. I pulled out a little sandwich bag and plucked a single blond hair from his brush. Just one.
Old Gloria was asleep in the chair, with a blanket over her knees.
She blinked awake.
“Marie? Oh, sweetheart. I am not sleeping.”
I dropped to my knees right in front of her.
“Gloria.
My-y-y… hu-hus-husband. With my-m-m-my si-sister.”
“Oh, darling…” Gloria smoothed my hair back with her thin hands.
“You don’t deserve this. You never did.”
“I want them to pay,” I sobbed. “They think I’m weak.
They think I’ll just cry and forgive. Like always.”
Her fingers dug into my shoulder. “Then don’t forgive.
Teach them what it feels like to be left out in the cold.”Continue reading…
