Since tonight was date night, a.k.a. Emmet’s night with the lemur, I served the boys dinner promptly at 6:00 even though Emmet wasn’t home yet. He usually liked to sit with the boys while they ate, even if he wasn’t eating until later with his homely date. Finally at 6:20 he walked in the door, didn’t acknowledge me at all and set some carry-out packages on the counter without comment. Finally, I gave in and was the first one to speak.
“Do you need me to do something with these?” I asked politely, baiting him to answer inappropriately with the boys in the room.
“Yes, Elizabeth will be here in a few minutes. Dinner is in the bags. Please get it ready to serve us.”
I pretended not to notice the degrading, “please get it ready to serve us” request. I also didn’t mention how much effort I put into making dinner for him and his pungent princess. Maybe he was worried they would both end up with food poisoning from my cooking. My target, of course being him; Elizabeth would merely be collateral damage.
The doorbell rang; Elizabeth, I assumed. Emmet looked at me to answer it. I smiled and kindly said, “She’s really here to see you, not me. I’m sure she’d rather you greet her.” Knowing I was safe from his wrath as long as the boys were in the kitchen. I looked back to the carry-out packages and continued to be a good servant preparing plates for both of them.
Elizabeth’s patronizing attitude was worse than last week. She called me Hannah repeatedly and did everything possible to assert I was the help and she was the queen. I endured it for only thirty minutes, and then thought again…what the hell, I’m already fired…and I accompanied the boys upstairs to Josh’s room and closed the door. I knew Emmet would just roll with it; anything else would prove I was triumphant in agitating him. I didn’t want the boys to get caught in the crossfire, so I made sure they followed their regular bedtime routine and were in bed by 8:30.
Date night ended earlier this week—9:00. A few minutes after Elizabeth left I heard Emmet in the kitchen doing the dishes. He realized I wouldn’t and he couldn’t tolerate dirty dishes in the sink overnight. Thankfully, he was occupied. I was worn out from the drama…too drained to get into it with him again and glad the day was over. Then I remembered I left his dry cleaning in my car that afternoon.
As I reached in the back seat to grab the dry cleaning, I heard a low growl behind me. I didn’t move, but the growl did. It was getting closer… Romulus. Emmet must have let him out after Elizabeth left. I knew he’d let him loose early last night, but I didn’t consider he would do it again tonight. Not that any of that mattered now. I was about to be a chew toy for this beast.
Slowly I turned around telling myself, “He likes me…Romulus is starting to get used to me. Is it possible he’ll stop growling when he sees it’s me…I hope?” He couldn’t have been more than ten or fifteen feet from me and was stalking closer.
“It’s okay, Romulus. It’s just me,” I said, looking straight at him with my sweaty palm extended. He was now snarling. I kept talking to him in a quiet, calm voice while trying to relax out of my panic. Time to think of an alternative because this was hopelessly ineffective; I could attempt to dive in the car or maybe on the car. I didn’t think I could get in the car. He was too close. On the car was a poor option as well; I rather think he could have jumped on the car also. I was having flashbacks from the Steven King novel Cujo. There really wasn’t any way to escape this killer dog.
“That’s a good dog. It’s just me, Annie. Where’s your tennis ball? Go get your tennis ball.” Romulus was inching closer. He had no interest in playing with a tennis ball when he could amuse himself by ripping my throat out or playing tug of war with my limbs. They would find pieces of me in the morning.
Suddenly the back door flew open. There was a loud whistle and then Emmet commanded, “Romulus, heel.” Immediately the dog sat down…a mere three feet from me. I took a half step backward and slumped against the car breathing so heavily I was fearful of hyperventilating and passing out.
“What. Are. You. Doing. Out. Here?” Emmet shouted, each word spoken as if it were a sentence by itself. “Are you insane? Are you trying to get yourself killed? Why did you go outside? Did you have to make a call to the paper or whoever hired you? Did you need to tell them I took away your memory card? What is so secretive that you have to do it under the cover of darkness, Annie? Tell me what is so important?” Emmet looked like a madman. His face was twisted in anger and there was clearly hate in his eyes while he continued to walk toward me. Romulus snarled fiercely while inhaling.
“No, it’s nothing like that!” My voice was shaking, but I was yelling too, though not in complete sentences. “I forgot…your dry cleaning … your meeting tomorrow…your blue pinstriped suit…then Romulus… ten…and it’s NOT ten…I didn’t think you would…” Romulus growled louder. I wasn’t sure if he was growling at me or at the fighting, but Emmet was un-phased by his agitated beast.
“You’re LYING!” He yelled. “Were you leaving to meet someone? Is that why you left your car out of the garage? Answer me! How could you do this after I trusted you? How? I brought you into my home and I trusted you, Annie!” His fists were clenched and his upper body leaned toward me rigidly as he yelled. For a fleeting moment I saw the hate in his eyes replaced by hurt…the hurt of betrayal.
His words ripped through me—calling me a liar, accusing me of breaking his trust. I felt a familiar pang of empathy in my heart. I knew the feeling—broken trust. As angry as he was, I could hear the hurt in his voice. The whole ordeal was exhausting me. I reached into the car for the dry cleaning and handed it to Emmet. “I can’t do this with you tonight,” I said, barely biting back tears. “I left my car in the driveway because I know it annoys you not to have the cars in the garage. I just wanted to irritate you, that’s all. Search it again if you want.” I tossed him the keys.
I barely had the energy to walk upstairs and get myself ready for bed. I was physically and emotionally drained…beyond drained if that was possible. This was the first time I had thought of Lawrence’s betrayal since I moved in. My confrontation with Emmet was bad enough, but the tidal wave of emotion was salted with thoughts of Lawrence.
Quietly, I peeked out onto the balcony. Emmet hadn’t moved. He was standing in the driveway holding my keys in one hand and his dry cleaning in the other. I crawled into bed, turned off my light and closed my eyes; but I could still picture Emmet’s face…the hurt in his eyes. It was stupid, but I cried.
My eyes ached and I tried to hold back more tears, unsuccessfully. I couldn’t keep my emotions buried. Once the first tears fell, the quiet flood began. The betrayal I felt from everything Lawrence had done—all the lies, my misplaced trust. For the first time I mourned the loss of the life I left behind, or maybe more accurately, the illusion of the life I thought I had.
The tears had ceased when Emmet came upstairs. He quietly stepped into my room and put my keys on the nightstand. I knew it was an excuse to come to my room. Emmet preferred for everyone to hang their keys in the key box downstairs. There was a low creek as I heard him settle in my reading chair. I believe he wanted to talk, but my eyes were puffy from crying and I was absolutely exhausted.
12
Looking in the mirror at my swollen eyes, one would have sworn I had been beaten. I must have been crying in my sleep. I wondered how long Emmet had stayed and if he had heard me. I draped a cold washcloth over my eyes and lay back in bed. I debated. Would Emmet listen if I explained everything to him? Was it fair to wait until Sunday—fair to me; fair to him? No, it wasn’t fair, and, surprise or not, I would tell him this morning after the boys left for school.
I fixed a wonderful breakfast buffet and coffee exactly the way Emmet liked it. The table was set perfectly, Ms. Manners herself would have been proud. I stayed in my room until just before the boys left for the bus, remaining completely out of Emmet’s way to guarantee nothing would