“In the river, yes. This means we now have two dead bodies and only one survivor, you.”
The fact that she doesn’t try to avoid this confrontation makes Grande ease up on her slightly. Her shoulders come down, and she pauses, leaving room for Laurie to explain. Laurie exhales deeply, and tears spring to her eyes.
“I was going to tell you about him,” she says. “But I wanted to tell the story first. It’s important you get the entire story. I want to make sure you understand the background for all that happened. I promise you; I was going to tell you about him.”
Detective Grande lifts both her eyebrows. Jonathan nods calmly. Grande sends him a look of impatience, and he mimics for her to calm down. He reaches over and squeezes Laurie’s hand lightly.
“We have all the time in the world, sweetheart. We appreciate you telling us everything, Laurie; we truly do. Take your time. We know it can’t be easy.”
After Isabella is shot, everything is a little blurry to me. I walk around in a haze I can’t escape. I spend night after night and day after day in the hospital. I have no idea how long I’m there, and if you ask me to tell you what the doctors tell me at this point, I won’t be able to recollect it. There are so many faces, so many words, and so much fear in those days; I can hardly believe I survived it.
Isabella has suffered a gunshot wound to her abdomen, and it came dangerously close to her vital organs. She goes through so much surgery you wouldn’t think a young girl could possibly endure it. Every day, it’s something new—a fracture here, a piece of bone there. It is like her body has completely shattered. She is breathing through a tube; she’s unable to talk and communicates with us through blinking. Yes, it sounds crazy, but that is all we have. I am being told so many things; I hardly know what to believe. One day, they say she’ll never walk again, the next that she will walk but not be able to utilize her hands. But then she suddenly starts moving both legs and arms, and soon she is sitting up in the bed. After more surgeries, she’s slowly getting better, even though we’re told she’ll need physical therapy afterward to learn how to walk properly, and until then, she’ll need crutches. I am struggling to keep it together and sleep most nights in her room, while Damian stays at my parents’ place. They make sure he gets to school every day and then bring him out to me in the afternoon, where we hang out by Isabella’s side, just praying for her full recovery and reminding ourselves how blessed we are to still have her here with us.
Our prayers are answered as we are able to take her home with us a month later. I take her to my parents’ place, and we stay there for a few days until it finally gets too small for all of us, and I rent an apartment in the condominium building next door. This way, the kids can hang out with their grandparents as much as they want to, but we won’t have to get on each other’s nerves. The apartment is expensive, and I don’t know how long I can continue to pay for it, but my parents have given me money to help me out for now. They don’t want me to worry about getting a job at this point when things are still so new, and Isabella still needs my care.
I haven’t heard anything from Ryan while all this has been going on. After the incident, he was arrested by the SPs, and he told them it was an accident, which I couldn’t tell them wasn’t true. The incident is still under investigation, and he has been released for now. Meanwhile, he has promised to get therapy and to stay away from us. I have gotten a protective order out on him, just in case, so he can’t come near any of us, which makes me feel slightly safer. My biggest concern is him showing up, demanding to see us, trying to get us to come back home. I fear he might be able to persuade us, and then we’re back in that prison it was living with him, always worried we might anger him or trigger his anxiety somehow. I still wake up, bathed in sweat at night, and I dream about him shooting Isabella most nights, but I also often dream about him crying and telling me he never meant for it to happen. I am filled with guilt during the day, wondering why I didn’t move away earlier before things got so bad but also fighting this feeling deep inside me that I somehow pushed him this far. That if I hadn’t started asking him all these questions, accusing him, he wouldn’t have pulled the gun.
Frank and Vera both tell me I can’t think like that, that something like this would probably have happened anyway; it was just a matter of time—that every day, women are killed by their abusive spouses, that I was lucky no one died. And they’re right, I guess. No matter what, I couldn’t keep living like that, continually fearing my own husband. The good part is, I can now see them both as much as I want to. No one can stop me, no one can tell me not to, and no one can get jealous. Vera doesn’t have much time since she is still in training, but I am seeing Frank almost every day. He stops by, bringing flowers or things he believes we might need, like milk or eggs or maybe a vase. He uses it as an excuse; I know he just wants to see me, and I let him. I accept his gifts and tell him he’s a lifesaver, that I just needed this. He de-clogs my shower drain for me and fixes my doorbell, and he puts up smoke detectors all over the condo, even though the owner has already put some up. Frank doesn’t believe it is enough. He wants to make sure we are safe. We spend a lot of time drinking coffee and talking about everything and sometimes nothing at all, and it feels good. After a few more weeks like this, I can’t keep it at bay any longer.
We’re sitting in the living room of the condo, overlooking the ocean beneath us, when he leans over and kisses me. I don’t protest; I don’t push him away. I enjoy feeling his lips against mine. I enjoy hearing his heartbeat next to mine. I don’t know whether I am in love with him or not; it’s too early to tell, and I am pretty broken at this point. All I know is that I enjoy being with him, and I like that he likes me.
But as soon as his lips part from mine, I can’t help feeling a pang of guilt. I am, after all, still married to Ryan, and I feel like I just cheated on him. I turn away from Frank. He sees it and gets worried.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “Was that not okay?”
I look at him, my heart bleeding.
Here I am with the sweetest guy, who is totally into me. And I can’t even kiss him without feeling bad about it. What is wrong with me?
“Oh, no, it was. It’s just…it’s been so long, and I am technically still married.”
“But you’ll be getting a divorce, right?” he asks.
I look down at my ring. I am still wearing it, and I don’t know why. I nod. “In time, yes. I just can’t…not yet.”
He smiles, but it doesn’t seem genuine. “Okay. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
I grab his hand in mine, feeling relieved.
“Thank you. That is all I can hope for. You’re such an angel.”
Chapter 30
Our health insurance is still through Ryan and his work, and Isabella’s physical therapy is taking place on the base, so I go there every day with her. I drive through the gates like I used to and show them my ID at the guardhouse, but now it fills me with such dread and fear. I am so scared of bumping into Ryan or any of his war buddies.
One of the days, it was a Monday, I think, while Isabella was going through her physical therapy, I drive down to our old house and pack a bag of things. I don’t know if Ryan has been back there at all, but I have a feeling he hasn’t. I walk upstairs, my heart pounding when remembering what happened on that awful night. I stop and look at the blood on the carpet, then try to calm myself just enough to focus on why I am there. I promised Isabella I’d get her iPad and Damian’s Nintendo Switch. I also pack some more clothes for all of us and some makeup I have missed terribly and my favorite yoga outfit.