Eighteen
Sugar Cane Blonde
CHELSEY
Have you ever watched something and wished you could rewind and pretend you never saw it. Sunk down on the floor at the top of the stairs, with my hand over my mouth to muffle my cries, with my eyes burning and my heart hammering so hard it hurts my ribs, I wish I could go back a few minutes and stay in my bed. To go back to lying there, wishing that it was Rat coming to lie beside me.
The dead animals on the front step upset me. I panicked, but my fear was never this. I never feared Rat. He was my safety net.
I have never been so scared in my life. There is nowhere to go, except back into my room. Crawling on the floor, my leggings slide along the wood as I make my way back to the room.
Instead of getting on my bed, I go around and crouch between the bed and the window. What if they kill Rat next and come up for me? What if he tells them where I am?
He said he did good. What did he do?
I try to calm down, but I can’t. I am frozen in fear on the cold floor. My body shakes until it feels stiff, my fingernails have dug into my palms until they bleed. The tears dried up and silence took over.
Everything just locked itself inside while I sat in the deafening quiet, waiting. My eyes stay focused on the red numbers of the bedside clock, and every minute it ticks over without me hearing anything.
I don’t hear his footsteps coming up. I don’t hear the doors or the car, so he hasn’t left. But I'm too afraid to go and look in case he’s dead, or gone like Sal.
Eventually I hear his phone ring, but he doesn’t answer it. It just goes on forever, then stops. A short while after, his text message beeps through the silent house, echoing off the walls.
Paralyzed by fear and the fact that my legs are now dead from sitting on the floor with my giant stomach, getting up just seems impossible so I don’t. I doze in and out, eventually dragging my body up and onto the bed.
I ache from the inside to the outside. My heart is shattered. Not for my husband, but for Rat. He just stood there. He just watched, so calm. He didn’t look sad, or upset or even shocked. There was just nothing. He watched them murder his father and he didn’t even flinch.
He never challenged them or pulled his gun on them. I know he has one. It’s always with him, so there’s no reason he couldn’t fight back.
Waves of nausea wash over me, coming from the soles of my feet through my entire body, worse than the morning sickness ever was, because I can’t force myself to be sick. It’s just the sensation that's rolling over me.
The braxton hicks contractions I felt earlier in the week are back and I pull my knees to my chest and squeeze my eyes closed until they pass. My whole body is screaming for sleep, so I try. I tell myself it was a dreadful dream and I didn’t see it happen. Sal is fine, he’ll be here soon to hold me while I sleep.
Exhaustion drags me into nightmares, and I sleep with the dead bunnies and a pool of blood on the white floor.
My alarm clock wakes me with a fright and I sit up, looking for Sal or his clothes to show me he’d been and gone, but there wasn’t even a wrinkle in the covers on his side of the bed. The sheets are cold, and the reality of the night before comes back like a dagger to my chest.
If they know I saw them I will be a dead bunny. I need to just act like nothing is wrong; it is just another night he didn’t come home. Rolling my awkward body out of the bed I go to shower, just like any other morning, and get dressed for work.
I’m in my bra and cute little maternity jeans when Rat comes in without knocking, he just opens the door and stands looking at me. His eyes are dark and tired rings frame them in deep blue circles.
I feel exposed, but I also feel afraid. I just keep drying my hair in the long mirror while he watches me. He likes watching me. He does it all the time. Sometimes he touches me, even kisses me, but he’s always watching me. I swallow the lump in my throat, put the hairdryer down, and turn around to face him.
“I’ll take you to work today. I don’t think you should be driving around, alone, after yesterday.” His voice shakes just a little, but I stay calm.
“Thanks, I think it’s better if I’m not alone.” If I say no he will know I am hiding something from him.
Pulling on a white cashmere sweater that’s long enough to cover the bump even if I lift up my arms, I finish off the outfit with a pair of glittery pumps. I might be forced to wear boring mom clothes, but I can still sparkle a little.
“I just need to do my makeup and I’ll meet you downstairs,” I say, trying to get rid of him and those eyes that see through me.
Instead of leaving he steps into the room, moving closer to me, stalking me with a hungry look in his eyes. I back away until I hit the bed and can’t go further.
He puts a hand on me, pushing me softly so I’m forced to sit, then he sits down next to me. I’m trying to stay calm, to breathe and ignore the urge to run away.
Run Bunny, run. I hear Sal’s voice in my head, and fight my thundering pulse when his son turns my cheek to face him. I try to move away.
“You don’t need to run from me, Chelsey.” He can sense my fear. I’m sure I reek of it. “I love you, stop pushing me away.”
His voice is low and husky, the way it is when he wakes up with a hangover in the morning and speaks to the coffee machine.
He is so close that the scent of his body-wash and aftershave make my stomach twist. The rough pad of his thumb rubs up and down my cheek, where last night tears rolled for his father, as if he’s wiping them away even though he can’t see them.
“I can’t do this, Rat. I’m married to your dad. It’s wrong, even if I feel what you feel, it’s wrong.” I whisper, because even though I am so drawn to him that he consumes all my thoughts, I am married to Sal and carrying his brother inside me.
“So you do feel it? All I think about is you, Chelsey. I don’t care about Sal, or that you are having his baby. You are the only thing I’ve ever really wanted.” His lips are soft and I taste the mint of his toothpaste when his kiss catches me off guard. “When I close my eyes I imagine the way you felt, the white lace of your underwear against my skin, and the red flush that crept over every inch of your porcelain skin when my cock was buried inside you. Nothing can erase it from my mind. You are inside me and I can’t let you go.”
I wish to God I didn’t feel exactly like he did. The best memory of my wedding was screwing my stepson while my husband was waiting downstairs. I walked down the aisle with him dripping down my stockings, his smell on my skin. Not even my perfume could mask the scent. It had permeated my soul that day. Now he’s here sitting on his father’s bed, kissing me and forcing it all back into the forefront of my mind.
“I can’t do this, Rat.” I try and turn my cheek so he can’t kiss me again, but he pulls my face back and does it anyway, biting my lip, so I open for him.
His tongue swipes softly over mine, and I forget the torpid expression I saw while he watched his father die. The reality is replaced with the fantasy of this chemistry; the connection we have felt since that first dinner together is stronger than my willpower.
“Rat, stop. Just take me to work, please.”