My heart flutters. “No,” I whisper. “That’s not possible.”
“After we finished moving everything into the truck, Brent confronted Elaine again, and told her you’re horribly wounded. She was devastated, and I guess she confessed it’s been fifteen years of her and Rod. On and off. When Brent came to the apartment to help unpack, he told us all. He’s a mess too. Poor guy.”
“Why didn’t they just marry each other? Why involve us!” I snap, shooting the messenger. Thankfully, my dad is a strong and understanding man. He doesn’t bat an eyelash at me shouting at him in the middle of the hospital. Being a cop at the Halifax Police Department for decades gives you thick skin. “What kind of selfish piece of shit gets married to someone they’re cheating on?” The anger weakens me and I struggle to keep my eyes open.
“I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “But I wish we’d all told you we didn’t like him from the beginning. Maybe you would have given it a second thought.”
I sniffle and wipe my face delicately with a shaky hand. “No. Shawnee practically told me she hated him and I didn’t listen. I’m such an idiot. I can’t believe this.” I lose my voice in heaving sobs that I can’t maintain, they’re killing my head.
“Oh, kid,” he mutters and pulls me in, carefully hugging me. “I know you’re heartbroken, and I wish I could kill him and take it all away, but—” He offers nothing to go with the "but." As an ex-cop I imagine he knows multiple ways to get rid of a body. He strokes the back of my head as I cry. “One day, you’ll see what a saving grace this was. It won’t be anytime soon, but one day.” He kisses my cheek and pushes the chair to the elevator again.
“I can’t believe this is real.” I wipe my face with my sleeve. “So you moved me? Just like that?”
“Yes. We went to the house and your sister listed every single thing she thought you would want—”
“Was Rod there?” My insides twist and the elevator spins. I grip the chair tighter.
“For a minute. He let us in, apologizing and asking how you were. He said he was just leaving to come to the hospital. Liz screamed at him and told him to leave you alone. She said if he showed up at the hospital, she would murder him with some hillbilly’s gun. She was ruthless, calling him every name in the book.” He pauses, smiling as he relives it.
At least it adds an explanation as to where my husband is.
“Then Liz told him that Brent was on his way. Rod left in a hurry. Said we should take whatever we want and off he went, scurrying like the rat he is.” He squeezes my hand and stares down at me. “He never deserved you. This isn’t how I wanted you to learn that fact, but I’m glad you now know.”
“What a shitshow,” I whisper. I don’t have anything else to say.
What else is there?
It’s Christmas Day.
I’ve been in an accident.
Helen is dead.
My sister verbally assaulted my husband who has been having an affair for the entirety of my marriage.
My family rented a truck and emptied my house in one night on Christmas Eve.
I’ve moved while in the hospital?
How is this real life?
Fortunately, my dad isn’t one of those people who needs to fill the air. So the silence on the ride to the apartment is nice because I am lost in thought, staring at the world through different eyes. A stain of betrayal, pain, and drugs has changed and tainted me.
When he parks, Dad helps me get out and walks me to the front door. He pushes the buttons, 8-0-4.
“Hello?” my sister answers abruptly.
“It’s us,” Dad says back.
“Oh awesome.”
The intercom ticks and the doors make a clunk. Dad opens it for me. The building looks exactly as it did when they bought the apartment three years ago. It’s new and shiny and smelling fresh. But it can’t possibly be home.
The elevator is sparkling clean and mirrored, making it impossible to turn away from the mark on my face. I don’t recognize myself. My vacant stare is nearly as horrible as the bruising.
We stop on the eighth floor and Dad leads me along the hotel-like hallway to the door. It’s dark wood and quite nice with a modern handle and lock.
He knocks and James answers, smiling widely though unable to disguise the anguish in his stare. “Hey, how ya feeling?”
I don’t know how to answer the question, so I don’t. Instead, I give a one-shoulder shrug and press my lips together, gripping my dad as we enter the apartment.
It has high ceilings and a wall of windows looking out over the city. The kitchen glistens with glittering white stone counters and white craftsman cupboards. The fireplace is lit, spreading heat over the large living room where my sofas, the ones I actually picked, are sitting. Even my ficus is here in the corner, contrasting the stark white walls and dark gray wood floors.
I don’t recognize a number of items in the house, but I can’t stop and focus on them.
The house is abuzz with boxes, people, and paper.
It’s madness and too much to take in or comprehend.
“Oh my God, my poor girl. How are you?” My mom rushes me, hugging gingerly.
“Sore. Dizzy.”
“Of course. We’re tired too. We’ve been unpacking all night long, taking turns napping. It’s madness. Not how I imagined we would spend Christmas. The grandkids are at James’ parents’ house having a nice time though.” She waves her hand at the boxes. “It was a big job getting this all done.” Her eyes drift back to mine, waiting for me to thank her so she can tell me I don’t need to. But I’m exhausted and in no mood for it.
When I say nothing, she switches back to caring Mom. “Your poor face. I’ll rub some arnica and lavender on that.” She hurries into the kitchen to grab the natural remedies from the cabinet where she has no doubt already put them.
“How ya doing?” Brent asks, surprising me with his presence as he unpacks a box of glassware.
“I don’t know,” I mutter and walk to the balcony with my dad. The air outside is cold and fresh, crisp. Winter is here, though it doesn’t always mean snow for Christmas in Halifax. I stare out at the city of twinkling lights as the sun fades away and the darkness comes again at four thirty. A depressing reality for the next month.
“Can I leave you here for a minute?” Dad asks.
I nod and he hurries inside to get a drink of water.
Through the window I watch them all scurrying, cleaning, and unpacking. I know it’s a Christmas miracle, but I’m not sure how to feel the level of gratitude I should. A car accident, the end of my marriage, and a new apartment in one day. It’s too much to take in. Especially being this numb.
Carefully, I sit in the patio chair and watch them.
“You okay?” Shawnee asks as she comes out onto the balcony.
“Nope.”
She sits, not saying anything. What is there to say?
After a few minutes, she smiles and turns to me. “Your sister is not human. I’m convinced. She’s four months pregnant and has not stopped moving for the last twenty-four hours. I’ve always suspected she’s a cyborg and now I know for sure.”
I snort and cry at the same time, losing the hold I didn’t realize I had on my emotions.