Eventually, the woman drove away.
My head won’t stay upright. It’s rolling against the edge of the tub. Left to right and right to left, and, fuck, I’m going to throw up.
I was supposed to go home. I have to go home.
The wine. It’s the wine.
Once again I push on my arms to lift myself up, but I slip back farther down.
Water swallows me whole.
My heart is pounding, my eyelids flicking on and off. It’s like there’s a loose wire behind the switch.
And I’m thirsty, so thirsty.
I should never have married Olivier.
She made me do it.
I need to leave.
Let me go.
Please.
I can’t hold on anymore.
Chapter 21
Olivier
Five days before the honeymoon
I lasted two weeks. Two weeks during which I didn’t hold Reese in my arms, didn’t feel her soft skin against mine. Two weeks during which I thought about her every minute of every day, picturing our future together. We’d be happy in the city. Reese had this fire inside her, and I knew she’d do great things with her life if she gave it a real shot.
Cassie, on the other end, was lazy and entitled. She’d also mostly given up on the pretense we were a couple. One time, a few weeks back, we’d been standing outside when a neighbor walked past with his dogs. Cassie had started introducing me, only to blank on my name. Her freaking boyfriend’s name!This is, um…Oliver, she’d said. Everyone I’d met here called me that, the English version. Cassie never corrected them and I’d picked other battles. But Ihatedit. It wasn’t that hard to call people by their names.
That day on the street, the man, Paul—see, not that hard!—had been full of questions. Where was I from in France? How long had I been in the States? Cassie had stared at me as I answered as calmly as possible. It was like she didn’t know the answers, or didn’t care enough to pretend she might be interested in this conversation. I’d given up on the idea we might announce an engagement and have that wedding she’d supposedly wanted.
I had never felt any kind of violent urge toward anyone, but that day, I’d wanted to slap Cassie. BecauseI’ddone my homework after our meeting with the lawyer. I’d learned her birthday (May 7), her astrological sign (Gemini), her favorite food (burgers, how sophisticated), and what fragrance she wore (something chemically vanilla that made me feel nauseated, stupidly called Eau de Fantasy). I bought her flowers. I cooked meals—not great ones, but I did. Itried.
And every day, I woke up with the head-throbbing fear of ICE stomping on the door. Cassiewasgoing to destroy my future. I was certain of it. My only remaining option: ruin hers first.
And so, after two weeks of going crazy with want, I went to see Reese.
“I just want to talk,” I said as soon as I was certain no one could hear me. “Even if nothing I can say will change your mind. One more chance, and then I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”
She looked like me: tired, withdrawn, beaten. At least that’s what I needed to believe, that she loved me as much as I did. Loved me more than anyone else. Because otherwise, after I’d uttered the idea I’d come to share with her, I wouldn’t just be heartbroken. I wouldn’t just be poor. I wouldn’t just be deported. I’d be going to prison for a very long time.
“Not now,” she said. “Tomorrow afternoon I’m going to Kingston to run some errands…” She trailed off, barely looked at me.
I connected the dots in my mind. It was one of the bigger towns in the area, and we weren’t likely to run into people there. We’d be safe.
The wait was excruciating, but it did give me time to do more research, to explore every potential scenario. There were so many ways what I had in mind could go horribly wrong, but if it worked, oh, if it worked…freedom would never taste so good.
The next afternoon, I’d barely sat down in Reese’s car and closed the door before she was speeding ahead without even a glance at me.
“I love you,” I said, the words tumbling out of my mouth. “You have to believe me. I love you. I want to be with you. If I’d met you first—”
