“You want to talk about it?” Alicia asked.
I dragged my eyes to her, then shook my head.
“Okay. Then do you want to talk about why you’re so attached to this book? You never press your opinion this hard. Don’t get me wrong, it was refreshing to watch, and I loved it. But why?”
I bristled. “Maisy Marple was making the best of her situation. When did that stop being a good thing?”
“Uhm, she ate shit politely for four hundred and twenty-seven pages,” Alicia countered. “It was hard to read at times. And since when do you choose stories about complacent women? This whole night has been like an episode ofThe Twilight Zone.”
I collected the full containers, then ferried them into the pantry.
“You can’t hide,” she called.
“I’m not hiding.” I returned to the island and poured a glass of merlot. I was, however, ready for a change of topic. “I’m still thinking about my mom. It’s not as if she talks freely to me, but I can tell something’s going on with her. I want to offer her help, but that will open up a can of worms here with Robert, and my hands are already full.”
Alicia sighed. “I get it. She’s your mother. It’s natural to want to help. Robert would know that if he was human.”
I cracked a smile. “Not Robo Robbie.”
“Never Robo Robbie,” she agreed. “But he’ll get what’s coming to him soon enough, and then you can do what you want for your mom and in any other aspect of your life.” Her gaze landed on the slow cooker across the counter and she glared.
“It’s easier to keep something warm for him than to listen to him complain about all the hours he works, and how the least I can do is make sure he comes home to a hot meal.”
Alicia feigned strangling herself. Her hate for Robert was more passionate than mine.
I’d become neutral to him years ago, while Alicia continually wanted to hit him with her car.
“Why not put up a boundary on the way he speaks about your mother?” she asked. “You’ve got one foot out the door now, so it can’t hurt to draw a line there. Then draw as many others as you can.”
I shrugged, exhausted by the thought of trying to talk to him at all. “Or I could just pack up one day while he’s at work and remove all traces I’ve ever existed before he comes home.” I wondered how long it would take him to notice. I guessed at least a day if I left a meal in the slow cooker.
“Sure,” she said. “That’s another option.”
A nonsensical panic rose through me, familiar and terrifying, as I thought of actually leaving him. Until now the concept had been surreal. As of tonight I finally had enough money for the attorney retainer. When I filed for divorce, he’d be livid. I’d be the villain. My name would be dragged through the mud around the neighborhood and in his professional life. Even at our country club.
I forced myself to breathe. My integrity was the only thing I had left that was truly mine.
“Your face is turning red,” Alicia said. “What am I missing?”
I took a gulp of my wine, continuing to process. “I’m imagining the day I really do it.”
“I will do cartwheels,” she vowed. “When will you do it?”
“I don’t know. I’m terrified.” He wouldn’t physically hurt me. Robert never did anything overtly. He was a sneaky, underhanded troll. Still—
I held the panic in my chest, dissecting it like a wriggling insect, and the epiphany hit so unexpectedly, I nearly laughed. “I think I’m afraid of him.”
Alicia’s expression went stern, and fire ignited in her eyes.
“Not like that,” I quickly amended. “I think, mentally, all the years of walking on eggshells and not living up to his impossible standards have caused a glitch in my brain.” Or perhaps my desperation to avoid being talked to as if I were something pulled from the bottom of his shoe caused my heightened anxiety, and presented itself as fear. Whatever the reason—“I know I have to do it, but everything in me is begging me not to upset him.”
Alicia relaxed by a fraction, but her jaw clenched.
“You know what else?” I said, suddenly on a roll. “I’m terrified of leaving. I went from my parents’ home to college to Robert. What if I leave the security that this life provides me, and I end up even more miserable? I already have incomprehensible amounts of guilt for staying this long and letting Camilla grow up in this weird, quietly toxic environment, but a little voice keeps warning me that this is the only way I can survive. By staying here. With Robert.”
Alicia pulled me into a hug. “Pretty sure that’s Robert’s voice you’re hearing, because you can do anything you choose and find real happiness wherever you want. I know that in my bones. I know it as well as I know I want to throw that slow cooker at his fancy new Benz.”
Her phone rang, and she released me to look at the screen. “It’s Cameron.”
