Chapter 20
Dylan
Icouldn’t sleep.
I laid awake, staring up at the ceiling as the moonlight filtered in through the bedroom window. It was open, just an inch, and a crisp cold wind blew at the curtains, making them sway in a pale ghost-like dance against thewall.
I tried to keep her out of my head, but thoughts of Callie just kept pushing in. I made a fool of myself in front of her time and time again. I looked weak and pathetic, like a man who would give up on a marriage so easily when my wife needed me the most. I was relieved Callie left. I wouldn't be quick to forgive myself for a moment of weakness, no matter how innocent and natural it was to fall for her. When Sheri was better, we would have to decide what was best for our family. In my heart, I felt it would be best to end the marriage, but not before I could speak with her about her feelings. If she wanted to work through things, I would put everything into making our relationship work; as my wife, she deserved that much. I would have to sacrifice my feelings for Callie. That was it. It wouldn’t be easy, but it would beright.
I still couldn’t sleep.I wonder what’s happening on Facebook?Maybe I’ll just scroll through the newsfeed and get my mind off things. As I reached for the phone, I heard a low creaking sound somewhere in the house. I lifted my head off the pillow andlistened.
Maybe it was the wind outside?I could be hearing something in the back yard because of the openwindow.
A soft thud, and then a louder one, like something dropped onto a carpet. Was Addison walking around in the living room? Was she looking for a toy or a snack?What if she opened the front door?I bolted up, holding my breath, trying to listen for noise above the sounds of my own franticheart.
I scrambled out of the bed sheets.What if Addison wanted to go across the street to see Callie? What if she got hit by a car?I don’t think I locked the deadbolt on the door; that would be the only thing that stopped her from getting itopen.
I rushed to the door and frozeinstantly.
Two adult-sized shadowy figures shifted slowly through the living room. My vision tunneled, pinpointing on pale, wispy strands of blonde hair and hot sparks of adrenaline zapped up myarms.
Storming down the hallway half-crazed, half-murderous, I flicked the light switch on as I reached the end. Two pairs of desperate eyes bounced back at me—and I’m not making up the bouncing part—their dilated pupils fuckingbounced. They jittered and pulsed like cartoon characters in a sci-fimovie.
There in the middle of our living room was my wife, who was supposed to be in rehab getting better; instead, she was spinning in circles, with the cord of the television wrapped around her legs. Next to her stood a man who looked familiar, yet I couldn’t place his face. My tool bag for work sat at his feet. Both of them scratched incessantly at the bloody cuts and scrapes covering theirarms.
“I came for some of my things,” Sheri said, eyebrows shifting up and down her face. She spun the other way and yanked on the cord of the television until the entire flat screen crashed to thefloor.
“You’re supposed to be getting clean,” I said,stunned.
“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. You need to give me money,too.”
My focus darted to the man. His chest was heaving, and his fists were clenchedtight.
"This is him? This him? I don’t like his face, Sheri,” he said in arush.
They’re either high as anything or looking to get something from me to get high as anything.What did those pamphlets say?Are they tweaking? And what the fuck did that mean? Did they take heroin? Meth? Crack? I raked my hands through my hair, wanting to scream. They were too jumpy to be on heroin. That crap usually made her sit still and nod out. She wouldn’t be able to lift hereyelids.
Right now, she was gesturing her hands in the same repeated pattern, scratching at her skin. The guy postured ten feet away from me, demonstrating some crazy-eyed, menacing expression. He looked like a punk, and the idiot was half my size, but I didn’t think he noticed how much bigger I was thanhim.
“What did you take?” I asked Sheri, crossing my arms in front of my chest. The guy stared me down, mumbling words under his breath I couldn’t comprehend. When he bent down and started rummaging through my work bag, I couldn't help laughing.Was he trying to steal my tools? What was he going to do? Suddenly fix cars in exchange fordrugs?
“Whatever I could get for ablowjob.”
Ice hardened in my veins. Sheri said it so calmly, I knew, I knew deep in my heart that’s exactly what she did to barter for her high. Without a doubt. My body surged with some unnamed thing, flooding with an eye-opening substance giving me the sensation I was floating somewhere far above thechaos.
I zoned in on her expression, trying to get a handle on what she was thinking or feeling, but she continued to scratch at her skin and take apart pieces of the brokentelevision.
“What did you do?” I asked. I needed her to be perfectly clear. I needed her to tell me what she did. What she did tous.
She shrugged her shoulders. “If you gave me more money, I wouldn’t have to fuck anyone fordrugs.”
I stared at her in silence. "You slept with other men? Fordrugs?"
For a split second, I wanted to run to her, comfort her, save her somehow. Instead, the word ‘prostitute’ seemed to hang in the air between us, nailing my feet to thefloor.
Her scratching stopped, and she pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one. “If you gave me enough money, I wouldn’t haveto.”
“How much do you have?” the guyasked.
