“I have it right here. Give me one minute.”
A moment later, I have Natalie’s parents’ address and am driving to Asbury Park.
She left. She clearly wanted to get away from me, but that wasn’t happening before I found out she was pregnant and it’s not happening now.
The sleepy town is dark when I arrive. I wonder how many residents leave in the winter. This close to the water and the weather can be icy. I do like it here though. It’s charming and the quiet is so opposite my life.
Natalie’s parents live on a cul-de-sac. Street lights give a dim glow to the otherwise pitch-black night. I park the car on the curb in front of her parents’ house. All the houses, including this one, are perfectly dark. I get out of the car and walk to the front door of the quaint yellow house, realizing how late it is as I climb the porch steps to ring the doorbell. But nothing happens when I push the button. Not a sound. I wonder if it’s broken.
I try the doorknob, expecting it to be locked, and it is.
Glancing around, I go down the porch steps and head around back. The backyard isn’t fenced off and it’s sandy back here. I can hear waves breaking on the beach and turn my collar up against the bitter wind.
Three steps lead up to the kitchen door. I knock on the window but no one’s inside. It’s dark. I jiggle the doorknob and it’s locked. I don’t want to break in, but seeing no alternative because I’m not about to go searching under freaking pots of plants for a spare key, I do. With my elbow, I bust the glass inone of the four panes, hear the clinking of it as it drops to the kitchen floor. I reach in, twist my arm to find the lock, turn it. I open the door and step over the glass and into the house.
No one seems to have heard my entrance. I make my way from the small but cozy kitchen to the dining room. I peek into the empty living room and turn and head up the stairs. They’re wooden and I’m careful so they don’t creak heavily. Four doors are closed on the landing. I open the first one to peek inside. It’s the master bedroom and, to my surprise, it’s empty. I push the door wider, confused. The curtains are open, the bed stripped bare, two pillows and a thick comforter folded neatly on top.
I step back out into the hallway to try the other door. It’s a bathroom. Drops of water cling to the rim of the pedestal sink and a towel lies askew on the rack. A toothbrush sits on the glass shelf just below the mirror. Natalie’s.
A sense of relief washes over me when I see it.
She’s here.
I step back into the hallway and try the next door which is the linen closet. I pause at the final door before opening it quietly, see the shadow of a form lying in the bed, back to me. The curtain is closed but there’s just enough light coming in from the split between the panels that I can make out her dark hair. I push the door wide, not caring to muffle the creak, and stand there, watch her startle awake, turn. Watch her face as she sits up, gasps, and I’m angry. So angry that I let her be afraid for a minute because she can’t see my face. It’s too dark where I’m standing. The pregnancy test weights heavy in my pocket and I’m fucking furious that she left, walked away, now. After everything.
I switch on the light and she blinks at the sudden brightness. The blue bruise on her temple sends a pang of guilt through me but the burn of anger dissipates that.
“Sergio.”
Her black eyes are huge, her face pale, gaunt almost. Darkness shadows the skin around her eyes.
I step inside. Her breathing is labored as she watches me approach.
“You left,” I say.
“What?”
I reach into my pocket. Take out the test. She watches me lay it on the nightstand before I take off my coat.
“You left,” I repeat.
She blinks up at me. “I—”
“Mine. No matter what. Remember?”
She’s silent. I’m angry at her for not talking to me, for shutting me out. For leaving. For hiding the fact that she’s pregnant.
For refusing to wait in the car that night.
For wanting to see.
To see me like that.
Ruthless.
Brutal.
Deadly.
