Buck and the boys are a joy to watch on the basketball court. They embody life’s simple pleasures as they laugh and tease each other. It’s amazing Buck came into our lives when he did. If he hadn’t been our neighbor here, if we hadn’t shared a love of gardening, I never would have realized what was happening—the hair loss, the weight loss, the fatigue—until it was too late. He broke through the denial, convinced me to get a urine test. Half a dozen doctors had performed myriad other tests and found nothing wrong with me. That urine test revealed the arsenic poisoning and set my escape plan into motion. I’d called Buck from my doctor’s office and told him the news.
“That’s it. He’s going down,” Buck said. His voice was deep and powerful. I knew with him on my side, the boys and I would be okay. “I’m packing some things and I’ll be down, get a hotel room in Columbus. You need to speak to an attorney. Make a plan to get the boys out of the house, and out of town. You’re going to be all right now, Mia.”
I had held the phone in a trembling hand, overwhelmed by the shell of a woman I’d become. Paul had broken me physically and mentally. Buck was helping me rebuild myself, and had been from the moment we met.
“Thank you, Buck. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I said.
“Let’s not find out,” he said. “My team is still on you, 24/7. I’ll come around tomorrow. Sit with you during your treatment.”
This was what love felt like, I realized that day. Buck and I hadn’t even held hands at that point, hadn’t done more than share a trowel, but I knew. Buck did, too.
Each day, for the two weeks before Paul and I drove to the lake, while Paul took off for Gretchen’s apartment, I showed up at the hospital for my dialysis treatments and bowel cleansings. While Paul made love to his mistress, I focused on recovering my health. They had him under surveillance, Buck’s team did, and my job was to make sure I didn’t eat anything else that he could have possibly poisoned. At dinner each night, as he sneakily poisoned my food or drink, I would hold my stomach and confess to feeling too nauseated to eat. He tried to hide the poison in my yogurt, in my tea, in so many different foods and drinks. It was exhausting trying to stay ahead of him. He was careful not to tamper with anything the boys could eat, so I knew I was safe sneaking frozen chicken nuggets when he was out of the house. Dinners were the tricky meals with him watching me, ready to sneak powder into my food, my drink.
I could tell Paul was getting frustrated with the situation. He wanted me to grow sicker, faster, we knew. He was ready for me to be gone, for Gretchen to take my place. He lost his job, lost his chance with Caroline and he was finished with me, with us. And he was running out of money, and the boys, minus me, were his golden tickets. He’d spent most of the past six months with Gretchen, so he’d already moved on in that sense. I was in the way, an obstacle to his future. Even though my father had made it very clear to him he would never touch a penny of their trust funds, with my death, Paul would be the guardian and entitled to a stipend to care for them. Greedy and heartless.
A chill races down my spine. Paul had grown tired of me, but instead of punching me in the face and leaving town, the way he had ended things with Lois, he’d decided to kill me. Slowly. I still get goose bumps when I admit this to myself.
So I was ready for it to come to a head. It was a relief when he asked me to spend a weekend together in Lakeside, just the two of us. Because I knew that would be where he would take me to die. Away from the boys, away from the neighbors. Just the two of us, an envelope of arsenic and a romantic dinner. Sounds perfectly logical if you’re a psycho: he needed to give me a bigger dose of poison. To finish me off. And our new cottage was the perfect place for a death scene.
Meanwhile, I needed to escape and I would. I needed to serve him papers when and where I knew the boys would be safely out of reach. In that sense, we both agreed the lake house would be perfect.
My parents were ecstatic that I’d come to my senses, especially my dad, who hadn’t liked Paul from the start of our relationship and had frowned on our brief courtship and quick marriage. He had been right all along, but I had been too infatuated, too foolish to see beyond the lust, beyond the illusion of love.
Paul was great with illusion. I saw him as the grand old-fashioned suitor who brought me flowers, and wrote love notes and took me to expensive and wonderful dinners. The older advertising executive who had traveled the world, who taught me about jazz music and sexual expression. I saw the Paul I wanted to see, the Paul he made sure I saw. That man was a wonderful romantic, a Renaissance man. That man was a lie.
The difference between the act and the truth was clear as Buck sat beside me during a dialysis session. I took a deep breath, took my power back into my own hands, and called my parents’ home.
“He’s not going to get a dime of your money,” my dad said. “I’ll call the attorneys as soon as we hang up, the bastard.”
“Oh, honey, are you doing all right? How are the boys?” my mom asked. Her sadness made my heart heavy.
“Can they come stay with you, on the day I serve the papers?” I asked. “I’m going to the lake with him on Friday. I’d like you guys to fly into town, take Mikey and Sam back home with you.” Buck touched my knee and I remembered to add, “I’m going to have security following you. And the moving van will come and move our things out as soon as we’re on the road.”
“Of course. We’ll be there. Do you want us to come now?” she asked. I imagined her frightened eyes. I know my dad’s were squinting in anger.
“No, we’ll stay here until Thursday. Get an early flight. We can’t see the grandsons until Friday, Phyllis, or we’d tip that nutjob off,” my dad said.
“Exactly, Dad. And, Dad, is there time to draw up a separation agreement with an accompanying dissolution? I don’t want any record of being with him, not ever again,” I said. I’d been trying to be strong but with those words a sob escaped.
“Oh, honey, yes, we’ll screw the bastard,” Dad said.
“I want to come hug you right now,” Mom said. “Are you alone? We’ve been afraid he’s been isolating you.”
I took a deep breath and Buck took my hand in his. “Yes, he has been cutting me off from you, from everyone. But I have a friend here with me. His company specializes in global security. I’m safe until you arrive. And I’ll fly to you and the boys as soon as I can.”
“Well, thank God. Tell that man—what’s his name?” Dad asked.
“Buck, Buck Overford,” I said, meeting Buck’s eyes as he wiped a tear from under mine. Over the phone line I heard my dad writing Buck’s name down to check him out. It made me smile even as I wondered if it would have done any good if my dad had run a background check on Paul before I married him. His record was clean.
“Tell Buck he has our gratitude and to keep you and the boys safe,” my dad said. “I need to call the attorney. Check in with your mom and me, every day until Friday. Understood?”
“Understood. And thanks, both of you,” I said. I was right not to tell them about the poisoning yet. I knew I couldn’t stop my worried mom from coming to town if I had.
Our plan worked perfectly. The day was outlined step-by-step, with the only hiccup being that Paul took the telephone call on our way out the door. I knew it wasn’t important, whatever woman of his it was, but I couldn’t show my frustration when he finally got into the car. In fact, the entire day was a grand acting job, trying to keep my fear in check as I rode in a car, alone, next to my husband, a man who was trying to kill me.
In hindsight, I’m not sure how I stayed even as calm as I did that day. I’d grabbed aPeoplemagazine and tried to keep my mind on other people’s scandals, but I couldn’t. My only consolation was coded texts from Claudia letting me know that my parents had swooped by the school and picked up the boys. I had left a note with the principal, explaining how their grandparents had a special weekend planned. The stop for croissants was to give me a moment to confirm the boys were en route to the airport with my parents. Once I knew they were safe, I felt better.
Claudia let me know when the moving van arrived, and that everything marked had been loaded into the van. In addition to my parents, she was my hero that day, supported by a team of two of Buck’s guys. One of the guys was “super cute” according to Claudia. That had made me smile as I spoke to her outside on the sidewalk on Second Street, finally away from Paul for a moment after our lunch at Sloopy’s.
