“Surprise!” Brian calls as he shoves open the car door and engulfs me in a hug.
It takes effort to melt into his arms. To pretend to be happy to see him. To, when I see the pride on his face—that he surprised his girls coming home early from across the country!—not mutter,Right, like driving from Austin to San Antonio is hard.
“I know the girls have school today, but I was thinking…” Brian begins as Eliza and Evie press their way through the door to the garage, eyes lit up with excitement. What little girls don’t love when their daddy comes home from work? Especially when he’s been gone for days? “What if we all take the day off and go to the zoo instead?”
Eliza jumps up and down, clapping her hands together. Eviespins in circles. Somewhere in the house, Bear barks at the commotion, joining in on the excitement. It’s all I can do to not punch Brian in the face.
Instead, I smile and say, “That sounds lovely, dear.”
—
The zoo wasa horrible idea.
It’s already ninety degrees, Evie has had two meltdowns because I won’t let her eat ice cream at ten a.m., and Eliza abruptly decides she’s mad she didn’t go to school.
“But Ilikeschool, Mommy! My friends are there. Zoey’s going to wonder if Idied…”
Five going on fifteen. I can just imagine what the teenage years will be like.
I force a patient smile on my face, kneel down to eye level with her, and say, “I know, honey, and that’s wonderful, but Daddy’s been out of town and he thought—”
“More ice cream! Look!” Evie’s cry is all but deafening, even over the birdcalls and music piped through the whole area. The San Antonio Zoo is inarguably one of the best zoos in the country, but it also has ice cream about every five feet—right alongside colorful plastic toys that cost too much and break within five minutes of going home.
I sigh.
Brian sighs.
Our gazes meet and his lips quirk up—that special moment where we both know exactly what the other person is thinking, even in the midst of childhood chaos. Any other day I would smile back. I’d roll my eyes. I’d ask if maybe we should give in and get ice cream and maybe an early lunch, then go feed the giraffes or meet the kangaroos. But today, I’m mad at him. His attempt atfamily time after spending the last several daysnotin DC andwitha woman who is not me leaves my emotions even more stunted than usual, lets the monster gnash her teeth a little anytime he looks my way.
“Maybe we should take a little break?” I suggest. A small grassy area offers relief just down the next trail, cooling misters set up for days like today, and the girls break into a run, racing to get there first.
Unfortunately, that leaves me one-on-one with Brian.
He reaches for my hand, and my only thought is that I wish I’d applied barrier ointment and, on top of that, poison. Something that would penetrate his skin. Maybe cyanide with a DMSO carrier. Or ricin. That would be better—harder to test for, more easily mistaken for the common flu. It couldn’t be tied back to me, not after I washed thoroughly. And we’re at the zoo. Hundreds of thousands of people go through here every month. Even if the poisonwasfound…they’d never know who planted it. To keep the girls safe, I’d suggest they wear princess gowns along with their fancy elbow-length gloves. They’d think I’m the coolest mom ever, and the problem of my husband could be solved in one fell swoop. Easy peasy banana squeezy, as Evie is fond of saying, thanks to her preschool teacher.
I tuck that idea into my back pocket for another kill and let Brian snuggle me close. After a moment, he releases my hand and surges forward to pick up the girls, one in either arm, and spin them around. His glasses tumble loose. I fight the urge to “accidentally” step on them. But that’s petty, and if and when I do bad things to him, I plan to be generous—the prospect of torture sounds particularly nice today. I willgenerouslytorture him.
My phone rings in my crossbody bag, and I step to one side, mouthing,Work call, to Brian. He frowns, but he’s the one whoplanned a random zoo trip in the middle of my workweek—he’ll just have to deal.
“Hello?”
“Is he dead?” John gets right to the point.
“No. I told you—”
He huffs. “Right. Well, figure out what he did that was so bad, and get the job done. I’m getting pressure from up top. They want him dead andnow.”
I frown. “What’s the hurry?”
“No clue. Just get it done.”
“What’s wrong?” Brian’s voice comes from right behind me. I jump, tucking my work phone away—which, thankfully, is identical to my regular phone—and whirl to find him eyeing me. Like he was listening in.
He adjusts his glasses, smiles wide, his teeth showing, and nods back toward the girls. “Come on, let’s get Evie that ice cream after all.”
I can’t pretend anymore. Brian is obviously doingsomethinghe shouldn’t be. And I’m on edge, about to lose control. Maybe it will be easier once he’s gone. At least in some ways—dealing with the girls’ grief will be difficult. They’ll probably need therapy. But maybe then I’ll at least be settled in the knowledge I’m raising our girls by myself, without resenting their father’s lies day in and day out. Instead of circling this drain of uncertainty while the monster residing inside me rubs her hands together as though she were about to burst out of the prison I keep her locked down in tight.
When I think of killing Brian, it’s not just him I’d be killing—it would also be my ability to be this version of Nadia. This perfect wife and mother. Yesterday in the forest was a warning, a reminder to pay attention.
