His squeezes and strokes quickly morph into playful nibbles on my earlobes and neck. He’s missed me and I, him. Hot against my ear, he details how he plans to welcome me home properly, once the kids are in bed, tonight.
Patrick had some paperwork to catch up on and I was desperate for a nap above all else.
I kissed my babies on the top of their heads, before informing our au pair I planned to lie down for a little while.
Removing my heels, I crawl into the tightly made bed to settle my exhausted mind, at the very least. When I closed my eyes, I was flooded with images of the young boy, multiple years older than Eamon. The boy probably didn’t even take notice of me, as I watched him play ball in the field with other children. Just outside the orphanage, I stood with the nuns as they shared what little they could with me.
They named him Daxton, Dax for short. “He’ll be nine next January,” they shared. Of course, I already knew that. The day etched into my memory. I never lost count. Even though the visit was short, I could see he was quite the leader, out of all the children. Heading the charge toward the leather ball in the grassy field, eventually catching it midair and scoring on the opposing team. At one point, the ball rolled just in front of the nuns and I. Of course, Dax was the one to retrieve it. He was right before me. All I had to do was reach out and… what could I possibly say?
His eyes were gray; not cold or empty, but full of curiosity. It wasn’t his fault. He had no say in the man who meddled in our lives. The dirty-faced child regarded me, although only a brief moment, I could tell his soul did not match his father’s. Only managing to deliver a tight smile before he fetched what he came for and ran back to the others.
In my dreams, I imagine Dax happily running around and playing. A day hasn’t gone by without thinking about the baby I gave up. I prayed that it was the right choice for me… and for him.
Later that evening, we went to the Lombardis for Sunday gravy. They were a lovely young family like us, with kids of similar age and gender. Mrs. Lombardi and I had weekly playdates with the kids and our whole family had regularget-togethers. Our husbands even attended baseball games together, when they weren’t working.
Terri and I sat at the table, talking about the best schools in the area, while Patrick and Terri’s husband, Charles, smoked Cigars on the back patio. I could hear their heated discussion becoming progressively louder through the sliding glass door. Arguing about who will be coming out on top, in next week’s boxing match. I swear, men are too passionate about their sports. To each their own I guess, but we weren’t too far off with our chatter. Daydreaming about who our kids might be when they grow up. I believed our families’ friendship would last a lifetime.
Little Cindel dashed through the room, holding colorful ribbons in her hand, while Mairead eagerly tried to crawl after the action. Eamon and Theo were two of the sweetest boys in town. They loved to spend their time together, coloring or watching cartoons. As long as they were together, they were content. It just seemed like we were living the American dream, with the perfect friends, home, and work-life balance.
This was the life I desired. I smile, blinking back tears. Fighting off the pang of guilt; keeping secrets so consuming from my loved ones.
I suppose it was only a matter of time before my past caught up with me. Secrets never stay secrets forever. Especially when the unfathomable strolls right through the front door of your best friend’s home.
A well-dressed, olive skinned man with slicked back hair and reflective dress shoes, stood in the kitchen where Terri and I sat.
“Nicholas! How are you?!” Terri stands to greet the surprise newcomer, by kissing him on each cheek. “Mary, I’d like you to meet my brother-in-law, Nicholas. Nicholas, this is Mary Murray.”
He looks down at me with stormy, calculated eyes. Eyes that I see often in my nightmares.
“Mary Murray?” he says slowly, like he’s tasting the words as he speaks. “Such a pleasure.”
I feign a smile and politely extend my hand, to not cause Terri to suspect anything other than two people meeting for the first time.
The suave man leisurely kissed the back of my hand, as I willed myself not to rip it away from his poisonous touch. It felt like an eternity, until he released his hold of me and announced his intent.
“So sorry to intrude on your little affair, but I wanted to tell my brother something in person. It’s quite pressing.”
Brother? This man looks nothing like the fair featured Charles, just outside.
“Ladies…” he bows his head slightly, as a leering grin contorts his mouth. He moved like a serpent through the space, making his way out to the men who still readily exchanged insults about who deserved to win the coming match.
My stomach soured after the interaction, and I excused myself to check on my kids. I said a little prayer, that the horrendous man leaves without damaging my life any further.
Once dinner was plated and we wrangled the kids into each highchair, the three men made their way to the table to join us.
“Hope you don’t mind, dear, Nicholas will be joining us for dinner.”
Terri wrinkles her nose and smiles, waving a hand in front of her. “Of course not! The more the merrier.”
Perfect. Now I had to sit front and center with my family and friends watching me pretend that everything was fine, when in fact I’m battling a tornado of feelings and memories. Will this Nicholas character say anything about how we know each other? Divulging secrets so dark, they could fracture ourfamily apart. I simply did not know how I was going to make it through this meal.
We took a group photo, which our friends regularly do. It was a tradition we started when the boys were small, to witness how we grew each time.
I positioned myself as far away from the depraved man as possible, both in the picture and at the table.
The men laughed and joked, while Terri and I spent the better part of the meal, fussing over the kids who thought eating with their hands was pro-quo for the best spaghetti experience around.
No one seemed to notice that I just pushed my food around the plate but never actually ate. I couldn’t stomach it. To my relief, nothing nefarious was said during dinner. I was cautiously optimistic that this whole uncomfortable night could be behind us shortly. Now, I simply had to ensure our paths wouldn’t cross again.
