But before I can say another word, the bell rings. Lunch is officially over, so I’m going to be eating this sandwich to go. “See you later, Hudson,” I say. “Thanks for the sandwich.”
He opens his mouth as if to say something else, but before he can, I dash off in the direction of math class. I’m hoping to arrive with at least a few minutes to eat my sandwich before class starts.
By some miracle, I land in my seat right before the next bell is set to ring. My stomach lets out a little growl, and I put my sandwich down on the desk and unwrap it. I have about two and a half minutes left to devour this.
“Addie!” Mrs. Bennett’s sharp voice interrupts me before I can take a bite. “No food in my classroom. Put that away.”
“I just need to finish this sandwich,” I explain.
There is a smattering of giggles, but Mrs. Bennett does not look amused. Not that I was trying to be amusing. I just want my freaking sandwich. “Put it away, Addie.”
“But I didn’t have lunch!”
“Whose fault is that?” She sighs loudly. “The bell is going to ring any second. Put the sandwich away.”
I weigh my options, trying to figure out if it’s worth it to gobble down the sandwich even if she’s yelling at me not to. If I do it after she scolded me, she’ll probably send me to the principal. And I’m already skating on thin ice with Mrs. Bennett. Because of that zero on the midterm, she has every right to fail me, and even though I’ve been going to tutoring sessions, a miracle isn’t going to happen here. If I pass the class, it will be with a D.
Mrs. Bennett is legitimately a terrible person, and I’m not saying that just because of my relationship with Nathaniel, although he has told me a lot of things about her that have made me like her even less.
She’s a terrible cook.
She hardly ever smiles at him or says anything kind.
She has this obsession with shoes. He says she’s constantly buying expensive shoes, even though they can’t afford it. Even if he did divorce her someday, he wouldn’t have any money left because she has spent it all on shoes. And the weird part is her shoes aren’t even that nice! They’re, like, just ordinary shoes.
And now she won’t let me eat my lunch.
The bell hasn’t even rung yet, and if she had just let me eat, that turkey sandwich would be in my belly right now. Instead, my insides feel completely hollow, and I don’t know how I’m going to concentrate. She didn’t care about that though. Not that I would expect it.
I asked Nathaniel once if he would consider leaving her. He said it would be difficult. He said it would be very unlikely that she would let him go. He said he thinks he might be stuck with her for the rest of their lives.
I wish it didn’t have to be this way, believe me, he told me. I wish I could be with you all the time instead of her.
It’s not fair. It’s not fair that such a terrible woman is married to the greatest guy I’ve ever met, and she doesn’t even appreciate him. Yet she’ll never let him go.
Honestly, I hate Mrs. Bennett.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Forty-Three
EVE
DINNER WITH SHELBY and her husband seemed like a good idea when we scheduled it, but I had a miserable time.
When I first started working at the high school, Shelby and I were close. But since then, she married a wealthy tech genius husband, and now she’s got a three-year-old son who is all that she can talk about. Throughout the entire meal, Justin couldn’t keep his hands off Shelby, which brought more attention to the fact that Nate didn’t seem to even want to touch me. The only positive is that at least Nate isn’t balding like Justin is, although I actually find bald heads sort of sexy.
So I am incredibly glad when Shelby says she has to get back for the babysitter and declines dessert. Nate looks relieved as well, although he was doing a great job holding up his end of the conversation. One thing the two of us apparently agree on is that we hate socializing.
I walk Shelby and her husband to the door, and the two of us linger on the porch to say our private goodbyes while Justin goes ahead and starts the car. Shelby reaches out to give me a hug, even though I don’t feel in a hugging mood right now. I’m just waiting for her to leave.
“That was so fun,” Shelby gushes. “Honestly. We should do it again soon.”
“Definitely,” I lie.
“I better get going.” She looks down at her watch. “The babysitter kicks up such a fuss if we’re late. You’re so lucky you don’t have to deal with that. Although I bet you will soon!” She giggles. “How is that going anyway?”
I wish more than anything that I hadn’t told Shelby that I was going off my hormonal birth control last year. (Jay and I use a condom, because I don’t even want to contemplate that situation.) I did think I would probably get pregnant fairly soon, and it’s a tribute to how little sex we have had that we are still child free. Or maybe my womb is simply withered and dried up. Who knows?
And it doesn’t look like our sex life is improving. I had that glimmer of hope when Nate was up for it two days in a row, but ever since then, we have gone through our worst drought yet. The first Saturday of the month came along, and Nate complained his bad back was acting up. I’m starting to wonder if we will ever have sex again.
“No luck yet,” I tell Shelby.
She purses her lips. “Maybe you should see a doctor? They have those infertility specialists, right?”
I don’t need a doctor with lots of fancy degrees to tell me that intercourse is required to conceive a child. “Yes, maybe we will.”
Shelby hugs me one more time, then she hurries to her car to take her back to her perfect life. And I am left watching her drive away.
As soon as the headlights of their Mercedes disappear into the distance, all the tension drains out of my body. Thank God she’s gone. And despite all her big talk about future dinners, she hates leaving her son at night, so I’m off the hook for at least another six months.
Tomorrow is garbage day, so I go back into the house to empty the refuse from our meal tonight, and I grab the garbage bins and haul them out to the curb. It’s a perfect end to my glamorous evening.
Just as I get to the curb, I get this strange feeling. A prickling in the back of my neck, like somebody is watching me. I turn around and look up at the window to our bedroom to see if Nate is up there, but I don’t see him.
And then I hear a loud thump.
I take a step back, scanning our front lawn, my heart pounding. I don’t see anyone there, but I definitely heard a noise. Could it have been a wild animal? I’ve seen rabbits hopping around the yard, but that sounded awfully loud for a rabbit.
“Hello?” I call out.
I’m wearing a dress, which means I have no pockets. My phone is back in the house, and there isn’t anything that could serve as a weapon in the vicinity. The only thing I could use would be my stiletto heels, although I’d rather a mugger take me down than wreck my pumps. I did take a self-defense class once, although sometimes I worry all it did was give me a false sense of confidence. If someone really did attack me, they could overpower me easily.
I eye the front door to my house. It’s probably less than twenty feet from where I’m standing. I could run.
And then I see the rustling in the bushes.
There’s something there. It’s no animal—I clearly see a shadow of a fully grown person. Someone is lurking in our bushes, and here I am, standing out on the curb in our quiet cul-de-sac in nothing but a scrap of a dress—a sitting duck.
I consider screaming, but it occurs to me that if I do so, it might make the situation worse. Perhaps the intruder will feel a need to attack me to quiet me down. I glance behind me at the nearest house—its lights are out. If I scream, will somebody notice before the attacker descends on me?
I can’t take that chance.
I count to five in my head. As soon as I reach five, I take off running in the direction of my front door. The heel of my right stiletto nearly catches on the front steps, but I miraculously manage to right myself. The rustling sound gets louder, and I reach for the doorknob with a trembling hand. And it doesn’t turn.