I laugh, reaching for him.
“Please do. I miss you, Ju,” I whisper into his ear.
He makes love to me on the couch, and for a few blessed minutes, we feel close again, like the same person. All of my worries and fears fade away as we rock together, my ankles on his shoulders.
“I love you,” I whisper afterward.
“Not as much as I love you.”
40
Twelve hours until Halloween Jude
My phone buzzes with texts, and while they used to make me feel good, they only make me disgusted now.
Hey, how are you?
Where are you?
Can I see you soon?
Zoe’s words make me a monster. My actions have made me a monster. I have to end it.
And I will.
But not via text. That would be a total dick thing to do. It’s not this girl’s fault that I was using her to make myself feel better. And I know that’s what I’ve been doing.
I felt neglected, I felt insufficient for my wife, and I used this girl, this girl who has clear daddy issues, to boost my ego.
It was a total dick thing to do.
But I’m getting everything I want now. Corinne will be home more often, we’re having a baby. Everything will be fine.
I’ll break it off with Zoe gently.
I haven’t even had sex with her.
No blood, no foul.
I text her back, finally. How about now? Meet me in the park? 20 minutes?
She answers immediately. Yesssssss!
Corinne is at the grocery store, so I feed Artie, then slip out the door. I’ll make this fast and be home by the time she gets back.
The cold air bites at my cheeks, and I drive rather than jog.
When I arrive, Zoe is already there.
“Hey, handsome,” she greets me. She’s wearing jeans this time, but her shirt is unbuttoned practically down to her navel. “I’ve missed you.”
She reaches for me, but I step back.
“Zoe, we need to talk.”
Her face goes dark. “What do you mean?”
I pause. “I mean, I can’t keep doing this. It’s wrong.”
“You haven’t had a problem before now,” she points out, and she’s confused. “I don’t understand. I’m not asking you for anything, Jude. I just want your time now and then. I know you’re married.”
“That’s the thing. I’m married. I’m not the kind of person to do this type of thing.”
“But you’ve been doing it already,” she mentions, and the guilt builds up in me again.
“Yeah, I know. But I haven’t crossed the line yet, and I don’t intend to. You’re a beautiful girl, and you’ll make someone else very lucky.”
“But not you.”
“No, not me.”
She thinks on that and stares at me and reaches for me, but I take another step back.
“I mean it, Zoe. I just can’t. I hope you understand.”
“Oh, I do. I understand that you’re missing out on the best thing that’s ever happened to you. It’s a mistake, Jude.”
Her eyes are sharp, her tone is sharper.
“I’ll have to take that chance. Think about it, Zoe. You deserve better than being the other woman. You deserve someone who is free to marry you. You deserve to be someone’s first priority.”
“And I’ll never be yours?”
I shake my head, my eyes on her face.
“No. I’m afraid not. I’m already married, Zoe. That’s not going to change.”
“This is a mistake,” she tells me.
I don’t say anything.
“Fuck you,” she mutters.
She stalks away and roars out of the parking lot.
I feel lighter than I have in weeks.
41
Now
Jude
So many things go through my head.
The plaque that my wife thought she saw, that we thought was imaginary.
Was real.
My wife is in a psych ward, and I don’t know if she should be. When I’m in the car, I try to call, but the receptionist tells me that Dr. Phillips is in session with her currently.
“They’ll be out in an hour or so,” she tells me helpfully. “They just began.”
Then a text from Zoe comes in.
I need you, she says. Before I do something I regret.
My heart starts to pound, and the bad feeling in my gut spreads to my chest.
Why? I ask her.
There’s no answer.
Zoe?
Still no reply.
I have no way of knowing if she’s going to hurt herself, or if she’s planning on telling the world about us.
And even though I know I’m playing straight into her hands, there is only one way to find out.
I head for Vilma’s.
Vilma smiles at me when I walk through the door.
“Hey, Mr. Cabot.” She reaches up to hug me. She smells like cinnamon and something akin to lilacs. “How is your wife feeling?”
I pause. Does she know where Corinne is?
“She’s fine,” I tell her. Vilma smiles.
“Good. I have to tell you, I was uncomfortable letting Zoe medicate her for you, but I’d do anything for you and Dr. Cabot. You’re such good people.”
I almost don’t hear her, because I’m focused on looking for Zoe, but those last words slam into me, and I grasp them, and I’m still.
“What?” I ask slowly.
Vilma looks at me. “I was surprised to hear that a doctor was so adverse to taking medication that it needed to be dissolved in her soup. But I think you’re sweet for arranging it.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I tell her slowly. “What medication? And what soup?”
My thoughts start to whirl, and Vilma starts to stammer.
“The chicken soup for Dr. Cabot. Zoe showed me a text from you, telling her that Dr. Cabot was pregnant and that the prenatal vitamins made her sick. You asked her to dissolve them into the soup. It’s unorthodox, but like I said, we love you both around here.”
I’m stunned and I stare at her, and she stares back. I see the thoughts moving in her head, and her lips move.
“You didn’t ask her to do anything of the sort, did you?”
I shake my head. “No. I would never do that. Is she here?”
“No. She’s not in today.”
“Can I have her address?”
Vilma hesitates. “I’m not supposed to give out that information.”
I start to argue but then remember Michel. He probably knows.
“It’s okay,” I tell her over my shoulder. “Thanks.”
I jump into my truck and call my brother as I head down the road. He doesn’t pick up, so I leave a voice mail.
“Bro, I need you to call me ASAP. I need Zoe’s address. Some fucked-up shit is going on. I don’t know even exactly what yet. Call me.”
He’s probably in confession or something. It’s frustrating because I haven’t been able to reach him since he left my house. I head toward Immaculate Conception anyway, determined to be there when he comes out.
Something isn’t right.
At all.
I feel on the edge of something terrible, and I’m afraid I’ll only make things worse.
But Michel will help me sort it out, he always does. He can come with me to Reflections, he can help figure out things with Zoe.
He always knows how to keep me grounded.
I pull into the church parking lot twenty minutes later and see his truck parked in front of the rectory. I park next to it and jump out. His front door is open, and so I walk on in to the little stone cottage.
The smell greets me first.
It’s acrid, thick and horrible. A heavy heavy feeling settles in my chest and my belly and my heart. Something is wrong.
Very wrong.
I don’t allow myself to think or feel as I move through the rectory toward Michel’s study.
“Michel?” I call out. There’s no answer.
I cover my nose with my shirt, and an odd noise enters my consciousness. It sounds almost like bees.
“Michel?” I call out again. The silence is thick, and he still doesn’t answer.
I take a step inside of his study, and I see his shoe.
His legs are sprawled on the floor, and he’s lying in a giant pool of black blood.
My heart pounds and my blood is ice, and I discover what the odd noise is.
Flies.
42
Halloween
Corinne
Someone is chasing me.
I race through the house, knocking photos off the walls, and slam a door behind me.
He’s there, though, pounding pounding pounding, his fists heavy and strong.
“Come out,” he sneers. “I know where you are.”
I’m silent, and my hands are clenched so tightly that my fingernails cut into my palms.