Four Letter Word (Dirty Deeds 1)

The one I wrote vows for.

I had to get off the phone. The sooner I finished this, the better.

“All right. I gotta go anyway. There’s glass everywhere. I should probably clean it up before I step on it. Call me tomorrow if you have a chance.”

The call disconnected.

I chuckled, which seemed so strange given the reality of the situation.

My current, completely fucked-up situation.

Tori never waited on the line to hear anyone’s good-bye. I knew that about her. I’d overheard many conversations she held growing up, but every time we spoke, I still readied myself with a response.

It was habitual, and the normal thing to do.

I envied her ability to cut the world off like that. To dominate life.

It wasn’t too late for me to become a wrecking force. I had absolutely nothing to lose anymore.

I had nothing at all.

Securing the duffle strap over my shoulder, I lifted the suitcases and marched down the hallway.

Noise from the television grew louder as I descended the stairs. Marcus was continuing on with his night as if nothing had been revealed. As if we were still an “us,” and he hadn’t taken all of that away from me.

I briefly glanced in his direction when I moved past the living room.

He was sitting in his favorite chair and nursing a beer, his feet crossed at the ankles and propped up on our coffee table. His eyes glued to the game.

Typical.

He was a creature of habit, and he had already come to terms with a world we were no longer facing together. He chose it willingly.

Why should my departure affect him? He’d already let go of me.

Marcus didn’t speak. I knew he wouldn’t, but what surprised me was my silence. I had so much to say, to scream, in his face or from this distance, it didn’t matter, but more than anything I wanted to get on the road before darkness blanketed the sky. I hated driving at night.

And most important, I wanted to get to my friend.

I didn’t need to free up a hand to open the door. Our storm door never latched properly, and with a swift kick at the base, it would swing free and open, creaking at the hinges.

For the first time since we’d moved into that house, I was grateful for the minor imperfection.

I didn’t need to free up my hand, but I did need to open it slightly. Two fingers letting go of the weight burning against my flesh.

The last noise I heard before I stepped outside and welcomed the damp air on my skin was the ping of gold striking the wood beneath my feet.

* * *

I rode with the windows down the entire drive to Dogwood Beach. I reveled in the clean scent of grass and earth, the sweet warmth of a May evening. Everyday things, beautiful things that would normally calm my restless mind, but not tonight. I kept the music off and just let myself think, piling on sign after obvious sign I had been too stupid or too disconnected to notice over the past three months.

It was all so clear now. Every color of our corrosion.

The naive veil had finally been lifted, and the longer I drove, the more I hated myself for becoming one of those women who allowed deceit to slip past them. Who stayed too detached and okay with little changes that should’ve been red-hot alarms, blaring with an incessant warning.

Our growing silence with each other, leaving our only conversations to be ones we needed to have, not ones we wanted to have. The indifferent way he began to look at me, or the late nights when he’d claim he was too tired to drag himself to bed and instead chose to camp out on the couch.

A couch I knew from experience wasn’t the best for sleeping on.

I regretted every whispered word I uttered into the dark late at night when I wrapped myself around a cold pillow and reached with a seeking hand for a body I knew wasn’t next to me.

What was I reaching for?

And why? Why didn’t I see it? Where had I been?

Tori’s questions from earlier became a mantra.

Was I that blind? How stupid was I?

With each passing minute, my hands formed tighter to the wheel until a crack of pain shot up my forearms. I adjusted and readjusted, flexing until my shoulders began to shake. I was a bottle of pent-up aggression, a warrior in a cage, watching as a threatening figure inched closer … closer until I saw the intimidation radiating off them in heated waves. Until I felt it on my skin. The warm bite of hunger scratched the back of my throat. I wanted to bare my teeth and sink them into flesh. Draw blood. I couldn’t remember ever feeling this alive before, but I was ready.

Ready to release my anger onto someone who truly deserved it.

It was after nine when I finally arrived, parked my car behind Tori’s Volvo, and grabbed my duffle, leaving my other bags in the backseat.

The smell of salt water soaked into my lungs as I climbed the stairs to the porch, and for a brief moment I thought about how peaceful my new life was about to become.

Living at the beach was a fairy tale to me. A pipe dream that was about to become a reality …at least I was hoping it would.

I was showing up at my friend’s house, unannounced, seeking refuge.

Bag in hand, I held my breath and knocked three times.

Seconds passed before the door swung open.

Tori stood before me in her pajamas, a pair of pale blue linen shorts and an oversized T-shirt that hung off her shoulder.

Her jaw hit the floor as she looked me over with wide, startled eyes.

“Syd! What are you …” She paused, gaze lowering to the duffle in my hand. “What’s going on? Where’s Marcus? Is he with you?”

She glanced behind me in the direction of the driveway.