“Did you see Mrs. Seaford’s socks today?” Tanya asks, referring to the school’s gym teacher. “Fuchsia hearts. All the way up to her knees. Everyone thinks it’s a sign she has a new girlfriend. She communicates these things in socks.”
“Oh,” I say dully, my head protesting the fact that I’m speaking. Or doing anything but staring straight ahead. “That’s great. I’m happy for her.”
My gaze snags on the plate of pizza in front of me. At the mere idea of taking a bite, my stomach pitches, but I take one anyway, chewing it mechanically. I do it for the life growing inside of me. The baby I created with my husband.
I stop chewing, my throat constricting.
Moisture floods my vision, blurring the moving images on the television.
Oh God.
Oh God, I miss him so much.
Back when we were eighteen, we were separated for almost a week and both of us barely survived it. Now? It’s a different ball game. I’ve developed an attachment that far exceeds the one from before. I’m made of sand without him, sifting through time, being carried on the wind, insubstantial. There’s only one place where I can land and become firm, become human again. And it’s with him. There is no learning to live without North. That simply isn’t an option for me, but I don’t know what else I could have done.
I’m still in shock over his actions.
When I saw him shaking hands with Tennison, I flashed back to that morning with my father, during my senior year of high school. How sick and afraid and unsafe it made me feel, knowing this person I was supposed to trust has turned to the dark side. I never expected the same thing to happen with North. My North. He’s honor driven and true. It makes no sense. It just doesn’t. But he admitted it right to my face, so I have no choice but to come to terms with the reality of what he’s done. What he’s doing. Losing a fight to line the pockets of bad people, filling our bank accounts with dirty money in the process.
It’s so unlike him.
But I saw it all happen right there in front of my eyes.
Why, North? I don’t need to be rich. I only need you.
Now that he’s brought these negative forces into our lives, though…can we ever be together again? I don’t know. I have the baby to think about and I won’t bring him or her into a world where their life is in danger. And so…I guess I have to change my world. Again. Move on…without my husband.
I make a choked sound, barely managing to swallow the bite of pizza.
When I look up, Tanya is standing at the front window of her apartment, shaking her head. “He’s still out there, you know.” She sighs, letting the curtain fall back into place. “What I wouldn’t give to have a man stalk me like that. Especially one who looks like that.”
My heart starts beating faster over the fact that North is close by. Still. He’s been following me for the last four days, trailing behind me in the shadows on the way to work. Walking several yards behind me and Tanya on the way back here, to the apartment. He sits outside at night, across the street in his black Chevy with the racing stripe, looking worse and worse every time I see him. Unshaven, eyes sunken in, the life slowly draining out of him, the same way it’s leaking out of me.
I hate this.
A wave of anger sweeps over me, unexpected. I’ve been unable to feel anything since walking away from North, except for loneliness, shock, yearning. Right now, though, I’m mad that he shattered our trust in one fell swoop. I’m mad that he didn’t even speak to me about what he was planning on doing. He just made this monumental decision on our behalf and it was one that can’t be taken back. It’s done. The deal with the devil has been made.
“Why don’t you go down there and talk to him?” Tanya suggests. “Maybe a little heart-to-heart is all you need to figure things out. You obviously worship each other. I’ve never seen anything like the way he looks at you, Grace. Like you’ve just tumbled down from heaven into his lap. I…don’t think you’re meant to be apart from him.”
“I’m not.” I press my fingers to the ringing in my head. “The work days were hard enough for us, let alone a full four days. But I can’t forgive what he’s done. I don’t think it can be fixed now, either.”
“Must have been something pretty bad.” She casts one more glance at the window. “He’s definitely sorry as hell for whatever it was.”
Another ripple of anger passes through me.
Sorry won’t bring us back together. Sorry can’t make us happy again.