“No. I need to get through this week. I need to get through that God-awful event and then I can think clearly.”
“Has he tried to call?”
“No, I asked him not to and he has respected my wishes. What’s strange is that I keep looking at my phone to see if he called. I may have destroyed him. He must be devastated.”
“We need time to heal. All of us.” Heather included Catherine although she wanted to whip some sense into her. Did she need Mangle’s approval that much? It was sickening and he slowly brainwashed her, manipulating her with his passive-aggressive ways.
Heather thought about how he changed her though. Standing up for herself with Jean and even Odessa, dressing more her age, her boys behaved better, there were less fights, more cooperation and she enjoyed having fun with her children like never before.
“Are you going to the Spooky House at Allenger Farms Halloween night?” Heather asked.
“The boys were telling me about it, I’d like to. There are separate areas, one for older kids and one for younger.”
“That’s why I thought it would be great for Rori.”
“Let’s do it.”
“How about you Victoria, are you in for a little scaring?” Heather asked.
“No, thank you. Next weekend will be scary enough.”
****
A devil, a pirate and a ladybug stood before Heather. She donned an Edward Scissorhands costume and waved her scissors in the air wildly as if cutting off all her daughter’s hair.
“You look cute mommy,” Rori said.
“Thank you my little ladybug.” Heather kissed her on the nose and then pretended to cut her wings off. Rori chuckled and scuttled behind Pirate Gia.
“Ahoy there mateys,” Gia wailed. “Are we ready to set sail?
“Just waiting for your dad. I was hoping he would be here by now.”
“Is he really coming, mommy? Really, really,” Rori asked.
“He said he would.”
“Yay!” the girls screamed in unison.
Heather thought of the long talk she had with Lance yesterday. Her sarcastic tone over the past few years did not help the situation. She apologized and asked him to go tonight despite his lack of interest in the whole silly ordeal. She promised to be more understanding of his career and he promised to spend more time with his daughters.
Fix it or get out
. Maybe they needed marriage counseling as well. Their marriage may not be perfect but she made the decision to marry him. They would find a way to work it out and hold it all together. For their daughters at least.
They were meeting Catherine at 7 o’clock and it was 6:30 now. A chill ran up her spine as a cold thought passed through her. She put the camera down, the hope of Lance taking a group shot of them before leaving the house vanished. “Why don’t you guys find your coats and I’ll warm up the car.”
“But what about daddy?” Rori asked.
“I’ll give him a call to see how close he is to arriving home. Go get your coats.”
“What’s the point of having a costume if you have to wear a coat?” Gia asked.
“I’ll hold it for you once you get in. Moms were made with extra-large arms to hold multiple things.” Heather walked into the bedroom, removed her scissor hand and dialed Lance’s cell. He picked up on the fourth ring. Loud music blared in the background, while a clatter of voices weaved in and out. “Hello?” Heather shouted.
“Hello? Who is this?” Lance mumbled.
“Your wife.”
“Sorry I can’t here you. What is it? Make it fast.”
Heather sat on the edge of the bed and pictured stabbing him with one of her fake foam scissors, wishing they were real. “Where are you?”
“At the Neon Pistol, can’t this wait ‘til later?”
“When, Christmas? It’s Halloween. The girls are dressed and waiting for you. You promised.”
“What? I can’t hear you, can you hear me? I’m with Doug having a drink. It’s crazy in here, you wouldn’t believe it. Sick costumes. Holy crap! Look at that girl.”
“Your daughters have great costumes too.”
“Costumes? Yes everyone here is in costume. There’s a guy dressed like a soccer mom.” Laughter erupted.
Heather closed her bedroom door and then walked into the master bathroom. “Your daughters are waiting for you. When are you coming home?” she shouted.
“Waiting for what?”
Heather clicked off the phone. He ruined yet another evening. But it would be the last.
Chapter 44
Catherine
“I think the two of you will be scarier than the people working the haunted house.” Catherine inspected Colton and Bentley. “Enough blood dripping from your body parts? What is this thing?” She touched a rubbery item hanging off Bentley’s neck.
“Flesh,” he said. “Hacked off and half-eaten flesh.”
“Lovely.”
Emily skipped around the corner and spun in the center of the kitchen. “Wonder Woman,” she roared.
“Perfect costume, Emily.”
“Are we going or what?” Peter entered from the garage and left the door open. Glacial winds streamed into the warmth that surrounded them.
“Let’s get in the car guys,” Catherine said.
They parked a few blocks away and then Peter led the boys into the warmth of the converted barn. Emily held Catherine’s hand and she analyzed her mother.
“What are you dressed as again mom?”
“A French maid.” Catherine sauntered up the stairs in high heels and the outfit she had worn for Mangle last week, the night he scolded her in his kitchen. She felt uncomfortable in it now with her children around, even more so with Peter. She questioned why she avoided her husband’s requests all these years. The costume should be for him, not another man, but he did not deserve her, did not deserve all she could offer him. Mangle alone savored her talents and skills.
She had not seen Mangle all week, he deliberately avoided her. She would search for him tomorrow, apologize for what she did Monday morning and make it up to him.
Heather charged up the stairs behind her to catch up. The girls, without coats, ran into the building past them. “It’s freezing,” Heather said.
Peter greeted Heather then took the four older children into the Mayhem of Doom section of the barn. Catherine and Heather took hold of Emily and Rori’s hands and strolled into Spooky World.
An hour and a half of lines, earsplitting noises, mostly from the children themselves and watching the kids stuff their faces with caramel apples, black-cat cookies covered with sprinkles, cupcakes drenched with marshmallow fluff and orange Rice Krispies balls, Catherine had enough.
Heather and the girls departed and Catherine squeezed through the crowd to find Peter. An additional twenty minutes leaked from her life before she found Peter outside with a cluster of his friends.
“Peter, we’ve been looking for you. It’s almost 9 and the kids have school tomorrow.”
“Take them home in my truck. I’m going out for some witches brew with these characters. I’ll get a ride home.”
Catherine’s mouth dropped open, her children stood beside her.
“Problem?” he said.
Catherine flew home narrowly avoiding the trick-or-treaters on the roads. She helped Colton remove his make-up while Emily dressed in her pajamas. Bentley jumped in the shower, unable to remove his glue and make-up in the sink.
With her children in bed, the last of the Halloween candy left on the front porch for late night visitors, Catherine went to bed.
At 11:30, the phone rang. Catherine sprang up and fumbled for the phone.
“Cath? It’s me, I need a ride home. Not sure where everyone went.”
“Are you serious? I have to work tomorrow.”
“I’m stranded, are you picking me up or not?”
Catherine grinded her teeth until her jaw ached. She threw the phone and flung the covers off her.
She pulled up to The Copper Roof Pub and Peter stumbled into the bright porch lights. Neither of them looked at each other nor spoke. Fierce words approached her lips but the midnight hour fell upon her.
Peter dumped his hooded sweatshirt on the couch. Catherine stood in silence in the unlit room wanting to address the issue. Her new self-assured manner with Jean and Odessa improved her confidence, but she had yet to direct her strength toward her husband.
Peter staggered, then came face to face with her. “What now? I don’t want to hear it.”
“What happened, where were you rides?” Catherine bit the inside of her lip and pushed the hair out of her face.
“Why do you care? Go to bed, get your beauty sleep.” He tossed his sneakers on the rug.
“No.” Only one word, but she discharged it. Her eyes adjusted to the lack of moonlight.
Peter’s head cocked, he leaned forward as if he didn’t hear correctly. “No? Did I hear right?” Explosive laughter erupted from him.
“No,” she repeated. “I’m not going to bed until you tell me what happened.”
Unsure if her defiance shocked him or the alcohol impeded him, but he remained motionless. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”
“I asked you a question.” Darkness fueled her strength, like sunglasses hiding the emotion her eyes would reveal.
“You stand there and order me?” His voice climbed and resounded through the tranquil house. “I’m sick of this, sick of your shit.”
He pounced, arms outstretched. Catherine stepped back but tripped over Colton’s beanbag chair and stumbled. Peter lunged with both hands, seized her shoulders and forced her into the recliner. The chair and both of them flew back and over. His weight on her and the stench of beer released from his lungs, immobilized her.
She gasped for air, but then blinding light flooded the room. She closed her eyes to shield the irritant. Peter rolled sideways off her.
Bentley’s expression was more frightening than any of the zombies they saw tonight.
****
Catherine finally breathed easier. Mangle had avoided her all week and his normal pleads vanished. She even caught him speaking to Megan near the OR yesterday. But today, after searching all morning, she located him and explained to him what happened on Monday.
Three days after the kitchen counter incident, Catherine had rushed down the hallway to Jean’s intolerable Monday morning meeting. She neared the conference room, already five minutes late, and spotted Mangle at the end of the hall. He grabbed his crotch and motioned to his mouth.
Jean appeared from around the corner and glared at her. Before entering the conference room, she asked Catherine if she planned to join them or would she “continue to stand there like a fuckin’ lost mime.”
She pretended to search for something in her lab coat and assured her she would be right in. Jean refused to budge.
Catherine nonchalantly shook her head at Mangle. He clenched his fist then released it, pointing a finger at the ground, requesting her presence. Now.
She glanced at Jean who had her hands on what should have been her waist. Catherine looked at Mangle one last time and then slowly stepped into the conference room. That was the last time she saw him.
Out of desperation, she approached him today and begged to give him a blowjob. He refused. She offered to have sex with him in his car, something she denied him from day one. He refused that as well.
She reached out and grasped his shoulder, a tightness formed in her chest, her dry mouth spat out emotion-choked words. He shook his head.
She pulled him into the lounge, unbuttoned her shirt and released her breasts for him to see. She played with them, rolling them in her hands, even put one in her mouth.
“Catherine, you seem so desperate to please me,” he said. “Where were you on Monday when I needed you?”
Her pained-gaze threatened to fill with tears. She fought back in earnest.
“Are you sure you want to please me still?”
She swallowed hard, her desiccated throat struggled to speak. “Oh yes, you know that. I’ll do anything for you.” She ignored her frantic words, only wanting his touch on her. She could not live without him, only he made her feel alive. Not even Jean would stand between them, even if it meant losing her job.
“Megan seems so eager to do what I ask though. In fact, I might ask her to come over this Sunday. She likes my ideas.”
Catherine grasped his hand, placed it on her breast and clenched it tight. “Not as much as me, this time will be different.”
“You said that last time.” He snickered and wrenched her nipple. She let out a yelp. “That doesn’t seem too convincing, you should enjoy what I do to you, not whimper.”
“I do, I love it. I won’t complain or refuse. You can do whatever you want to me and I will welcome it.”
He squinted, stepped back and inspected her. She stood before him, her desperate breasts exposed, her palms reaching for him while she sobbed. Pitiful.
“Come over on Sunday. Noon. No excuses this time. You will only leave when I say it’s time, you will do whatever I ask of you and not complain or refuse, do you hear me?”
She exhaled knowing that she could not disappoint him. She had to work Sunday but would not mention that to him. She’d fake an illness, leave early, find an excuse.
After three months, he obviously grew tired of her constant denials and complaints. His past women probably more granting, fulfilling his needs without any reservation. She would concede to him, grant him the rights to her body. The thought of him touching Megan crushed her.
Whatever he asked of her she would do, she could not lose him. Catherine needed him to rescue her from Peter and then she would be his, always.
Chapter 45
Victoria
Victoria sat in Jean’s office and waited for her to acknowledge her. Jean pounded on the computer keyboard with her fist, ignoring Victoria. She had three patients to counsel before she went home and the clock ticked like a slow thud on a door. The three cases of diet coke stacked in the corner and the empty plastic bottles overflowing in the garbage pail, confirmed the amount of caffeine Jean consumed each day.
Jean swiveled in her hefty chair and glared at Victoria as if she had no conception why she sat before her. Jean leaned over and folded her hands into tight knots, inhaling one massive gulp of air. And held it. As Jean’s face reddened, Victoria’s patience ran out.