The Weight of Shadows (9 page)

You’re being paranoid. Condoms and the pill together are a contraceptive Fort Knox. Don’t say anything to ruin this.

They were done unloading the car in mere minutes, and when they closed the apartment door after the last trip in, he dropped his box on the floor and pulled her into a hungry kiss. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I’m so glad to be here.”

“I love you, Kim.”

The words melted the resistance she’d felt all day. “Rick, I love you too.”

He kissed her again, then said, “Let’s get you settled in. I want you to feel at home.”

He hung her clothes in the closet while she put her toiletries in the bathroom. Then he put her folded clothes in the dresser while she unpacked her desk drawers box onto the living room floor and separated the items into piles. “Can I have a desk drawer?”

“Of course. Bottom one is cleaned out.”

She carted her things into the room and began to set them into the drawer, noting she’d need to buy some sort of organizer so things weren’t just sitting in a heap at the bottom. As she was getting up to go back into the living room, she heard a muffled voice. “What did you say?” she called.

“I didn’t say anything.”

She frowned. “Then you have a ghost.”

He laughed and came into the room with her. “What?”

The voice sounded again, as well as another with it. “That! What is it?” She looked in the closet, expecting to see a hole to the outside.

“Oh—it’s these walls, they’re thin as paper. You’re hearing the neighbors.”

She stood still, head cocked towards the wall. “Wow, really?” She moved to the wall and set her ear to it. “They’re talking about a movie. I can hear practically every word!”

“Shh, they’ll hear you too, you know.”

She clapped a hand over her mouth and giggled.

“Now you know why I use the other room for the bedroom. Can you imagine how much it would suck to live in one of the interior units?”

“Seriously.”

She followed him back to the living room. “I need some lunch. You?”

“Definitely. I’ll cook if you want, and you can finish putting your things where you want them.”

She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You’re such a doll.”

“Right back atcha.” He planted a kiss on her nose, then wandered into the kitchen, whistling as he pulled food from the fridge. Kim felt herself relaxing into her new reality and chided herself for her reservations. She unpacked her boxes as Rick prepared their meal, letting her imagination meander through the possibilities for their future as she integrated her belongings into their new home.

The afternoon was filled with errands, and they spent the early evening cooking a celebratory dinner that ended with champagne and strawberries. After dinner they sat on the couch watching reruns until the news came on. “I have an early appointment in the morning,” Kim said at ten as she stretched and stood. “I should probably get to bed.”

A light ignited in his eyes. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

It was as though a dam broke inside her. Fear flooded her heart and the confidence she’d felt for most of the day was washed away in a tidal wave of regret.

Tears spilled to her cheeks, which made her feel even worse. Now she’d ruined everything. “I’m sorry, Rick, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He took her hand and pulled her gently to the bedroom, then sat down on the bed and tugged her next to him. She kept her eyes to the floor, embarrassed. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

I feel like I should run out that door and not look back. I feel like I’m about to step off a cliff into nothing. I feel like I’m about to make the worst mistake of my life—and that’s saying something.
“I—I don’t know.”

“Is it just stress? The move, all the changes?”

She sniffed. “Maybe.”

“Is it because we’re not married? I mean, I didn’t think that was a big deal to you, but maybe it’s a bigger deal than you thought it was.”

She sniffed and shook her head. “I don’t think that’s it. I don’t know what it is, Rick, honestly.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Maybe you don’t feel safe.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “That’s it. That’s exactly it. And I don’t know why! I mean, this is
you
we’re talking about.” She leaned against him, inhaling the heavenly scent of his cologne. “You love me. You’re taking such good care of me. Why shouldn’t I feel safe?”

He slid off the bed and knelt in front of her. “Maybe because you don’t know if you can trust me to always be there for you. Who in your life ever has been?”

She nodded, relieved that he understood. “That’s true.”

“So maybe if I can show you that I’ll always be there, you won’t feel so unsafe.”

She smiled. “Yeah, maybe. But I already know in my head that you will—any ideas how we can get the message through to my heart?”

He stared at her for a moment, studying her, then a slow smile spread across his face. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring, then held it before her. “Marry me, Kim?”

Her eyes went wide and her words left her. She stared at the ring open-mouthed. “Oh. Oh, Rick.”

He laughed and took her hand. “That a yes?”

Her mind clicked and whirred as all the reasons she’d amassed for not wanting to get engaged yet went missing. She saw before her the ideal she’d longed for her whole life. There was no way she was turning it down. “Yes!”

He slipped it on her finger and sprang up, tackling her while she laughed, and said, “We’re engaged? Seriously, we’re engaged?”

“We are!” He kissed her and she kissed him back, her emotions overrunning the disquiet in her spirit. She allowed herself to be pulled into him, body, mind, and soul, until she was lost in his kiss and oblivious to time.

An hour had passed by the time they disentangled and curled together beneath the sheets. Moonlight through the blinds threw stripes across the room, illuminating scattered clothing and sleepy faces. Kim raised her hand and held it in the shaft of light, examining the sparkle of the gold-set solitaire. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She giggled. “This is crazy.”

“Sometimes you’ve gotta walk on the wild side.”

“When should we do it?”

“Hm—I thought we just did.”

She socked him in the arm as he laughed. “You nitwit. When should we get married?”

He held her close, nuzzling her shoulder. “I dunno—July?”

“Like, next year?”

“No, next month.”

She sat up. “Are you nuts? We can’t plan a wedding in a month!”

“C’mon—Fourth of July, fireworks on our anniversary every year. It would be a blast!”

“It’ll be just as big a blast next year as this year. Between our work schedules and my time at Club, there is no way we could do everything in a month. Let’s say next year, Fourth of July, a huge barbecue somewhere afterwards where we can watch the fireworks. Maybe Whitmore Lake or something like that.” She hunkered back down and giggled again. “I can’t believe we’re engaged.”

He rolled over, propping himself up on an elbow. “So tell me something about you I don’t already know.”

She sighed. “Well, I’m afraid of ants.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Ants? For real?”

“Yes. Hate them, hate them, hate them. They scare the crap out of me.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, when I was little, in my first placement, my foster mom was watching some horror movie with giant ants in it, and then later that week we had ants in the kitchen and I thought they’d get all big like the ones on the TV. And then that night I had a nightmare that I was cleaning the kitchen and the ants were everywhere, and they got into my rubber gloves and started eating my hands.”

Rick laughed and swore. “Yeah, I can see how that would give you a phobia. What do you do when you’re outside and see them on the sidewalk?”

“I step on them. It’s not so bad outside, but if I find one in the house—panic city.”

“I’ll remember that. No ants in the house.”

She laughed. “Thank you. Now your turn.”

“Alright, let me think. Oh, here we go: when I was fifteen I ran away from home for a weekend.”

She laughed. “Just the weekend?”

“Well, it was supposed to be for longer than that but my hiding place was found.”

“What was your hiding place?”

“The library.”

Kim shook her head. “I don’t believe it.”

“No, it’s true. There was this one meeting room that had a little storage closet, and hardly anyone ever used the room. So I hid in the closet at night until two hours after closing—I didn’t know how late the staff stayed—and then I went to the staff room and ate some of the snack food they had down there, and then I went to sleep back in the meeting room.”

“So how did they catch you?”

His smile was sheepish. “I forgot the library didn’t open on Sundays until noon, and I waltzed out of the room at ten-thirty. Some of the staff was there to do work before opening the place.”

Kim cracked up, then threw her arms around him. “You poor thing! Great plan, though. I wonder how long you could have gotten away with it.”

He settled onto his back, hands under his head. “I was only going to stay there for a few days, while I researched where I wanted to go. I was going to hitchhike to wherever it was I decided on.”

“Hitchhike in this day and age? It’s a good thing you got caught, then.” She settled down beside him, staring at the ceiling. Everything felt surreal. She’d never been so close to someone, never felt so vulnerable and protected all at once. A shiver in her soul told her it was too good to be true, and she focused all her will on quelling the familiar anxiety that was threatening to erupt. She couldn’t cut herself, not right now, not here. She still had to sort out where to keep the knife and bandages, what Rick’s work schedule was, when she was safe to do it.

Her voice was barely a whisper. “Do you have any secrets that eat you up inside?”

She’d thought maybe he’d fallen asleep, his response was so long in coming. “Yes.”

“Do you ever wish you could tell someone who you knew wouldn’t care? Or at least wouldn’t…tell anyone else?”

He rolled to his side and slipped one of his arms across her waist. “All the time.”

She forced a small smile. “Wanna trade?”

He cleared his throat, waited a moment, then said, “The reason I ran away from home was because I tried to kill my father. But it didn’t work.”

She remembered all the stories he had told her about his father—the beatings, the rage, the drinking. “Oh, Rick. What happened?”

“I just reached the end of my rope, you know? He was passed out drunk one night—or at least, I thought he was. I spilled some vodka on the floor, then lit one of his cigars and a napkin and dropped them on the puddle so it would look like he’d fallen asleep smoking. Not the most efficient or foolproof method, but I couldn’t bring myself to actually
do
something to him, like stab him, despite the fact that I’d been dreaming about it for years.”

“The police didn’t suspect you?
He
didn’t suspect you?”

“Well, I had this friend who knew everything my dad did, and his parents knew, too, but I begged them not to report him because I didn’t want to go back into foster care. I went to my friend’s house and they let me hide out there. They covered for me, said I’d been there since dinner. But the smoke woke him up; his clothes got singed a bit, and he got a few burns on his hand, but that’s it. He didn’t report me because he was never really sure it wasn’t his fault. Plus, he knew if he said anything to the police, I’d just tell them what he did to me, and he’d get arrested too.” He shifted, rested his chin on her shoulder. “He beat me within an inch of my life, and that’s when I ran away.”

Kim shook her head. “That’s awful, Rick. I’m so sorry.”

He shrugged and snuggled closer. “It’s history now. He really is dead, good riddance, and I’ve moved on.” He nudged her with his chin. “So what’s your secret?”

The moment of truth. Here was her chance to unburden herself. Could she really do it? Could she finally lay down the weight she’d been hauling for the last seven years?

She took a breath, let it out, tried again and couldn’t. Rick chuckled. “C’mon, it can’t be as bad as mine. I tried to kill someone.”

She felt the rising of the pressure in her veins, the thumping of her heart that seemed to shake the bed. “Yes. But I actually did.”

NINE

Kim was running out of excuses. She was also running out of shirts.

The last two weeks with Rick had been about as blissful as an orphan could ever hope for. He let her rearrange the furniture and even replace a few of his oddball items, making the apartment feel more pulled together and less like a bachelor pad. They fell into a rhythm of cooking and cleaning and errand-running. And it turned out to be very nice to wake up next to someone—almost as nice as it was to go to sleep next to him.

Yet Kim had cut herself more in those two weeks than she had since starting the practice. There was a new fear she didn’t know how to handle: the fear of losing the best thing she’d ever had. It compounded the guilt she still carried, even after the confession of her secret. In fact, the guilt was worse with the passing of every heartbreakingly wonderful day she had with Rick. She couldn’t win.

So she cut. Her arms were a mess of lines. Fresh red, fading pink, healing white, covered in unseasonably long sleeves. Her wardrobe began to draw comments. She complained a lot about air-conditioning.

The girls at Club were easy to fool. They knew she came straight from the salon, so she told them the manager had the A/C jacked up high so she was always cold. Most of the girls at the salon said nothing, though she could tell Emma was suspicious. “Girl, it’s gonna be ninety today,” she said at the end of the first week Kim had spent with Rick. “Aren’t you hot?”

Kim shrugged, making it a point to look her in the eyes for at least a moment. “Rick is so hot-blooded, the apartment is always freezing. I dress for how it feels in there, and then I forget to change clothes before I come to work. The heat feels good, actually—I finally get to thaw!”

The second week she was more difficult to put off. “Kim, I sweat just looking at you. What’s the deal?”

“I told you, Emma, Rick keeps the apartment really cold.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t keep things cold here—and I’ve seen you break a sweat more than once this week. At least keep some light-weight stuff at your station or something.”

Kim scrambled for a reply but found nothing. Emma pounced on her silence. “Kim, I’m getting a weird vibe from you lately. Is everything alright?”

This time Kim didn’t have to force the eye contact. “It is, Emma. It’s…it’s amazing. Everything about him, about living with him…I never thought I’d have something like this.”

Emma smiled, though Kim could tell it was guarded. “I’m happy for you, Kim. Just—” she shrugged. “I don’t know. Just tell me if anything is wrong, okay?”

“Thanks, Emma.”

Emma gave her a squeeze before returning to her station and Kim scurried back to hers before she broke down in tears. The stress of hiding her cuts became one more reason to do it.

It only took a few weeks for the honeymoon to end. One weekend toward the end of June, Rick was invited to join some of his co-workers for a poker game. He claimed to have been a card shark in high school, and as he left the apartment he promised Kim a treat with his winnings. “You’re pretty confident for someone who hasn’t played in a few years.” she’d said.

He shrugged as he pocketed his wallet and headed for the door. “I used to be nearly impossible to beat. There’s a lot of strategy; most people don’t know that. You don’t just play your cards; you play the other players. The guys I’m playing tonight don’t know what they’re doing. I can almost guarantee it.”

She was just getting ready for bed a few hours later when a slammed door announced his return. Kim called out, “How’d you do?” and heard the refrigerator door open and shut with a bang, but no response to her question. She went to the kitchen where he was opening a beer. “So? How did it go?”

He threw a bottle cap into the trash, his head down. “I lost.”

“Aw, baby, I’m sorry.” She went to him and kissed his cheek. “Don’t be too sad, sweetheart; it’s just a game.”

“I got
nothing
. The cards were rigged, I swear.” He took a long swig of his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes were stormy.

“S’okay love.” Kim kissed his cheek, then wagged a finger playfully. “It was karma. That’s what you get for being overconfident. But if you don’t win next time, I’ll have to find someone else who knows when to hold ’em and when to—”

His hand moved so fast she had no time to react. The sting of the slap across her face made her gasp. Tears sprang to her eyes and her hand flew to her cheek as she stared at him in shock.

He looked as stunned as she did. They stood still, eyes locked on each other, until he set down his beer and pulled her into a tight embrace. “Kim, I’m so sorry. I’m
so
sorry.” His voice cracked. She had no words, her mind was a tangle of shock and fear. “Kim, please forgive me. Do you forgive me? I can’t believe—Kim, I’m so sorry.” He gave her one final squeeze, then stood back, still holding her by the shoulders. “I always swore I’d never hurt the people I love. But the thought of you leaving me—it freaked me out.” His voice shook as he spoke. “Do you forgive me? Please forgive me, Kim.”

She swallowed hard, forcing the lump from her throat, and croaked out a response. “Yes. Of course I forgive you.”

He wrapped her in his arms again, then gently kissed her throbbing cheek. “Let me get a cool washcloth for your face.” She allowed him to lead her to the bedroom and set her on the bed, then watched as he went about ministering to the fallout of his anger. After a few minutes of applying the cold cloth to her face, he pulled back the sheets and tucked her into bed. “Unless you want me to come to bed right now, I’m going to just go and unwind for a little bit in the living room. Is that alright?”

“Sure, that’s fine.”

“Okay.” He planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “I love you, Kim. Again—I’m so sorry.”

She gave him a small smile and reached out to hold his hand. “It’s okay, Rick. I forgive you.”

He smiled and kissed her again, then left the room, shutting the door behind him as he left.

K
IM WATCHED THE CLOCK FLIP
to midnight. Rick had snuck in half an hour earlier, slipping into bed and keeping close to his edge of the bed. Kim faked sleeping until she heard his light snore, then flipped her pillow and huddled deeper under the sheet despite the warmth of the evening.

Her face had stopped stinging soon after he’d slapped her, but her mind had raced relentlessly. She’d given him everything she had to give. Her secret. Her virginity. Her independence. Her trust. He owned her now, and until tonight she hadn’t minded.

But now…

She sighed and rolled onto her stomach, pulling the pillow over her head and squishing it around her ears. She didn’t want to overreact. This relationship was the most precious thing she had. It was worth taking her time to assess the situation and its ramifications.

In a sense, the situation was straightforward: Rick had hit her. Well,
hit
was maybe a bit of an exaggeration. He’d slapped her. Certainly it had been spontaneous—he hadn’t come home with the intent of taking his frustration out on her.

And in his defense, she had provoked him. It had been cruel of her to suggest, even as a joke—perhaps
especially
as a joke—that she would leave him for someone else, particularly when his pride was so wounded from his loss. How would she have felt if he’d insinuated such a thing to her?

And she had to remember the years he had been abused by his father. An experience like that wasn’t easily left behind. It was a miracle he had turned out as normal as he had.

She sighed and rolled to her side, staring at the ring on her hand. She should have kept her mouth shut. She had only herself to blame.

T
HE NEXT MORNING
RICK WAS
gone before she awoke. She took her time readying for work, lingering over a bowl of cereal and sorting in vain through her clothes for a new outfit that would hide her cuts but not look as unseasonable. She was dismayed to see a faint purple spot on her cheekbone when she finally shuffled into the bathroom for her shower.
Well, that’s what makeup is for.

Kim felt heavy and gloomy, like a cartoon with a rain cloud above her head. She sat under the shower’s spray for too long as she let her thoughts wander, then had to rush to get to the salon. She made a mad dash to her station to ready it before her first client and barely got it all done in time. Helen Toll entered just as she finished preparing her combs, and Kim walked her to the station as the elderly woman launched into a story about her granddaughter and the new boy she was dating. Mrs. Toll was just the client she needed to start with today. She demanded little from Kim besides nods and clucks of sympathy and the occasional “Oh my goodness,
really
?” It gave her time to compose herself and clear her mind.

“…so I told her she should just tell that boy exactly what she thought. It’s never too late to be honest, but it’s more difficult the longer you wait.”

Kim’s attention snapped back to her client. “Yes—yes, that’s good advice. Very true.” She stole a glance at her face in the mirror to make sure the heat in her cheeks wasn’t visible. She could still see the faint dark spot beneath her makeup. “So what did she say?”

Mrs. Toll sighed. “Oh, I think she just humored me. It makes me sad, it really does. She’s such a precious girl. I don’t want to see her mired in a relationship where she can’t be herself.” She sighed and smiled at Kim in the mirror. “But no one listens to us old biddies.” She chuckled. “I think she thinks men hadn’t figured out how to be conniving back when I was her age!”

Kim laughed along with her, though her heart wasn’t in it. She continued to set the curlers in Helen’s wiry silver hair and gently nudged the conversation into more comfortable waters.

Mrs. Toll related another story while Kim finished setting the rollers and walked her to the dryers. After setting her beneath the dryer’s helmet, she cleaned her station and went up to the front to wait for her next client.

Bette smiled. “My, aren’t we all dolled up.”

“Am I?” Kim tried to look surprised.

Bette squinted at her. “Seems like, anyway. Normally you do your makeup so lightly you can barely tell you’ve got any on. What’s the occasion?”

Kim waved her hand as she glanced down at the appointment book. “There isn’t one. I must have overdone it. I didn’t get to bed until late last night, and the shadows under my eyes this morning refused to be tamed.” She pointed to the book. “My next is in ten minutes, right?”

Bette double-checked the book. “Yep.”

“Okay, I’m going to run next door. I’ll be right back.”

“Next door” was a mini-mart where the stylists often grabbed a midday snack or coffee. Kim rarely went there, wanting instead to hang out with her friends between their appointments. But she didn’t feel like she could sit at her station like she usually did, and she didn’t feel like socializing with the other girls, especially if Bette had noticed the extra makeup today.

She strolled the aisles, stopping only in the limited office supply section where her eyes snagged an X-acto knife. Her arms began to tingle just seeing that silver blade. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? She could have left Corrie’s paring knife where it belonged.

She slipped one off the hanging display and took it to the front to pay. She took her change and walked back to the salon, her mind not at all on her client but on her purchase and when she could break it in. She could feel the itch in her soul that preceded a cutting session. It inflamed the anger towards both Rick and herself that had been simmering since last night. She had clients all morning—how would she make it until afternoon?

She was combing through her client’s wet hair when Bette came by. “Phone message for you.” She handed her a pink slip of paper, then began to chat with her client, a friend of hers. Kim glanced at it and the itch began to burn.

Rick called. Wants to take you to lunch. Call to confirm.

Bette looked at Kim. “I can call him back for you if you want. I know you’re booked solid until lunch.”

“Thanks Bette. Yeah, I’d appreciate that. I’m open at one; tell him he can stop by then.”

“Will do.”

It was a long three hours. She had to fight to keep her concentration on what she was doing. She left Mrs. Toll under the dryer too long, though the sweet woman didn’t even notice or seem to mind when Kim gushed her apologies. She mixed the wrong combination of colors for a client’s highlights, thankfully catching it at the last minute. She was a jangle of nerves by the time her last client before lunch left. The image of the blade in her purse loomed large in her mind’s eye.

She pulled off her apron and draped it over the back of the chair, then grabbed her purse and went out to the sidewalk to wait for Rick. He was just crossing the parking lot when she came out, and for the first time the sight of him didn’t send a shiver of happiness through her.

He smiled and placed a kiss on her unblemished cheek. “Hey babe.”

She stared at him, confused. She’d been expecting a sheepish greeting, a little less spring in his step. “Hey.”

“You’re ready to go?”

“Um, sure. Where to?”

“You can pick, I don’t really care.”

She suggested the first place that came to mind. “I don’t know. Maybe Salsa?”

He nodded. “Sounds good.” He took her hand and began to chat as though there was no giant elephant balanced between them. She only half listened as he recounted some workplace drama. Her mind was preoccupied with recalling the details of the night before to assure herself they had actually happened. By his demeanor one would think it had been just a dream. Her free hand slipped up to her cheek to check the bruise, to make sure it hurt.

She was actually surprised when it did.

Maybe I’m wrong for thinking he should still be penitent.
After all, he
had
apologized—many times, in fact. Was it really necessary for him to apologize again? If their roles had been reversed, she’d probably be mad that he was still holding on to his anger and expecting more groveling twelve hours later.