Deliver Her from Evil Read online

  I sense a tinge of regret, maybe even sadness in her voice, but as soon as I think it’s there, it’s gone again. I silently beg for someone, something to save me, save the possibility of a relationship with Campbell, but no rescue arrives.

  With nothing left to say, I give a nod of finality, gather my beer, hop off the stool, and head outside to be alone to drown in my loss. Not only did that elephant suffocate me, but Cam leashed it up and trampled me with it.

  Carly

  My meeting with Campbell was supposed to take place over a week and a half ago. Instead, she told me to carry on with life as usual and she would meet me when she had news. As easy as that would sound, those two days Jack was home before he left for another business trip were the most excruciating forty-eight hours of my life. I wanted to corner him and ask every question I had swirling in my head. Somehow I knew though, if I really wanted to know the truth about what was going on, I needed to take Campbell’s advice and wait it out. Wait for what? I don’t know. I’m almost scared to find out.

  So, when the text came through this morning that Campbell had information and she would be coming over, I wanted to throw up. Coming here to deliver the blow meant something bad. So I refused the house call; instead, opting for a public meeting at the coffee shop we frequent weekly, A Scone’s Throw. I knew if I was in public, I could hold myself together a little better than within the walls of my house. Whether it’s warranted or not, I refuse to cry in public.

  I drop Olivia off at preschool and make it to the coffee shop before Campbell. I take a seat at our usual table in the back with my chamomile tea and settle into the comfort of my surroundings; it may be the only solace I’ll find today. Now as I wait, I let my mind drift to the days when Jack and I first started dating.

  I had just gotten a job at a spa working as an esthetician, and when I was leaving work one afternoon, he was dropping off items at the dry cleaners next door. When I first saw him in his crisp business suit, I couldn’t help but stare at him. He looked so charming and put together. His dark wavy hair was begging to be pulled, and even though it was late afternoon, he looked freshly shaved. When he caught me looking at him, he winked at me. Yeah, there is the charming part. I was so embarrassed about being caught, I rushed to my car as quickly as I could. I tripped over the curb and my purse scattered across the parking lot. He walked over to help me pick everything up, but I managed to get it all stuffed back into my purse and to my car before he made it to me. It wasn’t until the next day at work that I realized I hadn’t picked up everything.

  I hadn’t planned on telling the ladies I worked with about the encounter, but I was met with a million questions when I entered the spa the next day. They swarmed me like a flock of seagulls, pecking at me for information; it wasn’t until I reached my work area that I understood why. My wallet and a bouquet of flowers were on my station waiting for me. No note, just flowers. I assumed it was the guy I was caught gawking at in front of the dry cleaners, or at least I hoped it was.

  Every Tuesday for a month I would receive the same bouquet of flowers, calla lilies. Then on the last Tuesday of that month, flowers arrived but this time there was a note.

  I’M DUE TO DROP OFF MY DRY CLEANING. HOW ABOUT A DO-OVER?

  -DIRTY LAUNDRY

  Now I knew exactly who had been sending the flowers…dry cleaning guy. He was going to be out front at four p.m. when I got off work. The excitement of it had my stomach twisted in knots. The girls tried to doll me up at the end of the day, curling my long brown hair and applying a shimmery lip gloss, which they promised made my lips kissable. I wasn’t sure I even approved; this guy could be a total creeper. Who sends a stranger flowers for a month? Ted Bundy types, that’s who.

  I swallowed down my nerves and pushed the front door of the spa open to see him waiting for me. Calla lilies in hand and a huge grin on his gorgeous face, the situation was inviting…he was inviting. Instead of running this time, I smiled back and let fate take me the rest of the way.

  “You sure about this?” Campbell asks as she slides into her chair next to me, pulling me from my daydream. I didn’t hear her approach the table, nor did I see or hear Vivian and Jen take their places around the table. Now I’m wishing I had agreed to let them come to my house. Their presence only confirms my worst thoughts. Campbell is gripping a large manila envelope, inside of which are the answers I seek, no doubt both a blessing as well as the boogeyman ready to swallow me whole. “We can leave and go back to your house. We don’t have to do this here,” she adds.

  She lays the envelope on the table top and I slowly reach for it to slide it closer to me. Jen quickly intervenes and takes it into her hands. “I know my usual response would be to string him up by his ballsack,” Jen says confidently, “but I need you to know, no matter what is in this envelope, we are here for you. We will do whatever you ask of us, even if it means walking away and pretending we never saw what is in this package.”

  There is no anger in her voice, no vengeance, just sadness. Just pity. I struggle to hold my emotions back. My eyes burn with unshed tears for a marriage I may have lost. So instead of risking the release of the sob threatening to explode from my throat, I give her a curt nod. It must suffice because she glides the package to me.

  It’s amazing how for weeks I’ve been yearning for this information. I have been desperate to know if Jack had in fact gone through with the surgery behind my back, and if my chance at more children is gone. Now that the moment of truth is here, I feel myself stalling, holding onto the final seconds of what I thought was a happy marriage.

  My fingers work their way under the seal of the folder and peel the paper away from the glue. Reaching in, I grab the cool crisp papers and slide them out. I have no idea how Campbell got ahold of his medical chart, and I’m not sure if I even want to know, but I’m thankful nonetheless.

  My eyes scan over the report that confirms everything the receptionist at the doctor’s office said. He had the procedure, he’s been back for his follow-up lab work, and the surgery was a success.

  No more babies.

  I drop the papers on the table and take a deep breath, letting the information absorb. Vivian reaches for my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “Maybe you guys could look into adoption,” she says, attempting to cushion the blow.

  “Viv, I think his opinion on future children for our family is stated pretty clearly here,” I say. My tone is a little more sarcastic than I intend and she recoils at my outburst. I latch onto her hand and hold tightly. “I’m sorry,” I sigh. “This is all just overwhelming. I mean, do I really want to stay with someone who didn’t think they could talk to me about something so life-altering? He made this choice without me. He didn’t consider my feelings or what I wanted our family to consist of.”

  Vivian delicately pats my knuckles and offers a shy smile. “I understand, Car. There is no need to apologize to me.”

  “Here is the rest of it,” Campbell whispers, pushing an iPad to me.

  “There’s more?” I ask incredulously. Jen and Vivian both look to Campbell with an equally concerned looked.

  “I’m so sorry, Carly,” she says as a tear rolls down her porcelain cheek, which she quickly bats away. “This will probably explain more than the report will. The video is ready, just hit play.”

  Jen and Vivian scoot closer to me to view the video, but Campbell remains across from us, already aware of what we are about to view. The knot in my stomach tightens and my hand trembles as I touch the screen to prompt the video to begin. I’m scared, but I could never have anticipated what would play out in front of me.

  Vivian gasps, Jen’s knuckles turn white as she balls her hands into fists, and I quietly relieve the pain in my throat with silent tears. I think shock prevents me from fully unleashing the fury that Campbell was afraid would occur by viewing this in public.

  She’s beautiful. Her clothes reflect professionalism and sophistication and her black hair snakes down her back in loose silky curls. He
r smile is contagious and pure happiness reflects in her eyes. The charm I’m familiar with is putting that smile in place as he wraps his arms around her waist and plants a playful kiss on her neck. Jack then weaves his fingers through her ebony locks and devours her mouth. Once upon a time, he used to kiss me like that. Now another woman has claimed that kiss, that charm.

  Jack’s hand slides down her spine, stopping at the small of her back to protectively guide her into an apartment building. The video pauses and then cuts back to the two of them in Central Park having a picnic, snuggling up together reading a book. The final shot is of the two of them elegantly dressed, entering an upscale restaurant in New York. Her red satin gown hugs her perfectly crafted curves. Her hair is pinned in a sleek bun, which rests at the base of her neck, and her makeup is flawless. Jack looks every bit the gentleman in his tuxedo. I know better now, though; his charm is a cover for his deception. He is nothing but a snake in the grass.

  “I rescind my offer,” Jen immediately says when the screen fades to black. “I will have the guys looking for a hole to put the bodies in, just give me the go-ahead.”

  Vivian wraps her arm around me, pulling me into the momma bear hug that she’s known for. “Tell us what you need. We’re all here for you, Car,” she murmurs.

  I look to Campbell, my eyes pleading with her to intervene, and her sympathy bounces right back to me. She reaches down to her lap and brings out another envelope.

  “Oh for fuck’s sake,” Jen announces, gaining the attention of those around us. “What else did this prick do?”

  Everyone momentarily directs their attention to her, both Campbell and Vivian scowling. She says exactly what I’m thinking though, so I don’t respond.

  “That video was your past and present, Carly. Inside this envelope is your future,” she says, placing it in my sweaty palms. “Don’t look at it now, wait until you are home and have had time to let everything sink in.”

  I nod and lay the envelope in my lap, noticing the ragged jeans and stretched out sweater I have on as my eyes make their way back up to my friends’ eyes. I mentally compare every one of my now homely features to the black-haired beauty in the video. I could never compete with such perfection. For three years I’ve been trapped in the mom-zone, with snot on my sleeve and hair in a ponytail. I’ve thought little of my appearance, because I opted to focus on our daughter, on our home, on him. Apparently, Jack focused more on his dick.

  I feel the envelope under my fingers and think about what kind of future I could even have. No husband and nowhere to live, since I have no job. My prospects are dreary.

  “You can’t do that, Campbell,” Jen demands. “That’s not okay to offer up something and then not share it with the group.” She extends her hand to me and motions her fingers to hand over the mystery envelope.

  I grab tightly to the tiny package and slowly bring it above the table. “Don’t you fucking dare,” Campbell snaps, stopping my hand from going any further. My eyes snap to hers. Aware the cursing offends me, she sighs, regrouping her thoughts. “I’m sorry, girls, but this is for Carly’s eyes only.”

  Campbell levels her eyes at me, silently demanding I put the envelope away. “I’m sure things look pretty damn scary right now, and you know we are all here for you, but what’s in that package is for you only. You need to make the decision as to what path to take for yourself, without us interfering. All that letter does is lay out the options for you.”

  “Campbell is right,” Vivian interrupts, noticing Jen’s irritation at being cut out of the mix. “Carly needs to figure things out for herself, and if she needs us, we’re here.” Vivian nods at me, emphasizing her words so I understand I‘m not going to go through this alone.

  “That’s bullshit,” Jen huffs. “Dropping a bomb like this, handing her an envelope, and then turning her loose is pretty crappy. What kind of friend would I be if I said, ‘Good luck with that lying, cheating, asshole of a husband,’ and went on my way like it never happened? I’d be a shitty one.”

  Jen folds her arms across her chest; her bouncing leg is practically vibrating the table. She is wound tight and I know I’m the only one who can diffuse the situation. I’ve been silent for much of this sit-down, just absorbing the shards of information that have shredded every piece of what I thought my life was. I’m numb from the shock, but Campbell is right, I need to process everything alone.

  “I appreciate you three. I know you all have my best interest at heart, but right now I need to be alone and think things through,” I say, though my throat doesn’t want to cooperate and I choke on the words. Vivian squeezes my hand, encouraging me to finish my speech. “Jen, if I need a mob hit or torture instruments, you’ll be the first one I’ll call,” I add, smiling through the gathering tears. “But for right now, I need to just go home and hug my daughter.”

  I gather my purse and sling it onto my shoulder. It feels ten times heavier upon leaving the coffee shop than when I entered. The envelopes are like bricks emotionally weighing me down. When I stand, my friends–my sisters–stand as well and each take a turn pulling me into their arms to give me their best hug of compassion. I then leave them still standing, expressions of concern and anger fixed on their faces.

  Rushing through the parking lot, I barely make it to my car before the sobs break free from my chest. I let the tears fall as I mindlessly begin to drive around the city. It isn’t long before I find myself where it all started…in front of the dry cleaners where Jack and I first met.

  I leave the car running and just sit, my eyes fixed on the door of the cleaners. People keep coming and going and I almost expect Jack to walk through the door. I find myself asking the question: If I had the chance to do it all over again, would I take it? Was I blissfully happy with Jack? Yes. Do I love him and the life we had together? I thought so. If anything, I’m thankful for the daughter our marriage gave me. I would do it all over again, heartache and all, if I still had Olivia on the other end.

  The diamonds of my wedding ring shimmer in the sunlight and I twirl the gold band around my slim finger. Something so tiny that is so significant; something so meaningful that now carries so little meaning. I allow it to slide past my knuckle, flirting with the idea of removing it completely when I hear my phone ding from inside my purse. Opening the satchel, Campbell’s envelope reveals itself, its contents taunting me. I carefully open the package and allow the contents to spill across the passenger seat: two business cards, a check for a very large sum of money, and a letter from Campbell.

  Carly,

  I know what you’re thinking, and yes, you will cash that check or I will unleash Jen. This part is not up for discussion. I know there is a lot to comprehend, and everything you thought you knew about your life seems to be over. I want you to really think about what you want for yourself and your daughter. Whatever you decide, Vivian, Jen, and I will be behind you one hundred percent. There is enough money there to help you take the first step on whichever path you decide to take.

  Things aren’t always perfect, no matter how much we wish them to be or how much we pretend they are. Perfection is merely a blind eye to reality. If you accept his faults and want to repair the damage, it is up to you to begin the healing process. If your marriage is something you want to try and save, I left a business card for a marriage counselor. She comes highly recommended and the money can be used for her services.

  However, if the damage is too great, if your heart and love for a man who betrayed you is too broken, the money will help to set you on a new journey. A fresh start. You will also find a second business card; it’s for the best divorce attorney in the state. His services will no doubt help you to heal as well.

  We love you,

  Campbell

  Dropping the letter in my lap I consider my options. Could I walk away from the only man I’ve ever loved? Our home, our life together? Hasn’t he already walked away?

  I hear another buzz from my phone to see two text messages from Jack.

&
nbsp; Jack: Ran into a few snags here in New York. I’ll be gone a few more days.

  Jack: Give Liv kisses for me.

  I stare blankly at the phone, willing another message to come through. One that says, “I love you or I miss you. I’ve messed up and need to talk to you, beg for your forgiveness.” That doesn’t happen though.

  I gather the business cards from the seat and punch in the phone number on the card. As the line rings, I put the car in drive and head in the direction of my bank. If I’m going to do this, things will need to be in order.

  “Hello, how may I direct your call?” the woman on the other end politely says.

  I clear my throat and speak as clearly as possible, even though the ache may strangle me. “Yes,” I croak out. “I need to make an appointment; the sooner the better please.”

  Carly

  It has taken a bit of time to prepare for this day. As much as I wanted it all to be untrue, I couldn’t pretend the affair wasn’t happening. Even if I confronted Jack and forgave him, even if he wanted to leave his girlfriend and work on our marriage, I don’t think I could ever forget what he’s done.

  We are too damaged, too ruined.

  While I may be able to forgive him, no amount of counseling could make me let it go. Every time things felt off, I would be wondering if we were on this same unfaithful road. Every time he was out of town, I would be uneasy and worried there was someone else on the other end of that plane ride.

  I just can’t. There’s no way I could live the next fifty years of my life like that.

  I deserve better.

  I deserve the fairy tale.

  At first, I felt overwhelmed at the thought of starting over. Finding a job, somewhere to live, getting a lawyer, they were all such daunting tasks. Divorce feels foreign to me, and it seems like society allows for no growing room. There is no grieving time for the loss of the relationship, no break to pull your head together, piece your life together. It’s like as soon as the ink dries, you should be ready to move on.