of us needed to be around each other.
When I returned the house was empty. I went straight to my room to take a quick shower before starting dinner. Emmet was having Elizabeth over that night so I wanted to make sure I had everything in order. On my bed was my computer and the privacy agreement.
I sat down to read the agreement. It was pretty straightforward, although extremely rigid. Besides all the usual inclusions, he added I was not allowed to own any pictures of him or the boys, even if the pictures included me. The document was over ten pages long. It also appeared he did it in a hurry because I found several basic mistakes and some awkward wording.
The Post-it note said, “Initial each page, sign and date the last page, return to my office.” So, I did as instructed and then—because I was feeling juvenile and spiteful again—I took out a red pen and circled every single mistake I could find in the document; punctuation, capitalization…I even pushed my luck and corrected some of the awkward wording. What the hell, I was already fired.
The shower relaxed me a bit but since I took so long editing Emmet’s legal document I had to rush to get ready before the boys came home. I ended up at the end of the driveway just as they were stepping off the bus. We goofed around for a bit and I contemplated telling them about what had happened with their dad, minus all the yelling. It didn’t seem like a good idea. What if they tried to tell him and he had a meltdown admonishing them? I’d take my lumps for the next couple of days. It would be Father’s Day soon enough.
Since tonight was date night, a.k.a. Emmet’s night with the lemur, I served the boys dinner promptly at 6:00 even though Emmet wasn’t home yet. He usually liked to sit with the boys while they ate, even if he wasn’t eating until later with his homely date. Finally at 6:20 he walked in the door, didn’t acknowledge me at all and set some carry-out packages on the counter without comment. Finally, I gave in and was the first one to speak.
“Do you need me to do something with these?” I asked politely, baiting him to answer inappropriately with the boys in the room.
“Yes, Elizabeth will be here in a few minutes. Dinner is in the bags. Please get it ready to serve us.”
I pretended not to notice the degrading, “please get it ready to serve us” request. I also didn’t mention how much effort I put into making dinner for him and his pungent princess. Maybe he was worried they would both end up with food poisoning from my cooking. My target, of course being him; Elizabeth would merely be collateral damage.
The doorbell rang; Elizabeth, I assumed. Emmet looked at me to answer it. I smiled and kindly said, “She’s really here to see you, not me. I’m sure she’d rather you greet her.” Knowing I was safe from his wrath as long as the boys were in the kitchen. I looked back to the carry-out packages and continued to be a good servant preparing plates for both of them.
Elizabeth’s patronizing attitude was worse than last week. She called me Hannah repeatedly and did everything possible to assert I was the help and she was the queen. I endured it for only thirty minutes, and then thought again…what the hell, I’m already fired…and I accompanied the boys upstairs to Josh’s room and closed the door. I knew Emmet would just roll with it; anything else would prove I was triumphant in agitating him. I didn’t want the boys to get caught in the crossfire, so I made sure they followed their regular bedtime routine and were in bed by 8:30.
Date night ended earlier this week—9:00. A few minutes after Elizabeth left I heard Emmet in the kitchen doing the dishes. He realized I wouldn’t and he couldn’t tolerate dirty dishes in the sink overnight. Thankfully, he was occupied. I was worn out from the drama…too drained to get into it with him again and glad the day was over. Then I remembered I left his dry cleaning in my car that afternoon.
As I reached in the back seat to grab the dry cleaning, I heard a low growl behind me. I didn’t move, but the growl did. It was getting closer… Romulus. Emmet must have let him out after Elizabeth left. I knew he’d let him loose early last night, but I didn’t consider he would do it again tonight. Not that any of that mattered now. I was about to be a chew toy for this beast.
Slowly I turned around telling myself, “He likes me…Romulus is starting to get used to me. Is it possible he’ll stop growling when he sees it’s me…I hope?” He couldn’t have been more than ten or fifteen feet from me and was stalking closer.
“It’s okay, Romulus. It’s just me,” I said, looking straight at him with my sweaty palm extended. He was now snarling. I kept talking to him in a quiet, calm voice while trying to relax out of my panic. Time to think of an alternative because this was hopelessly ineffective; I could attempt to dive in the car or maybe on the car. I didn’t think I could get in the car. He was too close. On the car was a poor option as well; I rather think he could have jumped on the car also. I was having flashbacks from the Steven King novel Cujo. There really wasn’t any way to escape this killer dog.
“That’s a good dog. It’s just me, Annie. Where’s your tennis ball? Go get your tennis ball.” Romulus was inching closer. He had no interest in playing with a tennis ball when he could amuse himself by ripping my throat out or playing tug of war with my limbs. They would find pieces of me in the morning.
Suddenly the back door flew open. There was a loud whistle and then Emmet commanded, “Romulus, heel.” Immediately the dog sat down…a mere three feet from me. I took a half step backward and slumped against the car breathing so heavily I was fearful of hyperventilating and passing out.
“What. Are. You. Doing. Out. Here?” Emmet shouted, each word spoken as if it were a sentence by itself. “Are you insane? Are you trying to get yourself killed? Why did you go outside? Did you have to make a call to the paper or whoever hired you? Did you need to tell them I took away your memory card? What is so secretive that you have to do it under the cover of darkness, Annie? Tell me what is so important?” Emmet looked like a madman. His face was twisted in anger and there was clearly hate in his eyes while he continued to walk toward me. Romulus snarled fiercely while inhaling.
“No, it’s nothing like that!” My voice was shaking, but I was yelling too, though not in complete sentences. “I forgot…your dry cleaning … your meeting tomorrow…your blue pinstriped suit…then Romulus… ten…and it’s NOT ten…I didn’t think you would…” Romulus growled louder. I wasn’t sure if he was growling at me or at the fighting, but Emmet was un-phased by his agitated beast.
“You’re LYING!” He yelled. “Were you leaving to meet someone? Is that why you left your car out of the garage? Answer me! How could you do this after I trusted you? How? I brought you into my home and I trusted you, Annie!” His fists were clenched and his upper body leaned toward me rigidly as he yelled. For a fleeting moment I saw the hate in his eyes replaced by hurt…the hurt of betrayal.
His words ripped through me—calling me a liar, accusing me of breaking his trust. I felt a familiar pang of empathy in my heart. I knew the feeling—broken trust. As angry as he was, I could hear the hurt in his voice. The whole ordeal was exhausting me. I reached into the car for the dry cleaning and handed it to Emmet. “I can’t do this with you tonight,” I said, barely biting back tears. “I left my car in the driveway because I know it annoys you not to have the cars in the garage. I just wanted to irritate you, that’s all. Search it again if you want.” I tossed him the keys.
I barely had the energy to walk upstairs and get myself ready for bed. I was physically and emotionally drained…beyond drained if that was possible. This was the first time I had thought of Lawrence’s betrayal since I moved in. My confrontation with Emmet was bad enough, but the tidal wave of emotion was salted with thoughts of Lawrence.
Quietly, I peeked out onto the
