Bab 1: Not so Happy Anniversary
"Happy anniversary, honey!" I exclaimed, handing him a poem I had written and a holiday brochure for a vacation down in Central America.
We were seated across from one another on our outdoor veranda. While it was warm out, the sky was gray, which was different than the last four anniversary celebrations we'd had. Traditionally, the days had been warm without a cloud in the sky.
I watched him read the poem but his usual heartfelt, encouraging words were remarkably absent. Noting the slight peculiarity, I focused on the brochure. When I came around to his side of the table, he uncharacteristically remained in his own space instead of leaning into mine so we could hold our arms together.
I slipped my hand along his warm shoulder next to his neck and gave him a gentle squeeze. He adjusted the collar on his white dress shirt and sat rigidly. Maybe he had something about work on his mind. I brought his attention to the vacation pamphlet.
"Do you see this? It's the getaway we've been talking about. Isn't that exciting?!"
"Yeah, the one I'm going to pay for. How is that for me?" he asked without turning around to face me. The glowing grin on my face dissolved.
"I've been saving my own money. This is for both of us so we can enjoy each other like we wanted. We've been talking about it for so--"
I stopped speaking as I watched him snatch the brochure out of my hands and tear it in two.
"We aren't going anywhere. Sit down Janessa," he said as he pointed to my seat. Feeling a butterfly-type sensation in my stomach, I sat back down. I watched as he reached into his back pocket, his ink-tinted bangs blowing in the slight breeze.
"I have a gift of my own," he said as he brought out his phone and set it on the table. Then, he retrieved some stapled papers out of his charcoal-colored jacket that was resting on the other chair. With precision, he set them beside his phone. After giving me a particularly nasty glare, he slid the phone across to me. I picked it up.
"What do you want me to do with this?" I asked, realizing that I was shaking so much that my words were trembling in my throat.
"Read it," he said. I looked at the phone and saw several texts from someone saying that I had conned Chase into our marriage. I scrolled through the person's messages, trying to see who it was, then I hit back, sliding it to him. He took it for a second, touched the screen then handed it to me once more.
I viewed additional messages about me from another person, again not named. They were gossipping about how I was only with my husband for his money. When I read that, I was appalled. At once I handed it back to him and crossed my arms staring up at the dreary sky.
He slid the stapled bi-folded document over to me. I opened it and the first word I saw was "Divorce" in bold letters on the top. I couldn't look at the rest. I immediately folded them back in half and set them in the middle of the table.
"Is this a joke?" I asked.
"I have emails too. Would you like to see those?" he asked me. I glowered at him.
"We've been together for five years. I know we didn't get married through traditional means like others, but we've been happy. Not to mention the fact that we know one another very well. Do I seem like the kind of person who would do that?"
"Everybody has secrets, Janessa. You just hid yours better than most," he said then scowled at me. "It's out of character for someone to successfully slip that kind of underhanded plan by me, but you're cunning. That's for sure. Maybe more than I ever gave you credit for." He exhaled into a scoff and shook his head once, his midnight hair beginning to collect the first few drops of mist falling from the sky. "But you won't fool me again." He pointed at me; his elbow pressed to the table, with his brown eyes narrowed.
"Who are these liars anyway? Are you sure someone doesn't just have it out for you?" When he didn't answer I said, "I can't believe you're taking the word of other people over mine."
"Your word means nothing. Our marriage has been a farce. You set me up on our one-night stand. How long were you planning it? When you were pleading for me to give you the three-month chance, was it just another way to sink your claws in deeper?"
"I'm not going to dignify those questions with answers."
"I'll take that as yes to the latter question I asked. I'd still love to know how long it took you to--."
"You think waking up after a blackout beside the CEO of Shetland Technology was a ploy?" I asked, cutting him off. "The last thing I remember was downing the 1988 bottle of Dom Perignon YOU bought for me."
"I bet you slipped me a pill when I'd stepped out."
"Wow, Chase. Besides being a con-artist, now I'm someone who removes consent from those I date?"
"Sign these papers. You don't have a choice. I'll have my best lawyers hound you until you can't leave your house. I have very persistent friends."
Once more he slid the forms over to my side of the table. I opened them, forcefully pursing my lips, unsure if I was going to involuntarily cry or scream. With a pen at the ready, I felt my body go numb as he handed it to me. Taking it out of his taut fingers, with trembling hands, I signed my name.
"Send me a copy of that," I demanded.
"I want you out of here as soon as possible and don't even think about taking anything with you. I know what you're all about now."
"But Chase, some of this stuff is mine!" I exclaimed as I stood up. He rose as well instantly reminding me that he was over a foot taller than me.
"Now it's mine. You've lived off me for long enough. And since I know exactly who you are now, you'll never get another thing from me. Get out!"
I was in such bewilderment after those final words that I couldn't move, but the sting of his harsh adaptation to our narrative and what he surmised about me was worse than having to leave. I chose the lesser of two evils and after grabbing my purse, walked out the door.
Luckily, I had been working secretly for a year, waiting for this very day. I'd saved thousands for our vacation so Chase wouldn't have to do anything other than pick where and what he wanted. We could go snorkeling, visit the Mayan ruins, see the jaguars, and eat plentifully for the few weeks we were there. Instead, I'd have to use that money to get me an apartment, my own car, and a new life.
I knew I wasn't a gold-digger. Not even close. I was raised to stand on my own two feet but not only that, superficial objects hardly had the importance that Chase thought they did. Sure, I liked nice things, but I was happy just being with Chase.
Before I left, I realized our townhouse was my favorite home that we had lived in together, so far. Our first place was also in New York City but closer to the Bronx. While Chase had money, he didn't like to flaunt it. The option to buy the townhouse had been my idea.
Were these the kind of behaviors that lent to his delusion about me being a sleazy fortune-hunter? My thought to move from the Bronx was spurred on because of our near-miss with a break-in. Chase had seen the man with a screwdriver, using it on our back screen window. My husband scared off the hooded stranger but didn't get a chance to identify the would-be intruder.
To me, the fear wasn't worth staying in the Bronx and we had the money to buy the townhouse. We had passed the place in his limo one afternoon and I mentioned that it was nice and far from where we were. I didn't want it because I was interested in showing off or getting my money's worth from Chase. I just knew we could swing the forty-million dollars and why not be safer?
Stepping outside to the busy city street, I gave the townhouse a final once over. I loved living here and it surely was beautiful, not to mention cozy. Chase had a way of making a place organized but also comfortable. I think I could have felt good with him even if we were homeless.
The clouds were thickening. I hailed a cab and directed the driver to take me to a local realty rental agency. Mist steadily coated the cab window as I silently said goodbye to the place, I called home. I felt pinches of anxiety in my chest and throat.
Whatever he thought about me didn't matter. My conscience was clear. I knew who I was. The issue I was struggling with now was how wrong I could have been about Chase.
Once we arrived at the agency, I handed the cabbie money for my fare, including a generous tip and then stepped onto the sidewalk. Pushing open the smoothly greased double doors into the building, I was greeted by an agent named Carol Dillinger. By that afternoon, my new apartment was rented. I could move in anytime.
***
Standing alone in the empty living room suddenly smothered me with grief. I sat down on the floor forcing myself not to cry. What was I going to do now?
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone