Page 12 of Centering Kaos

“Yes ma’am. I was a model of self-restraint.” I was so pissed I could barely get the words out. My hands shook as I started up the car. The fucker had gotten under my skin, and I needed to get out of there before I did something stupid like march my ass back into that house and put Matt Parker through a wall.

“You don’t sound very restrained.”

“I’ve played my hand and done my part. The game face is down. It took everything in me not to put my foot up his ass.”

“We’ll get him, Kaos. In a way that doesn’t land you in jail and implicate Tina. I’ll meet you at the fire station. You can let off some steam in the basement gym. I’ll even call ahead, and Shari will have a strong drink waiting for you.”

I turned the corner and stepped on the gas, getting as far away from temptation as possible as I headed for the Dead Presidents headquarters. “You’re too good to me. See you soon, boss.”

5

Tina

IKEPT ONE eye on the time as I used my phone’s browser to check out the local help wanted ads. It was three-twenty-two p.m., which meant the first televised basketball game of the day had started. Where was Kaos? I pictured him turning into my neighborhood and getting an eyeful of the beautiful blue cage I’d broken free from.

God, I hated that house.

It was Matt’s dream, but all I saw was a prison. And I’d stepped into that cell and locked myself in all too willingly. It hadn’t started out like that. When I got pregnant with Dylan, I had every intention of finding a job as soon as he was born. But, without my degree, nothing paid enough to cover the cost of day care. Matt came from money and made more than enough to support us. I let him talk me into staying home until Dylan stopped breastfeeding. And then until he started kindergarten. Somewhere along the line, I stopped fighting for myself completely.

I couldn’t argue with Matt’s logic. Besides, when we’d lived in our old apartment building, being a stay-at-home mom hadn’t been all bad. I’d made friends in the building, and my sister was within walking distance. Matt worked long hours, but I wasn’t entirely by myself with Dylan when he was gone.

Then Matt surprised me with the house.

Most women would be over-the-moon at the immaculate modern kitchen and the giant walk-in closets, but all I saw was isolation. Duvall was twenty-five miles from my friends and sister, and I didn’t have a car. Matt had grinned from ear to ear as he showed me around my pretty blue cage, but I felt the walls closing in on me.

Regardless, I didn’t want to be miserable, so I tried to make the move work. I filled my lonely days with gardening, cooking, and interior design. Heck, I even tried to fit in with the catty, pretentious housewives of our upscale suburban neighborhood. But I hadn’t come from money and couldn’t care less who was carrying around a knock-off purse. No matter how I tried to keep busy, I missed my squad.

Even as my house and garden thrived, I withered away.

I begged Matt to sell the house and move us back into the city, but he never let my wants and needs get in the way of what he believed was best. Twisting my words and turning himself into a victim, he made me feel so damn ungrateful I hated myself for even making the suggestion.

After our fight that night, he left to get some air. Now, I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d visited his prostitute. If she’d taken the beating he’d wanted to give to me. Had that been the first time? Or was it when he found out I’d gotten an IUD and didn’t want to have any more children? Even back then I must have sensed something was… off with my husband.

Matt beat women. I’d seen the box of Polaroids with my own eyes, and had felt his fists against my skin, but I still had trouble wrapping my mind around his crimes.

I wasn’t a perfect wife, but I’d tried. My efforts didn’t matter. He’d been so desperate to beat the crap out of me that he’d found a whipping girl with my likeness. He said she was just a prostitute, but I wished I had a way to contact her so I could warn her. Who knew what he’d do to that poor woman once Kaos served him divorce papers?

He’s gonna be so pissed. I should be packing.

Too bad I had nowhere to go. Even if I did, the old Mazda I’d paid cash for with my first post-Matt paycheck would be lucky to make it out of city limits, much less across state lines. The balance in my checking account could cover a couple of value meals and a tank of gas, but that was about it.

Maybe I should have waited to serve him papers until I was financially stable and ready to run, but that could take years, and I’d already given up so much of my life for Matt. I refused to give him one day more. I only hoped my haste to get free of him wouldn’t come back to bite me in the butt.

“You okay over there?” my sister asked.

I’d been so deep in my thoughts I hadn’t even heard Elenore come in. Still in her workout clothes, she went straight to the refrigerator and refilled her metal water bottle. Two years younger, four inches taller, and way more intelligent than I, my little sister had her life together. Since I’d moved away, she’d poured herself into her career and her health, and she was killin’ it on the life front. I was happy for her, but her success could be a little intimidating at times. Especially when my life was in the toilet.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied. Fine was my go-to state of mind. If nobody was dead, it was fine. I could have a broken beer bottle sticking out of my gushing jugular, and still insist I was fine. It was a mindset, really.

“I’m fine, it’s fine, everything’s fine,” She said, repeating my mantra in a sing-songy voice. “You, my sister, are plenty of things, butfineis not one of them.”

Yeah, so I occasionally lied about my level of coping, and she called me out on it. That was kind of our thing.

“Are you calling me ugly?” I asked, trying my best to sound offended. Whenever lying didn’t work on Elenore, I deflected.

“No. I’m calling your life a dumpster fire.”

She had me there. I couldn’t help but snort out a laugh as I shook my head. “Fair enough.”

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