Page 62 of Silent Ties

“She throws them away.”

Does she? There’s always something in the kitchen, but I don’t pay attention.

“Why are you crying?” This isn’t the sobs I’ve seen before. Her face is red and blotchy, but otherwise, her body remains eerily still.

“Because I’m so fucking tired.”

“Then go to bed.” Instead of watching TV with my brother.

“No. Of all of it. You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.” Fuck’s sake I practically walk around hard at all times. “If I hated you, you’d know it.”

“Well you don’t like me.” The words are so dark they strike me. I blink at my wife. “You want my body. And my loyalty and that’s it.”

Isn’t that most marriages? My mouth opens, but the thought doesn’t articulate itself.

“I’ve tried all this time to be your good girl.” She hugs herself closer, her face creasing further. “I act like a brat because I know you like it. And I deal with your mother!”

The words rip out of her.

“But I’m tired. I’m tired of your silence and I’m tired of constantly being spied on and I fucking hate boring ass salads every damn day of my life! I know you’re mad that I helped Marissa, that you ended up tied to me, but what about me? Nobody asked if I wanted to be slapped around all because I tried to help Daisy.”

A jealous monster always eats away at me when Daisy comes up in conversation. Not that that’s often. She never mentions her, but I know the girl is always on Russet’s mind.

Ren didn’t bring back much information.

“Whatever happened,” Ren said, a seriousness on the woman’s face that wasn’t normal, “it was bad.”

It’s left me with frustratingly nothing. Who is this girl Russet willing walked through fire for? Even now the name brings renewed sobs, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“I knew it was wrong.” She aggressively rubs her nose, her voice watery but stronger. I’m relieved at the fire. I’d rather that than the lifeless doll from a few minutes ago. “I knew he just wanted to piss you off, but I didn’t care because he got Olga to go away.”

Olga’s come up in this conversation too many times in my opinion. And now that I’m thinking about it she’s right. Olga’s not here. She always waits to leave until I’m gone, that way somebody’s here with Russet.

“Why don’t you like Olga?” I ask, confused.

Disgust breaks through her despondent mask. “Fuck that bitch!”

“Hey!” I don’t know if I’ve ever defended a maid before, but I’m taken aback by the vitriol.

It reminds me, though, of an incident from a couple of weeks back. I’d come home to change between meetings and walked into the kitchen to find Russet telling Olga she thought the smoothie she’d made for her tasted awful. Olga’s blank eyes panned to me as if to silently say, ‘See what I’m dealing with.’ She went back to cleaning the living room and I told Russet off for being rude. I’d never seen her blush so badly and I assumed it came from embarrassment.

More like barely contained anger.

“I know all she does is spy on me,” Russet says and now her disgust is directed at me.

But I can’t stop my laugh. “You think I need the help of a housemaid to know what you’re up to?”

Her jaw clenches tighter, her arms tucking her knees to her chest.

“I’m not patronizing you.” I somehow go from wanting to strangle her to trying to make her feel better in the span of minutes.

“Elijah doesn’t like her either.”

“Mention his name one more time, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.”

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