Page 81 of Like An Animal
He looks pensive as I huff.
“Of course, you didn’t. All I ever am to anyone is a tool or a toy and you’re no different. Just a fucking disappointment.” With that, I turn around and walk off toward the kitchen, hoping he’ll give me the space I need.
Not like that will change anything.
CHAPTER 33
THE SHADOW
Iwatch Charlotte and Bronwyn from the doorway of Charlotte’s new room. It was finished being set up a few hours ago and the way she screamed when she saw it was something I have committed to memory.
It was a scream of pure joy.
My wife hasn’t spoken to me or anyone else besides our daughter since her blow-up earlier. I’ve tried to talk to her, but she either ignores me or tells me to go away. I want to grab her and drag her upstairs to teach her a lesson for defying me, but I’ve never seen her this emotionally raw and resigned.
She thinks I abandoned her, but I didn’t, did I? I had Hector looking after her, but he lost her after three days. She ran away in the dead of night.
What the hell am I missing here?
The only reason I have to be mad at her is that she married that piece of crap that tried to kill her, but I will hold onto that anger as long as I need to or I’ll push it down, whichever will make things better.
“I like it here, Mommy,” Charlotte says as Bronwyn tucks her in with a small chuckle.
“Do you?”
Charlotte nods with so much enthusiasm. “Can we stay with Daddy?”
I listen closely for Bronwyn’s answer, wanting some kind of glimpse into where her head is at, but she just smirks at Charlotte.
“Let’s get Dottie settled in, too,” Bronwyn teases as she tucks the ratty doll in next to our daughter, who snickers. “Dottie and Lottie, all snug as a bug.”
“In a rug!” She tucks her arms under her blanket, a big smile plastered across her face, completely distracted from her previous question.
“That’s right. And what do bugs in rugs do?”
“They sleep,” Charlotte responds as if this has been a well-rehearsed part of their nightly routine for a while, one I have never been present for before.
“Atta girl.”
Charlotte turns over in bed, facing me, before Bronwyn stands up. “Night, Daddy!”
Anytime she calls me that, it does something strange to me, something akin to making me feel emotional. It makes my chest feel tight.
“Goodnight, Charlotte.”
She smiles at me before pressing her face into her pillow.
“Sweet dreams, baby,” Bronwyn says before walking out of the room, squeezing past me. She closes the door, but before she can walk away, I wrap my arm around her waist, holding on tightly.
She glares up at me as she digs her nails into my forearm. “Stop ignoring me. I can be an asshole, but if you want me to be nice, I expect the same from you. Don’t test me.”
She digs in her nails until I feel the skin break. “Oh, do you think I’m being mean just because I haven’t been talking to you? You’ve had five years to get used to me not talking. Now it's anissue? Why? Is it because I’m right in front of you instead of in another state? Did I bruise your ego?”
“Stop it with the theatrics. Act like a fucking adult and talk to me. If you’re pissed off, tell me. If you don’t speak up, nothing can be addressed.”
She tilts her face to the side. “You would like that, wouldn’t you? You always wanted me to do all the work anyway. You would sit there in silence and I would fill it. I would ask the questions while you gave one word responses. Now you get to see what it's like to want answers and have no one there willing to explain.”
Is that really how she felt all those years ago? She didn’t make anything easy for me, but I wasn’t trying to make things hard on her either. I just haven’t liked talking since the explosion. I can talk, but I don’t like having to explain my actions or thoughts.
