Page 5 of The Liar I Married
“Thank you, Michael. Maybe I’m making too much out of all this.” I chew on my bottom lip. “He does work hard and I knew it would be tougher this year since his promotion. I’m just lonely. Maybe I need to get a hobby?”
“That’s my girl.”Michael chuckles.“I saw a flyer about art classes just yesterday in the window of the convenience store. You like art.”
I brighten my attitude; sounding like a death knell won’t get me anywhere. “I’ll look into it. Now get back to work or you’ll be fired.”
After hanging up, a mix of gratitude and dread surrounds me. I open my laptop and search for Rebecca Lawson. In seconds my page fills with images of a remarkably beautiful, confident, poised woman. She has a social media page, and when I open it, it’s public, with images of her with congressmen, the mayor, and other dignitaries at various functions. I scan the images and my throat tightens as if I had a noose around my neck. She’s at a function wearing a tight black dress, stilettoes and holding a glass of champagne, and standing right beside her in his tux, blue eyes dancing with amusement and his lips spread in a wide smile, is John. I scroll through the files and find more images of them together. Pain stabs at my heart. Indecision grips me and suddenly my beautiful home means nothing to me. It’s an empty shell with all the happiness drained out.
FIVE
NOW
I walked today. Something that most people do without thinking but, for me, it took concentration, and the few steps to the bathroom were like walking a marathon. The shower taken seated on a plastic chair embarrassed me even though Dolly was very professional; being totally dependent on somebody else isn’t something I relish. No one had styled my hair for a long time and once dried it hung past my shoulders like a silk scarf. The mirror in the bathroom had been covered and I questioned the reason why. Dolly informs me that I wasn’t well enough to see myself. Have I turned into a monster? Is my face horribly scarred and the reason John didn’t want to kiss me?
I need an excuse for Dolly to move away for a second. “I feel really sticky. Is there any powder I can use?”
“Yes, but you’ll need to promise me you won’t move if I go and get it.” Dolly’s eyes bore into me as if trying to read my mind.
I raise both eyebrows and laugh. “Where exactly do you figure I would go?”
The moment the bathroom door swings shut, I push to my feet, spread my legs apart to keep my balance, and wobble to the sink. I dig my nails into the paper covering the mirror and shred it to stare at my reflection. The face that looks back at me isn’tdamaged. I know I’m thin—being in a coma does that to people—but my eyes look bigger than ever before, set in a very slim face. I’m surprised I don’t have any wrinkles. My forehead has always had a few but now it’s smooth and so is my face. I actually look ten years younger although my body is thinner than I imagined. I toss my head, watching my hair shimmer. Not one white hair either and, for thirty-five, that makes me happy. I turn to one side and notice a scar on my shoulder. I don’t recall ever hurting myself, but right now I don’t care. The door opens and Dolly comes into the room, frowning at me. I look at her and smile. “The sight of me didn’t make me hysterical after all, did it? I believe my face looks better than it did before the accident. Why is that, do you think?”
“From your file you suffered extensive facial injuries in the wreck.” Dolly powders me all over like a baby. “During the reconstructive surgery, a cosmetic surgeon was involved. I’m glad you are happy with the results.”
As she dresses me and I push my feet into pink silk slippers, I turn to look at her. “Do you know beforehand when my husband is coming to visit? The reason I’m asking is perhaps it would be nice if I wore a little makeup. He is acting like a stranger right now and seeing me looking normal might make things a little easier for him. I’m guessing he believes I’m an awakened corpse.”
“Sometimes he calls, sometimes he just drops by.” Dolly helps me to my feet and with one arm around my waist we head back to the bed. “Your mother-in-law is visiting today. I believe she is coming with the Realtor. She mentioned something about wanting to take measurements of something or another. She wasn’t very specific.”
Sweat trickles between my shoulder blades by the time I reach the bed. “Okay, thanks. I’m hot; will you please turn up the air conditioning?”
“Oh, yes, and the lawyer is coming tomorrow at eleven o’clock.” Dolly went to the control panel on the wall and then went back to the bathroom to clean up.
The door is open and I can see her collecting the towels and dropping them into a basket. “Do you know what his name is?”
“Her name is Rebecca Lawson.” Dolly smiles at me. “I’ll go and ask the housekeeper to bring your breakfast. It should be ready by now.”
Rebecca Lawson. The name is like a whip lashing across my mind. She is the woman I see with John. I thought it was a twisted illusion from a jealous wife. Now images of her with John run helter-skelter through my brain. Why would he send a corporate lawyer to see me? The memories come back in a sickening thud. Why would he send the woman he escorts to business dinners to see his poor, sick wife? There are so many things I need to get straight. My brother Michael will help. Why hasn’t he at least called? Maybe nobody has notified him.
My mind slips back to Rebecca Lawson. I recall the immaculate woman. Her good looks and stylish appearance had obviously caught my husband’s eye and likely continues to do so. In the photographs they look the perfect pair. After the twins were born, John refused to take me to his business dinners, saying one of us needed to be home for the girls. More likely my constantly frazzled appearance, after caring for two very demanding babies, didn’t fit with his image. My mind rushes from one scenario to another. What’s been happening in the last year? Has John been seeing someone while I was dying in the hospital? Has he created a new life for himself with Rebecca Lawson? My heart squeezes so tight I gasp for breath. Maybe he wants me to sign divorce papers?
“Is something wrong?” Dolly’s eagle eyes look at me suspiciously. “Have you remembered something?”
I shake my head and force a smile. “No, I was just thinking.” I sighed. “You know, trying to remember but it’s like walking in fog.” I rub my belly. “I’m starving, you mentioned breakfast?”
“I’ll head to the kitchen and Maria will be along soon. She’ll bring it before she cleans the room.” Dolly smoothed the blankets. “She’s the housekeeper.”
Whatever happened to Mrs. Jarvis? She loved her job and not having a family of her own, she’d looked on all of us as her surrogate family. I said nothing. I doubt if Dolly would even know about the old housekeeper. I know Mrs. Jarvis was left something in my grandmother’s will so maybe she decided to leave and find a place of her own.
A short while later, Maria comes into the room with a tray. She is in her thirties, maybe, dark hair curled up in a bun and wearing a pristine housekeeper-type uniform. She gives me a shy nod and sets up the overbed table for me without saying a word.
When she comes back later, she collects the tray and then makes quite a performance of cleaning everything; wiping down surfaces and then pushing the vacuum cleaner around the room. Once she’s done, she glances furtively out of the door, looking both ways along the passageway. She comes to the bedside and places a finger over her lips. I blink at her, not understanding what she wants, and then she presses a small envelope into my hand.
“This was handed to me by the gardener. He found it pinned to his shed.” Maria glances toward the door. “Dolly told me to hold all your mail but this looks personal.”
I squeeze her hand. “Thank you. I won’t tell her.”
As she leaves the room, I stare at the envelope, hesitant to open it. Hands trembling I tear it open. My name is typed and so is the message inside. My heart races at the warning.
Don’t trust anyone.
