Page 27 of Summer Shivers
“Like what?”
“I don’t want to go into it now.” She sighs. Suffice it to say, if I’d known then what I know now, maybe I would’ve killed him.”
“Don’t be tellin’ too many people that.” I chuckle, finishing off my first plate of food.
“Anyway, I’m sorry I forgot about the anniversary of your brother’s death. Are you okay?”
That stops me for a second. Not that I forgot, but I went through the day not doing the things I normally do and I’m not sure how I feel about it. Kept my mind off it. Which can be good. But I didn’t get a chance to ‘talk’ to my brother, which I miss.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m good.” I stand to grab seconds and another beer. “Need anything?” I gesture to the kitchen.
“No.”
When I get back with my second plate piled high with food, I notice she’s barely touched hers. But her wine glass is freshly filled. And she’s turned on the outside heaters.
“You drink a lot of wine.” I don’t think she has a problem, at least not a serious one, I’m just curious to see what her answer is.
“Yep.” She puts an unnecessary emphasis on the ‘p’ sound, leading me to believe she doesn’t want to talk about it.
So, I change the subject. “Why’d Harrison and his first wife get a divorce?”
“He found out she was having an affair, and he couldn’t forgive her for it,” Genevieve tells me, which gets me thinking. Would Harrison have an affair with his ex-wife, after she did it to him?
“And how did she feel about the divorce?”
“Harrison said it was bitter, she was fighting him on a lot, but in the end, he had the better lawyer.” Genevieve finishes pretending to eat her food and set’s her plate aside. “Why do you ask?”
“I met her today. There was something about her which didn’t sit right with me.” I place my empty plate on the table and grab another beer. “Wanted to know her story,” I add.
“We’ve never had a problem with each other. At least not much of one. She can be bitchy, throws comments around here and there sometimes about how I took him away from her, even though we all know that’s not what happened. Nothing too much worse than that, though. Did she say anything about me?”
“Only that you did it.”
Genevieve scoffs. “Of course. That would make her life easier. With me out of the way there’d be nothing to prevent the girls from getting everything after Harrison died.” Genevieve looks at her phone. “They haven’t even returned my calls.” She looks up at me through her eyelashes. I can see the disappointment in her eyes. “How can I tell them I didn’t do it, if they won’t even speak to me?” She’s about to cry.
Fuck.
I don’t trust myself to touch her.
If I don’t, she’ll cry.
Can’t fucking handle that either.
“They’ll come around. Just in shock is all.” Against my better judgement, I get up to go sit next to her. She leans into me like it’s normal to do so. I take it one step further and wrap an arm around her. Then seal my own fate by making a promise I’m not sure I can keep. “We’ll find out what happened. It’ll be okay.”
She wraps her arms around my waist. “Thank you for believing me when no one else does.” She whispers into my chest; her body relaxes into mine.
When I lie down on that outside sofa, with Genevieve still in my arms, I tell myself it’s so she can finally get some sleep without images of Harrison’s floating body forcing her awake. When I start to sweat, I tell myself it’s the warmth of the patio heater beating down on us, combined with a whole other body lying on me. And pretend it has nothing at all to do with my own needs or desires. And when I sleep the night through for the first time in four years, I tell myself it was the ocean air and the sounds of the waves that lulled me to it.
fourteen
GENEVIEVE
It's beena while since I've slept a full night on my own without the aid of pills. If it wasn't for Tyler, I don't think it would have happened. He kept me close to him all night, and I felt safe and secure.
We have a meeting with his attorney friend this morning. But I’m not ready to move from my spot yet, the same couch we woke on, an hour before. I drink my coffee, look at the beautiful blue ocean, and force myself to remember the times Harrison and I had been happy here.
Even with the weight of his betrayal hanging over me, I need to remind myself of better times. The joy in wanting to start a family. The weekends when Harrison would step away from his computer and let loose for a while. Driving up and down the coast trying to find towns we’d never been to before. Harrison making fun of me dancing in the kitchen while I cooked. How he couldn’t carry a tune, but still loved to sing.
