Page 16 of The Auction
His eyes narrowed. He was close enough in my space, I could see all the scars along his face. Sometimes I wondered why he didn’t grow a beard to cover them.
“No.”
“Why not?” I shouted. “Who the fuck gets a farm and a house for fifty thousand dollars? I’m handing it to you. Just let me go!”
He shook his head. “When I got discharged I had to meet with a shrink for an evaluation. She said after big life events, you need to give shit time to settle. Whatever you felt for him, your pop just died. You need time to settle. I give you what you think you want and you’ll regret it. Maybe not in a few months, but in a few years you’ll look back and kick yourself in the ass. I’m not saying we were meant for each other. I’m not saying this is fucking fate. But I’ve come to realize these past few months, we’re a lot alike. We’re both strong. And stubborn. Most importantly, we’re both ruthless. Once you get over your silly, little girl dreams about Prince Charming and making love on a cloud, you’ll see that this could be a good life for us.”
“You’re delusional,” I told him.
“Maybe. But I’m not giving you the money. I’m not stepping out on you. And I’m sure as hell not divorcing you. So, let’s just go inside and get on with the business of living.”
He pulled away then and I got out of the truck. Together, we walked into the house.
I went to my room and he went to his.
We both needed to change and do chores. A farm didn’t stop for funerals.
When I closed the bedroom door behind me, I thought for a second he might try something now. This was the first time we were in the house alone without Herb or his dead body.
All that talk about making it good for me…maybe he wouldn’t call it rape, maybe he would just call it whatever the hell he wanted to.
But my door stayed closed.
And if my nipples were hard when I took off my nice bra to replace it with a more practical sports bra, I blamed it on the house being cold.
FIVE
JULIETTE
Ways to getyour husband to divorce you: Part I
The silent treatment.It was a time honored tradition women had been practicing for years. It didn’t require much effort. It made everything uncomfortable, which brought home the point that this was not going to be an enjoyable living environment.
Which meant he should seek life elsewhere.
Unfortunately, we were a week into this experiment and Creed seemed unfazed.
I’d put a schedule on the refrigerator for meals, food shopping, and general area cleaning.
He was on his own for cleaning his bedroom, bathroom and his own laundry. I had no idea if he kept up with any of it, because I didn’t care.
We didn’t share meals. There was no television in the house. (Herb had been certain all entertainment was the work of the devil.) If I was in the study at the computer,Creed was out working the fields. If I was collecting eggs from the chicken coop, he was in the study. He had his own laptop. A sleek MacBook Air that I was only slightly envious of as my seven year old Dell was dying a slow death.
Still, no more locks to pick to get access to the internet.
I had my own transportation now and had been in town several times on my own to go to the grocery store and pick up other supplies.
Although, not the hardware store.
I wasn’t ready to face Kevin yet. He would have heard about the lie I told, about how Creed and I had been pen pals for years. He would have felt betrayed by that, and I just didn’t have enough energy to let myself feel guilty about that.
That first trip to Nash’s grocery store, though, had been a special time. Alone. On my own without any kind of deadline to return. I might have spent hours wandering each and every aisle of the tiny store, investigating every single option I had.
The freedom had been dizzying.
Still, my opening silent salvo wasn’t helping my cause.
Creed didn’t question the schedule, the chores, or the silence.
