Page 2 of Until Tomorrow Comes
We hadn’t even made it halfway through dinner with our families when it became painfully obvious that the two of them were not going to get along. After dinner, my brother pulled me aside and told me that something about Zack wasn’t sitting right with him. I started to tell him there was nothing to worry about, when Zack walked in saying his mother needed me, leaving him alone with Alan.
I never found out what happened between them, but after that night, Zack refused to go to any family events if my brother was attending. He claimed my brother made him feel uncomfortable and unwelcome. And because I didn’t want to upset my husband, I stopped inviting Alan to our weekly family dinners.
The last time I saw him was for my twenty-fifth birthday dinner, three months into my marriage.
Originally, I wanted the night to be low key. Just family and a couple of close friends. But Zack’s family thought we should use the opportunity to invite some potential partners and help grow my father’s business.
That was how my low-key birthday turned into an over-the-top birthdaygala.Which wasn’t what I wanted.
Regardless of my evening being hijacked, I still wanted my brother to be there. So despite Zack’s hatred for Alan, I sent him an invitation. Unfortunately, that’s how the night ended in a huge fight between us all.
I stepped out into the hallway, intent on finding Alan and begging him to get along with Zack for my sake. Instead, I found him already yelling at our parents for how selfish they were and accusing them of being blinded by the glamorous life they now had.
What I heard my brother say that night has been burned into the back of my mind ever since.
“Zack is poison to her. He’s got you all fooled with this good guy act, when really him and his entire family, are shady as fuck. Your heads are so far up their asses that you don’t see they’re using you all. And Kat is going to be the one to pay the consequences. But apparently you’re fine with using your daughter as part of a fucking business deal.”
I remember my dad scoffing, telling Alan he was overreacting. I remember Zack telling him to fuck off. And I remember Alan turning to glare at me in disappointment.
“You know better than this, Kat. You’re not this stupid.”
That was the last thing my brother said to me before he stormed off. I hadn’t spoken to him since.
But since then his words have played on repeat, dancing forward daily, as things began to spiral in my marriage.
Yeah, we were all blind.
Three months later, Zack hit me for the first time.
My eyes land on the shattered frame across the room, the crack in the glass going straight down the middle between mine and Zack’s smiling faces. A tear slips down my cheek while my own beaming smile taunts me from a distance.
The memory of the first hit rams into me like a freight train. It feels like a lifetime ago.
We were having a disagreement after coming home from a dinner party for his work. He was drunk and accused me of flirting with his boss. I tried calming him down, and explaining that I was simply making conversation with his boss and his wife, but Zack just started yelling. He claimed I was calling him a liar and before I knew what was happening, he slapped me across the face.
At first we werebothso shocked that we simply stared at each other. But then Zack snapped out of it, and began apologizing profusely. He blamed the alcohol for bringing out the worst in him, and was so sweet and attentive for the following few days. I wanted to believe it when he said that it was all just a drunken mistake.
Afterall, everyone makes mistakes.
However, the next fight was a couple weeks later, when dinner wasn’t ready as he came home from work. According to my husband, it should have been plated the moment he walked in the door. That day shoved me against the door frame, causing a nasty bruise down my back.
It only got worse from there.
I didn’t even realize how detached and numb to the pain I had become.
Until yesterday, my twenty-sixth birthday.
My husband slammed the door behind him as he headed out into the February snow and left me in the painful silence of our home. Without even saying “Happy Birthday.” That’s when I realized that no one even remembered what day it was. There was no phone call from Mom or Dad, and there wasn’t even a text from my brother.
It was the first time in my life that Alan hadn’t called me on my birthday.
Thathurt more than anything Zack had ever said or done.
In the numb silence, I found myself standing at the sink in our bathroom. That’s when I did something that I hadn’t done in the past year: I looked at the reflection staring back at me.
This time it was more than just the mindless glance as I applied makeup to cover up a bruise. Instead, I sucked in a deep breath, searching for whatever courage I had buried deep down, and forced myself to meet my own gaze.
I didn’t even recognize myself.
