Page 43 of Dare
Gillumbers out from the bedroom, his considerable gut leading the way, and grabsthe bag from her hand. “About damn time.”
“Sorry,we had to work over a little.”
Grumbling,he makes his way back to the bedroom without acknowledging me, bottle in hand.
Merryfucking Christmas. Why did I come here again? I should be with Dare. “Do youwant something to eat or drink?”
“Nothanks. I stopped on the way.” Years of watching Gil scratch his nuts and pickhis nose, then plunge his hands into the ice cube tray have taught me to avoidrefreshments at their house.
“Iwas going to make a turkey dinner tomorrow, but I couldn’t afford to get theingredients.” I don’t doubt it, since every dime she makes goes to Gil’svices…and his new car.
“Iwas hoping to take you out to dinner tomorrow evening. Martha’s is open andserving Christmas dinner.”
Nervouseyes meet mine. “That sounds great. I’ll have to see what Gil wants, though. Heand Martha had a falling out years ago, so he usually won’t go there.”
I’mat the end of my patience. “So, come without him. I’m only here until tomorrownight.”
“I’llsee. I’ll talk him into it.”
Talkhim into letting her have dinner with her daughter on Christmas. I’m sodisgusted. This isn’t one of those typical situations where the timid littlehousewife is afraid of her husband. He’s not violent or abusive, just petulantand demanding, as dangerous as a typical three year old throwing a tantrum.
Andshe isn’t weak. She proves that anytime anyone says something negative aboutGil, and she attacks like a rabid dog. She loves him. Nothing and nobody elsematters, including herself.
Myhead suddenly starts to ache, the smell of alcohol turning my stomach.“Claudia!” Gil bellows from the bedroom. “You took one of my Vicodin!”
“No,I didn’t!” she screams back. She probably did. Mom doesn’t drink, but pillshave always been her thing.
“Ihad twelve, now there’s eleven!”
“I’mgoing to go,” I tell her. “I’ll call you tomorrow about dinner.”
“Okay,honey.” She’s barely listening, eager to get back to the bedroom and placatethat idiot.
WhenI let myself out the front door, I feel nothing but relief. No matter howfucked up my life may have turned out, I’m not like her. No man will evercontrol my life.
Lightsnow flutters down, coating the ground as I make my way to one of the twohotels in this small town. A small curse leaves my lips when I approach thedesk. Terry Briggs is the night clerk. Every town has a busybody who is up onall the gossip, and Terry holds that honor here.
“Ayda!I heard you were coming to town to see your mama.” Her eyes scan over the scarson my cheek, and the corners of her lips tuck in. “I was just remarking toLettie the other day how you never come around. Was such a shame what happenedto you. I’ve been praying for you.”
Tryingnot to roll my eyes, I hand her my credit card. “Thanks. If I can just get mykeycard.”
“Ofcourse! You must be tired after that drive. Heard you moved to Indianapolis.”She hands me the card and I make a quick retreat down the hall. By tomorrow I’msure half the town will know I’m here.
Atleast the room is clean and comfortable. I spend half an hour lounging in thetub, wishing I had never come here. I’ll have dinner with Mom tomorrow, thenhead back home. My head still throbs when I crawl into bed, and my throat isstarting to hurt. Great. I really don’t need to get sick right now.
Myphone rings and Dare’s smirking face greets me. “Hey, darlin’. Did you make itokay?”
“MmmHmm. Just crawled into bed. This place is deserted,” I laugh.
“Yourmom’s house?”
“No,the Comfort Inn. Guess there’s not a lot of demand on Christmas Eve.”
“Whyare you in a hotel? I thought you were visiting your family?”
Turningover, I sigh. “It’s a long story. I don’t feel very well right now, Dare. I’llcall you in the morning, okay?”
“Areyou sick?”
