Page 48 of Every Silent Lie
No.
Her smile drops, as does her phone from her ear. And we stare at each other, neither of us knowing what to do or say.
I’m paralysed.
I can’t breathe.
The gloves and hat fall from my hands.
“Camryn,” she breathes.
Run.
I turn and hurry out of the store, hearing her calling me as I go. My rushed steps turn into a jog. “Camryn, please!” My jog turns into a run.
And I don’t stop.
Not until I make it back to my apartment.
Kicking my boots off and letting my coat drop to the floor, I rush to my bedroom and crawl under the covers, letting the darkness swallow me whole.
Hiding.
But the problem with being in darkness? There’s nothing else to focus on, leaving only the face of the woman who destroyed my life.
December 11th
The office is sparse of employees, all having used the snow as an excuse not to come in to work. Flakes. I left home half hour earlier than usual this morning, sporting a sophisticated pencil dress and my Merry People wellington boots, my heels in my bag, but I still made it to the office. I look over to the radiator that’s buried under my coat and boots. I was soaked through, my lips blue, but I made it.
Trying to find warmth has been a waste of time, the tips of my fingers still slightly numb come four o’clock. I’ve been lost in the draft accounts for most of the day, silently seething. Not just because of what I’m reading, but because Thomas isn’t here, and the snow is a perfect excuse for him to avoid me. I’m also wondering why I’ve not heard from Dec. I’ve typed out endless messages to him when I’ve taken breaks from the carnage that is the draft accounts for TF Shipping, but I didn’t send any of them. My heart is willing me on, demanding I reach out to him. It's screaming, “Heal me, save me.” My head wants nothing to do with the madness.
Debbie enters after knocking and gives me an apologetic smile, having me immediately worried about what’s happened. “What is it?” I ask.
“It’s my husband.”
“What about your husband?”
“Well, you see, the schools are closed, and my husband’s day was cancelled, but he’s had an emergency crop up and needs to go into work. Do you mind if I shoot off? I’m up to date, and I’ve cleared my in tray.”
“Your husband’s job is more important than yours?”
“He’s a surgeon.”
“Oh.”
“All his ops were cancelled, given the weather, but there’s been an RTA on the M25.”
I flinch, nodding. “Sure, get yourself home.”
“Thanks, Camryn. Just give me a call if you need anything.”
I nod, the door closes, and I blink rapidly, fighting back the flashbacks that come at me without mercy. “Fuck off,” I murmur, dipping and reaching into my bag, dragging out my divorce papers and slamming them on my desk. My pen is a weight in my hand as I flick through to the final page, finding the empty signature line and staring at it.
Unreasonable behaviour.
They’re the only words I see.
Unreasonable. Behaviour.
