Page 159 of Cul-de-sac

“No! I told her that my bruises had nothin’ to do with you.”

“So…youdidtalk about your bruises,” he says with a smile, as if she’s fallen into some sort of trap.

“No.Shetalked about them. She was concerned ’cause she’s seen them other times as well….”

“What other times?”

Dani hesitates. “At the barbecue.”

“You said othertimes. Plural.”

“Well…when she came to my office…”

“When did she come to your office?”

“It was a bit ago. She needed a crown. I told you.”

“No. You didn’t.”

“Well, then, I guess it slipped my mind. It wasn’t that important.”

“Our neighbor accuses me of beating my wife and you don’t think it’s important?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Whatdidyou say?”

“I don’t know. You’re gettin’ me all confused.”

“People don’t get confused if they’re telling the truth.”

“Iamtellin’ the truth.”

“Tell me exactly what you said to her when she accused me of beating you.”

“I told her she was crazy, that you had nothin’ to do with my bruises, that I was just plain old clumsy, and that you were good and kind and gentle. But she just kept at me.”

“Really? How so?” He takes a step forward.

Dani takes a step back. “She said that she knew what was goin’ on, that she knew you were beatin’ me, that I wasn’t responsible for your bad behavior, that you were never gonna change….”

“What else?” He takes another step forward.

Dani backs up until she feels the island at her back. “She said I should call the police, file a complaint…”

“You going to do that, Dani? You going to call the police? You going to file a complaint?”

“No, of course not. I would never…”

“Go ahead,” he says, grabbing the landline from the counter and waving the receiver in front of her face. “Call the police, Dani. Call them now.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I said call them!” He swings the receiver at her head.

Dani feels a flash of intense pain as the receiver connects with the side of her head, and she stumbles, her knees buckling, one hand grabbing at the island to stop her fall, the other shooting behind her, slapping against the glass of the fishbowls. She brings her hand to her face, swipes at the blood seeping from the gash on her cheek.

“You dumb bitch!” he yells. “Now look what you made me fucking do!”

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