Page 10 of The Sound Of Us

Another careful in-breath.

“You remember James?” Frank asks, grabbing his blue plate of food from my hands.

Pepper comes to stand next to me. Frank glares at her. She bit him once when he hit me, so now she has to stay outside when Frank feels like it. Pepper is one of the reasons I spend so much time outside, especially at night. I hate that she has to sleep outside sometimes.

“Get this mutt outside,” Frank growls.

Pepper growls back. She has no self-preservation. I stroke her discreetly, urging her to stop.

Thump. Thump. Thump. My heartbeat races out of control. Maybe they did some drugs after work. Frank likes to work up to the beating when he’s high on my pain meds and whatever else they mix together. Frank says he’s not a drug addict (don’t reduce me to the likes of your mother, Axel) but I don’t know if I believe him.

“Yes, Frank.” My best non-confrontational voice, answering both his question and his statement.

“He came by the store this afternoon.”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“Couldn’t stop talking about how pretty you are. Get this fuckin’ dog outside.”

I send a protesting Pepper outside and shut the door. She scratches and whines, but I don’t want her getting Frank’s boot, too.

Sliding into the chair next to Frank, I scoop three medium size hard-boiled eggs into his plate.

Someone might wonder why I chose to sit close to him when it’s clearly the most dangerous place for me to have chosen, but you have to understand that Frank is very watchful.

If I sit across from him now that he’s mentioned James’ name, he’ll think I have something to hide. Sitting close like this gives my husband some comfort, knowing that no matter what happens, I’ll always be here like a good Christian husband should.

There isn’t a correct response to Frank’s statement. Nothing I say will be good enough when he’s decided that today wasn’t going to be my lucky day. Right now, I choose silence. I need more time to assess this situation. To predict the outcome of whatever it is Frank is thinking about.

It isn’t by choice that I keep the air trapped inside my chest while I wait for the consequence of my silence. I simply can’t breathe.

“You know what your problem is, Axel?”

Silence was the wrong choice.

“You think you’re too pretty.”

I touch the tips of my fingers to his clenched fist. A smile I don’t want to give him, a smile he doesn’t deserve, touches my lips. “If I’m pretty at all, it’s only for you, Frank.”

He sneers, nasty and ugly. “You need a haircut. Walkin’ around with those curls like fuckin’ Goldilocks.”

“Okay. Tomorrow. More stew?”

“Not tomorrow. The boys are comin’ over.” And then, “Yeah. Why’s is this food so acidic? How many times did I tell you to cut the acid with sugar?”

“I’m sorry, Frank.”

“Don’t be sorry. Next time, don’t be such a dumbass. My money don’t come easy. At least cook us a decent meal every now and then. Is that too much to ask for around here?”

“No, Frank.” I rise from my chair. “Here, let me try to fix it,” I say as softly as possible, while reaching for Frank’s plate. I’m not sure how I’ll fix it since I already cut the acid with sugar earlier and if I add more, he’ll say it’s too much sugar, but I’ll think of something.

Frank shoves my hand back. The screech of the chair as he pushes away from the table hurts my ears.

I haven’t yet had a plate thrown at me at such close range, not even a blue one, but something tingles at the base of my spine and bile churns sickeningly low in my stomach. I sit back down, keeping my eyes fixed on the table.

It's NO LUBE FRIDAY. Let’s go.

Chapter 5

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