Page 37 of Parrish

Chapter Fifteen

Reina Parrish

I woke up expecting to have my husband’s arms wrapped safely around my body, but there was no trace of Jack anywhere in our bedroom which caused me to panic. I jumped out of the bed as if it was on fire and scrambled to pull on my robe. I thought I’d find him in Danny’s room, but our son was sound asleep and again, there was no sign of my husband.

Fearing the worst, I ran down the stairs and nearly tripped over my own two feet. The first thing I noticed was that the frames above the mantle were scattered across the floor. The gaping holes in the wall stared back at me, informing me that my husband was suffering a breakdown. I called his name, and he emerged from the kitchen, holding a spatula in his hand.

His concerned gaze moved from me to the picture frames decorating the floor and I knew immediately he had no recollection of removing them from the hooks. While the realization broke my heart, it only angered Jack. and He quickly tossed the spatula onto the dining room table before bending to his knees to clean the mess he had made. I tried to stop him, assured him it was fine, that I would take care of it later but in his manic state he started to hang the pictures on the wall. It was almost as if he thought covering the holes would somehow heal the illness that caused them.

When the last frame was secured in its rightful place, Jack turned to me as if nothing had happened and told me he had cooked breakfast. Initially I was taken back by his careless attitude and wondered if he remembered taking the deal. Did he realize in a few hours we’d be kissing each other goodbye?

It wasn’t until he pushed a plate of bacon and eggs in front of me and revealed he was going to wake up Danny for our last meal together that I knew he was very much aware this was the end.

At least for now.

As he went to get our son, I fixed my mask to my face and glanced at the clock, noticing it wasn’t ticking. I stared at it thinking my eyes were playing tricks on me before I turned to look at the digital clock on the stove. The numbers blinked rapidly, making it known that another clock had been tampered with.

One might argue that there may have been a power shortage in the middle of the night but that didn’t explain why the battery-operated clock on the wall wasn’t working. It was no coincidence. It was my husband’s feeble attempt to make time stand still.

Pushing back the chair, I make my way to the stove and stretch my arm across the burners to reset the clock when Jack’s voice booms from behind me.

“Don’t,” he calls.

My hand pauses on the digital display as I glance over my shoulder and meet Jack’s intense stare. His gaze burns through me, pleading with me to leave the clocks alone. Taking him in, I notice he’s dressed for the day and my arm quickly drops away. Realizing it’s the last time I’ll see my husband dressed in his street clothes, that for the next thirteen years he’ll be sporting an orange jumpsuit, my throat grows dry and I fight the urge to cry.

“Good morning, Mommy,” Danny says, diverting my attention to the innocent child perched high on his father’s shoulders.

Staring at him, I force a smile in hopes of masking the heartbreak reflected in my eyes. Jack bends down and sets our son on his feet. The two of them move towards the table and as Jack fills Danny’s plate I can’t help but feel as if I’m living in some sort of alternate universe. Danny is too young to understand fully what is going on, but Jack is acting as if it’s an ordinary day, like he won’t be turning himself over to the authorities after we take our son to school.

Not wanting to infringe on their time together or worse, have my son see me so angry, I excuse myself and make my way back upstairs. I have another good long cry in the shower before pulling myself together. As I dress, I give myself a pep talk, reiterating all the things I’ve been telling myself since this whole mess imploded in our faces.

After I fix my hair and pull on my boots, I close the bedroom door and call Grace. She informs me she finally got through to Victor’s attorney, but he wouldn’t discuss much over the phone. On top of that, he had a full case load and was pressed for time. He then offered to have his son meet us at the district attorney’s office. I hung up with Grace and decided not to tell Jack about the lawyer. Sure, I felt guilt keeping him in the dark, but I also knew he would never allow me to intervene in any way. It wasn’t that Jack didn’t consider me his equal or didn’t respect our marriage. Since he’s been off the Lithium and struggling with the new medication, he feels like less of a man. The less involvement he thinks I have, the less of a burden he thinks he is.

The distinct rumble of a pack of motorcycles draws me away from my thoughts and immediately a sickening feeling gnaws at my insides. Narrowing my eyes, I glance towards the window as the thunder of the engines grows louder. My feet carry me in the direction of the noise, and I peel the curtains back. Staring out the window, I find a sea of chrome parked in front of my house.

Wolf is the first to dismount and as he waves on the SUV carrying a trailer hitched to the back, it’s hard not to resent them all. Today they are absolved of their sins. They get to go home to their families and do whatever the fuck they please. They’ll sleep in a real bed, not a cot and they won’t hear the iron bars close or a correction officer holler light’s out. Their families won’t cry themselves to sleep either.

The sight of the leather clad bunch serves as a giant slap to my face and as the anger swarms through my veins, I step away from the window. The logical part of me knows they’re here out of respect but the emotional part of me wishes they’d all disappear. Danny and I shouldn’t have to share our last moments with Jack.

In fact, we won’t.

Deciding it’s time I put my foot down, I turn to stalk out of the bedroom only to find Jack leaning against the doorjamb. Startled, I bring my hand to my chest and draw in an exasperated breath as his expressionless eyes work the length of me.

“You scared me,” I tell him hoarsely.

“I’m sorry,” he replies, pushing off the doorjamb. As he runs a hand over his face, he releases a breath and enters the room. With every step he takes it feels like the air is sucked from the room and an overwhelming sense of dread washes over me.

“We need to talk,” he starts.

If doom had a face, I’m sure it would resemble Jack’s.

“Danny’s getting dressed for school. I’ve already said my goodbyes to him,” he continues, his voice sounding like an automated response.

“Why would you do that?” I question.

The clocks downstairs may all be hours behind but the digital one on my nightstand was working just fine. Jack wasn’t due to surrender for another two hours. That gave us plenty of time to take Danny to school and say goodbye to one another.

Ignoring my question, he pads to the corner of the room where his kutte is draped over the back of a chair. Quietly, he takes the worn leather in his hands and lifts it to his face, drinking in the scent before sliding his arms through the holes.

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