Page 7 of Bed of Roses

Blake: Coming home now. Can’t text. Driving.

I shrugged. It was rare for him to work this late. It was dark out, and you can’t safely do plumbing in the dark. His current job was outdoors, so overtime wasn’t a possibility.

Half an hour later, he walked in looking tired. “I’ve got dinner in the oven. Where were you?” I asked.

“Colin’s social worker fell though, so I had to take him and Rose to his doctor’s appointment today. He has some kindof heart murmur thing happening, so we had to take him to hospital after. It was bloody exhausting,” he said.

“So, you missedmyappointment to take Colin to his. Why couldn’t Rose do it?”

“Oh shit. I totally forgot. She struggles getting him in and out of the car when he’s in a mood. And he was in a huge mood today. Sorry, I’ll make the next one,” he replied simply, as though he hadn’t just been a complete asshole.

“What the fuck Blake? Youforgotme? The least you could have done is tell me you weren’t coming. Always Rose, isn’t it?”

“Don’t do this Harriet. I’m tired and over it. I’m helping someone out!” He was yelling by the end of his sentence. I couldn’t do this. Why was this man so fucking blind?

“Fine. We won’t do it. I’ve lost my appetite. I’m having a bath and going to bed,” I sneered.

“It’s 6:30! Oh, and if you give a shit, Colin is fine. He’s at home. The doctors said it was just a side effect of his blood pressure medication.” His voice was righteous. How dare he! I cared about Colin as appropriately as a neighbor could. He wasn’t my dad. He wasn’t even a friend. He was an elderly neighbor we helped as much as we could. Blake was dropping work to attend appointments to “help” Rose? Fuck that. Fuck that all the way.

I settled into my warm bath. I loved them hot, but I’d eased off the heat in my pregnancy. I planned to spend a lot of time in this bath, so I grabbed Blake’s iPad so I could catch up onReal Housewives. I needed some trash tv to soothe my mind. Well, to empty my mind.

As I was becoming intrigued with a very bitchy on-screen interaction, a message popped up on the screen. The iPad was synched to Blake’s phone.

Rosie: Thanks for today. Dad is settled in and doing well. I owe you dinner for sure!

What the actual fuck? Rosie? No longer “Rose.” She was in his contacts as “Rosie.” I opened the message. Buy him dinner? Fuck that. This was becoming too much. He was no longer an innocent helper in my mind.

I scrolled through the previous messages. I had checked his yesterday when my stomach wouldn’t settle after yet another knock on the door from Rose to ask for Blake’s help, so I wasn’t expecting to find anything. But I did.

Discussions of her dates and whether she was attractive enough for some guy named Dave. Reassurances of her hotness frommyfucking husband. Long monologues from her about feeling lonely. Responses from Blake about how great she is and to hang in there. Fit check photos … what the hell? Heaps of images of her dolled up in slutty clothes. A photo of her in a sports bra complaining about leg pain after the “mammoth” job she’d undertaken. Her nipples were visible under the flimsy sports bra, her hair slicked back with sweat, but in a sexy way. Her chest sheened with a light mist.

I tore myself out of the bath, pulling my robe onto my wet body.

“You fucking cheating asshole,” I shouted at a very surprised Blake.

He jumped up and saw the iPad. “You deleted messages from your phone but not your iPad. Fuck you. Fuck Rose.”

“Calm down, Harriet! I deleted messages because I knew you’d flip out like this over something innocent. And how did you know I deleted them on my phone? You’ve been checking my phone?” He was angry now. Good. Bring it on.

“Yes because you’ve eaten away at my trust and gaslit me for months. You think these are innocent? Sexy date photos and nipple shots? Fine. Let me just text Darren from work. He’s a “friend,” and what’s a nipple or two between friends,” I retorted.

“It’s not the same thing. You don’t really know Darren. And it was just a photo of her after jogging. We’d been comparing our best times, and she was updating me! You’re reading way too much into this.” His anger had diminished, and he now seemed to be a bit repentant. Like he had realized too late how inappropriate his contact with her was.

“I’m sorry, Haz. I know I’ve been doing too much for her. We had a talk today and I told her it wasn’t right. I won’t be helping her anymore, or texting.” His face was ashen. He seemed truly regretful. Or guilty.

Before I could probe further, his phone chimed.

Great. Just fucking great. He didn’t give his “Rose” smile though, so maybe it wasn’t her. He grabbed his boots and began moving out the door.

“We’ll talk later. Colin has collapsed.” He fled out to the street. I threw on some sweats and followed him. I knew CPR and he didn’t.

Running into Colin’s house, I saw the old man prone on the floor. Shit. Rose was crying and begging me to do something. I lent down and felt his pulse. It was strong and steady.

“Colin, try to roll over. Can you hear me, Colin?” I said gently.

Blake was on the phone to 911. Colin groaned and rolled over onto his back.

“You can’t be here, Loretta,” he wheezed. “Lorraine will be home soon.”

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