Page 92 of The Husband Diet
‘Our children!’ he screamed, and swiped the photos off the mantelpiece with one sweep of the bat. ‘They’re mine, too!’
I screamed. An angry scream. ‘What are youdoing? Stop it!’
‘I don’t want a divorce,’ he bawled.
‘Too late!’ I bawled in turn. ‘I loved you for years, Ira. For both of us. I can’t do that anymore,’ I cried.
In response, he swung the bat out again, knocking the lamp off the side table. I protected my face as the shards flew around my head. This was not the way I’d envisaged it. In my mind, I’d always been the one to attack. I’d always been the one killinghim. How ironic that it would be him to have the violent reaction. And now, he was advancing on me, his eyes burning with something I’d never seen before, as if he’d completely lost all connection with reality.
Another set of baubles flew off the other side table, its pieces exploding even closer to me. I stepped away, looking around for an escape, or a weapon, but he was now standing between me and the kitchen, where I kept my knives. Not that I’d really use it on him to hurt him, unless he headed upstairs for the kids.
As I was trying to figure how to get between him and the staircase leading upstairs to the kids if he turned that way, a loud bang shook the house. I whirled around to see Julian’s face in the front door window.
‘Erica!’ he yelled, pounding on the wood.
I turned as Ira neared me, his eyes unfocused.
Julian punched a fist through the front door window and stuck his arm in to unlock the door. Once inside, he took in the smashed lamp and looked at me, paling instantly.
‘Are you OK?’ he demanded, and I nodded.
Ira whirled around, his wild eyes focusing on Julian, who raised his hands.
‘Mr. Lowenstein – Ira,’ Julian continued. ‘Please put that down. You’re scaring everybody.’
‘You!’ Ira spat, coming forward. ‘Baseball champion!’
‘Please, Mr. Lowenstein, before somebody gets hurt.’
‘You want my family? Come and get it!’ And then he dropped the bat, throwing himself on Julian, who easily wrestled him to the ground.
Julian didn’t look at me, but his voice was low. ‘Erica, get me some duct tape. The police are on their way.’
And as if on cue, there was a loud bellow from the front door. ‘Everybody, hands up!’ And only then did I see the blue, white and red lights of the police car swirling around the living room walls like a giant psychedelic star-spangled banner.
To an outsider, Julian would still have seemed the aggressor, crouching down to keep Ira still, huge and panting, as Ira crouched in the corner, sniveling.
‘You alright, ma’am?’ asked one of the agents.
Ira let himself be handcuffed and taken to the car, his eyes burning through me. I’d never forget the sheer hatred in his eyes. It was much more intense than all my murder fantasies put together.
‘Ma’am, you need to come down to the station with us.’
I had no choice but to leave the kids with my neighbor, Mrs. Oldman, who shuffled them in through her front door, as I called my parents. Who called my lawyer.
Who found out that Ira was being hunted down by the IRS, Inland Revenue Service. The bastard wanted to get back with me to minimize the chances of my testifying against him. Some love.
I refused to press charges against Ira. But I had a restraint order issued against him.
At the station, Julian held my hand. Neither of us spoke. It was enough just to have him near me.
*
In three hours, we were back home. Paul opened the door, pale and shaken as he opened his arms for us. My family had come and gone, offering to stay the night, and even Mrs. Oldman next door offered to keep the kids overnight, but I refused. I needed to keep things as normal as possible.
The broken lamp and pictures had been removed. Maddy and Warren, who were still shaking under the blanket I’d put over us, refused to go upstairs to bed lest their father return to finish us all off.
So Julian temporarily patched up the window he’d broken earlier and Paul cooked us a meal, while I lay on the sofa with Maddy in my lap and an arm around a still trembling Warren. I only hoped it was from shock and not rage. Shock subsides in time, while rage only grows like a well-fed fire.
