Freed by Fire Read online

  “Bro, I’m going to have to take a rain-check on tee time today. Lunch date with my lady…and Maggie. How’s Tuesday?” Matt said, reversing his car onto the street.

  “Tuesday’s fine. Doesn’t have to be then either, any day works for me this week.” Brad clicked his seatbelt and looked out the window.

  “So, Brad…how are things anyway? It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other.” Maggie put on her sunglasses and smirked at me when I turned to look at her.

  “Yeah, it’s been…a few years. Not much has changed. I still work for my old man at the dealership. I have a baby on the way, too. Lisa’s due in two months.”

  “Congratulations, that’s awesome. You’ll have to say hi to Lisa for me, I missed seeing her the last time I was in town.”

  “She’ll be at the…the funeral tomorrow, I’m sure you could say hello then,” Brad said quietly. Almost whispering the word funeral.

  Matt dropped Maggie and me off at Brew’s, then he told me he would meet us at Bellissima’s after he drove Brad home. We climbed into my car and rolled down the windows. It was stifling in there. The sky was bluer today than any other day, not a cloud in the sky, and the thick June air was permeating inside the old Toyota.

  “I still can’t believe you have this thing.” Maggie said, cranking her window. “Didn’t the miles flip once already?”

  Laughing, I said, “Hey, don’t hate. Blue’s been good to me. She’s only crapped out once…or twice. Besides, I don’t need a fancy car.”

  “Emery, you’ve got more than enough money to buy a few cars. But, I guess you’re right. We do have a lot of memories in this old thang, don’t we?”

  “That we do.” I smiled and turned on the radio. Miranda Lambert came on, and for the first time in weeks, I found myself singing. Loud.

  My cellphone rang just as I stopped at the intersection of Woodward and Keller. I reached into my purse and handed it to Maggie. “Can you answer that for me?”

  “Hello?” she answered. “Oh, hi, Mr. Smith…No, this is her friend…Yes, okay…I’ll tell her. We’re just driving…Oh, I know…Yep, okay…Bye.”

  “Crap.” I flipped my turn signal and drove until I found a parking lot to turn around in. “I forgot about the clothes.”

  “Yeah, he said you needed to drop them off. And was happy you weren’t on your phone and driving.”

  I laughed. “Figured a funeral director would say that.”

  I found it odd that Matt’s car was at home when I pulled back into the driveway to pick up my mom’s suit. Maggie blew a breath out of her lips and asked me if I wanted her to go in with me.

  “No, it’s okay. I’ll be right back.” I climbed out, trying to keep my hand from shaking as I placed it on the door to open it. It was locked. Walking back down to the car I asked Maggie to turn off the engine and pass me the keys. “It’s locked.”

  “That’s weird.”

  “Yeah,” I said, walking back up. “Very weird.”

  The house was quiet when I unlocked the door and walked in. I kept my shoes on and stopped just as I reached the bedroom door. It was closed. My heart started hammering, and I suddenly couldn’t breathe.

  Why was it shut? Why was the front door locked? And why the fuck was Matt’s car in the driveway?

  “Just open it, Emery,” I told myself. “You’ve got big, hairy balls…you’re not afraid. Open the damn door.”

  I opened it—flung it, actually. And held my breath as the empty space struck me. He wasn’t in there. I stepped in, glancing around…Nope, no Matt. Opening the closet door, I pulled out the blue suit, dress shirt and picked up the heels. My foot was barely in the hallway when I actually heard it for the first time.

  A giggle.

  Yeah, that’s right. A goddamn giggle, and it was no manly giggle either. (Are there manly giggles?) Turning around on my heel, I swallowed hard and approached the sliding door leading out onto the back deck. It wasn’t locked. Lucky me.

  I pushed it, stepped out of my bedroom and right into a nightmare.

  Matt sat on one of our Adirondack chairs, facing away from me, with his arms wrapped snuggly around a blonde girl. And by girl, I mean this was one of his students, I was fucking sure of it.

  “You son…of a bitch!” I screamed and whipped my mother’s shoes at them. I instantly regretted it, since they were my mother’s but I had nothing else sharp in my hands that could possibly puncture them or take out an eye. “I can’t fucking believe you, Matt! You’re disgusting!”

  Maggie came flying out of the sliding door, stopping dead in her tracks as she came face-to-face with my current situation. “Holy shit, no fucking way! Matt you’re a fucking pig! Em, let me hit him…please!”

  The girl, who was out of his arms at this point, stood off to the distance near our barbeque, and Matt was slowly backing up away from Maggie and me.

  “Em…it’s not what it looks like.”

  “Like fuck it’s not!” I screamed again. “How old is she Matt? Huh? Sixteen?”

  “I’m eighteen,” the girl said timidly.

  “Bitch, just don’t…” Maggie piped up, her finger pointing at the little blonde slut.

  As I should there, watching Matt’s mouth move, but not hearing a word he was saying, I eyed the blonde up and down. She was wearing one of his shirts. Another Northwestern shirt. It was tied to the side in a knot, and just slightly to the right of the knot was a small, but noticeable bump.

  “She’s pregnant,” I whispered.

  “Em…” Matt said, still not walking toward me, but holding out his hand as if I was going to go to him.

  “Of all days…Of all days, Matt.” I shook my head, picked up my mom’s shoes and walked back into the bedroom. “Now you can hit him, Mags.”

  “Maggie!” I heard Matt’s rattled voice say, just as the blonde shrieked and Maggie said, “You’re lucky that’s all you get you fuckin’ snake.”

  I didn’t start crying or screaming until after I dropped off the clothing to the funeral home. I sat in the empty parking lot, knowing my mother was in a cooler in the basement—just like the flowers for her funeral had been—and just had witnessed my cheating husband saying something to make his pregnant girlfriend giggle.

  I screamed. And punched Blue’s dash. Screamed some more, and without any success, tried to rip the steering wheel from the car. Maggie just sat there, and let me go. She didn’t say anything, and I didn’t want her to while I was going crazy.

  “I need another drink, Mags.”

  “Em…” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I’m happy it happened now, so he doesn’t have to pretend tomorrow.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Get drunk now, rent a hotel room with you…I hope you like to snuggle,” I said, somehow finding humor a slight remedy for my shitty day. “And…come back here tomorrow for mom’s funeral.”

  “Then what? What are you going to do about Matt?”

  “Divorce him. I’m not into the whole sister-wife thing.”

  Maggie laughed. “Sorry, I know it’s not funny.”

  I started laughing too. It was funny…in a really fucked up way. It was hilarious.

  We laughed and cried from the laughter for a good twenty minutes.

  “I’m ready for that drink now,” I said, starting the car.

  Chapter Three

  Monday, June 24 — 9:28 am

  My brown hair dripped water all down my shoulders and back as I stood in the hotel room with a towel wrapped around my body. “I didn’t bring any clothes.”

  “Shit, me neither. All my stuff is at your house.” Maggie slid into her sandals. “Want me to go and get something for you?”

  I shook my head. “I’ll just put on what I have and we’ll both go. I guess I need to get my things too.”

  Maggie stood up and walked over to me, putting her hands on my arms. “Emery, you don’t need to do any of that today. We can later…whenever. Today’s ab
out your mom.”

  My lip began to tremble as I started to cry. “Let’s go, then.”

  “Oh, honey…” she hugged me.

  When I pulled into the driveway, Matt’s car wasn’t there. A tiny part of me was sad at the thought, thinking of where he might be. Probably with the blonde…and their baby. Man, this sucks. I’m not sure which part hurt worse. The fact that he cheated, or the fact that she was pregnant. It just made me feel like a failure in two departments. That I’m not good enough to satisfy my husband and keep him satisfied, and that I’m unable to have children of my own.

  The door wasn’t locked, like it never was. Except for yesterday, and the house really was empty this time. Even the deck, I checked. Twice. I grabbed a bag from the basement and stuffed my entire wardrobe into it. I didn’t have much, but what little I did have, I wasn’t going to leave behind. My toiletries and personal items fit into another smaller suitcase on wheels, and I grabbed the photo album that my mother gave me. It had all of my childhood photos in it, including any picture I had of her. I left everything else. Everything else consisted was my life with Matt. Our wedding album, the pictures on the walls, the furniture…everything. I didn’t want it, and I couldn’t care less what happened to it after I left.

  Grabbing my laptop on my way out, I shut the door behind me and put everything into the trunk. Maggie put her bag onto the backseat and we drove back to the hotel to get ready for the funeral.

  “I wish I had your hair,” Maggie said while I stood in front of the small mirror in the tiny bathroom.

  “Yeah right. I love your curls. You’re so lucky. Mine sucks.” I held up a strand of brown hair and twirled it in my fingers. “It’s the color of poop.”

  Maggie laughed. “Hardly! It’s like…warm caramel and cinnamon. It’s beautiful and you know it. Besides, you can curl it or straighten it whenever you want and it’ll stay. Mine? You can keep it straight on a good day.”

  I straightened my hair with my fingers, no need for heat. It was hot enough, and I really didn’t care what my hair looked like today. I dressed in a simple dark blue dress, with a white belt cinched under my breasts. I wasn’t going to wear black. I wanted to match my mama.

  Maggie wore a similar dress, but it was cerulean. It brightened her hair to almost golden, and matched her eyes perfectly. Walking out of the hotel room, you would never know where we were headed. Definitely not to a funeral.

  ***

  Monday, June 24 — 2:33 pm

  “Emery, that was beautiful. Amelia would have loved it.” Someone touched my shoulder from behind me. “The music was lovely too.”

  I wanted to turn around and tell the asshole that my mother wouldn’t have loved anything about. How stupid could someone be? What part of “wow, my funeral is awesome” even sounded right?

  “Thanks, Mr. Walters.” I forced a smile to my mother’s boss. The general manager of the bank branch. He was always nice to me, I guess some people just don’t know what to say to the grieving.

  “If you need any help regarding her house, just let me know. I’m sure I could help you get a decent amount for it.”

  “Thanks,” I said, dryly. If it weren’t for Maggie, I would have gone batshit crazy by now. Maybe I’m just overly sensitive right now…but everyone else is coming off as extremely insensitive. Aside from Hettie Clark, too, I guess. She sat beside Maggie and me and held my hand. That felt comforting, at least.

  I caught a glimpse of Matt while we were at the cemetery. He stood near the back of the congregation and kept his head down. I didn’t think it was appropriate to walk up and slap him in front of everyone. But, then again, my mother would have approved if I did. And she probably would have handed me a pair of garden shears to castrate him, too.

  Cheating is a sore spot for anyone. But it really meant business to her. My father—not dad—father, because he wasn’t any type of dad to me, was a cheater. He cheated on my mom when she was pregnant with me, and she booted his ass out post haste. It’s always just been me and her. My mom never hid the fact that my father did what he did. When I asked her about him when I was small, she simply said, “He wasn’t good enough for us, honey. We’re just too special.”

  I was the luckiest girl in school. I got to celebrate Mother’s day and Father’s day with my mom. She was my mom and dad. She did date a few times during my childhood, but no one ever really was special enough to deserve us, I guess.

  When I was old enough to understand what infidelity really was, I made damn sure I wasn’t going to let any man do that to me. I told Matt from the get-go, “leave me first. If you’re thinking about doing it, you’ll end up doing it. I’d rather you just leave me first.”

  He promised he never would. He loved me too much. He was a big fat liar. Pants charred.

  One last look at his sorry ass, made me realize I should probably get myself checked out. We never used protection, simply because I was unable to conceive. But the thought of what passes around the public school system in this day in age, makes my skin crawl.

  “Amelia Nancy Finn was…a wonderful woman. She loved all of you, and I know she’s up there smiling down on us today. She leaves her beautiful daughter, Emery, to us, to watch and care for in her place.” Mr. Walters wiped his eyes. “Goodbye, dear Amelia. You were the strongest woman I’ve ever met.”

  I didn’t say a eulogy. I didn’t say anything at all. I told my mother how much I loved her every day I had a breath in my body. Even until her last breath, I told her I loved her. I didn’t need to repeat it now to an empty body in a casket surrounded by everyone. My mom wasn’t in there, her body was. Who she was, had been gone since last Monday.

  Matt didn’t show up to the reception. And, surprisingly, no one asked me where he was. Probably a good thing because I’m sure I would have told them he was off reading “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” to his little blonde student.

  Maggie stayed at my side the entire time, even when I had to use the bathroom, she stood outside the door. She was possibly just keeping close in case I started to lose it or lock myself in a room somewhere and began rocking on the floor in the fetal position. I’m not going to lose it though, I can’t. I’m my mother’s daughter, and if I’m anything at all like her, I’m going to be strong. Like she was. Steel-toed, iron-plated, take no shit-strong.

  I’m screwed. I have no idea what I’m going to do with myself after today. Hell, I don’t even know what I’m going to do once this reception is over.

  Another drink sounds good. Maybe Maggie won’t mind waking up with a hangover with me again tomorrow.

  ***

  Monday, June 24 — 9:42 pm

  “Lance, if you don’t refill my drink in two seconds, I’m going to…I’m going to…”

  “You’ll what? Little Emery-board?” Lance teased, swaying the bottle of Southern Comfort in my face.

  “I’ll tell Maggie she’s not allowed to touch you.”

  Lance gaped. “You wouldn’t.”

  “I would. Now, hand it over.” I grabbed the bottle from Lance’s hand and poured way too much into my glass.

  “You’re not going to drink that straight are you? You don’t even want any chase?” Lance asked, shocked at my insanity.

  “I’m a big girl, Lance. I don’t need some pussy drink.” Plus, all the Sprite was gone.

  “Maggie! Better get in here and tell your girl she needs to slow down. She’s almost to the point of not using a glass at all…” Lance took the bottle from me and set it on the nightstand between the two beds.

  “Em! You gotta slow down, girl! You never drink…and oh, shit…You’re already smashed.” Maggie plopped down beside me and wrapped her arm around my shoulder. “I told you to water it down before you brought it here, Lance!”

  “I did, Mags. She’s just a total lightweight.”

  I downed the harsh alcohol. I didn’t care if he watered it down or not, it was still vile. I didn’t drink a drop, other than wine occasionally, when I was with Matt. My mom
wasn’t a drinker either, so I’ve never ever felt like this before. It felt so good…yet, so bad. But, I did just catch my husband cheating and buried my mother in the span of twenty-four hours, so I think I deserve a night of liquor-infused recklessness.

  “More,” I said, handing my glass to Lance.

  “Em, no way, girl. I can’t even drink that much. You’re cut off.”

  “Oh, please, Lance. I can see your vagina from here. Top it up, or I’ll tell Maggie about Sherry Wheaton.” Whoops. Didn’t mean that. Really, I didn’t.

  Maggie glared at me, then at Lance. Who all but shriveled into a ball on the opposite bed.

  “Tell me what about Sherry Wheaton?” Maggie hissed. “Emery…”

  I poured more So-Co into my glass and smirked. “He kissed her at prom.”

  “Lance! You asshole!” Maggie threw a pillow at him. “Eww, really though? Sherry Wheaton?”

  “What! She had the biggest boobs I’d ever seen, and you dumped me before prom anyway.”

  Maggie giggled. “You’re gross, Lance. And, there’s nothing wrong with my boobs.”

  “Now, maybe…but back then,” Lance said laughing.

  Maggie gasped. “Whatever, Limp-Dick Oliver.”

  “Now that’s just mean.” Lance pouted.

  “I’m kidding, you know that…” Maggie jumped to the other bed and kissed Lance on the cheek.

  “Well, that’s my cue…” I sat up and walked toward the door. “I’m gonna go sit by the pool.”

  “Don’t leave, Em.” Maggie pouted.

  “No, really…I need some air.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Maggie said, slipping on her sandals. “If you fall in, I’m the only one in this room trained in CPR.”

  “I’ll blow if you do the chest compressions, Mags.” Lance chuckled.

  “You’re good at that, Lance,” I teased, sticking out my tongue before opening the door.

  Lance gaped. “I don’t know why I even came here, you guys are mean.”

  The warm air hit me as soon as I opened the door, and as I turned my head to walk outside I was laughing at what Lance had just said, not paying attention to what was in front of me.