Dirty Red (Love Me With Lies) by Fisher Tarryn

Author:Fisher, Tarryn [Fisher, Tarryn]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2012-12-20T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Present

No one comes. By noon I realize that I have destroyed my marriage and it is Sam’s day off. I break out the Scotch. I don’t even like Scotch, but for some reason it makes me feel bonded to Caleb.

The little brat is finally sleeping. I don’t think twice about taking two fingers of Caleb’s best. She’s so high-strung a little single malt would do her good. I catch a glimpse of myself in the hall mirror, as I trudge up the stairs toward the shower. I look like one of those chubby, lank haired mothers who occupy park benches, all the hope drained from their eyes. Is that what I am destined to become? A single mother, wearing ugly jeans and doling out those disgusting goldfish cracker-things at snack time?

No — I square my shoulders. If I am going to do this, I will not go to the damn park. I will go to France, and I will feed her caviar and pâté. I can do better than a stereotype. I can be a Chanel mother.

By the time I climb out of the shower, I feel like a new woman. No wonder Caleb drinks that expensive stuff. I’m practically walking on air. When the baby wakes up, I feed her from the stock of milk I pumped earlier. She already seems fussy, like the bottle is an inconvenience instead of a meal. She screams and thrashes her head around until her skin flushes as red as the troll fluff that’s sprouting on top of her head.

I wiggle it in her mouth, until finally she latches on, grunting with her eyes closed.

“Lost that battle, didn’t you?” I say, resting my head back in the rocker and closing my eyes. “If you think I’m going to be doing that all the time, you’re wrong. Spoiled little redheaded brat.”

I wake up in the rocker. The baby is asleep on my shoulder. I can feel her heat seeping through my clothes, and hear her little breaths in my ear. I lower her in her crib as gently as I can and check my phone.

Nothing from Caleb, but two calls from Sam. I am about to call my good for nothing manny when he sends me a text.

Sam: Stomach flu, need a few days off.

Before I know what I’m doing my phone is spiraling out of my hand and toward my beautiful fucking marble staircase. I close my eyes as I hear it smash into a dozen pieces. My whole life is falling apart.

The baby starts to cry, I start to cry. I smash a few more priceless antiques and pull myself together. I have a gosh-darn baby to take care of. When I march back into her room, my sobbing has subsided to a whimper and I already have my boob out.

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