Rebound: Chapter 40

I meet Martha for brunch the day after Elijah and I decide to take a real break. She looks sheepish as she waves me over to her table, and neither of us attempts our usual air kiss.

I raise my eyebrows at the coffee mug in her hands. “I know,” she says, grimacing. “There’s not even any vodka in it. Look … I wanted to say I’m sorry. For setting you up like that. I was an asshole, and I regret it.”

I nod and order my own coffee. She looks and sounds genuinely remorseful, and I wonder how much she knows. “What did he tell you about it?” I ask after the waiter leaves.

“That he pitched to you, and you weren’t interested.”

Huh. Well, that is certainly one way to describe it. “And you knew that he was going to, ah, pitch to me?”

“Yes. As soon as the news broke about you and Elijah, he was … God, Amber, he was enraged. He was so angry with me.”

“With you?” I ask, confused.

“Yes, with me. Because we’re friends, and I didn’t warn him that the biggest divorce of the decade was about to hit the headlines. I tried telling him I didn’t know, but that only made it worse. He was … I’ve never seen him so mad. It was like he thought it was his god-given right to represent you, you know? Because we’ve known each other for so long. He was furious and told me I had to make it up to him by arranging that meeting. It sucked, but I was scared, Amber, and as usual, I did what he wanted. I’m sorry.”

My cappuccino arrives, and I buy time blowing on its frothy surface. “Why were you scared, Martha? Truth now. If you lie or give me some fake bullshit, I’m out of here. I have a busy day.”

“Truth? I’m not sure I remember what that tastes like, darling. Oh, what the fuck, why not?” She meets my eyes and lets out a sigh. “I’m scared because he made me sign the world’s worst prenup. You know Freddie—he’s brilliant at his job. He has me completely under his thumb. I get literally nothing, and more importantly, neither do the girls.”

“What? Why would he do that? They’re his own flesh and blood.”

“They are, and I have no clue if he’d go through with it. But the last time I threatened to leave, he … Well, he told me to go. But he warned me I wouldn’t get a penny, and that he would see me and the girls homeless before he’d budge on that. His face, Amber … His fucking face. I believed him. I still believe him. Personally, I suppose I’d find a way to cope, but the girls—I couldn’t do that to them. It’s been like this for years. He’s in charge of all our finances. I don’t have my own account, my own money. He pays all the bills, the school fees, the house is in his name. It’s like I don’t exist. To start with, I thought he was just old-fashioned, you know? But it’s not that. It’s …”

“A form of control. I see that. Is there anything else, Martha? We all know about the affairs, but is there anything else?”

She gulps down coffee and avoids my gaze for a few moments. “He can be … uh … controlling in other ways too. Let’s just say he has a high sex drive.”

“No, sweetie, let’s not just say that—let’s call it what it is. He abuses you physically, emotionally, and sexually. He controls you through your love for your daughters and your lack of financial independence. Is there anything else?” I place my hand over hers, feel her fingers trembling beneath mine.

She looks at me, tears shining in her eyes, and gives me a halfhearted smile. “He always leaves the toilet seat up?”

I smile back. This is overwhelming for her, I know. Facing reality often is. “Martha, your husband is an abusive asshole. He tried it with me, that day in his office.”

I watch her closely, and her shock is genuine. “Oh god. Oh my god, no. Amber, I didn’t know—I swear I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay, honey, I believe you. And I’m fine. But what we need to do now is find a way out for you. I’m not going to go into too much detail here, but Elijah has some leverage over Freddie. I’m guessing he’s been pretty quiet on the subject of the James divorce recently?”

She nods and swipes tears away from her cheeks. “He has, yes. He’s been in a foul mood and hell to live with, but he hasn’t mentioned you or Elijah. What … What is the leverage?”

I consider telling her, but it’s not my story to share. I won’t expose other women without their permission. “I’m not going to discuss that, Martha. But we can help if you want us to. What would a happy ending look like for you right now?”

She thinks about it, and as she does, she nibbles at her so-far untouched food. It’s the first time I’ve seen solids pass her lips in years. “He fell down the stairs a while ago and busted his face up. I enjoyed that. But … No, at the end of the day, he’s still the father of my children, so I wouldn’t wish for him to die in a freak accident. I think I’d just like some freedom. I want to be able to live my life in peace and keep my girls in the same house and at the same school and have plenty for their college funds. And I’d like to … Fuck, I want to feel safe. To know that he wouldn’t try and take some kind of revenge on me. I’ve been living scared for so damn long I don’t remember what safe feels like.”

I turn it over in my mind. That sounds eminently possible, and I’m sure Elijah would be more than happy to help facilitate that kind of arrangement. He’ll be glad of any excuse to turn the screws on Freddie—and it couldn’t happen to a nicer guy. The little turd deserves everything he gets. He will not be touching any more women, and if Elijah has his way, his business reputation will also be taking a dive. It’s not an arrest, but for someone like Freddie, stripping away his power and his status is just as bad. We merely need to make sure Martha and the girls are secure beforehand. “Okay. Leave it with me. Are you all right if Elijah contacts you directly?”

She nods but looks confused. “You’d do that? You’d help me like that, after everything?”

“Of course I would. In fact, it will give me a great amount of pleasure. Just stay quiet for now. Avoid him whenever possible and fake it when you can’t.”

She laughs. “Well, that really won’t be a problem. I’ve been faking everything from smiles to orgasms for the last twenty years. But … you and Elijah. I was shocked—really shocked. You two always seemed so right for each other. That night at Elodie’s wedding, I remember thinking how sweet … and hot it was. The way you two couldn’t keep your eyes off each other.”

That night feels like a lifetime ago now. And she’s right, we couldn’t keep our eyes off each other, but not necessarily for the right reasons.

I’m still so confused about all of it. It feels like as soon as I make a decision, something else happens. I want out, he persuades me back in. I want back in, we fall out. I’m building a life without him, but it would be so much richer with him in it. I love him, and I yearn for him—even if I know he isn’t always good for me. Nothing is clear, and the physical pull I feel toward him doesn’t help. It’s been exhausting, and I need the respite that he promised. Tonight, I’m headed to Charleston to spend Christmas and New Year’s with Granny Lucille, and I can only hope that will help uncloud my mind.

“Well, Martha, you don’t need me to tell you this, but you cannot possibly know what’s going on in a marriage from the outside looking in.”

Or what’s going on in a divorce.

“I know, but … Are you sure?” she persists. “Even now, the way you talk about him—he’s still obviously part of you. I’m not judging, and like you said, I know better than most how good we are at pretending. But I have genuinely been miserable with my husband for most of our marriage. I’m not sure I ever really loved him. I certainly never enjoyed sleeping with him—well, that’s not true. I used to, before the affairs started, but they started early. You and Elijah, though—you can’t fake what you two have. Are you sure that’s all dead in the water?”

That, of course, is the $64,000 question. And that is what I will be trying to figure out.

“Well, we seem to be getting divorced,” I reply, keeping my tone light. “That’s not exactly a classic sign of a healthy marriage. But who knows? I’m damn sure I don’t.”

She pulls a sympathetic face and raises her coffee mug. I clink mine against it, and we both smile. We’re having a real conversation, and we aren’t even drunk. Wonders will never cease.