The Unexpected
The fresh, sharp scent of newly brewed coffee roused Amanda in the morning. She sat up in bed with a sharp jolt that sent black spots dancing in front of her eyes. For a second she was completely disoriented, wondering why Jason had come into her cabin to make breakfast. Her eyes fixed on the spare room, the modern, square dresser and everything came rushing back.
Hopelessness flooded Amanda’s chest. She stumbled out of bed, stomach churning, her throat on fire. She forced herself to move towards the dresser with the mirror. She took in her wildly matted hair, her red rimmed, haunted green eyes. Her clothing was a rumpled mess. Good. It gave her a perverse sense of satisfaction to head out of the bedroom like that knowing full well that Phil hated to see anything less than perfection.
Phil was in the kitchen. He whirled, coffee pot in hand, when he heard Amanda enter.
“Amanda… uh, sit down.” He indicated one of the high backed bar stools that stood up against the massive island.
She did so without hesitation, wanting to get whatever preamble out of the way before Phil let her know why he’d truly let her stay the night in the guest room. Her eyes roved the kitchen taking in the unending rows of white, high gloss cupboards, the white granite counter tops, the custom back splash, the gas stove that was rarely used, the huge, double door stainless steel fridge. All of it was so redundant and seemed so unnecessary.
How did I ever live here and call this place my home?
Phil’s sharp eyes assessed her and Amanda shrank back. She withdrew within herself. She carefully studied her hands until Phil placed a mug of black coffee in front of her. After four years he didn’t even know she took it with cream and sugar.
He pulled out a stool and sat beside her. He was dressed for work, a crisply pressed blue dress shirt with a blue silk tie cinched around his neck, crisp black slacks and black dress socks.
“So, we need to talk.” Phil cut right to the chase, no preamble, no care or concern. Just straight to the heart of what he wanted, which was so like Phil.
“Alright.” Amanda agreed because she wanted to say what they needed to say and get out of here. She wanted to be on her way to New York and a gallery opening or heading back home to her mother’s or somewhere that was just anywhere but Colorado.
“Look at me, Amanda.” Phil’s tone was gentle but she wasn’t fooled. The steel force of command that always dominated everything he said was still there.
She slowly swiveled her eyes in his direction. “Yes. Go ahead.”
“I… I lied to you about my test results.”
Her mouth nearly dropped open in shock. Now that, she hadn’t expected. “What?”
“I was tested, the same as you were, but they found an issue. I… well suffice it to say that I can’t make you pregnant without doing In Vitro or some other procedure. It was me, not you.”
Impotent rage crawled up Amanda’s throat, blocking off all words. What exactly could she say to such a confession after she was the one blamed and thrown out with almost nothing at all but the clothes on her back?
“I’m sorry,” Phil said sharply, sounding anything but. “I was just so angry and ashamed. It made me irrational. I didn’t want you to find out. I didn’t want anyone to find out. I drove you away, but I missed you. I missed you so damn much, Amanda.”
Good for you. She let the bitter thought take root in her heart for an instant before she dismissed it. What Phil had done- it wasn’t even worth feeling bitter about.
“I- I’m a different person now, Phil,” Amanda said carefully. She watched his face for signs of the usual black rage that fired behind his eyes, but there was nothing. “I’ve been out on my own now and I realized, all of this made me realize that I don’t want this. It’s never going to work between us. You deserve someone who can be the kind of wife you want. I want to make my mark on the world. I want to work, I want to be more than just someone who sits around all day and waits for you to get home.”
“So what I gave you, it was so terrible? Most people would give anything to be where you are.”
“I know that. I do appreciate everything you did for me. You made it possible for me to finish school. I just… I’m not the same person I was when we met or even when I left here. It’s not going to work. I thought I told you that on the phone.”
Phil sighed hard. “So why did you come back then?”
“I told you, I needed a place to stay for the night. I was pretty clear about us not having a future and you made it sound like you accepted that or at least, for old time’s sake, that you were willing to let me stay the night until I could find somewhere to go.”
His face did darken then. A deep line carved a groove into Phil’s forehead and his eyes snapped with the telltale signs of a bad temper. “And where exactly were you staying? Why now? Why a room for one night?”
“I… I was working somewhere, but I decided it wasn’t right,” Amanda stammered. She felt very small, very alone. She knew coming here was a mistake. She regretted ever setting foot inside Phil’s house again. What had she been thinking?
Phil scoffed. “You see? That just proves my point. You’re not ready to be out in the real world. You’re a dreamer, Amanda. You’re an artist. You’re not made for actual work. You have this ideal notion that one day you’re going to make it, but let me tell you, it’s not going to happen without my help.”
“I- I know that. I was hoping you would help me.”
“Out of the goodness of my heart. That’s what you expect?”
“Yes. Would that really be so wrong?” Amanda raised her voice. She looked up, refusing to be cowed like she normally was. That wasn’t her. She wasn’t that person that Phil could bully and push around any longer.
“Wrong?” Phil stuttered.
“Yes, wrong. We were together for four years. I know I owe you a lot, but I thought you would want to do this given how long we were together. I thought you were willing to help me, which is why I came back. I see now that I made a mistake.”
“I was willing to help you because I thought you’d come back and come to your senses. I thought if I apologized for- for my lack of judgment that you would see reason and realize that we are a good fit. That we’re still a good fit.”
Phil reached over and caressed her hand gently. Amanda shuddered. She withdrew and tucked her hand safely in her lap. “I can’t, Phil. There can never be a you and I again. We were over the second you told me to get out.”
“Why? What’s changed in a month?” Phil’s face twisted with rage.
Amanda knew there was no way to get him to understand. She knew she was going to have to tell him. If he helped her get her gallery showing then he would find out eventually. He wasn’t going to let this go, wasn’t going to let them go and leave her alone, unless he finally understood.
“I’m pregnant,” she whispered. “That’s why.”
“I’m sorry… what?” Phil’s face actually purpled. The deep shade rose up his neck, covered his jawline, flushed his cheeks and made its way to his forehead.
“Yes. That’s why we can’t be together.”
“And it’s not mine?”
“You know it’s not. You just told me that wasn’t possible.”
She braced herself for a flood of angry words, for the storm that was Phil Wist. For the verbal battery, the barrage of terrible insults. She was stunned by the silence. It only took her a minute to realize that silence was far more deadly than anything she’d experienced so far.
“Whore,” Phil swore under his breath. He moved so fast Amanda barely had time to register the movement before his hand closed over her wrist. He dragged her off the stool so roughly it tipped under her weight.
Amanda let out a silent wail of protest. She clawed at Phil’s iron like grip, but it was useless. He dragged her through the kitchen roughly, her wrist screaming, bruising her tender skin. He moved through the living room, to the front door. She knew he was going to throw her out. It was just as well. She never should have come there, never should have trusted that the unmerciful man she’d known could have changed at all.
He opened the door and dragged her onto the porch. “Get out. Into the street where filth like you belongs.”
Amanda tried to struggle free, to break away before the steps. He anticipated her movement and tightened his fingers, biting into her skin even more painfully than before. Phil thrust her hard, so her barefoot skimmed over the top step, scrabbled for a foothold and missed.
She was aware of everything as though it happened in slow motion. Phil’s fingers finally releasing her wrist, the hard shove that sent her flying, the air, the feeling of nothingness, then finally the hard concrete beneath her wrists, breaking the tender skin of her palms.
Black spots danced in front of her eyes as she struggled to raise her head. A horrible pain jolted through her neck where it had snapped back and forth with the impact of her landing.
“You fucking whore,” Phil spat from the top of the porch. He pointed down at her. “Get off my property. Take your fucking car and get out of here. That gallery showing is never going to happen now. Go spread your legs for whoever it is you choose. You’ll never hear from me again.”
It was irrational, but Amanda nearly laughed. Never hear from him again? That was a small mercy. She struggled to pick herself up after the hard fall onto the concrete. There was a buzzing in her ears that grew to a loud hum, which turned into the roar. It sounded very much like the roar of an old pick up. A certain old pick up that she would have recognized anywhere.
She turned her head and there it was. The old, brown, rusty pick up that belonged to Jason. No. It can’t be. She realized she must have hit her head in the fall. She was hallucinating now.
Except that the door slamming, and the hard footfalls coming up the sidewalk, and then the drive, and the shout that rent the air, seemed so very, very real.