Chapter 3 - The Coward's Betrayal
At six-thirty in the evening, the garage door rumbled open. Garrick was home.
I was shivering uncontrollably under three heavy blankets. Without the oxycodone, my body had entered acute pain-induced shock. My heart rate had skyrocketed to 135 beats per minute; my blood pressure was pounding behind my temples like a sledgehammer. My left breast incision had begun to weep clear serous fluid tinged with bright red blood from the strain of my fall.
Downstairs, laughter floated up through the floorboards. The rich, savory aroma of roast beef and rosemary drifted into the bedroom—Miriam had prepared Garrick’s favorite meal, acting the part of the devoted, tireless matriarch.
""Hey buddy, how's she doing?"" Garrick’s booming voice echoed up the stairs.
""Quiet as a mouse, sweetheart,"" Miriam replied sweetly. ""Resting comfortably. I told you, all she needed was a firm hand and a little less coddling. She spent the afternoon throwing a childish tantrum over her pills, but I stood my ground.""
Heavy footsteps mounted the stairs. The bedroom door swung open, and Garrick stood in the entryway, loosening his patterned silk tie. He smelled of expensive cologne, tobacco, and the dry martini he always grabbed with his business partners before driving home.
""Garrick,"" I whispered, barely able to part my lips. ""Call... call Dr. Chen. Please. Your mother flushed my entire thirty-day supply down the toilet. I fell. I think I popped a drain stitch. Look at my bandage.""
Garrick didn't rush to my side. He didn't check the bloody gauze peeking out from my surgical camisole. Instead, he rubbed the bridge of his nose, his shoulders slumping with theatrical exhaustion.
""Jesus, Nora, can we have one normal evening?"" he groaned, walking over to the dresser and tossing his car keys onto the wood. ""I just put in ten hours dealing with subcontractors who can't read a blueprint, and I come home to you starting World War Three with my mother?""
""She flushed my medication, Garrick!"" Tears of pure rage leaked from my eyes. ""That is a Class II controlled substance! It is illegal! It’s assault! I am in agony!""
""Mom told me what happened,"" Garrick interrupted coldly, turning to face me. His eyes were hard, devoid of the warmth he had shown when we were dating, replaced by the calculating arrogance of a man who thought he held all the cards. ""She said you were popping those pills like candy every two hours. She said you were slurring your words and acting completely unhinged. She didn't flush them to hurt you, Nora. She flushed them because she’s trying to keep you from becoming an addict.""
""That is a lie!"" I screamed, the effort ripping through my sternum like lightning. ""Dr. Chen prescribed them for four times a day! I took two pills all morning! Check the logbook on the nightstand!""
""Mom threw the logbook out because it looked obsessive,"" Garrick said dismissively, crossing his arms. ""Look at yourself, Nora. You're hysterical. You’re red in the face, screaming at me. That proves her point, doesn't it? A sane, sober woman doesn't act like this. You need to pull yourself together. Tomorrow is the church’s annual fundraising banquet for the new youth wing. My biggest corporate clients will be there. Mom spent six months organizing the seating chart.""
""I can't go to a banquet,"" I breathed, staring at him in disbelief. ""I have drains hanging out of my sides. I can barely stand.""
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""Nobody asked you to dance, Nora,"" he sneered, stepping closer and leaning down until his breath washed over my burning forehead. ""You're going to put on a nice, high-necked dress, pin your drains inside your jacket, sit at table number one next to Mom, and smile. We are presenting our family's fifty-thousand-dollar donation check. We need to look united. If people see my wife hiding in bed like a broken toy, rumors will start about our stability. So take some over-the-counter Tylenol, shut your mouth, and get some sleep. We leave at five tomorrow.""
He turned on his heel and walked out, clicking the door shut behind him. Downstairs, I heard Miriam laughing, followed by the clink of silverware against fine china.
