Carice glances at her watch before standing up from her seat, looking a bit embarrassed. “Oh my goodness, it’s already ten. We should really get going. I’m sorry for staying so long.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her immediately as Matthew and I also stand up. “I really appreciate that you both took the time to stay with me.” It’s actually true, they were a great distraction and I needed just that. Plus, we spoke at length about the funeral that would be happening on Sunday in Bedford Hills.
“Thank you for the lovely dinner,” Carice says as she gathers her coat and purse. “Tomorrow I will get in touch with Emma and we will finalize the arrangements for the funeral.”
“Thank you,” I tell her, putting on a pleasant smile. “I really appreciate it.”
I escort them to the front door, and to my greatest surprise, Carice plunges me into a tight hug as if she’s known me for years. Since she’s around the age of my mom and they look quite similar, her hug feels a bit maternal, yet oddly foreign at the same time. “If you need anything, call me,” she whispers into my ear. “No matter the hour of the day or night.”
As she releases me, I give her a nod in acknowledgment and then turn to Matt, who’s standing beside the door.
“Thank you for coming,” I say before opening my arms to give him a friendly hug.
“Always,” he mumbles as we embrace each other. Then he leans in and gives me a quick peck on the cheek. The touch was unexpected, but a small smile pulls on my lips in response.
Once they head out, Matt mimics my smile, right before they get into the elevator.
Closing the door, I heave a long sigh, mixed with both relief to be finally alone and exhaustion. Then I can’t help but take my iPhone out again and check if Alex has replied to my text.
Nothing, still…
My heart drops to my knees, seeing my message has been left unread. I consider calling Ryan, his attorney, but it’s already so late, so instead, for the better or worse, I call Alex directly. The ringtone goes on and on until it ends on his voicemail. Well, either he’s in a cell without his phone, or he’s purposely avoiding me. I just hope it’s the former.
I go and say goodnight to Maria before heading back to our bedroom.
My eyes grace the bed––the ironed sheets still perfectly stretched over the mattress. Then I undress and put on my pajamas. I don’t usually sleep with them anymore as I end up too warm because of Alex’s body heat, but I don’t really think he’ll be spending the night here. And as I come to think of it, if he’s found guilty, I might have to spend the next fifteen years or more without him sleeping beside me. The idea petrifies me. I can’t accept a reality where I might live here alone and raise our baby all by myself. What a freaking nightmare this is!
I fold over the comforter and climb inside—I’m happy I decided to wear my pajamas because despite the heater, it’s pretty chilly between the sheets. Turning off the light, I look at my right side and I can’t help but despise him for lying to me, for breaking his promises, and for putting our relationship in jeopardy.
The more I think of Alex’s behavior, the more I know that I lured myself to him, glossing over his flaws, despite knowing perfectly well that his habit of lying would lead to our downfall.
Manhattan, February 9, 2021
Petra Van Gatt
I wake up, and instinctively turn to check the right side of the bed, which, as expected, is still empty. Given the amount of sunlight casting through the room, I’d say it’s already way past nine o’clock. And yet, Maria hasn't come in to wake me up. I know she never has to do that with Alex, but if no one wakes me up, I’ll end up sleeping in far too late. And today, I’ve got a lot to do when it comes to the funeral. As I leap off of the bed, I take my iPhone from the nightstand and immediately check my text messages. Despite being nine-thirty, Alex still hasn’t replied to anything. I do have a new text message though, but from Matthew: Good morning! Thank you for yesterday’s dinner. It was lovely. I hope you spent a great night and managed to sleep well. If you need anything, just let me know. X
His message manages to warm my heart, and it feels good to read something like this when I’m feeling pretty alone. I write back: Hey, thanks for your kind words. It was great having dinner with you both. I slept okay, yes. I was really exhausted. I’m getting started with the funeral arrangements. I’m thinking of inviting my in-laws too. And I press send. Then I leave the room and head to the terrace. I’m not sure why though, but I think it’s the habit of going there and finding Alex sitting at the table while drinking his usual espresso. But as I reach the outdoors, my eyes alight on the breakfast table with only one place setting—mine.
There is no one there that is sipping an espresso, or reading on an iPad, and no one to make me smile either.
I take a seat as per usual, but my heart aches, feeling so incredibly empty—just like the chair in front of me.
“Good morning, ma’am,” Maria greets as she walks in, carrying a matcha latte and a plate with scrambled vegan eggs. Damn, even the freaking eggs remind me of him. “Did you sleep well?”
“Good morning, Maria,” I tell her, though I am unable to match with her melodic voice. “Yes, thank you.”
I take a first sip on my matcha and as I look again in front of me to the empty chair, I can’t help but heave a sigh filled with sorrow. Despite hating him for what he did, I wish he could be here, eating his breakfast with me. Heck, this reminds me of what Yara had said a few days before our marriage, “Petra, I know you are furious at him, but can’t you be furious and married to him?” I’m definitely furious at him, yet I’d rather be furious at him while taking my breakfast with him.
My phone starts beeping and my heart nearly jumps out of my chest. I look at the new text message immediately, only to be smashed with disappointment.
Alex told me yesterday about your mom. Are you doing okay? Shall we meet for lunch and have a talk? I tried to contact Alex, but he hasn’t answered. Call me back when you can. X
Now that’s new… How come Alex told my dad about it? Well, in any case, I call my dad just as fast. In the middle of everything, I’d totally forgotten to tell him about her death. In a way, I’m glad Alex actually called him to deliver the news. It’s still better than reading it in the New York Post or God knows where else.
“Hi, Dad,” I greet once I hear his breathing from the other side of the line. “How are you?”
“Petra,” his tone sounds more joyful than usual. Well, in a way, Mom was his bully and his blackmailer, so I’m pretty sure Dad won’t miss her looming around. “I’m alright. Ryan told me Alex got arrested.”
“Oh, Ryan called you?” I repeat, a bit surprised that he called my dad but not me. “That’s very kind of him… Um, do you know if Alex has been released yet?”
“He hasn’t answered my calls, so I think he’s still in there.” His answer eases me a bit. At least that would mean Alex isn’t mad at me because of what I did. “What if I pass by and have lunch with you? We could discuss your mom’s funeral and where it should be held.”