Chapter 4
She can feel his hot breath on her -surrounding her- underneath the covers. But she makes no verbal or physical objections to what he expects of her as a wife. Darcy hands over herself for him to take over and over again. Who is this new this new beast she's found herself married to?
This afternoon, he'd come home from work and, having not said a word to her, she believed herself to be in the clear. Dinner was ready, prepared, and still warm when he walked in the door. She'd learned to cook from her mother at a young age. She was exceptional at creating delicious foods that her cousins and friends often begged her to make. Tonight she made steak in mushrooms and leftover red wine from a get-together recently thrown at the house. And her timing was perfect, unlike the past few nights when he came home early and without notice.
She is looking down at her plate, the food cold and pushed around by her small fork in a feigned attempt at actually eating the meal. Her heart contracts when she hears her husband's fork tap against the wood of the table.
Looking up slowly she sees that, while he does make eye contact with her, he pushes back his chair and moves away from the table. He's tired, she imagines. Good. Too tired to talk means too argue or yell.
She's cleaning up the dishes when the doorbell rings. The posh sound fills the home suddenly. It seemed to be a hushed whisper, but almost too loud after such a quiet night. Taking a glance at the clock mounted on the wall near her, she sees that it's 9:56.
The neighbors must have lost their dog again. The Millers, the family next door had gotten a puppy last week for their oldest boy, a spoiled nine-year-old. For the past five days the mother, Hannah, had been unable to keep the thing in the house. Darcy didn't want to suggest an invisible fence for it, and helped Hannah whenever her own husband wasn't around. They'd become close over the months and she needed some company right now.
Opening the door, she sees a smiling face, but not the one she'd been expecting.
"Darcy!" She's pulled into a hug before she can get a word out.
Darcy feels a grin fit upon her face, but it disappears in an instant. She pulls away from the embrace with a jerk. "Donald! What are you doing here?" Her voice is a frightened whisper.
"Your best friend flies halfway across the country to see you, and this is the welcome you give him?" He keeps the smirk on his face, thinking she is only upset about him showing up unannounced.
"Please," she says, unconsciously trying to push him back out of the doorway. "Please. You have to leave."
Donald catches on to her anxious disposition with those words and grabs her lightly on both of her shoulders. "D," he whispers, looking into her eyes, "what's wrong?"
Darcy opens her mouth to speak when an "ahem" sounds out behind her. Her bones stiffen and she steps away from Donald again, this time giving much more distance than necessary.
Looking from Darcy to the other side of the room, Donald sees Darcy's husband smiling calmly. "Hey, John," Donald says coolly. "Long time no see, huh?"
John chuckles and makes his way into the room. "Don? Wow, we haven't seen you since the wedding." He walks right to Darcy's side and pulls her close at the hip.
"Yeah," Donald says back. "Wanted to surprise Darcy with a visit, you know?"
John's fingers have bruising force on her at this point. "No, yeah. Come on in," he waves into the house. "Make yourself at home."
Donald comes in with a small suitcase behind him. "Thanks man." He gives Darcy a look, noticing that she's been silent since John entered the room.
John leaves Darcy to show Donald to the guest room, telling him to stay as long as he likes, and that no, it's no trouble at all.
Darcy finishes the dishes and, making sure everything is neat and tidy, heads back to her bedroom.
Opening the door, she's pulled into the darkness.
"You even smell like him." She hears the words like a hiss on the back of her neck.
"I – I didn't know Donald was coming," her voice breaks. "He just-"
He cuts her off before she can speak again. "Don't." He spins her around to face him. "Don't lie to me, you filthy whore." His mouth crashes onto hers, biting and bruising like his words.
She's pushed back and John orders her to get out of her clothes as he turns on the bedroom light.
John doesn't bother to close the door, and watches her with dark eyes.
With shaking hands, Darcy takes her time unbuttoning her blouse. Her breaths come out fast and she wants to disappear. She can feel her eyes beginning to water.
John becomes impatient and is on her in a second. His hands rip apart her blouse.
Half dragging her across the room, he is at her neck now. The bits that he leaves keep bringing terrified gasps out of Darcy. "John," she sobs silently. "John, wait."
He pulls back to look at her. "No," is his only word as he pushes her back onto the bed.
…
Don left that morning. During breakfast he didn't look Darcy in the eye even once. She tried to keep in touch with him, but as her relationship with John deteriorated, so did her relationship with Donald. She hadn't seen him face-to-face since that day. But now here he is, sitting next to her as they and the two astrophysicists drive in silence toward the lab that Jane worked on for years.
Darcy works on picking the polish off of her fingernails when Donald finally speaks to her.
"Darcy?" he ventures quietly.
She looks up at him. "Hmm?"
He looks down hesitantly.
Putting her hands down, she turns her upper body to face him. "What is it?"
"It's just… how are you doing?"
'Fine' would have been a good word to say. She isn't sad or angry. She's missed Donald's friendship, but isn't prepared to cry on his shoulder and tell him about all that had happened during her marriage with John. So instead she lies and tells him, "I'm doing great."
He smiles sadly at that and goes back to looking out of his window. "I called your mom, you know?"
Darcy's heart skips.
"She told me what happened," he says still looking out of the car window, "everything that really happened, that is."
Looking to the front seat, Darcy can see Jane and Selvig in another heated conversation. She turns her head back to look at Don.
"You could've trusted me, D. If I had known what was really going on, I would've…"
"Would have what, Don?" Darcy whispers. "Left me alone with him like you did the last time I saw you?"
"I didn't think he was hurting you," John nearly shouts back. He turns to face her. "I thought that was your way of telling me you didn't want me there."
The front of the van is suddenly silent. Looking forward, Darcy sees Jane glancing back through the rearview mirror.
She feels her face burning. "Let's talk about this later," she says.
Almost feeling his frustration, she hears Donald mutter, "yeah. Later."
