THERE'S SOMETHING ABOUT MARY
PART III
Short chapter. Mary panics when Carlos isn't home at three in the morning. Rated PG-13 for references to staying up late and abject panic.
"Ruthie, can you babysit for me next Tuesday? I'm getting my cast taken off."
"Sure, Luce."
"Thanks. You're a lifesaver. Kevin's going to be... busy all day tomorrow. He won't even have any time to drive me to the cl—"
"You would have to pay me, though."
"Oh. I..."
"Fifty."
"Dollars?"
"Is that too much? I can take as little as thirty-five."
"Well... I... guess. That seems like a lot, though."
"Well... I guess I could go as low as thirty."
"Okay."
"Great. You're the best."
Night.
Bad things usually happen at night.
Carlos had gone out.
He'd been out for a long time.
An exceptionally long time.
Mary was worried. Very, very worried.
Granted, Carlos spent one or two nights a week out until after one o'clock. But it was three. Three in the morning. And Mary was wide awake, hoping and praying her husband was alright.
Things had been finally starting to look up for Mary, and now this. For all she knew, her husband was dead.
Charles was asleep. Mary was awake, by herself, worrying herself into a state, watching as the clock moved its way towards four in the morning.
She was in the living room, pacing through the place she knew so well.
She was drowsy and anxious, unable to sleep and unable to stay awake. Visions began to invade her head. Visions her husband, dead, crushed in a terrible accident.
Bad visions. Bad, bad visions.
What would she do if Carlos were to die? She'd be on her own. Granted, she would have her child and her ever-nosy relatives, but Charles was just three-years-old, and her family had no concern for her well being (just interest in where her train-wreck of a life would go next).
Mary continued to pace through the living room, terrified of the prospect of losing her husband. He may have been a cheating drug-abuser, but he was all she had—sans Charles, of course.
All she could see in her head was Carlos, bleeding, crushed, and bludgeoned. The combination of panic and staying up till mid-morning rid her mind of any rational, calm thought. Her brain was screaming things like:
"He's dead! Oh GOD! He's dead—what are you going to do now? Your life is over! He has to be dead—it's practically five in the morning! He's never been home this late before! How are you going to tell Charles? How are you going to pay the rent? How are you going to live without the love of your life?"
Not only could she not think clearly, but she could barely breathe as well. She needed to lie down just to get through the next five minutes of waiting before Carlos finally came home.
Her panic ceased, and Carlos had no explanation for why he was out for so long.
He merely entered the house, took off his clothes, and requested Mary give him 'fantastic sex' as he so aptly put it.
Carlos wasn't the greatest husband in the world.