Sharing You

I raced down the freeway and cursed the storm that had started sometime that night. The road was slick, and rain pelted down relentlessly as I wove in and out of cars on my way back to Jeston. I tried Olivia’s phone over and over again, but each time it went straight to voice mail.

Slamming on the brake in the driveway, I didn’t even shut the SUV off or close the door as I raced into the house, thankful the front door was unlocked.

“Olivia!” I yelled as I ran toward her side of the house. “Olivia!”

She didn’t respond, and I searched wildly through her bedroom and bathroom before backtracking. Her car had been out front. I knew she was here.

“Olivia! Answer me!”

I tore through the living room and grabbed the wall just as I entered the hallway to slow myself to a stop. With careful, slow steps back toward the kitchen, I turned and eyed Olivia sitting at the bar talking quietly on the house phone.

“Liv.”

She didn’t move or acknowledge me in any way.

“Olivia, look at me!”

Slowly lifting her head, with eyes wide, she pointed at the phone. “Can’t you see I’m on the phone, Brody? Jesus!”

“Get off the phone and fucking talk to me!”

“Daddy, do you hear him? He’s crazy. I don’t feel safe being in the house with him, all he does is yell at me. If I stay here I’ll end up in the hospital or worse. Can I come stay with you?”

My jaw dropped as I listened to her. “I’m crazy? I’m crazy? Olivia, you just told me you were about to kill yourself!”

She gave me a look like I was some ridiculous child. “Now he’s trying to make me believe I’m suicidal. I swear this house is bad for my health. Tell Mom I’ll be there as soon as I pack a bag. If I’m not there or you don’t hear from me within twenty minutes, call the cops. Brody’s a loose ca

“Olivia, tell him! Tell him what you were just telling me.”

Rolling her eyes, she sighed dramatically and pi

My head jerked back. “What happened to yours?”

“Oh, my God. Now he’s acting like he doesn’t know,” she whispered into the phone. Looking back at me, she spoke slowly. “Because you shattered my phone, Brody.”

“I—what? You just called me from your cell phone less than an hour ago. I just got home. My goddamn car is still ru

“Ugh. Whatever, I’ll just pay for the new phone, Dad. Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you soon.” Sliding off the bar stool, she walked past me and toward her part of the house. “I know, I’m scared to be here with him, but I’ll be out of here soon. Love you too. Bye.”

Dropping the phone on the couch, she kept walking and didn’t stop until I slammed my hand down on the bar and yelled, “What the fuck are you doing, Olivia? You know I’ve been gone! You fucking called me because I wasn’t home. I don’t know what the fuck you did to your phone, but I still have it on mine that you called.”

She shrugged. “I wanted a new phone.”

“You—you wanted—you wanted a new phone?! That’s what all this was about? Olivia! What the fuck is wrong with you? You told me you were going to kill yourself. You said you wanted to be with Tate, and I come home to find you telling your goddamn dad that I’m crazy, and scaring you, and you think I’m going to beat you?”

“Well, you were yelling, what was I supposed to think?” she screeched back.

“When have I ever laid a hand on you, Olivia? When?” She didn’t respond and my voice got louder. “Answer me!”

“You haven’t. Yet! But you’re always yelling, you’re always mad at me. It’s only going to escalate. This is how abusive relationships begin—with the man treating the woman this way.”

I huffed harshly a few times and paced the short distance between the bar and kitchen table before sitting down in a chair and grabbing at my hair. “You have got to be kidding me! You expect me not to yell when you pulled the shit you just did? When you drain our bank accounts? When you shatter practically every dish in our kitchen? And then you go back to acting like nothing happened at all? Or you break your own phone and then call your dad and place some weird blame for it on me? Who wouldn’t yell at you about that shit after almost five fucking years?!”

“Yeah, Brody. Five years. Five! Five years of coping with the fact that my distant and hateful husband murdered my baby!”

The air left my lungs in a hard rush, and I gripped at the table when I started falling forward. When I was able to speak again, my voice was low and dark. “I did not murder Tate. How dare you even suggest that. You aren’t the only one who’s been struggling. I struggle through what happened every day, and there are days when I feel like I can’t even get myself out of bed because the grief is too much. But you don’t see me lying about committing suicide. You don’t see me trying to place blame somewhere else.”

“Because there is nowhere else to place the blame. It’s all on you. Always has been, always will be. You’ve taken everything from me. Never forget that.” She took a few steps and stopped before the hallway. “I’m going to my parents’, as you obviously heard. Unless you’ve deluded yourself into thinking I’m going to commit suicide again,” she sneered. “I want a new iPhone waiting for me when I get home tomorrow.”

“You’re sick, Liv,” I whispered to the empty kitchen after I’d heard her bedroom door slam shut. “And you need help. God, you need so much help.”

9

Brody

June 9, 2015

ONCE I WAS done explaining everything to my chief, I sat there silently as I waited for him to respond. He’d remained quiet and emotionless as I told him about the changes in Olivia since Tate’s death, and how they’d been progressing quickly over the last couple weeks.

It’d been four days since she told me she was going to kill herself, and even though she’d spent most of that time at her parents’ house, I’d refused to leave ours just in case.

And no, I hadn’t bought her a new phone.

“Saco, I know it’s been difficult for you ever since Tate passed,” he finally said, “and I know things at home have been, well . . . rocky. I respect that you want to get help for your wife, really I do. But you should maybe think about letting her family handle this.”

My head jerked back and I scrambled for the right words. “What—how could—what does that—what are you—what?!”

“Sometimes, as men, we need to know when—”

“Are you kidding? Did you not hear all I just told you? She’s with her family most of the time and she’s only getting worse. She’s telling them that she’s scared of me, and knowing the kind of people they are, they’ll believe that I’m actually beating her or something.”

“They do, Saco.”

I kept talking over him. “I need to get her help, I need to get doctors to see her. She won’t willingly go, when I suggest something she—”

“Brody!” he snapped. “They do believe you’re beating her.”

My chest heaved up and down quickly as I stared at him. “What?”

Chief sighed heavily and sank into his chair. “I didn’t want to have to tell you about this.”

When he didn’t expand on what “this” was, I slapped my hand down on his desk. “Tell me what?”

“The department received a formal complaint on you a few days ago. It was from Olivia’s parents. Stated instances where Olivia has called them, scared of you, where you could be heard yelling in the background, and times when she’s been able to escape you and come to their house, she’s been claiming you had hit her.”

I felt the blood quickly drain from my cheeks, and my head felt light. “Chief. No, you know I wouldn’t.”

He held up a hand to stop me, and I looked around the office for a trash can. “I know that. Which is why I hadn’t pla