Page 103 of Made for You
She’s not home yet. I have a view into her house.
Three strikes you’re out means there was a third time.
There were only two.
“I was talking to Andy—you’re right—” Eden is saying “—but I was trying to cover for you—”
There were only two.
Suddenly I know beyond a doubt that she was talking about Josh hitting me. But why was she counting? A horrible idea enters my mind, blossoming in my fever like a toxic hothouse flower. What if their revenge plan went way, way beyond me publicly shaming Josh?
“You said in the woods there were only two times,” I interrupt. For the first time in my life, I can almost feel my coding, visceral like blood. A prickly stream running through my body, written by Andy and Eden. Coding written with Josh in mind. Made for him. Made to hurt him. A victim...and a monster. I look at Eden, trying to keep her face in focus. Trying to hang on to myself. Would Andy really be satisfied at mere public humiliation? “What was supposed to happen the third time, Eden?”
Eden’s face is bloodless.
I grab her arm. For some reason, from the pyre of my fever, Annaleigh springs to my mind. My baby, helpless as this awful plan unfolded around her, with Andy and Eden like wretched gods folding the origami of her life into this monstrous shape. Eden’s arm feels like putty in my grip. For a second I think I could crush her, down to the bone.
“Ow,” she yelps, a helpless, animal sound, and I know a strange surprise.
I just hurt a human for the first time in my life.
“What was supposed to happen the third time? What?” I shake her, as if I can rattle the rest of the truth loose.
Tears spill freely down Eden’s face. She looks afraid. Afraid of me. And it feels good.
“The third time—” Her shoulders heave. “Oh God, Julia—the third time—”
I shake her harder, because my burst of consciousness is slipping and I need this to end before I collapse. “Say it!”
“It wasn’t just about exposing him,” she gasps, and this time, I know I’m finally getting the truth. “You were supposed to kill him.”
THEN
I check the peephole, because I’ve learned you don’t just open the door. Not when you’re me.
“Eden,” I say, opening the door to my babysitter, who’s dressed in an adorable I ♥ NYC T-shirt and black joggers. “Did I book you for Annaleigh and forget?”
It’s just after seven, and Annaleigh is finally asleep after a fussy start.
After the awfulness of last night, I told Josh it might be good for him to get out of town for the weekend. Get a change of scenery, connect with some of his old Indianapolis friends. He agreed—thank God.
Eden smiles awkwardly. “No. I just wanted to stop by. Is that okay? Do you have a minute?”
“Sure.” I open the door wider. She seems nervous. Is there a problem? Or is she trying to be a friend? I resist the urge to check my makeup. I was meticulous this morning covering my black eye, and I’ve touched it up a few times since. Anyway, the lighting is low. It should be fine.
Eden stands in my living room, hands in her pockets, and looks around the space, like she’s not sure what to do.
“Can I offer you something to drink?” I beckon her to follow me to the kitchen. “You caught me alone! Josh is up in Indy for the weekend.”
“Yeah, I saw him leave earlier.”
“He’s seeing some friends. You know, blowing off some steam. It’s been such a hard few months!” I flip the lights on in the kitchen and make for the fridge.
I texted Camila this morning and asked her to reach out to Josh. He needs more support than just me. Josh doesn’t know it yet, but she’s flying in from Austin on a red-eye to surprise him tomorrow morning.
What’s really going on with you guys? she said. It’s not every day a wife calls up her husband’s ex and asks her to show him a good time.
I had to laugh at that. Yes, there were times that I felt jealous of Camila. Those times are long gone, though. Now, I need the support of strong people who can see us through this tough time.