Page 143 of Into the Dark
Katie nods, flashing me a tight smile that definitely means “good luck.”
Vicky is waiting for me outside, and we proceed to walk in absolute silence to the deli. It’s probably the most awkward few minutes of my life. I even speed up at one point so it will be over with sooner. She keeps up, walking beside me, her entire body bristling with what feels like violent energy. I want to ask how she found out where I work, but then I’m now listed under the practice as a partner and she knows my name, and so it wouldn’t have been too hard. Making everything worse is the overwhelming cloud of thick, sweet perfume around her threatening to send my stomach careening back into the state it was in this morning. Fabulous.
The deli is as busy as always, but there are some stools free by the window, and I point to them before asking if she’d like anything to drink.
“No,” is her curt response.
“I’m just going to go order myself a tea,” I say and make my way to the counter.
After I order my drink, my leaden feet zigzag back through the tables to where she’s sitting straight-backed on the wooden stool tapping her long fingernails impatiently. I plant my coat and bag on the counter, and she turns to face me, sliding her glasses up onto her forehead. She’s glaring. A glare designed to kill, or at the very least maim. Her eyes are red-rimmed and tired as though she might have been crying.
“I assume you didn’t come for medical advice.” I attempt a friendly smile.
“You’re not taking my fucking son away from me,” she spits, venom dripping from her tongue.
I feel as if I’ve been kicked in the face again. “That’s not… I don’t want to do that.”
“No? So he’s back with you for a week and all of a sudden he’s asking for custody? He’s never even mentioned it in the past three years, and now it’s what he wants?” She gives me a look of utter contempt. “What’s the matter, can you not have any of your own, you desperate fucking bitch?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her. The very outermost tip. But somehow it doesn’t feel like my place. Instead, I wait until the barista sets my tea down with a smile and walks off.
“I don’t know what it is you think happened, Vicky, but Jake asking you for custody was his idea, not mine.”
“I don’t fucking believe you.” She’s vibrating with rage. Visibly shaking. There’s fear and rage in her body, and I think she’s on the verge of tears too.
“Well, that’s fine. But it’s the truth.” I lift my tea and blow on it. “Jake told me he wanted Caleb to live with him, and I told him I’d support that. That’s all. Everything else you’ll need to take up with him.”
“Does he seriously think Fred is gonna let you and him take my son away from me?” Vicky laughs, but it doesn’t sound very confident. “He won’t. Not a chance.”
“Jake isn’t doing this to hurt you, Vicky. He loves Caleb and wants to spend more time with him, that’s all.”
She laughs again, but it’s bitter this time. “What the fuck would you know? You don’t have the first fucking clue about why he does what he does, you silly cow. You think you know him?” She shakes her head, dragging a hand through her long hair. “You don’t. You know nothing, sweetheart. Nothing.”
Oh, her smug tone gets my back up. I’m tired of people thinking I don’t know him. Mark. Kevin. Even Freddy.
“You seriously think I don’t know him?” I ask.
“Oh, I fucking know you don’t.”
I consider my next words carefully. “When were you and Jake last together?” I ask.
Vicky looks confused by my question, by the change of subject.
“As a couple, I mean. Obviously I know Caleb came after, but when were you and Jake last in a relationship? Eight years ago, was it? Nine?”
She stares at me hard, pretending to think about it. Instead, I’m certain she’s thinking about grabbing the cup of hot tea and throwing it in my face. “What’s that got to do with anything?” she asks.
“Well, don’t you think it’s possible he’s a different person from the one he was then? That maybe he isn’t the same with me as he was with you?”
She smirks, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “Oh, he’s the same fucking Jake, trust me.”
“Then how is it you think I don’t know who that is?”
“Because you’re still with him. Because if you knew who he really was, you’d run a fucking mile in those expensive shoes and not look back.”
I lift my cup again, sipping carefully for a moment before setting it back down. “You seriously think I don’t know who he is?” I ask quietly. “You think I’m clueless about Freddy or Kevin or Staffy or Maryk? Or why the police follow their every move. You think I don’t notice the bruised knuckles and the blood on his clothes when he comes home to me? Christ, you really must think I’m a complete idiot.”
She stares back at me, speechless. Then, still venomous, she says, “What the fuck has he told you about Fred?”