Chapter 3
"Would you mind helping me find a pair of shoes?" I asked.
The wind picked up as I walked down the street.
August weather was fickle. Clouds gathered, and suddenly rain poured down in torrents.
Each raindrop hit the ground with a sharp sound.
With no phone and no money, I had nothing but my battered feet, wandering without direction through a city that was never mine.
My mind drifted far away.
Back to when I quit my steady job and followed Oscar to the city.
We had no idea how ruthless this place could be.
My savings barely covered a basement apartment.
Oscar interned at the hospital during the day, and after work, he'd pick up side gigs.
He'd come home late, chilled to the bone.
He'd shove all the money he earned into my hands.
That was what we'd live on the next day.
I'd heat up dinner, pull out the medical notes I'd organized for him, and while he was going through them, I'd massage his aching shoulders.
His shoulders were covered in bruises.
Most of them came from lugging heavy loads at the construction site.
"You must be feeling a lot of stress," I said, unable to hide how much it hurt to see him like this. "Maybe I should pick up a job too."
"With those tiny arms and legs, what could you even do?" Oscar joked.
He smiled and reached over to pinch my cheek.
"Alright, that's good," he said. "I'm really not tired."
"Look at you," he said, mimicking my about-to-cry face. "Oh, my little crybaby is about to burst into tears again."
I punched him in the arm.
He winced in pain.
I lifted his shirt and saw several scraped-up wounds.
After I grilled him for a while, Oscar finally admitted, "I just took a little tumble.
"Hey, drama queen, don't cry. If you start bawling, I'll end up crying too. Check this out."
He pulled a little box out of his pocket.
Inside was a gorgeous cubic zirconia ring.
"Just wear this as a placeholder for now," he grinned. "When we get married, I'll get you a real diamond ring—bigger and even more beautiful."
As time went on, Oscar's shoulders grew tougher and tougher. He shouldered all the burdens—me, and everything about our home.
Everyone in the department would tease him.
"How does a chief surgeon end up with hands this rough?" they'd joke.
We finally had a place of our own.
A place where we could finally get out of the wind and rain, and actually feel the sun on our faces.
By the sixth year, Oscar proposed to me, slipping that diamond ring he'd promised onto my finger.
But it was that very ring.
That made me realize that I never really knew him at all.
Were his promises real, or just empty words?
Was he ever really faithful to me?
Every day he was with me, was there always someone else he couldn't let go of, someone he never talked about?
I just didn't get it, and that freaked me out.
I kept replaying everything in my head, trying to figure out where things went wrong.
I obsessed over every tiny memory, hoping for answers.
I kept telling myself, "Vivienne, he loves you," trying to use all the good Oscar had done to cover up my anxiety, to convince myself, even to fool myself.
My pace quickened in the pouring rain.
"Oscar!" I called out. "What's really going on in your head?"
The whole street was silent except for my own voice.
"I just can't understand! I really can't!" I sobbed, my voice cracking. "I don't get it at all."
Maybe this really was the end for us.
When I got home, I ripped down every last wedding decoration.
I cut up the invitations and candy boxes, scattering the pieces all over the floor.
I collapsed onto the couch, my forehead burning, barely conscious anymore.
"Oscar, I'm so thirsty," I mumbled. "Can you hold me? I'm freezing."
But nobody answered.
The rain stopped, the night dragged on, the sun came up and went down again, and my watch just kept ticking. Nobody cared, and nobody noticed.
When I finally woke up, three days had gone by.
Oscar never came back.
I picked up my phone and saw a message from him. [Can you come get me from the police station?]
My mind went completely blank.
A thousand possibilities crashed through my head all at once.
By the time I snapped out of it, I was already standing outside the police station.
"Can I help you?" the officer at the door asked.
"I'm here to pick someone up," I said.
"Oh?" He glanced inside. "Are you here for Oscar Barnett?
"He got brought in for causing a disturbance. He's in the processing room right now, but there's already someone with him."
I walked up to the door.
As soon as I cracked it open, I caught the sound of a woman quietly crying.
She pleaded, "You're way too reckless. Oscar, I can take a little crap; it's really not a big deal. Please, don't go after Darren again.
"He's got money and connections. Oscar, I can't lose you, not again."
Oscar pulled her close, gently rubbing her back.