Chapter 6
Patrick replied: [Take it easy. Just get it checked first. If it's true...]
He deleted the rest of the message.
But Penelope's message wasn't completely deleted.
Penelope: [Alright, I'll go to the hospital tomorrow. Are you coming with me?]
He replied: [I'll try.]
He always said that.
I turned off the phone and put it back next to his pillow.
Patrick rolled over, mumbled something, and went back to sleep.
I lay down beside him.
The ceiling was white.
I'd been pregnant too, three years ago. I started spotting at six weeks.
I called Patrick, and he said he was in the middle of a business meeting.
He told me to go to the hospital by myself.
The doctor said I'd lost the baby.
I spent the whole afternoon lying alone in that hospital bed.
Patrick finally showed up that evening, spent twenty minutes on the phone outside my room, then walked in and said, "Don't worry. We can try again later."
"We can try again later."
But we never did. He said there was no rush, that we'd wait until his business settled down.
Now Penelope was expecting. And he said he'd "try" to go with her.
Did he go with her? I didn't know. But I knew he didn't show up for me that time.
The second thing I did was do the math.
I put together a list of every transfer. I logged each one, month by month, amount by amount, note by note.
Two years. Twenty-four months. The total amount sent to Penelope was 33 thousand dollars.
Stuff bought for Penelope, like online shopping orders, delivered to addresses other than our home: 10 thousand dollars.
Rent paid under Penelope's name before she moved in with us: 16 thousand dollars.
Hotel stays: 7,000 dollars.
Down payment and six months' car loan payments for Penelope: 18 thousand dollars.
Total: 84 thousand dollars.
Patrick said business was rough and asked me to hold down the mortgage payments for now.
He told me, "Once the project payment comes in, I'll pay you back twice as much."
Most of his monthly income ended up in Penelope's pocket.
Meanwhile, I was pinching pennies at home.
I even thought twice about spending 60 dollars on a dinner with my coworkers.
The third thing I did was to find a buyer for the house.
I left that to Lucy.
She had a friend in real estate who skipped the agencies and handled deals privately.
Patrick could not find any trace.
The house was under my name, and all the paperwork was in my hands.
He didn't have to be involved at all, or even know it was happening.
After Lucy's friend checked out the place, she said it could probably go for 730 thousand dollars to 770 thousand dollars.
When I bought it eight years ago, the down payment and closing costs set me back 145 thousand dollars.
I'd already paid off over 150 thousand dollars in mortgage payments.
All in all, I'd put in over 295 thousand dollars.
If I sold it for 770 thousand dollars, I'd walk away with over 475 thousand dollars in profit.
With that cash, plus what I'd managed to save over the years, I could finally snag a cozy little apartment in that southside community.
Lucy said the place was pretty decent.
She said, "The ones with a garden? Have you seen them?"
I had. I saw one when I passed by last year.
Back then, I figured I'd never be able to buy one in this lifetime. But now, I could.
Everything was moving forward. Patrick had no idea at all.
He still went out every day, telling me he was off to "handle business."
Sometimes, he didn't even come home at night.
He still thought I didn't know a thing.
One day, Patrick came home in a great mood, kicked back on the couch, and said, "Maisey, I landed a project this month. Should make us a nice profit."
I was chopping veggies in the kitchen and replied, "Okay."
He added, "How about we renovate the house then?"
He said, "we." He had no idea that this "we" was about to be history.
"Okay," I said.
The buyer for the house was set. It was a young couple Lucy's friend had introduced. They'd come by twice and loved it.
We settled on a price of 760 thousand dollars.
I went over all the legal details with Fraser.
The contract was ready.
We set the transfer for next Wednesday. Only eight days left before I pulled the trigger.
But on the sixth day, something unexpected happened.
Patrick went through my phone.
That night, he came home earlier than usual while I was in the shower.
When I came out, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding my phone.
"Maisey," he said, looking pissed. "Who are you talking to about the house?"
My heart skipped a beat. Then I glanced at the screen. It was a chat with Lucy.
But Lucy was smart. She made sure not to mention anything about selling the house. She just wrote: [Everything's ready. Let's confirm next Wednesday.]
"What stuff? What confirmation?" Patrick stared at me.
"Lucy set up a check-up for me. It's on Wednesday," I said.
Patrick stared at me for a moment. "You need to 'get things ready' for a check-up?"
I replied, "Yeah, I need to bring my ID, insurance card, and all that. She looked it up for me."
He looked like he might've bought it, but then again, maybe not.
"Are you hiding something from me these days?" Patrick asked. His tone had a bit of an edge, almost threatening.
"What could I possibly be hiding?" I said, grabbing my phone back. "Or is it you who's feeling guilty about something out there?"