Ghost Light Read Free Page A

She had learned over the last eleven years of marriage to this man that nothing—absolutely nothing she did would please him. And that’s why—tonight she had decided that she had to tell Alex that she was leaving him. She’d made up her mind. Upstairs, she had a suitcase packed for her and one for each of the kids, and she was going to spend a few days or weeks at her sister’s house until she figured out what she was going to do, but this was it. She was leaving! She had to if she wanted to hang onto whatever shreds of sanity and self-respect she still had. She had to if she wanted to spare Billy and Krissy any more of the agony of living in the same house with a man as violent as Alex.
    She jumped when she saw the dark smear of his shadow shift across the screen. His foot stomped heavily on the first step, sounding like a gunshot in the night. Debbie jerked forward and almost stood up, but then eased back into the chair.
    No, she told herself. Don’t go to the door to meet him. Don’t even stand up. Stay cool and calm, as detached as you can be, so you won’t be an easy target. Sit here and as rationally and as quietly as you can, say what you have to say. Don’t give him a chance to react, much less overreact. And maybe, if you’re lucky, if there truly is a God who watches over widows, orphans, and maybe even abused wives, maybe he’s so damned drunk he’ll pass out before he can beat the living shit out of you.
    Maybe…
    Just maybe…
     
    2
     
    “What the fuck’re you lookin’ at?”
    Alex pulled the screen door open and braced it by leaning against it as he gripped both sides of the door jamb and glared into the house. The overhead kitchen light was much too bright. It stung his eyes, making them water. The whining sounds of the cicadas rose higher and higher, spiraling around him like the whine of those goddamned jet engines he worked on at the airport five fucking days a week. He couldn’t see Debbie’s face clearly; it was nothing more than a watery blur, looming at him from the glaring yellow room, but damned if it didn’t look like she was smiling at him.
    Christ, the bitch was laughing at him!
    “What’s so fuckin’ funny?”
    “…nothing…” came the reply, but he could barely hear her voice over the buzzing cicada sounds and the high-pitched ringing inside his head. For several seconds, he thought that he might still be staring up into the spotlight, and that the woman he was looking at wasn’t his wife at all, but one of the dancers who would soon begin to gyrate to the heavy beat of the music and start taking off her clothes.
    Breathing deeply and shaking his shoulders, Alex took a step into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him. When it hit with a bang, he noticed Debbie’s reaction: she jerked back quickly as if he had slapped her. And that—goddamnit!—was exactly what he was going to do if the bitch didn’t stop sitting there, smiling at him… laughing at him! The overhead light shadowed her eyes, and she looked like a raccoon—like a big-assed, fucking crazy, grinning raccoon.
    “You got supper ready for me?” he asked.
    He took a few lurching steps into the house toward the refrigerator, then tripped. He had to grab onto the door handle to keep from falling. The tile pattern on the floor spun around like the colored lights of a merry-go-round.
    “I—there might be a few slices of left-over pizza,” she said. Her hand lifted and, trembling, pointed at the refrigerator.
    “Pizza? Cold pizza? You expect me to eat fucking cold pizza?”
    “I can put it in the microwave for you,” she said mildly, but he noticed that she made no motion to stand up. She just sat there, staring at him with that dumb-ass smile plastered across her face.
    I’ll take care of that smile , he thought. I’ll wipe the goddamned floor with it if you don’t cut it out!
    He moved toward her but tripped again on his own feet and banged into the table. Debbie let out a thin squeal