"I've realized that..." he started, then took a shaky breath. "Earlier today, when Stanley pulled you aside... seeing you two so close and secretive, I hated it." The words tumbled out in a rush. "I don't like how others make you smile..." He traile...
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°•°Vanessa's POV°•°
Every morning was a gift. Waking up to my husband's face, peaceful in sleep, was my favorite part of the day. Even though he still refused to kiss me until we'd both brushed our teeth-a habit I'd found silly in the beginning but had grown to accept as part of his unique, endearing rhythm.
"Staring at me again?" Eddie asked, his voice thick with sleep as he cracked open one eye to look at me.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I stated, feigning innocence before slipping out of bed. I took a quick shower and was slowly getting ready for the day ahead. By the time I was finishing up breakfast, the sound of the shower running told me Eddie was up.
I'd just finished setting the table when he padded into the kitchen, his hair still damp. He walked straight up to me, finally granting me my good-morning kiss before sitting down. The expression on his face was a familiar one: the weary look of a man already bracing for a long day at work.
"A long day ahead?" I asked, taking my own seat.
He gave a grim nod around a mouthful of toast. "Meetings stacked on meetings."
"How about I give you a nice massage when you get home?" I suggested.
His face instantly brightened, and he grinned from ear to ear. "Yes!"
After breakfast, I piled the dishes in the sink and we went our separate ways. When I was a child, I'd always thought I'd be a doctor, but life had a funny way of changing plans. I'd become an elementary school teacher-a surprise, even to me. But I loved it. Shaping the future of our country felt like an honor, especially when I saw my students' eyes light up with understanding. Helping them achieve their goals, both big and small, filled me with a purpose I'd never expected.
Around lunch, I decided to call Eddie to see what he wanted for dinner.
"Hey, Hun. Can't really talk right now, I'm busy driving," was the first thing he said, and he already sounded exhausted.
"Late for another meeting?" I asked, standing up from my desk.
"Yes, and I don't want to get into an accident talking on the phone!" he stated, his voice tight with stress.
"How is talking to me going to get you into an accident?" I asked, a little hurt by his sharp tone.
"I'm sorry, Ness," he sighed, and I could practically hear him running a hand through his hair. "It's just... my mother called. Telling me not to drive on the roads because it rained. It rained like three hours ago."
Ah. Suddenly, his attitude made perfect sense. The ghost of Sonia Kaspbrak still occasionally tried to steer our car from her nursing home.
"It's funny how she can barely walk, and still tries to control your life," I stated, snorting in a very unladylike manner.
Suddenly, I heard the blare of a car horn through the phone, followed by Eddie yelling, "Hey, dickhead! Flow of traffic mean anything to you?"
"You okay?" I asked carefully. I knew he could be sensitive, especially when people tried to tell him what to do-a lifelong trigger.
"Yeah," he huffed, his breath shaky. "Some people just don't get that it's my job to assess risks. And that's why I said that, statistically speaking, I'm more likely to get into an accident talking to you on the phone."
"I know, and I understand," I said softly, my irritation melting away.
"Ness, I have to go. Goodbye." He disconnected before I could say another word.
It was only then I remembered I'd never actually asked him about dinner. I took a risk and called him back.
"Eddie Kaspbrak speaking," he answered, all business. He hadn't even checked the caller ID.
"Look, the only reason I called is to hear what you want for dinner?" I said, rubbing my temple.
"Sorry," he said, his voice noticeably calmer. "Anything would be fine. Why don't you surprise me?"
"Okay. Love you."
"Okay, I love you too, mommy."
I froze. "Excuse me?"
"Vanessa. Bye." He hung up again.
I stared at the phone, a mix of confusion and anger bubbling up inside me. There were days I worried about the pressure he put on himself, and today was officially one of those days.
I returned to my desk and took out my lunch, picking at my sandwiches while watching the kids play outside. The normalcy of the scene was comforting.
Then my phone rang again.
The number was unknown, but the area code made my blood run cold: Derry, Maine.
A deep, familiar ache bloomed in my abdomen-a phantom pain from a scar I hadn't thought about in years. A violent memory, long suppressed, flashed behind my eyes: The police lights painting the walls of my uncle's house blue and red. Me, shaking, telling them everything I'd seen. Them carrying out my uncle's body on a stretcher. And then Henry, bursting free from their hold, his eyes-wild and full of hate-locking onto me. I never even saw the knife until it was too late, until he was slashing down, the searing pain, the blood...
Why was I remembering this now?
With a trembling hand, I answered the call.
"Hello?"
"Vanessa Bowers? It's Mike."
"Mike who? And it's Kaspbrak, not Bowers," I snapped, the old name feeling like a slap.
"Mike Hanlon. From Derry." His voice was grave, older, but unmistakable. "You need to come home."
The line went dead. I sat there, the phone clutched in my hand, the world tilting on its axis.
Minutes later, my phone rang again. It was Eddie.
"Ness," he said, his voice stripped of all its earlier stress, replaced by a raw, quiet fear. "Did you... did you get a call?"
"Yeah," I whispered. "I did."
Together, without needing to say another word, we made the decision. He cancelled his meetings for the entire week. I arranged for a substitute teacher.
