Page 92 of Requiem

I fight back the bile that rises to the back of my throat even as the blood drains from my face. Jeremy is holding the appointment card for my next OB/GYN appointment. The one that says ‘four-month sonogram’ on it. He tosses the card up onto the counter, then squats down on his haunches, putting his palms on my knees so we are face to face.

“Congratulations, Jules! I can’t tell you how happy I was to discover you’re expecting another rugrat!” he crows brightly. “So, so happy! Because, you see, the only revenge better than hurting you, is hurting you and your baby. Matthew’s baby.”

He puts a hand to my bloodless face and locks his eyes on mine.

“Now, I’m not sure how you’re going to come out of all this, Jules, but there’s one thing I can tell you with absolute certainty. You won’t be keeping that appointment.”

Brett 34

When we arrive at the apartment, my mother is holding David to her chest, while Natalie is holding a bag of frozen peas to her swollen face.

“Matthew!” Natalie cries out, jumping off the stool, tears running down her face. “Oh, God, Matthew, I’m so sorry! I thought he was the pizza delivery guy. He had his uniform and the box … he punched me … so hard, Matthew … I was unconscious. Then he shot me up with something … I just woke up in your bed. That was hours ago,” she sobs in one, long miserable breath.

Matthew pulls her into his arms and pats her back – an extraordinary gesture, considering the desperate panic I know he’s experiencing at this moment.

“I know. I know, Natalie. I know. It’s not your fault,” he somehow manages to comfort her. “Is David okay?”

“He’s fine,” she sniffs. “When I finally came to, he was in his crib, crying.”

We turn to my mother, who is silently bouncing the sleepy child. She nods her agreement that he’s fine.

“Oh, thank God,” I whisper.

“But, you should know that he was ready to take David, Matthew. The diaper bag was packed, the stroller set up. I think Julia must have convinced him to leave David behind,” my mother informs us.

Matthew puts a hand to his face and shakes his head. He looks as if he’s about to start crying himself until Natalie speaks again.

“Matthew,” she says softly, “he left a note.”

I watch as he swallows hard, and I know exactly what he’s thinking, because I’m thinking it, too. This is one of those moments. He’s sitting on the very edge of his world. In a matter of seconds, everything is going to change, and this may very well be the last second of ignorant bliss that he’ll ever have. The last moments when his life is intact. He takes a deep breath, and walks to the breakfast bar, where the single sheet of white paper sits, my brother’s unmistakably meticulous handwriting in bold, black marker. The instant Matthew picks it up and reads it aloud, he has slipped into the abyss.

‘Matthew, no police. Wait for my call and think about what I’m doing to her right now.’

And with that, I slide right into the void with him.