Page 95 of Sharing Silence

Taking out two bottles of water from the refrigerator, I hand her one. For a few painful seconds, we drink and say nothing. The excuse I give myself is that I don’t know how to talk to a contract killer, but I married one and live with two other others, so I really should know what to say.

“Okay, I’m just gonna ask the obvious question.” I place the bottle of water on the kitchen counter. “How did you go from teaching to contract killing?”

Mercy chuckles, drinking more of her water before answering.

“It is a bit of a leap, isn’t it? Honestly, I’ve always had that small urge inside of me. You know when someone cuts you off in traffic, or steals your parking space? We get pissed, right? Well, I got more than angry. Those moments would fill me with a kind of rage that wasn’t easy to hold back. I guess it all came to head when I was at a luncheon with school moms, and one had the gall to criticize my gluten-free brownies. I waited until she went to the bathroom, followed her, and dunked her head in the toilet.”

I try to hold back a laugh but fail. “Really?”

“Yep. Not my finest moment, and definitely very childish. But I guess my reasoning was that no one would believe her that the head-of-the-PTA, top-of-the-phone-tree mom would ever shove the head of another grown woman into a public toilet.”

“And did it work? Did anybody suspect you?”

“Nope,” she sings. “But the thing I took away from that day was that maybe I need something to channel the rage. Honestly, if I hadn’t been watching the way everybody should be in the world, I might have gone much further than I did that day. Over brownies.”

“Gluten-free brownies,” I add.

She smiles. “I like you, Silence. You want to know another funny thing? They were store bought. I’ve never baked a day in my life.” A laugh falls out of me, the first one in what feels like forever.

She sighs. “After that, I spoke to a friend who I’d gone to anger management with. Told her that I was struggling, and she suggested the Agency. At first, I thought it was a ridiculous suggestion, but months went by and I couldn’t stop thinking about it … and now, here I am.”

I watch her. “Do you regret it?”

“I never let myself regret. It feels like I’m admitting that I’m unhappy, and I’m not. Well, not all day.” She grins, and I decide in that moment that I like Mercy, and as much as I’d prefer the Silver brothers to be the ones to take care of me, she’ll do just as good. Maybe even better.

I show her to one of the guest rooms that she’ll be sharing with Envy. After placing her suitcase on the bed, she starts unpacking, and I watch her from the vanity seat.

“Where is your daughter now?”

She sighs heavily. “Travelling the world. I know she’ll be having the best time and honestly part of me is probably more jealous than sad, but I miss her. She still texts me every day, but it’s more pictures of her at landmarks than ‘Mom, I miss you.’”

“I’m sure she does, though.”

She smiles. “I hope so.”

As she continues to unpack, I remain quiet.

And because my brain is cruel and this is the worst time to over-analyze my life, I wonder about kids. There’s an age-old, annoying expectation that at this point, Zayden and I should be thinking about having them. And of course, the conversation has come up, but we put a pin in it the day I found out about him being a contract killer. And even if he had a nine-to-five job that was as boring as can be, with my upbringing, I’m not sure I want to bring a child into this world.

I would never ever treat my kid the way my dad treated me. If anything, I’m worried I’ll go in the total opposite direction in a desperate attempt not to be my father. And I wonder sometimes whether that’s just as bad.

Now it’s even more complicated. This new dynamic with his brothers … what does it mean? We said it would stay in the safe house, but can it?

Xavier admitted his feelings for me. I’ve admitted them to him. And while Yale and I haven’t had the conversation, it’s definitely on the table. From what Xavier said, Zayden knows. He supports it.

But I don’t know what that looks like. Are we together? Are we all in a relationship? My heart lifts at the idea of having them with me forever.

And maybe it’s the societal expectations that are making me doubt that it can work, but what if it can’t? What if we try and we fail and our relationship is changed forever?

This isn’t just a marriage that we’re putting on the line. It’s our family.

“Your brain is ticking away,” Mercy says. “I know we’ve just met, but I’m extremely open-minded and quite wise when I want to be.”

I force a smile. “I believe you. But honestly, I don’t think I have the emotional range or the physical energy to go into the absolute mess that is my life right now.”

Mercy carries a stack of clothing over to a bureau. “I know that feeling, honey.”

I spot a small white box with a clear film front in Mercy’s suitcase and stand to examine it further. Inside are ten acrylic nails painted beautifully.