Chapter 167
Nick’s
stomach dropped when Jamie burst in, and before either one of them had a chance
to react, he knew they were in trouble.
In a matter
of seconds, Jamie’s face went white, except for two streaks of red high in his
cheeks. The contrast made his blue eyes
appear sharper and colder than ever as they bugged out of his head, beneath his
severe brows. It was anger like Nick had
never seen from him before – and Nick had seen Jamie plenty angry.
“What… in
the hell…” Jamie said, speaking in low, measured tones, “… is going on in here?”
His voice
could have been mistaken for calm, but Nick knew better; it was merely the calm
before the storm. There was pent-up rage
behind his words, and he knew it was about to explode, as Jamie’s frosty eyes
flickered between Claire and him. They
lingered on him, and Nick felt his face getting warm and hot. He knew it couldn’t look good, the fact that
he was standing there next to the bed, in a t-shirt and boxers, a mere foot
from Claire.
And indeed,
the hotter Nick’s cheeks burned, the colder Jamie’s eyes iced over.
“Not what
you think,” Claire spoke up in defense of them both. “He was just trying on his Christmas
present.”
Nick
shifted awkwardly as Jamie’s eyes now moved lower, to his decoratively swathed
stump. Thank god he still had the “sock”
on, as proof.
“His
present? That thing you knitted
him? You said that was a hat,”
Jamie snarled. “For your head,
Carter. How dare you defile my wife’s
gift?”
“Oh, for
God’s sake, Jamie, stop it! You saw; the
hat didn’t even fit!” Claire retorted, throwing her hands up. “Stop trying to make this into something it’s
not!”
“Something
it’s not? Well, what is it, Claire? Cause I’d really like to know,” Jamie shot
back, glaring at her now. “You expect me
to walk in on my wife and another man in his boxers and not question
it? Carter, you think if you found me
with Laureen in her underwear, you wouldn’t wonder what the fuck
was going on?”
“I just told
you what was going on!” Claire yelled, her voice rising above his. “The damn hat was too small, so he found
another use for it, and he had to take off his jeans to show me. Big.
Deal.”
“Maybe a
nice dent would make his head smaller then, huh?” Jamie said this very quickly, and all at
once, the ice in his eyes exploded, and before Nick could move – not that he
had far to go – Jamie’s fist was colliding with his jaw, catching him right
under the chin. As his head thwacked
backward, Nick’s whole body was thrown back with the force; he hit the bed and
tumbled on over the foot of it, landing hard in a heap on the floor with a thud
that surely shook the entire condominium.
It was
surely enough to bring Laureen and the rest of Claire’s family running, though
Nick wasn’t aware of this at first, for a white-hot burst of pain had erupted
in his jaw and traveled like electricity throughout his entire body, making
sparks flicker before his eyes. With
pain in the forefront, the voices he heard next sounded far away and hazy, but
after a few seconds, he could start to pick them out.
“Nick! Nick… are you okay?” It was Laureen, not Claire, Laureen,
kneeling over him, her hands light on his back and shoulder.
As he tried
to figure out where the pain was coming from, he could hear Claire in the
background, her voice high and near-hysterical, screaming, “How could you hit
him like that?! It’s Christmas!”
And then
Jamie’s response floated over… “He had
his goddamn pants off!”
And then
another voice, closer and motherly.
Claire’s mother. “Nick,
honey? Can you talk to us?” Nick opened his eyes and saw Carrie kneeling
in front of him. Actually, there were
two Carries, floating in and out of one another. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his
vision.
“Shit,” he
mumbled, “I’m seein’ double.”
“Did he hit
his head? Claire?” Carrie’s voice rose. “Did he hit his head??”
“Jamie
hit his head,” Claire snapped bitterly.
“It was a
punch! One punch! I didn’t hit him any harder than he’s hit
me!”
“You attacked
him!!”
“Nick?” Carrie’s voice sharpened, attracting his
attention back to her. “Can you see me
alright, hon?”
There were
still two of her, but he wasn’t too concerned.
“Yeah,” he answered, unable to nod because he was still lying on the
floor, and his chin felt too stiff to move.
Trying to
block out the pain, he focused again on the voices in the background. “Kyle, maybe you and Jamie should take a
walk. And make sure Amber keeps Kamden
out of here. Claire, you sit down,” he
heard Claire’s dad direct, his voice gruff, and though it was perhaps
irrational, Nick felt a fresh hot streak of humiliation at the thought of being
knocked out on the ground in his boxers, without his leg, in front of Claire’s
father. What kind of man was he?
The
embarrassment propelled him to move, and he struggled to get up, despite Carrie
and Laureen’s protests that he should stay down.
“I’m
alright,” he muttered as he sat up, though he swayed with wooziness. The entire room was spinning, so much that he
couldn’t focus on any one of the people around him. “Shit, he got me good…”
Though his
entire body ached from hitting the floor, his hand went first to his jaw,
gingerly holding his chin.
Finally,
Carrie’s face, an older, more lined version of Claire’s, came into focus, and
he saw that she was staring directly at him, her blue eyes wide with
concern. “Is it your jaw? How does it feel? Kris, come here; do you think his jaw might
be broken?” Like a typical
overprotective mother, she asked too many questions all at once.
Nick didn’t
answer because Claire’s father was already coming over to look. He wished he could sink through the floor and
disappear.
“Here, son,
lemme have a look,” said Kris, kneeling on the floor in front of the spot where
Nick was slumped against the bed, and for just a moment, Nick’s embarrassment
faded with the realization that he had called him “son.” But it came back in full force as Kris
gently moved his hands out of the way and took his chin in his own. They were rough, but dry and cool, the way
Nick imagined a dentist’s hands would feel beneath his latex gloves. He braced himself for pain as Kris’s fingers
moved in measured increments along his jawline, gingerly pressing inward,
feeling the bone. It hurt a little, but
thankfully, the worse of the pain seemed to be behind him; it was more an ache
now.
“It doesn’t
seem to be dislocated; that’s a good sign,” Kris observed. “Can you open and close your mouth?”
Nick tried,
and though his jaw felt stiff, like a hinge that needed to be oiled, he
managed. Kris put his hands on his
cheeks, guiding his jaw open and closed again.
“Yeah, I don’t think you’ve got a broken jaw. Normally if that’s the case, it’s hard to
close your mouth and the teeth don’t align.
Yours look okay. I think you’re
just going to have some swelling and stiffness and one hell of a bruise.”
Nick nodded
slightly, avoiding his gaze, too mortified by the whole situation to look him
in the eye. Still, he was grateful, and
so he mumbled a, “Thanks.”
“We should
probably get you some ice for that, though.
Keep the swelling down,” Kris advised, and Carrie immediately jumped up.
“I’ll get
an ice pack ready! Sit tight.” Watching her scurry out of the room, Nick
couldn’t help but smile a little, though it hurt. He could see Claire in her movements and
thought that Claire would be just as good of a mother.
Mother hen
in the making, Claire called down from the bed, “Hey, Nick, do you want to move
up here? Maybe lie down? It’d be more comfortable than the floor.”
The
wooziness had faded, leaving nothing but stiffness in its wake, and Nick had to
agree that it would feel good to lie on something soft. The floor was carpeted, but as he’d learned,
it didn’t provide much of a cushion.
“Okay, sure,” he agreed. He
slowly bent his knee, planting his good foot firmly on the floor in preparation
of boosting himself off the floor, but his arms shook so much as he tried to
push himself up that he quickly sank back down again, exhaling in frustration.
“Here,
Nick,” Laureen said quickly, jumping to his side. She grabbed him under one arm, and Kris
grabbed him under the other, and together, they helped pull him up. Nick felt more humiliated than ever as the
two of them basically lifted him to a standing position.
“I’ve got
it from here. Thanks,” he mumbled,
sitting down on the foot of the bed and slowly scooting himself backwards,
ignoring the dizziness that had returned.
Maybe his head had collided with the floor when he’d landed? He couldn’t really remember; it had happened
too fast.
Claire was
sitting on the edge of the bed again, much the same way she had been when Jamie
had come in. She twisted around to look
at Nick, her face apologetic. “I can’t
believe he did that,” she said, shaking her head.
Nick
shrugged, wanting to play it off. “It’s
not like it hasn’t happened before. I’ve
hit him too,” he pointed out, noticing, out of the corner of his eye, the
surprised looks Kris and Laureen both gave him.
“I know,
but… that was mutual. He just knocked
you off the bed with no warning, no reason, except… well, there was no
reason; if he would just listen and trust me!” she ranted, her
face reddening with frustration.
Nick could
find nothing to say in response to her.
He stared miserably down at the remnant of his left leg, which looked
ridiculous in the green- and red-striped garment Claire had knitted. He reached down, wanting to pull the stupid
thing off, but then he thought of the ugly stump beneath it, with its long,
raised scar, and he held back, preferring to keep it hidden. Cheeks still blazing, he wished he could just
pull on his leg and go, get away from this family whose Christmas he had
interrupted.
But then
Carrie returned with his ice pack, wrapped in a soft towel to keep it from
getting too cold or too hard, and he knew he couldn’t leave just yet. He thanked her and dutifully held the bag of
ice against his jaw, and he had to admit, it did feel good. Embarrassed as he was by the entire
situation, he hadn’t had such TLC in a long time, and he was grateful to be
among people who cared for him and didn’t seem to judge. Neither of Claire’s parents had even asked
what exactly had happened, or why exactly he was wearing no pants and no
leg. Laureen hadn’t even asked, though
she was no doubt wondering.
Everyone
was silent for a few seconds, no one knowing what to say. Claire’s parents exchanged awkward looks,
while Laureen just looked down, and Claire seemed to glare straight through the
closed door. Nick felt a small swelling
of triumph over the way she was seething at Jamie, but it was quickly quashed
by guilt. After all, it was Christmas;
he shouldn’t be glad that Claire was furious at her husband.
Then again,
it was all Jamie’s fault. He was showing
his true colors more and more, in front of her and her family.
Behind the
ice pack, Nick allowed himself a tiny smile of satisfaction.
Just as he
did, Claire looked over, and he quickly tried to sober his face. She didn’t seem to notice though. “How’s your jaw feel?” she asked.
“Better. This is helping,” he replied. “Thanks, Carrie.”
“Oh, sure,
hon. I’m glad it’s feeling better.” Claire’s mother smiled briefly, but her eyes
continued to look troubled. “It looks
like it would hurt a lot. I just can’t
believe Jamie would…” She trailed off,
shaking her head.
Her words
seemed to rile Claire up again. “I can’t
believe him either. I don’t care what he
thought was going on; he didn’t even stop to let me explain! And like I said, there was nothing
going on!”
Laureen
glanced up and then back down again.
Kris cleared his throat, and Nick’s stomach clenched, fearing some kind
of lecture about what it might have looked like and how they shouldn’t have put
themselves in such a situation to begin with.
He wasn’t sure why, but although Claire’s dad had always seemed kind, he
found the man slightly intimidating.
Maybe it was because of the lecture he’d once given Nick about “stepping
out of line” with his daughter, shortly before Claire had moved in with him, or
maybe it was simply because of his size.
In any case, Nick’s stomach clenched.
But Kris
didn’t seem to care at all about Claire and Nick. He was more concerned about Jamie.
“Claire, I
just need to know,” he began gravely.
“Has he raised a hand like that to you? Or ever threatened to?” His voice was very calm, almost too calm,
and Nick could practically see the fury shielded behind his eyes, ready to come
out if Claire answered yes, if it turned out that Jamie had “stepped out of
line” with his daughter. In that case,
“stepping out of line” would have been putting it lightly.
Nick
watched Claire closely. He couldn’t
imagine that Jamie had ever struck her; Claire would never stand for such a
thing. She had tolerated him being an
asshole for this long, but she was too strong to become one of those battered
wives, afraid to leave her abusive husband.
He felt confident of that, but still, he watched her, waiting for her
response.
Thankfully,
she looked shocked at the mere idea.
“No, no, of course not,” she answered quickly. “He would never hit me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him hit anyone,
except Nick…” She shot Nick a sidelong
glance, offering a crooked smile.
Kris wasn’t
smiling at all. “Still,” he said,
shaking his head, “I don’t like this.
He’s acting like a damn kid. A
real man doesn’t haul off and punch someone just because he doesn’t like him,
or because he’s upset. He’s got to grow
up and start acting like a husband and a father. You don’t need this kind of stress.”
Claire
nodded. “I know, Dad. Believe me, I know. I can’t even look at him right now, I’m so
mad. Nick didn’t do anything; he
attacked him for no reason.”
Nick felt
guilty that she was so upset on his behalf.
“Well, it wasn’t like he tried to knife me or something, Claire. It’s not that big of a deal; I’m fine.”
“He still
hit you hard enough to throw you over the bed.
He could have broken your jaw,” Claire argued. “Don’t make excuses for him, Nick, because
there is no excuse for that. There’s no
excuse for any of the crap he’s pulled.
I’m sick of it, all of it. Like
my dad says, he needs to grow up and be a man.”
It was
wonderful to hear her say that, but still, Nick felt awkward. He didn’t really belong here, in the midst of
this conversation. Claire should be
saying these things to Jamie, not ranting them to him behind closed doors.
Looking
over at her, he nodded and said, “You’re right.
But you need to talk to him… not me.
I feel like I’m just causing trouble here; I should go. Laureen…?”
“Yeah, we
should go,” Laureen agreed quickly. She
looked almost relieved, and Nick didn’t blame her, but then Claire stopped
them.
“No, wait,
you guys, don’t go. I don’t want this to
ruin our Christmas. You’re not the ones
who need to leave.” Pausing, Claire
sighed deeply. “I want Jamie to leave.”
Her parents
exchanged looks again; so did Nick and Laureen.
But no one protested.
“I’ll tell
him to pack his stuff and find a hotel,” Kris volunteered bluntly, starting for
the door.
“No, Dad,
stop,” Claire said quickly, causing her father to pause. “He’s my husband. I need to talk to him.”
She got up
from the bed slowly, passing her father on the way to the door. He put his hand on her shoulder briefly and
stood back as she opened the door and slipped out of the room, closing it
behind her.
Inside the
room, nobody spoke. But soon they could
hear muffled voices outside in the hallway, drifting under the door.
“I can’t
take any more of this shit,” Claire’s voice wavered. “You don’t trust me; you hit my friend in the
condo he bought for us, where he is supposed to be our guest. I hate being around you when you act like
that, and I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t trust me, who won’t even
give me the benefit of the doubt. I can’t,
Jamie. I can’t. It’s too much drama, too much stress, and
it’s not good for the babies.”
Then
Jamie’s voice came, sullen and apologetic.
“I know… I’m sorry for making you upset.”
“If you’re
really sorry, you’ll grow up and start acting like a man. You’ll be there for me when I need you, and
you won’t harass my friends,” Claire said firmly. “But until you do, I can’t be around you
anymore.”
“What are
you saying??” Jamie’s voice rose. “God,
I’m sorry, Claire; I overreacted, alright?
Temper got the best of me. It
won’t happen again, I promise. I’ll
apologize to Carter if that’s what you want.”
“That’s not
what I want,” she replied. “I don’t want
your meaningless apologies or empty promises.
I want you to leave this condo.”
“Oh,
Claire, come on! Don’t do that,” Jamie
shouted, his voice forceful and angry.
For as
outraged as he sounded, she seemed almost unnaturally calm. “I’m serious.
Get your things and go.”
“Where do
you expect me to go?? Back to Des
Moines? Is that what you want?”
“I don’t
care, Jamie. Get a hotel… go to your
brother’s… or fly back to Des Moines early.
I don’t care. I just know that I
need some time away from you.”
“Time
away? Jesus, Claire, you’ve had plenty
of time away from me now that you’re conveniently stuck here.”
“And I
guess it’s for the best, isn’t it?” Claire replied serenely. “Now go.”
Inside the
bedroom, Kris moved closer to the door, as if ready to throw it open and collar
Jamie if he refused again. But to the
relief of all who were eavesdropping inside, Jamie seemed to finally surrender,
for the voices stopped, and within a matter of seconds, they heard the
unmistakable sound of a door slamming.
Moments
later, Claire came quietly back in, her cheeks very pink, lips rather
white. She returned to her spot next to
Nick on the bed and didn’t speak. For a
few minutes, no one did. They just
listened, the awkward silence broken only by the distant thumps and thuds of
someone packing quickly and angrily in a room down the hall.
Fifteen
minutes later, Claire stood at the window, looking out over the parking lot, as
Jamie drove away.
***