Rue Rogers

4: Rue Rogers 

Day 2/365

VICKY

I sat outside for minutes, maybe hours. I still felt numb. I was trying to process all that had just happened to me. It felt like everything went wrong within the twinkle of an eye.

Williams was having an affair with my sister all along. Plus, they were having a baby. A baby I couldn’t give him. And now I was getting a divorce. Was my life really this pathetic?

These were questions I already had answers to, but it still felt like I didn't. The divorce papers were concrete evidence that it was all over, but I couldn't even bring myself to look at them. How then would I accept it?

Valerie and Williams drove out a few minutes ago. They looked like a couple of high school sweethearts who had just started dating. It felt like I was the only one feeling so much pain. They didn't even glance at me. Valerie's words were still ringing in my head. She said I was better off dead, and I agree. What if I just end it now and not wait for the 365 days to elapse?

"Dying isn't bad..."

I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket. I paused, wondering who it was. With shaky hands, I managed to pull it out. It was an unfamiliar number. I almost didn't answer, but I was curious who it might be.

I pressed the answer button and before I could say hello a deep, irritated voice clipped at the other end of the line.

"Vicky, where the hell are you?"

I didn't recognize the voice at first, but then it hit me.

Rue Rogers. My boss.

He always sounded angry, and today wasn't an exception. Of course.

"I just got home and my penthouse is a mess! Didn't you clean up yesterday? Should I point out how a cleaner's job is done?”

I swallowed hard. Hearing him yelling at me was like rubbing salt into my already burning wound.

"I'd be better off dead..." The words slipped out of my mouth.

"What did you just say?" Rue's voice lowered.

"I want to die... What use is my life? Everything keeps going wrong! I am the walking dead at this point. I'm going to die anyway, so why don't I do it now?" I burst into tears. They streamed down nonstop. I couldn't control myself anymore.

"Where are you?" Rue's tone changed.

I didn't answer. I was still choking on my own tears.

"Where are you? Tell me your address. Right now."

I still hesitated to speak.

"Don't make me ask again," he barked. "Tell me where you are."

I mumbled the address. I was barely audible, but he got it.

"Stay right there and don't do anything stupid. I'm coming to get you."

The line went dead. I looked at my phone for a long time. I leaned back and waited for him.

It didn't take long for Rue to pull up. His black SUV stopped in front of me, and he stepped out. He was looking the same as always. Polished, put together, and super good-looking. That was who Rue Rogers was.

"Get in," he said. He was looking at me with pity. I hated it.

I didn't hesitate. I sat there because I had nowhere to go and nobody to run to. I couldn't go back to me and Williams' house. I had no friends to find solace in. The two most important people in my life had just stabbed me in the back. And I couldn’t stay in my childhood home where my sister has a nursery for her love child with my husband. 

When we reached his penthouse, Rue didn't wait for me to ask questions. He opened the door and gestured for me to come in. I stood there for a moment, hesitating, before following him inside.

"Sit," he ordered, pointing to the couch. "I'll get you something."

Rue returned with a glass of water and handed it to me, his eyes studying me as if he were trying to figure me out.

"I don't need this. Thank you," I muttered, pushing the glass away.

"Who did this to you?" he asked, dragging out the first aid box. I had forgotten that I had a cut on my head. I looked down at the dress Valerie gave me to sleep in and it was soaked with my blood.

"Who did this to you?" he asked again, and I didn't reply.

Rue didn't force it. He started applying the ointment little by little, but I didn't feel any pain. Maybe the emotional damage from everything had made physical pain null.

"Does it sting?" Rue asked, applying the bandage.

I muttered, "No, it doesn't."

"What's that you're holding?" he asked, and I crumpled the paper and shoved it into my pocket.

"Thank you for your help. I think I'll leave now." I stood up, and Rue grabbed my wrist gently. I flinched. It was the effect of my abusive husband.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. But why don't you freshen up at least... You're soaked in your own blood,” he sighed. “Who did this to you?"

"You are not going to drop this, are you?”

Rue asked again, "Who did this to you? Your husband?"

I stayed quiet.

I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want to talk about anything. My chest was still heavy, and my head felt like it would explode.

Rue didn't ask again. Instead, he stood up and pointed toward the hallway. "Go freshen up. First door on the right. There's a towel in there."

"Why are you being nice to me?"

He didn't say another word, just turned around and walked away.

I made my way to the bathroom and closed the door behind me. I stared at myself in the mirror for a long time. My eyes were swollen, my lips dry, and my hair was a tangled mess. The dried blood on my forehead was still there. I looked like a wreck.

I peeled off the dress slowly. It stuck to my skin, damp with blood and sweat. I stepped into the shower. The water was warm. It was too warm. It stung the cut on my head, but I didn't flinch.

After a while, I stepped out, wrapped the towel around myself, and opened the bathroom door.

Rue was waiting outside. He didn't say anything, he just handed me a pile of clothes.

"They're mine," he said, looking away. "Should fit okay."

I took them with a small nod and went back in.

The shirt was a plain black t-shirt, soft and oversized. The sweatpants hung loosely around my waist. I looked at myself in the mirror and paused.

I didn't look like someone who was just dumped by her husband and betrayed by her sister.

I looked like a girl who had spent the night at her boyfriend's place. Like one of those pretty girls you see in movies, fresh out of bed, in a man's shirt, smiling over morning coffee.

Except I wasn't smiling.

I looked like his girlfriend.

I shook the thought away and rushed downstairs, barefoot and still drying my hair with the towel. I wasn't sure why I was rushing, maybe because I suddenly felt out of place.

As I got to the stairs, I heard a loud voice.

It was an elderly woman. I knew Rue's mom, she was the one who employed me, so this had to be his grandma.

"You're still single? Rue, are you trying to kill me before my time? All your brothers are married! Even Calvin! And you're still hopping from one fling to another!"

Rue's voice came next, calm but irritated. "Grandma, we've talked about this. I'm not interested in rushing into anything."

"Rushing?! You're almost thirty-three! I'm tired of praying for your future wife. Where is she, Rue? Does she even exist?!"

I probably should've turned back, but it was too late. Rue looked up and spotted me at the stairs. Our eyes met.

He stood up, walked over to where I was. He grabbed my wrist, and without blinking, he said:

"Grandma, I wanted it to be a surprise. Meet Vicky, my wife-to-be."

My heart skipped.

His grandma turned slowly to look at me, mouth slightly open.

I blinked, confused.

What did he just say?