Ambushed by M.E. McAndrews
Chapter 7
Olivia
house, my footsteps echoing in the silent hallways. I pass through the living room and into the kitchen. The radio is still on, filling the empty room with the cacophony of jazz music. I never shut it off when I’m at home. The silence of the empty house scares me now.
I shuffle to the refrigerator and search for something to eat. All I find are leftovers from a week ago — unlabeled containers of moldy rice and beans, some cold cuts, a couple bottles of beer — nothing that is the least bit appetizing.
With a sigh, I set the food aside. My stomach lurches and growls as if on cue. I remember Seth's favorite sandwich shop downtown that we'd often go to together after long days at work, or when we needed a date night out of the house. It would be packed with people, but because of Seth’s contagious charm, we'd always get seated right away every time. The memory brings a smile to my face.
Suddenly losing my appetite, I slam the fridge door. As the days move forward, I’m going to have to force myself to eat. Just then, a knock on the front door echoes through the hall. My heart skips a beat, and I hesitate to answer it. I’m not expecting anybody.
My heart fills with warmth when I open the door to see Bella standing there.
“I come bearing chicken parm!” she says cheerfully, holding out a large takeout bag in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. Her long platinum hair is pulled back into a large sleek bun, her face lit with a warm smile.
“Oh, my god. You’re an actual angel.”
“I thought you could use some company,” she says with an understanding grin.
I open the door wide for her to enter and gesture for her to come inside. “How did you know where I live?”
“It was in the obituary,” She answers. “Sorry. Did you want to be alone?”
The smell of garlic and tomatoes fills the air, making me realize how hungry I am. “Oh. No! I’m so glad you came. Come in. Your timing is perfect. My fridge was pretty barren.” I mosey to the kitchen table and slide two plates out from the cabinet, and she removes several containers from the bag.
“The last thing I want to do when I'm having a tough time is dishes, and those come with cooking.” She laughs. “And this little Italian hole-in-the-wall around the corner is the best.”
“Where?”
“Fratelli's.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek. Fratelli's is expensive. It’s not what I’d ever consider a little hole in the wall. A heap of guilt piles inside me. This dinner must've cost her at least eighty dollars.
“How much do I owe you?”
She waves her hand dismissively.
“What? Don't be insane. This is my treat.”
“No, no, no. I'll pay you back,” I insist.
She laughs again, then gets serious for a moment. “Olivia, seriously. This is my treat. I wasn’t even sure if you were going to be home.”
I roll my eyes, but I'm grateful. Grateful that she's so nice. Grateful that she can offer help during such a difficult time. Grateful that I'm not all alone.
When she and I first met for coffee after the funeral, it was like an instant connection. An almost inseparable friendship seemed to be forming. We had both been through similar situations, and having someone who understood my situation was beyond comforting. It's like we've known each other for years.
Bella and I sit down to eat, reveling in the burst of flavors. Besides chicken parmesan, she brought the most fantastic homemade Italian sausage with handmade fettuccini and to-die-for Marinara.
“So, what made you want to come over?” I ask.
“I felt like a conversation over dinner was just what you needed,” she says as she chews her food. “Maybe it’s my superpower?”
“Yeah, you're right, as usual. This is, technically, my first night off since losing Seth, and I'm clueless with what to do with myself.” I wave my fork in the air. “I was just sort of wandering aimlessly around the house.”
“Well, you can't just hide away in your house forever.”
“I know, but it's hard to go out anywhere alone. And I don't even know what to do anymore. I'd rather just sit at home and be miserable, and that's not a good way to deal with things. Just being alone in silence is… I don't know. The days go by so slowly, and the nights go even slower.”
She glances out the window. “Fresh air and yardwork might do you some good.”
“Yeah. We always planned on putting a vegetable garden out there.”
“Ah, that’s sweet. You know how to grow stuff? I’ve always been terrible at it.”
I nod. “Oh yeah. My mom always kept the yard filled with fresh veggies. She could grow anything, but now it’s like my own personal weed collection. I call it ‘au naturel’.”
She chuckles. “How about we open that wine?” she says.
“Good idea.” I pour two glasses and lift one, swirling it in a circular motion before raising it to my nose to breathe in its fruity earthy aromas. I've certainly never had anyone do anything for me like this before.
“To you. For just being wonderful.” I tip my glass toward her.
Bella smiles and clinks her glass to mine. “To us surviving.”
I take a sip and an unexpected warmth spreads throughout me. I hadn't realized how much I needed company.
As we finish eating, Bella slides back her chair and stands. Without a word, she saunters into the living room and plops down on the couch.
I get up from my chair and follow.
“Have you heard anything from the jerk neighbor?” she asks.
“No,” I say, glancing out the window. “He's actually been quiet for the first time since he moved in.”
“What an ass,” she says, staring down at her wine glass. “It's almost like he was waiting for Seth to be gone.”
I stare at his mega mansion, its spired roof rising into the night sky on the other side of Springer Trace. A single light shines from a second-floor window. I wonder if he's doing anything. Probably just basking in his wealth, fucking some young supermodel. A wave of anger rises at the thought of him, followed by a chill racing back down my spine.
“Yeah. He's terrible, that guy.” I take another sip of wine. I want him to get out of this town, to get away from this neighborhood, this house. “As far as I'm concerned, as long as he leaves me alone, I don't care what the hell Austin Blackwater does.”
“Oh, don't worry,” she says, smirking. “He'll get what's coming to him.”
“How? He’s a literal billionaire. What could we do? File a lawsuit or something?”
Bella shrugs. “I don't know, but karma tends to find its way to get even.”
“Enough about him. He doesn't deserve any more of our time.” I sit down beside Bella, draping an old quilt across our laps.
“You're right.” She leans her head back and sighs. “Clearly, he's just weird.” She takes a long sip of wine.
We flip on the TV and find a shitty rom com on Netflix, laughing at its ridiculousness until the late hours creep up on us, and we're both tipsy and exhausted.
“Do you need to spend the night?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Probably for the best. The wine's definitely working.”
“You can borrow some PJs. Help yourself to whatever.”
“Okay.” She sits up, stretching.
“Bella, seriously thank you. You're a life saver.”
“Anytime, girl. Anytime. Bella smiles as she stands up, and staggers toward the stairs. I follow her as she walks upstairs and I grab an extra blanket from my bedroom closet. Bella spends a few minutes rummaging through my bureau for some pajamas that will fit her long, thin frame. She finds an old pair of my high school basketball shorts and a tank top, which she quickly changes into. She also grabs a toothbrush from the bathroom cabinet, brushing her teeth and washing up before heading across the hall to the spare bedroom.
I watch Bella as she turns to me, a satisfied smile on her face. “You good? I'm gonna crash,” she says.
“Yeah,” I answer with a nod. “Thank you again. Sleep well.”
Bella gives me a tight hug before disappearing into the guest room.
I stand outside her door for a moment before making my way through the house, starting with the downstairs. My footsteps reverberate in the empty hallways as I go from room to room testing every door and window, making sure each is tightly shut, and double checking the locks. After losing Seth, I've become extra vigilant, taking no chances.
As I tread through each room, I flip on nightlights, chasing away any shadows. When I’m finished downstairs, and I reach the top of the stairs, I pause and listen, trusting my instincts to pick up on any strange noises. But tonight, all seems quiet.
I settle into my comfortable bed, pulling up the covers and burying myself in the pillows. I close my eyes, letting out a deep breath. Now that the house is silent, my mind turns to the day they called with the autopsy report, the way they confirmed the word ‘suicide’ with such finality. ‘Overdose from sleeping pills,’ they had added. But they're wrong. He was always so full of life, always making plans for the future, with his writing. He had so much to live for. When I told them he didn’t take any sleeping aids, they brushed me off. ‘Sometimes there are things about your spouse that you don’t know,’ they had said.
I toss and turn in my bed, trying to make sense of it all. I can't stop thinking about the possibility that something else had to have happened, something else that caused his death. I won't be able to find peace until I find out the truth. I lie here spinning ideas in my head until the cloud of alcohol and pure exhaustion drag me into a dreamless sleep.