The Red Car by Marcy Dermansky Read Free Book Online Page A

while since our last fight. I hated fighting with Hans. I hated fighting. I hated it.
    â€œWe are married.”
    â€œI am sorry,” I said. “Diego bought the ticket. He got the only available dates.” This part, it wasn’t entirely true, but it sounded good. “I can do my job from the West Coast, it won’t be a problem.”
    â€œBut what about me?”
    I looked at Hans.
    â€œI want to go, too,” he said.
    â€œThe plane ticket is in my name,” I said.
    â€œNot alone. I want to go with you. I want to go to San Francisco. With you.”
    I shook my head. I had tried to tell Diego that Hans would react this way.
    â€œYou’ll be fine,” I said, remembering what Diego had said. “Look at how well you cook. You can take care of yourself for a while.”
    Hans threw his pad thai across the room, breaking thewhite plate, noodles flying everywhere, small bits of chopped peanuts landing on the white wall, bean sprouts on the floor.
    â€œCall him and ask him to get me a ticket, too.”
    â€œIt’s a funeral,” I said softly.
    â€œIt’s not just a funeral. You are going for two weeks.”
    â€œYou’ll be fine,” I said, my eyes focused on a single bean sprout on the floor. “You are a grown man. I would love it if you were to go away for two weeks.” I knew that I should stop talking but I could not stop talking. “I would do anything to be alone for two weeks. I am grateful when you go out for the night.”
    It happened so fast I didn’t even see it coming. I don’t know how it happened, Hans’s hands were around my throat and he was choking me, my legs were twisted out from under me, and I was on the floor, unable to breathe.
    I wet my pants.
    Hans stopped choking me.
    I lay there on the floor in my wet leggings and didn’t move. Hans lay next to me. I don’t think he saw it coming either. Nothing like that had ever happened before. Now, he was stroking my hair.
    â€œOh, Leah,” he said. “Leah. I am so sorry.”
    I think I nodded.
    We both lay on the floor, breathing hard.
    â€œI am just going on a trip,” I said. “Can I go on a trip? Please.”
    â€œI am sorry,” Hans said, again and then again. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want you to go. I want to go with you.”
    â€œIt’s just a short trip,” I said.
    â€œI don’t want to be left all by myself. Please don’t go.”
    â€œIt is just a short trip,” I whispered.
    And maybe that had been true.
    Before Hans choked me.
    I N THE AIRPORT, I WAS SURPRISED by how little it took to make me feel happy again. I bought an Interview magazine which featured a French actress that I loved being interviewed by an American actress that I loved. They were both starring in the same movie directed by a Polish director whose movies I also loved. I bought a bag of Peanut M&Ms. I bought myself a coffee. I sat at the gate, reading my magazine and eating my M&Ms, drinking my coffee.
    I watched the people at the gate who would also be boarding my flight to San Francisco. I saw a family, a mother with two babies, and I wondered if I would ever be her. I had never talked to Hans about whether or not we wanted to have kids. I watched a businessman look very serious and important, typing important things into his laptop. I had also packed my laptop computer. I could sit at a table and type fast, appear to be a very important writer. I could wear my thick tortoiseshell glasses, the ones that made me look more like a writer.
    It seemed incomprehensible that just a few hours ago, Hans had choked me because I was going to go the funeral of my old boss who was dead. And that not long before that, we had been about to eat dinner and watch a new episode from our favorite TV show. It seemed incomprehensible that I was offto spend two weeks in San Francisco. I could not