Chapter 2 - The Siege of the Suburbs
By noon on Christmas Day,
the suburbs were quiet,
the only sound being the distant chime of church bells.
Inside our old house,
I knew Derek and Tabitha were likely opening expensive gifts.
I could imagine Brenda bustling around the kitchen,
claiming the space as her own.
They probably thought I was crying in a motel room,
begging for a crumb of Derek’s attention.
But I wasn't in a motel.
I was in the passenger seat of my father’s black sedan,
holding a folder that felt like a loaded weapon.
Daisy was safe with my father’s longtime housekeeper,
warm and fed and loved.
We pulled into the driveway of the Hartford house,
the tires crunching loudly on the unplowed snow.
Derek’s silver SUV was parked in the center,
blocking the garage.
I saw the curtain in the living room flutter.
The front door opened,
and Derek stepped out,
wearing a cashmere sweater I had bought him for his birthday.
He looked annoyed,
as if my presence was a minor inconvenience to his holiday.
"Nora,
I told you we’d talk after the New Year,"
he shouted from the porch.
"Go back to your father’s and stop being dramatic."
Brenda appeared behind him,
crossing her arms over her chest.
"Honestly,
Nora,
haven't you caused enough of a scene?"
she added.
My father stepped out of the car,
straightening his coat,
his presence commanding the entire yard.
"We aren't here to talk,
Derek,"
Arthur said,
his voice carrying across the frozen lawn.
"We are here to serve you."
Derek laughed,
a shallow,
arrogant sound.
"With what?
Divorce papers?
Go ahead,
my lawyer will have them tossed by Monday."
"Not divorce papers,"
I said,
stepping forward until I was at the foot of the stairs.
"An Emergency Order of Protection and a Notice of Eviction."
Tabitha drifted toward the door,
holding a glass of eggnog,
looking confused.
"Eviction?"
she asked,
her voice high and shrill.
"Derek said this was his house."
"Derek lied,"
I replied,
looking her straight in the eyes.
My father handed Derek the folder.
"The trust you signed five years ago,
Mr. Palmer,
specifically protects the residence in cases of child endangerment."
"We have the video from last night,"
Arthur continued,
his voice dropping to a deadly whisper.
"The video of you locking a toddler out in a blizzard."
Derek’s face went from pale to a ghostly,
translucent white.
"What video?"
he stammered,
his eyes darting toward Mrs. Gable’s house.
"The one where you laughed while your daughter shivered,"
I said.
"The judge signed the emergency order an hour ago."
"You have twenty minutes to gather your things and leave,"
Arthur added,
checking his watch.
"Twenty minutes?"
Brenda shrieked.
"It's Christmas!"
"It was Christmas last night,
too,"
I reminded her.
"When you were stuffing my baby’s clothes into trash bags."
A police cruiser pulled up behind our car,
the blue and red lights reflecting off the snow.
Two officers stepped out,
looking somber and unimpressed.
"Mr. Palmer?"
one of the officers asked.
"We have an order for your immediate removal from the premises."
Derek looked at the police,
then at the house,
then at Tabitha.
"This is a mistake,"
he pleaded.
"I pay the mortgage!"
"The trust owns the house,
sir,"
the officer replied,
gesturing toward the door.
"And the trust says you're out."
"Now,
are you going to walk,
or are we going to help you?"
Tabitha didn't wait for him.
She turned around and headed back inside,
presumably to grab her red cashmere coat and her gold-wrapped gift.
Brenda began to wail,
a sound of pure,
selfish grief.
I stood on the snowy lawn and watched as the man I had loved was escorted down his own steps.
He didn't look brave anymore.
He looked small.
He looked like a man who had traded his soul for a mistress and a bottle of champagne.
And as he passed me,
I didn't feel anger.
I felt a strange,
hollow pity.
May you like
He had lost everything,
and he didn't even realize the worst was yet to come.
