Free Alice Close Your Eyes by Averil Dean

see.”
    “I’m not a rapist.”
    “So then why did she accuse you?”
    He leans back on one elbow and lights a cigarette.
    “When you get into a long-term relationship, things change. For some people, the changes are good. You have a steady job, a couple of kids, a house in the suburbs, and you settle down. That’s what I thought I was getting.”
    He drags on his cigarette.
    “For Rosemary, marriage was a power play. She got what she wanted—the house, the new car, me, all of it. But nothing I gave her was enough. I started working long hours to keep up with all the shit she needed. The clothes, the vacations to Paris and Costa Rica and fucking Amsterdam. Jewelry, salon, God knows what else—it’s all a blur at this point. Anyway, about three years into our marriage, she starts with the drugs. And I’m not talking about marijuana. I’m talking crack and heroin, whatever else her boyfriend would give her.”
    “Her boyfriend?”
    “Yeah. This douche bag she took up with. A friend of a friend. She was running with another crowd by that point. I didn’t know them.”
    “How long did this go on?”
    “About a year. Finally this dude convinces her that she’ll get a better divorce settlement if she accuses me of hitting her. He figures I’ll pay up to get her to drop the charges.”
    “But she didn’t drop them.”
    “No. Because I refused to pay. I told Rosemary to go fuck herself and I filed for divorce.”
    “So she accused you as payback?”
    “Yeah. The next thing I know, I’m under arrest and she’s telling everyone I raped her.”
    “But you didn’t. What kind of proof did they have?”
    “Nothing. It would have been her word against mine. But my lawyer thought it was a risk, so I took the plea.”
    His eyes are level and hold mine a shade too long. He hands me the cigarette and I take a slow drag.
    “What was the boyfriend like?”
    Jack raises his eyebrows. “What was he like? A fucking crackhead, that’s what he was like. How the hell do I know?”
    “You’ve never been curious to find out more about him?”
    “Why should I?”
    I shrug. “If it were me, I’d want to know who screwed me over. You’ve never wanted to investigate? How do you even know it was his idea?”
    “My buddy knew him. He said this guy told him all about how he was planning to make money off Rosemary’s rich father-in-law.”
    “What happened to them? Your divorce went through, I assume?”
    “Yeah, it did. Rosemary was long gone by the time I got out. I heard she left the boyfriend, too, but apparently he’s still on the island.”
    “You never went looking?” I’m strangely disappointed in him, that he’s allowed himself to be made a fool of this way and has done nothing about it.
    He sits up, takes off his glasses and begins to clean them with his shirt.
    “I’m not a complete pussy, if that’s what you’re thinking. I did go see the guy while I was out on bond.” He glances over at me, his lips twisted in a wry smile.
    “And?”
    “I went to his house—this miserable piece-of-shit little place—and when he came to the door I more or less barged in. Rosemary was there. Strung out, clearly. Looked like she hadn’t seen the inside of a shower in days. And her hair...I don’t know what happened to her hair but it used to be glorious, really long and shiny and thick. That day it looked like she’d cut it herself with a pair of poultry shears, right to the scalp.”
    A muscle twitches in his jaw.
    “I lost it. I would have beaten that cocksucker to death with his own fucking fire poker. Actually had it in my hand, as a matter of fact.”
    “But you didn’t.”
    “No. Because a fire poker’s not much of a weapon when the other guy’s got a gun.” He pauses, holding his glasses up to the light.
    “And now?”
    “Now, I stay away from him. Only a goddamned idiot would get caught up in that shit again. And besides...”
    He looks at me. His eyes trace the line of my hair, over my neck and