Free Mazie Baby by Julie Frayn

baby?”
    She turned her face from the stench
of his bourbon breath. “I used to.” She pushed him away, grabbed her purse, and
bolted out the door. She peeled out from the curb and turned the corner before
pulling over and crying against the steering wheel. He’d never admitted to
cheating, and she’d never figured out if he had, but the thought that he might
sleep with another woman and then come home to her made her gut lurch. The fact
that he was a liar stung.
    The microwave beeped. She opened
her eyes but didn’t move.
    “Hey, wake up.” His voice grated in
her ear. “It’s done.”
    She pulled out the hot plate and
dropped it on the table, a fork and knife clanged against the wood where she tossed
them.
    “What the hell?” He raised that
damn eyebrow like he was all innocent and shit and she was the bloody problem.
    She glared at him. “I’m going to
bed.”
    She turned and walked away. She’d
lost the will to give a damn. He could fuck whomever he wanted. Choke them for shits
and giggles. As long as he left her the hell alone, what did it matter?
    ~~~~~~~~
    Mazie pushed peas around her plate
then poked at her pork chop. She glanced up at Cullen. His plate was nearly
empty, three fingers of Jack over ice already gone from his tumbler.
    She cleared her throat. “Are you
taking time off when Ariel starts summer break?”
    “Thought I’d go fishing. Get away
for a bit.”
    She nodded.
    He glared at her. “What? You want
to come, right? Damn it Mazie, it’s the only time I get to myself!” He pitched
his fork onto his plate and grabbed the bottle of bourbon. Another three
fingers went down in one gulp.
    Ariel sat next to her father,
frozen in place, staring at her plate.
    Mazie reached across the table and patted
her hand. “No, me and Ariel don’t need to come.” Trapped in the woods in a
shitty one-room cabin with no phone, no television. No escape. No, she wouldn’t
do that again.
    “Oh.” He nodded and picked up the
fork, shoved the last of his mashed potatoes in his mouth. “Good,” he said
through the food.
    “I was thinking I could take Ariel to
see my mother.”
    “Do whatever you want. As long as I
don’t have to see the old bat. She can’t die soon enough. Bitch hates me.”
    Ariel peered at her. “Is Grandma
going to die?” she whispered.
    “Not yet, sweetheart.” She plastered
a fake smile on her face to hide the clenching of her jaw. “But she is sick and
we can’t visit her often.” She cleared the plates and stacked them next to the
sink. Rachel’s daughter rode her bike past the front of the house. “Ariel, why
don’t you go out and play? Polly’s out there.”
    “Can I, Daddy?”
    “Sure, pumpkin. Whatever you want.”
    Ariel’s face lit up. “Thanks,
Daddy.” She ran to the entry, slipped on her runners, and bolted out the front
door.
    Mazie stood at the window and
watched Polly jump from her bike and hug Ariel. The joy on her daughter’s face melted
Mazie’s heart. She closed her eyes and tried to conjure the face of her
childhood best friend, but Sherry’s memory had become another bit of blurry flotsam
in the emotional turbulence that churned in the wake of her life. She opened
her eyes to find that the Johnsons’ twin sons had joined the girls. The four of
them stood on the manicured front lawn beside the spirea bush still waiting for
its white flowers to bloom. Sunshine caught the gold A of Ariel’s pendant and flashed
a glint of light into Mazie’s eyes.
    She blinked, ran the water,
squirted the dish soap into the stream, and slid the dirty dishes under the
surface.
    Cullen shuffled around the room,
ice cubes clinked into a tumbler, bourbon glugged from the bottle.
    His footfalls neared until he stood
beside her, a cigarette in one hand, bourbon in the other. He stared out at the
children and sucked on the cigarette until a long ash dropped onto the counter.
He flicked it into her dishwater, held the butt under the suds, the hiss of its
dying heat