Unexpectedly, Milo - Matthew Dicks [62]
When Milo first considered marrying Christine, after several less-than-casual hints from Christine and her friends, he had been worried, terrified really, that the closeness and intimacy of a marriage would eventually lead to the uncovering of his secrets. With friends and even his family, Milo had been able to maintain a safe distance, creating a cushion of privacy that kept his secrets safe and secure. But in moving in with Christine and ultimately marrying her, he feared that this would no longer be possible, and in short order, she would come to realize the oddities and idiosyncrasies of the man whom she had once thought of as normal. It had only been through the process of dating Christine, the development of strategies to deal with the demands, and especially the freedom associated with his job that had allowed him to risk the closeness of matrimony. But maybe now all that planning and preparation and concealment was unraveling, and as a result, Christine had been drawn to a new man, one who did not need to chew on plastic baby toys or pop open pressure seals.
Knowing if Thick-Neck Phil was in the house was necessary to Milo in the sense that any man would want to know if his wife was fucking another guy, but even more important, Milo wanted to know how and why this man had managed to infiltrate his life.
He was happy to have the video camera sitting in his lap. Had he not brought it along, he might have been tempted to creep up to the house and peer in a window. Even with the prospect of Freckles waiting, he was tempted.
Instead, he inserted tape number four and hit play. A pale glow filled the interior of the Civic as a blue screen flickered to the image of Freckles’s face. Milo knew immediately that something was wrong. The camera was in her lap again, wobbly and slightly out of focus. Her cheeks were red, her eyes wet, and she was sniffling. It appeared as if she had stopped crying just moments before.
I tried to tell them tonight. I went to Mira’s mother’s house for dinner and thought I could do it. But I just couldn’t. Mrs. Singh lost her husband two years ago, and now she’s lost Mira. How could I tell her that it was my fault?
And it was my fault. I don’t give a damn what anyone tries to say. I know that I didn’t push her off that horse, but I was supposed to be riding that day. I was supposed to be riding Scarlet the day that Mira died. There. I said it.
It was supposed to be my training session that morning, but I had stayed out late the night before. I knew I had to get to the barn early the next morning, but I knew that Mira would cover for me if I called. That was Mira. God, if she had only ignored my phone call. So now what? How am I going to tell Mrs. Singh that I was supposed to be on that horse? That I was supposed to be running Scarlet through those jumps. That I was supposed to be in the saddle when he refused on the last turn. It’s me who should be dead right now. I know it’s not my fault that she died, but it was my fault that she was on that horse, and that’s close enough. I didn’t do the killing, but I threw her in front of the train.
Freckles began crying again, and before the tears had time to run down her cheeks, her hand reached out and stopped the tape.
When it resumed, it appeared that little time had passed. Freckles had regained her composure, but the camera was still in her lap, and she was still wearing what appeared to be a simple yellow dress or perhaps a tank top. Eyes still red, but not as teary as before, and it appeared that she had blown her nose.
I haven’t been able to set foot in the barn since that day. Josh keeps calling, asking if he can do anything and wondering when I’ll be back, but what am I supposed to tell him? Does he think that I’m going to just climb back onto a horse after my best friend was killed?
Tears came again, but this time Freckles didn