Underwater by Julia McDermott

strap. The ridged surface of her skin felt dry as the blood pulsated beneath. Two and a half inches wide and resembling a smeared road map, it had been a part of her body for so long now. The only person in front of whom she wasn’t embarrassed about it was Adele.
    When Monty had first seen it, back when the world was different and his only desire was to possess her, he’d briefly recoiled but then recovered, his lust taking over. The look on his face was painfully familiar to Helen, although she had never quite gotten used to it. All these years, she had tried to toughen herself emotionally to the reaction her disfigurement evoked, but the scar she carried within was more tender than the one she wore on the outside. It was her personal iron brand, and she would carry it to her grave.
    Monty would have a tantrum when he saw what she had written to his sister. He would be furious that Helen had requested to meet, and even more irate that David, whom he hated, had called the meeting and was planning to speak on Candace’s behalf. Helen shuddered, then felt hot anger rising. Why should she have to worry so much about Monty’s childishness? Deep down, was she truly afraid of him, as Dawn had asked, or not?
    She was. Now that she was carrying another child of his, the truth was that she felt vulnerable and alone. Tears began to form in her eyes as feelings of self-pity began to take hold. She had to be strong—she couldn’t panic, no matter what her state of apprehension and alarm. She needed to take her sister’s advice and open her own private bank account, then arrange with payroll to switch her direct deposit from the joint account she and Monty had to the new one in her own name.
    She felt no shame in recognizing who her husband was and what he might do. The truth was that she had to anticipate it. She couldn’t prevent it, but she didn’t have to run from it or let fear take over. The smartest and most important thing she could do was to take control of the situation she was facing. The way Candace always did.
    Her inbox dinged and she opened another message from David, this one written to Monty and copying Candace and herself.
Monty,
I just listened to your voicemail, but I will not be calling you back due to your unprofessional tone. Please call me when you are ready to have a civil and productive conversation.
I did receive the updated budget you sent, but I have several questions about it which I will bring up to you and your wife in person at the meeting. I will see you and Helen on Monday at eleven o’clock at my office on Capstone Road.
Regards,
David
    Helen closed her inbox and tried to refocus on work, opening the graphic she had been working on this afternoon. What an absolute fool Monty was, on top of everything else. Was he just a narcissist? Is that what caused him to behave the way he did? He was more self-absorbed than anyone she had ever met; if only she’d really known who he was three years ago. But she and Dawn had agreed that a woman didn’t really know a man until he was her husband.
    Another ding. Shit! She had to get some work done today, sometime.
    Monty had shot back a response, copying everyone.
David:
“Unprofessional tone?” Coming from you, David, that’s incredible. I’ve kept all of your past, snarky emails in a folder. You won’t tolerate from me that which you spurt off. Let’s cut all this bullshit, since we don’t have a “professional” relationship anyway, nor mutual respect. I am beyond pissed off at both you and your ridiculous client. If she hadn’t persisted in ignoring me, we wouldn’t be where we are today. I can’t wait to be free of her and of you.
From now on I will speak in whatever way I choose and you had better keep your opinions about it to yourself. My sister pays you to handle her millions, not to be her bad boy. Let her talk to me directly or not at all. As for the meeting you are demanding, Helen can go if she wishes—it was her idea—but I will