Assault with a Deadly Lie: A Nick Hoffman Novel of Suspense

Chapter 16

129 16 They say you should never go to bed angry when you’re in a relationship , but we did anyway that night. I took some Benadryl which knocked me out in minutes. Wednesday morning I found Stefan in the kitchen pulling open drawers and cabinets, banging plates and cutlery, generally making as much noise as he could without actually breaking anything while he put together a sandwich. Marco watched him, hopeful. He angrily sliced some fresh rye bread, but I didn’t say a thing about his sawing away with that big knife and possibly cutting himself. “There are over three hundred million guns in this country that private citizens own,” he said, slapping the bread onto a plate. “Three hundred million. Why do you need to have one?” “How is that a reason for me not to have a gun?” “You’ve been proud that you don’t fit in, in lots of ways, and now you’re one of the sheep.” “You converted, so how are you any different?” He slammed down the knife, grabbed a smaller one, slathered Grey Poupon onto both sides of the bread, and slapped thin-sliced roast beef on both pieces. It looked messy but good. I registered that, even though our continuing argument had purged me of hunger. I went after him because he hadn’t responded, even though I knew I was wrong to do it. “You’re a Christian now—” “A Roman Catholic.” “Last I heard, they were still Christians. You changed religions. You used to be a minority, now you’re in the majority. Fine. It’s what you want. It makes you happy. I’m getting a gun. That’s what I want. What’s the fucking difference?” 130 He shook his head disdainfully, and I despised him at that moment, even as I wondered how it was possible to be so angry at someone you loved and lived with. “Don’t compare faith to a firearm—that’s just stupid.” “How about trying to sound like an adult when you trash me?” Stefan bit into his sandwich, staring off behind me, as if willing me to disappear. Then he looked me in the eyes. “You’re right,” he said, his voice softening. “What?” “You’re right. I’m not being adult. I made a huge change in my life, and you accepted it. Now, when you’re making a huge change in your life, what do I do? I start freaking out. That’s wrong.” Nonplussed, I didn’t know what to say. Was he sincere, or was this some kind of reverse psychology? Stefan took a deep breath. “But it’s not the gun, not really. It’s that everything seems harder since . . . since what happened, it seems out of whack. I don’t even know how I can go back to teaching when fall semester starts, or write anything again. My life doesn’t make sense. If I’ve been touchy about Fieldwork, that’s why.” “I feel the same way. And then the stalking, the threats, the—” I pointed up in the general direction of the bedroom, not wanting to even say what we had found there polluting our bed. “Listen, Nick, you want to get a gun? As long as you learn how to use it, and you buy a gun safe to keep it in, that’s all that counts.” He tried to smile. “At least we don’t have kids to worry about. There’s no chance Marco could ever get a hold of it without us knowing.” I could feel the fog of hostility inside me clearing. “Thanks.” Marco had wisely kept his distance during our low-key rumble, and wherever he was, he suddenly went barking to the front door. We both froze. And then looked at each other in complete connection and forgiveness, because no matter what the current tussle had been about, we were in this together. It reminded me of one of my favorite novels, Brideshead Revisited, where Oxford students Charles and Sebastian feel themselves contra mundum: together against the world. It had truly felt all week that the world was leagued against us. Stefan said, “I’m sorry,” as I headed to the door and I called back to him, “Me, too.” 131 Vanessa was there, and I could feel my shoulders relax. “Gotta minute? I left something at home, so I...