The Last Mrs. Parrish

I sat on the bed and began to pull off my slacks.
“No. Stand up. Do a strip-tease for me.”
“Jackson, please.”

hed again.
“Too bad she didn’t die when your father did. I really hate having in-laws.”
I exploded. I

He sighed. “Yeah, that’s another thing. It’s disgusting. Your breasts are like two overblown balloons. I don’t want your tits hanging to the floor. Enough is enough.”

What if something’s wrong?”
“We’ll know. They’ll do the testing, and if it isn’t healthy, we’ll terminate.”

I was learning that emotional intimidation could be just as unsettling as physical. Little things had begun to grate on his nerves, and despite my best efforts to please him, nothing was ever good enough. I’d chosen the wrong wineglass or left a damp towel on the wood table. Maybe it would be that I’d forgotten my hair dryer on the counter. What made it even more difficult to live with was the uncertainty. Which Jackson was I talking to now? The one with the easy laugh and charming smile that put everyone at ease?

“Daphne. I have some bad news. Your fa—” The sound of her crying came over the line.
“Mom! What is it? You’re scaring me.”
“He died, Daphne. Your dad. He’s gone.”
I started to cry. “No, no, no.”

* * *
“Don’t you think it’s time you let me in on the big secret?” I asked as we boarded his plane for our honeymoon. “I don’t even know if I packed the right clothes.”
He leaned in and kissed me. “Silly girl. There are suitcases upon suitcases full of clothes I’ve bought for you already on board. Just leave everything to

“Daphne, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
My mother gasped and clapped her hands together.
I threw my arms around him. “Yes! Yes!”
He slipped the ring on my finger.
“It’s gorgeous, Jackson. And so bi

the space of a few short weeks, he had become indispensable to all of us.

m?”
“Daphne, you need to come home. Your father’s had a heart attack