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the house in a body bag.
    “ Senora , please come out on the veranda. It's a beautiful day!” Teresa called out from the foyer, and when Deborah walked into the kitchen, Teresa took hold of her arm.
    “Teresa, I'm not an invalid. I'll be all right. You know how Genevieve gets when she loses her temper,” Deborah explained, trying to keep her voice light, as if she hadn't been beaten.
    Teresa raised an eyebrow when Deborah smiled and winced from her bruised lip. They walked out on the patio and over to one of the tables facing the back of the property that had a perfect view of the mountains. Deborah sat and tilted her head back, breathing in the dry Nevada air, taking a moment to reflect how lucky she was to be alive.
    If only Genevieve stopped hurting her, then all would be perfect.
    Deborah's mouth trembled as she thought of her wife, who she did still love very much, but whom she could no longer stay with.
    She poured herself a cup of coffee and took a sip, the strong dark taste filling her mouth as she planned in her head. Hopefully she'd be able to pull Gilberto aside at one point in the day, when Genevieve was indisposed . He was her only hope .
    Deborah went still and stared straight ahead upon hearing Gen's voice behind her. This time she wouldn't jump up and welcome her with open arms as she did every day.
    The clicking of Genevieve's heels on the pavement burned Deborah's ears as she waited for another eruption of rage to be directed at her. When Genevieve came to her side, Deborah didn't greet her, but instead tilted her head down to stare at her lap.
    Genevieve's hand fell lightly on top of her hair and pulled through her strands, her touch oddly comforting. Deborah stopped from grabbing Gen's palm and laying it over her cheek.
    Neither broke the silence. Deborah finally relented. “Did you finish your errands in town?”
    Genevieve rested her chin on Deborah's shoulder, her arm coming around to hold her close. “Yes. My massage was very relaxing and I bought a few items for the house, including a little something for you.”
    Deborah nodded slightly and pressed her lips together to stop from asking what that little something could be. Genevieve kissed her on the cheek and took hold of her hand. “Come with me and I'll show you what I bought.”
    Deborah left her uneaten bowl of oatmeal and blueberries, her weekday breakfast that never changed—another rule set by Genevieve—and allowed herself to be led back into the house. Gen had a soft, dazed look on her face, most likely from one too many Bloody Marys or mimosas she drank at the day spa.
    Both Teresa and Gilberto stood in the kitchen, and when Gen nodded in their direction, they did the same, watching them leave. Gen didn't say a word to her, not that Deborah cared. She didn't think she could hold a conversation at that moment, her whole body tense with anxiety at what Genevieve had bought her. She'd hope it wasn't another outlandish sex toy used to invade her body as a form of love shared between them.
    Tremors almost overtook her body, and when they reached their bedroom, Gen turned, her face full of worry and her eyes cloudy with torment.
    “Oh dearling, I'm so ashamed about our argument we had this morning. You know how nervous I get right before the end-of-the-quarter meeting I have with my stockholders.” Gen waved her hand as if the incidence was of no real consequence.
    Deborah smile didn't reach her eyes. “I know full well how nervous you get. We all have our moments where things get the best of us.”
    Gen gave her a warm smile, and when she pulled her in close for a hug, Deborah went into her arms stiffly. She rested her head in the crook of Gen's shoulder and closed her eyes.
    This would be one of the last hugs she received from this woman.
    “I love you so much. Please forgive me for the way I overreacted. I know you would never do anything to hurt me intentionally,” Gen whispered in an impassioned plea.
    Like you've done to me