Clarity 2

by Lost, Loretta

  “Not exactly. I mean—not about me. I tried to tell her, but I think she doesn’t want to know.” I hesitate and frown, rubbing my hands together for warmth. “He’s exhibited the same sort of behavior with her.”

  “Then why the hell did you let them get married?” Liam shoves my legs off his lap and rises to his feet. “We have to call the police!”

  “Liam, Liam... she’s pregnant.” I lower my face in disappointment at the situation. “She accepts him. She forgives him. Or at least that’s what she tells herself,” I mutter under my breath.

  “I don’t understand. How can—how can she...?” Liam pauses. “Is this a joke, Helen? I know you’re a writer, so...”

  I sigh and shiver at the freezing floorboards which are beneath my toes once again. “I wish it was a joke.”

  “This is possibly the most insane thing I’ve ever heard,” Liam tells me.

  I bitterly shrug my cold, bare shoulders. “Personally, I prefer fiction. This is what happens when I try to participate in real life.”

  Liam makes a derisive noise. “Fuck that guy. Don’t let one assface ruin real life for you.” The floorboards creak and the glass crunches as Liam paces back and forth in the garden shed. “I just don’t understand how this happened. Was it a coincidence? Or did he do it on purpose?”

  “I don’t know,” I say quietly. “I think it was on purpose—maybe because he felt guilty and wanted to help my family as repentance. Or maybe because he liked hurting me so much that he wanted the opportunity to emotionally torture me for the rest of my life. In addition to the other stuff.”

  “Jesus,” Liam says harshly. “Jesus! Fuck.”

  “Yeah,” I say again dryly, rubbing my arms.

  “And your sister didn’t care? She was cool with the whole thing?” Liam demands.

  “She said she loves him,” I respond. “She says that she considers it a mental illness and that she’s going to counseling with him.”

  “Dammit!” Liam says, his voice escalating in volume. “What is wrong with these stupid women! Why do they always subject themselves to such bullshit? Do you know how many female patients I’ve seen not because of some random accident, infection, or congenital disease—but because of domestic abuse? And then they come back again. And again. And they beg me not to do anything about it. It’s fucking bullshit!”

  I am a little startled by his outburst. I didn’t expect him to be so passionate about this subject. He is also defending me—he is on my side, and I feel like I have an ally.

  The floorboards creak again as Liam paces furiously in the tiny garden shed. “It’s a bit more understandable when they’re from other cultures,” he says heatedly. “I figure they have certain traditions, and that’s just the way they’ve been raised to behave. It’s hard to break ancient habits. But your sister is American. What the fuck is wrong with her?”

  His righteous anger thrills me a little, and I do feel validated. “Thank you.”

  “Dammit,” Liam says again. “I’m really upset. I don’t even know Carmen, but I’m so pissed at her. I kind of want to grab this shovel or rake and just smash it into the wall a few times.”

  A sardonic smile comes to my lips. “Be my guest. Try taking out the other window. Smashing this one really helped me feel better.”

  “Oh, you did that?” Liam pauses. “What are we going to do? We need to do something about this, right? Should we call the cops anyway?”

  “I don’t know. That could make things worse.” I suddenly find that my lip is quivering and I’m getting emotional. I was trying to remain aloof and above this, and not let Liam see how much it’s affecting me, but it’s getting increasingly difficult the more we discuss this. “He has a gun—he threatened me,” I say quietly. I lift my hands to massage my temples gently, and take a deep breath. “When I spoke to him... he seemed to genuinely want to be with Carmen. He said he would shoot her and then himself if I did anything to stop the wedding. He put the gun against my chest so I could feel it.”

  “Oh, Helen,” Liam says. “I’m so sorry...”

  “Don’t call me that,” I whisper. I slightly shift my hands so that they cover my ears. “Why does everyone call me that? I’m not her anymore.”

  I feel the floor shift beneath me as Liam comes closer. He kneels before me and places a hand on my shoulder.

  “Winter,” he says softly, as if testing it on his tongue. “Winter, please listen to me. You’re right. You’re not the same person, and that man is not going to hurt you ever again. Do you believe me?”

  His words filter through my hands, and I cautiously remove them from my ears. I swallow, trying to fight back tears. “But he’s going to hurt her. He literally has a license to hurt her. He’s going to hurt my unborn niece or nephew. And it’s all my fault.”

  “Don’t say that,” he tells me firmly. “This is definitely not your fault. Not in any way.”

  “But it is,” I say brokenly. “I ran away from home. I kept everything to myself. If I had stayed here, I could have prevented this. I could have protected her. I would have recognized him sooner—I could have warned her early on, before she was so attached to him and pregnant. Now it’s too late.”

  Liam hesitates. “What if... what if the gun thing was just bravado? What if he really has changed?”

  “You’re just saying that,” I accuse him. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

  “Not entirely. I’m being serious. Do you believe in redemption?”

  I blink a few times as I consider this. The intensity of the conversation and our emotions have almost entirely distracted me from the cold, and I shiver a little. “Redemption? I don’t know. Have you ever known someone who really changed?”

  “Not really,” he responds. “I just—I guess I just think it’s a nice idea.” Liam comes to sit by my side again, and he takes my feet back into his lap. He begins to rub my toes to stimulate circulation and keep them warm.

  We sit like this, in silence for several minutes. My thoughts turn to the future, and what my plan of action should be. I feel so weak and miserable, and incapable of dealing with this.

  “So this is why you don’t want to participate in the study anymore?” he asks me.

  “What?” I say in confusion, startled from my thoughts.

  “Earlier when you were yelling at me, you said you didn’t want me to try the gene therapy on your eyes. Were you just upset, or did you mean that?”

  I shake my head, with my eyebrows drawn together in a frown. It’s difficult to speak. “I wish I could do the study. I wish it more than anything. But now? I can’t stay here in this house. In this city. I have to get the hell away from this place.”

  “But don’t you regret running away last time?” he asks me.

  “Yes, but...” I try to think of how to phrase my thoughts. “I already failed. What more damage could really be done? Even if I do stay—I’m powerless to protect Carmen or make things better. I might even make things worse with my presence.”

  “You have to stay,” Liam insists. “You can’t just leave again. You have this huge opportunity, and if you run away... then he’s won. You can’t let him destroy your life.”

  “Luckily, I hardly have any life for him to destroy. Not here. I don’t have any ties to this place. My life is sitting in a small cabin up north, and that’s where I should return. I haven’t called to cancel my grocery deliveries yet. I should just go back there.”

  “I won’t let you,” Liam tells me. “The life you were living was no kind of life at all. It was some kind of masochistic self-punishment for something that wasn’t even your fault. You need to stay here and be strong, Hel—Winter. Stay here, and let me try to give you the ability to see.”

  “I don’t think I can...”

  “You can’t let a ghost from your past destroy your future.”

  “It doesn’t feel like he’s in the past anymore, Liam. He’s right here. He’s standing a few steps away in my family home... he’s probably
laughing and feeding my sister cake right now.”

  Liam makes a sound of exasperation. “Well, fuck him! You can’t go on running and hiding from everything good just because of this one man. What about me? I mean, ignoring the fact that you promised that if we drove you home, you’d let us do the research...”

  “I’m sorry to go back on my word,” I say glumly. “I didn’t expect that it would be unsafe to be here.”

  “Ignoring that fact,” Liam repeats with emphasis, “what about us?”

  “Us?” I repeat slowly.

  “Yeah. Am I crazy,” he asks, “or is there something here between us?”

  My lips part to deliver a response, but I press them together again tightly to save myself from saying something impulsive and possibly stupid.

  “Maybe it’s just friendship,” Liam says. “Maybe... there’s the potential for something more. I don’t know, but I just... I really like being around you.” He clears his throat awkwardly. “Am I nuts? Do you feel the same?”

  I close my eyes before speaking, almost ashamed of the answer. “Yes,” I say weakly.

  “Good,” he says, exhaling in relief. “It’s just special, you know? It’s rare to meet someone and have such an awesome connection right off the bat. You can’t just toss us away before we even know what us could be.” His voice grows firm and demanding. “I’m sorry if saying this is uncool, or if it makes you uncomfortable. I just won’t accept you banishing yourself from the realm to live in exile again. This house is your kingdom, and you can’t let some fool shove you out of your domain.”

  I can’t help but smile sadly in spite of myself at the adorable metaphor.

  “If this is a territorial dispute, you need to mark your space and hold your ground,” Liam says with determination. “He doesn’t deserve to take everything that’s yours. He doesn’t deserve to win. He doesn’t deserve to steal your family, and steal all possibility of you having friends or lovers...”

  I lower my face to conceal a blush at that last word. Somehow, even though I am literally freezing my ass off (it is now conclusive that I despise thongs with a great passion) my cheeks begin to feel very hot at the concept of having a lover. My feet are still in Liam’s lap, and my mind drifts back to his earlier apology about his body’s responsiveness to me. The thought that someone kind and intelligent might actually desire me is quite wonderful. It gives me a little injection of self-esteem and strength. But then I remind myself that it’s so wonderful it’s almost unbelievable. Something about the whole situation seems too good to be true.

  “I just want to see you again,” Liam says. “That can’t happen if you go away. I want to be your friend. I want to read your new book before everyone else. I want you to be happy. I want to be there on the day that you get your vision back, and see the look on your face.”

  “Liam,” I say softly. “That’s all a lovely fantasy, but...”

  “It’s not a fantasy,” he assures me. “All of this can happen if you just stay here and trust me.”

  I take a moment to consider his words before responding. A deep frown settles into my face. I try to breathe slowly and evenly to clear my mind as I carefully choose my next words. “Do you want to know what I’m afraid of, Liam?”

  “What is it?” he asks, squeezing my knee.

  I take another deep breath before responding. Tears prick the back of my eyes, and I fend them off with a halfhearted smile. “What scares me most is that even if I could see, I would still be blind to the truth about people. Like Carmen.” I wrinkle my eyes, struggling to repress the waterworks. “She can’t tell what a demon he is—and I’m supposed to be the blind one. What if being able to see actually distracts a person from the truth of things, beneath the surface? What if I saw a pretty face and thought there must be an equally beautiful soul behind it? I’m sitting here with you, and I have no clue what you look like, except for other people’s descriptions. But I can hear your voice, and your words, and feel your touch—and I think you’re wonderful. But I could still be wrong. This could all be deception. I have been wrong before. What if I could see you, and you were beautiful? What if I were enchanted by your outward appearance? How would I have any indication that there could be a monster deep inside you? How could I possibly protect myself? What if having perfect eyesight actually made things worse for me—what if being able to see more made me understand less? What if the world became less clear?” I pause, realizing that I have been going on and on in an emotional tirade. I lift my fingertips and press them against my closed eyelid as a tear squeezes itself through the crevice. I sigh and utter one final sentence to Liam in closing:

  “You can give me vision, but you can’t give me clarity.”

  Liam reaches out and presses his palm against my cheek. He stares at me silently for a brief interval before speaking. “Winter,” he says softly. “The name does suit you. You’re as pure as the snow. Your mind is like the crisp, clean winter air.”

  I puzzled by his romantic response.

  “I will give you clarity, Winter,” he promises in a low voice. “I’ll give you everything I possibly can.”

  The tone of devotion in his oath is so strong that I can’t bear it. I press my hands against my face as the tears begin to fall freely. I want to believe him so badly. I want to believe that things will be fine. “I was so happy, Liam. Earlier on, with you and Owen. I was the happiest I’ve been in ages. Everything seemed good.”

  “I know,” he says, hugging me gently. “When I texted Owen, I told him to try his best to make you laugh.”

  Once again, I am stunned by Liam’s thoughtfulness. That he would care at all about making a stranger laugh is unreal. It causes more tears to slide down my cheeks. “What am I going to do?” I ask him. “How can I live in the same house with that man? He threatened to kill my sister and her baby.”

  “Just take it one step at a time,” he tells me. “One day at a time. You might find that once you rid yourself of fear, life will surprise you and you’ll learn a great deal.”

  His words of wisdom are somehow soothing; even when I’m in this state. For an instant, I recognize how vulnerable I am. Liam is already incredibly nice, but compared to Grayson, he seems like a storybook hero. I am not in a good place to be making decisions or judgments about anything or anyone. I really don’t have any clarity. Maybe I never did.

  “I would like to invite you out on a date,” Liam suddenly says.

  “A date?” I ask guardedly.

  “Yes. I spoke to Dr. Howard earlier, and I told her about your granola-bar-and-protein-shake diet...”

  “Don’t forget the wine. I also drank wine,” I inform him stubbornly.

  “That doesn’t help too much with your overall nutrition,” he says lightly. “Leslie is concerned about your health and wants to run a full physical on you and some diagnostic tests on Thursday, before we proceed with the clinical study. At this rate, she might also have to treat you for frostbite.”

  “That doesn’t sound much like a date to me.”

  “Oh, not that!” He laughs lightly. “I meant that maybe I could pick you up and take you to the appointment, and we could hang out afterwards.”

  “I would like to—but isn’t that unethical?” I ask him.

  “Yes,” he says softly. “It would technically be unethical for me to date you until after the study is complete, and some time has passed. Otherwise, it puts my career in jeopardy.”

  “Oh,” I say in disappointment. “Well, we shouldn’t risk it. I understand.”

  He seems to ponder over this briefly. “Or maybe... I could not be ethical,” he suggests.

  “Yes,” I tell him quietly. “Please. Please—don’t be ethical. I don’t need ethical right now.”

  He takes my hand and puts reassuring pressure on my palm. “Then I’ll see you on Thursday,” he says decisively. “I’ll plan something awesome for us to do, to take your mind off all of this.”

  “I doubt you can take my mind off this,” I say sk
eptically.

  “I’ll consider that a challenge,” he says with a chuckle. “But for now, let’s get you inside and get you warm. For god’s sake, woman. What will your father think of me? It’s not a good first impression that I let his daughter get turned into a popsicle.”

  The mention of popsicles makes me smile in memory of Owen’s stories. After sitting and chatting with Liam, I am definitely feeling better and stronger. When I let him guide me to my feet, I am not so terrified of the future. It helps to have one pleasant thing to look forward to.

  I toss and turn between the sheets.

  I have been locked in my bedroom for days. I have no idea how I’m going to last until Thursday.

  After the wedding, I had the housekeeper help me move my suitcase from my old bedroom to one of the guest rooms on the other side of the house. It is closer to my dad’s bedroom, and as far as possible from Carmen and Grayson’s new room. Of course, it also has its own bathroom, and not one that opens into any other rooms. Choosing this strategic location has made me feel slightly more at ease. I even asked the housekeeper to study the outside of the house and make sure that the window wasn’t easily accessible by climbing up any drainpipes. She probably thought I was crazy. I figured that I could keep to the safety of this room for the most part, but venture out into the rest of the house when Grayson was at work. But it just so happens that he was able to get many vacation days to celebrate his wedding.

  Unfortunately, he didn’t use them to go on vacation.

  I’m not sure why they didn’t go on a honeymoon—I think it’s because Grayson wanted to keep an eye on me. Either way, I have been unable to leave the room. That in itself is not so terrible. I am used to being confined to a small space and not moving around much. However, I have been entirely unable to work. Every time I tried, I found myself sitting uselessly before my braille typewriter, with my hands resting lightly on the keys. Try as I might, I could not seem to make my fingers move to produce anything worthwhile. All I could think about was that he was right outside my door.