by Amy Henwood
“This is not up for discussion. That is the last I want to see or hear of him.”
“What are you and him keeping from me?”
“Sadie will be over this afternoon to take care of you.” He pulled a quick left, away from the question.
“Chase, tell me your issue with Jackson.”
He stepped into my personal space, heavy warm breaths invading my face, displaying unpleasant emotions. “I told you I never want to hear his name again.” He pinned me against the wall.
“Get away from me,” I said, barely in a whisper, trembling and unable to escape the human prison he created.
“You are mine, baby, and I can do what I please.”
I wanted to scream, I wanted to yell in terror, but my entire body was frozen, including my tongue. Horror images flashed through my mind. He was trying to control me, and my trembles turned into uncontrollable shaking. Was this the turning point in our relationship? For the worse?
“Are you cold, honey?” he asked in a cutting voice while taking the back of his hand to run it against my face.
“Don’t touch me,” I squeaked out.
“Let’s get you into bed and under the covers to warm up. Sadie will be here soon.” He began to break his stance away from me and the wall.
“Leave,” I told him. I wanted him away from me, out of my house.
“No can do, sweetheart.”
“I don't want a personal assistant. It’s a muscle injury, not an amputation. Why does everyone insist on babysitting me?”
“Too late. She has already rearranged her schedule to be with you. Now if you want to be the one to tell her that you don't need her, fine, but don't say I didn't warn you first. Heaven forbid you mess with her newly planned timetable.”
Chase tried to adjust my pillows once I was in the less than safe confines of my bed, but I slapped him away. He still didn’t have any intention of leaving me alone.
I pulled the books I had been reading back onto my lap. Chase sat on the bed in the little space that was unoccupied. I ignored him and carried on with my studies. He didn't move. He didn't speak.
It was not until another visitor’s knock broke the silence that he left me in solitude to answer.
Sadie barged into my room with two loaded grocery bags in hand.
“I brought food,” she announced.
“Thanks,” I said, which was the best I could come up with without sending hostile vibes to her.
“I will let Sadie take it from here,” Chase said and gave me a kiss. Mentally, I wanted to detest him and break things off before I became the victim of an abusive relationship, turning myself into a statistic, but I couldn't help from falling feeble and giving into the luscious endearment. When we connected, I lost care of his attempt to control my life and let him take control of my emotions.
Sadie relocated herself and the bags to the kitchen. I followed her—well, tried to follow her, as keeping pace while battling the crutches was impossible for me. Finally, in what I’m sure was minutes later, I stood in the archway to observe her doings. She moved swiftly with careful ease; after she disposed of the food Jackson had brought, she started to unload her bags one by one, items going from inside the bags onto the counter. The first item was wrapped up in a blue and white terry cloth kitchen towel, bringing with it a scent of warm baked flour combined with yeast, filling my nose with memories of my grandparents’ house on a Sunday afternoon. The remaining items were sealed in an array of containers and Corningware dishes. Garlic, basil and rosemary smells escaped through the seams. Everything was freshly prepared and made, still warm, directly from her oven onto my table.
“Smells extraordinary.” My mouth began to salivate knowing I would soon experience Sadie’s most delicious culinary creations.
“Thank you. Rest your leg and I will let you know when I have everything ready,” she said in a demanding but gracious tone.
I did as instructed, not wanting to create a conflict with a third person of the day. After all, she did rearrange her schedule to deliver me dinner. I was not accustomed to eating dinner at such an early hour, but turning down a homecooked meal would not only be insulting to Sadie but it would be stupid on my part.
I attempted to continue with my studies, but it was difficult to focus when the smell of my upcoming feast continued to swirl my room, filling it with decadent scents. My mind drifted to the prestige place of food, soon to be engulfed by me.
After the clanking of dishes died down and the microwave was no longer running, Sadie entered my room, informing me dinner was ready. My stomach rolled with excitement to consume the mystery creation. She helped me back out of bed. I was capable of getting up myself but chose not to protest her offering. Placing her arm around my back, she helped lift me off the bed and I used her as a human crutch.
My eyes widened as I entered the kitchen. She had created an extraordinary ambience in my poorly decorated rental. With only simple layered red and yellow tablecloths, which somehow complement Mia’s and my collection of mismatched tableware, a simple centrepiece of several short cut tulips finished the pristine look, having been placed in a clear, square vase. She never failed to impress me with her never-ending, always surprising talents.
Table talk was non-existent as I savoured every last piece, crumb and drip of sauce. Lemon herb chicken with homemade garlic bread and vegetables drowned in a sweet orange glaze to complement the tang of the chicken.
She cleared the table once my plate was licked clean and presented me with a dessert of chocolate chip cookies and peanut butter fudge. All freshly homemade, of course. My bursting stomach was telling me no more, but my taste buds screamed for more satisfaction. I silently apologized to my stomach for the excessive amount of food that was making its way down. It was one hundred percent worth the sick feeling and overstuffed belly. It was by far the best meal I had consumed during my time at Darlington.
“That was absolutely, extraordinarily fantastic.” I complimented Sadie on her remarkable cooking skills, as she collected the last few soiled dishes from the table.
“It was nothing. What friends do for friends, right? I will leave the leftovers in the fridge for you and Mia.”
She truly was a wonderful person. She cooked and delivered a meal and then left the uneaten portions for me to consume later.
I would grab a towel and help dry the dishes but decided to save myself from the lecture and stayed put. That presented the perfect opportunity to juice some information out of occupied Sadie. I knew she would not run for the hills while there was a homemaker task at hand to be completed. I was itching to gain insight on Chase and why he was reluctant to share his life story with me. Maybe there was an underlying cause to his lashing out and borderline abuse. She has known him for years—I think.
I opened with something general. “Hey, Sadie. Can I ask you something?”
“Of course, hun.”
“What is Chase’s deal?”
“What do you mean?”
“He is very private toward me. I have not been able to get anything about himself or his family out of him. You have known him a long time, so you must have more knowledge about him than me.”
“He has always been that way. To me, to Dominic, to Brandon, to everyone. Very sealed.”
“There has to be something you can tell me that I don't know about him.”
“I highly doubt that.” A plate appeared from the water suds.
“Then would you know what his problem is with a guy named Jackson?”
She stopped scrubbing mid-plate and clenched onto it. Veins popped out of her hands, and I became frightened that she would split the dish in two. Another trip to the hospital, this time for stitches, was in my inevitable future. She never looked up, fixated on the slippery, soapy plate.
“Jackson who?” The plate crashed into the water, creating a splash large enough to splatter her shirt with dishwater. She whipped her head toward me, and I kept looking at her, anticipating her reaction. “I don�
��t know who you are talking about,” she said before I could answer.
I wouldn’t have been able to tell her Jackson’s last name anyway. He had never told it to me.
She fished for the dropped plate and rewashed it.
“He is the one that took me to the hospital yesterday.” I explained everything in detail as she finished washing and drying the dishes. “The two of them had this intense stare down when they crossed paths this morning. Like they share some unfinished business with each other.”
“Chase is probably jealous of him. Chase knew nothing about your accident and this guy was there for you. Taking you to the hospital, waiting with you, bringing you home. Jealousy would definitely play a factor.”
“He was angry and cold. It was not a jealousy issue. It was abuse.”
“Another man was here, in your space and taking care of you. Of course he would be angry. He is responsible for comforting you, not another person, yet alone a male person.” Sadie was heated, and siding with Chase. “How would you feel if you had the surprise of walking in on some unknown woman caring for Chase?”
“Right now, I don’t think I would care. He has turned into an overprotective, barbaric ass I would rather keep at a distance.”
That felt good to say aloud, and I did not care if she repeated it to Chase. He needed to understand that I was an adult that could take care of myself, and I did not need him or Sadie to mother me or tell me who I could and could not spend time with.
“If that’s how you feel, that’s okay, but I will let you relay that message to Chase. He will be here shortly.”
What! He’s coming back? I didn’t want him around me while I was alone.
Sadie put away the remaining cleaned dishes in silence. I sat at the table, not moving to my room, as that would antagonize the situation. The air between us gained tense weight with each ticking moment, as each dish was put into their respective homes.
An absence of sound continued to win over talk, as she single-handily motioned me upward for me to stand. She aided me from the table to my bedroom and onto my less-than-made bed. My mom would be ashamed at the habits I had acquired these years away. Unmade beds, clothes on the floor, dirty pans remaining on the stove top for two plus days before even considering washing them. Who said I couldn’t use the same baking sheet multiple nights in a row? Chicken fingers to fish sticks, that was like the same thing.
“Chase will be here shortly,” she said, reminding me of the forthcoming doom. “I will be in the living room. Holler if you need anything.”
Anything above a mellow tone traveled well through the paper-thin walls, but I agreed to her statement.
Textbooks and binders lay scattered on my bed exactly where I had left them. I pulled my business operations text and binder close and dove in, reading, highlighting and making notes.
Several minutes later, Chase’s voice flowed through the house with Sadie’s.
“She ate everything and is studying in her room with her leg elevated,” she said to him, and either she was unaware of the thin walls or she wanted me to hear.
“Thank you for watching her while I tried to take care of things,” he said to her.
“Did you get everything sorted out?” she asked.
“No, he didn’t show. I will have to think of another plan.”
“She asked about him.”
“You didn't tell her anything, did you?”
“Of course not.”
“Good.”
The creak of the dry, unseasoned door hinges expanded and contracted.
Tell me what? What needs sorting out? What plan? Multiple unanswered questions built in my already overfilled head. The only relief I had was Sadie keeping her word and not mentioning anything about my rant.
My doorway became occupied by Chase’s figure.
“Hey, babe,” he carried on with his pet names, addressing me.
“Oh, hi,” I said, showing that I was less than excited at seeing him. “Did Sadie leave?” Of course she did, I knew the answer, but I didn’t want him knowing I heard the snippets of his talk with Sadie, even when I couldn’t decipher it.
“Yes, she did.”
“I didn't get a chance to say goodbye and thank her again for dinner.” I was trying my best to sound surprised of her absence.
“I’m sure she knows you are appreciative.”
The foot of my mattress sagged from his body weight, and the tangled sheets tightened beneath me. I kept my head buried in my studies, for the babysitting tactic had me on the edge of snapping like an irritated poisonous snake.
Then it happened again.
I inhaled deeply as he rested his hand on the bottom of my good leg. The warmth of his hand came into direct contact with my skin. Tingling worked its way up from the point of contact to the top of my head, filling me with excessive stimulation. The fury I had stowed all day was released instantly by the occurrence of his touch.
I parted my attention from my books, as focusing on them no longer existed. My mind melted into him, leaving me weak and vulnerable.
Smoothly, without disrupting my leg, he shifted from the end of the bed toward me. He draped an arm around my lower back and rested his hand on the slope of my waist. My head automatically fell into the curvature of his upper chest, with my eyes falling shut. His lips brushed against my hair with his hand taking up habitat on my rose-flushed cheeks. Our closeness together and his seductive scent further relaxed my diminishing anger.
I pulled my head away and tilted it upwards to study his tender complexion. His eyes warmed in colour and I was unable to resist the urge, cupping my hand around his bulging neck muscles, feeling each vein pulse with every pump of blood.
“I love you,” he said softly, so quiet that I almost didn’t hear him.
I didn't want to destroy the atmosphere that had formed, but I truly needed to continue studying if I wanted a decent chance at passing the final semester.
“You need to keep reading for finals. I came over to make sure you were okay and didn’t need anything.”
I felt like everyone could read my thoughts these days—living or dead.
His fingertips ran away from my face, down my arm, and when he was no longer touching me, he left me alone. Solo, at last.
Hushed murmurs crossed into the confines of my room. I wondered who he was talking to now, as no one else was home except him and me. Someone who knows sounds carries throughout my rental: Mia.
Trying and succeeding in not having my bed make horrible screeches from the frame, I struggled from my bed to the floor. I stood at my cracked door, intrigued as to why Mia would be keeping her volume suspicious low
“You are not holding up your end of the bargain,” he said.
Bargain? What bargain?
“Don’t you start with me,” Mia said. I wondered why she had not returned after her errands, but she should have been at work by now. “I waited five damn years for you, and when you finally show up, you are with a pack full of others, without even telling me about them.” She was angry and wanted to yell, but refrained from the fear I would hear. “I thought we were the only ones. You knew and didn’t tell me!”
They knew each other. I knew it. Mia seemed to have been caught off guard when I pointed him out in the parking lot on the first day we noticed each other.
“You didn't make it an easy chore for me to find you.”
“I had a good life, Chase. Actually, it was great, and now I am highly regretting my decision. I was a fool not to see it the first time, and getting tricked into it a second time, shame on me. I have spent the last several weeks tossing between two scenarios, and I have decided on option B, and that one doesn't include you.”
She had said that Chase reminded her of her deceased boyfriend. Was he really dead, or was that her way out of talking about it? A dick move, in my opinion. No, it couldn’t be. She wouldn’t insist I go out with her ex. I wasn’t thinking straight anymore, a prominent indication that the medication from the hospi
tal was finally starting to take effect.
“Mia,” he insisted.
“No, Chase. You don’t get to ‘Mia’ me. What you need to do is leave, and now.”
The force of the front door slamming was enough to shake the entire house. I’m sure the other tenants felt it too.
* * *
“Hey, Scarlett,” Mia said as she located me in my room.
“Are you not supposed to be pulling a double shift?” I questioned.
“I am.”
“Then why are you here?”
“They are making me take all my breaks at once during the slow time, before the drunk rush. I don’t miss out on the good tips this way either.”
“Tell me the truth, Mia.”
“That is the truth.”
“Not about work, that I believe you. I want to know what you are not telling me about Chase.”
“He’s your boyfriend, you tell me.”
“I’m tired of everyone trotting around the subject. Chase, Jackson, Sadie, you. If I didn't know better, I’d swear you all knew one another. I heard the conversation you and Chase just had, and you better tell me what the hell is going on.”
“Look at the time,” she said, looking at a non-existent watch. “I have to get back to work.” She turned around and walked out.
I shouted after her, but it was no use.
She had barely left when another bang rattled the front door.
“Jeez! What now!” I shouted in frustration.
I balanced one crutch under my arm while I placed my hand on the doorknob and pulled.
Please let this day be over. I’d had enough of being lied to for one day, possibly one decade. My entire life had gone from simple and low-key to confusing and complicated. Trying to pinpoint what even turned my life into an uncontrollable spiral was impossible.
“Hi, Scarlett.” Jackson had come back.
A light arctic breeze caught the loose strands of his hair, showing off his dominant facial features.
“Hi,” I said to him comfortably, like I had known him for years. With the day’s happenings, I would not be the least bit shocked if my intuition was right.
