Page 34 of His

“I know, I know. For three months, Valerie hasn’t left her bed unless I physically helped her. She literally hasn’t been anywhere but the bed and the back porch, where I put her occasionally so that she can get some fresh air and sunlight. And now . . .” he begins pacing.

“Astor, she’s more lucid than you think she is. I’m telling you, she’s either not taking her medication or not nearly as bad off as she’s led the doctors to believe. What did she say?”

“She seemed confused and disoriented . . . almost like she’s not sure what she saw.”

“What? Like, she doesn’t believe she walked in on you with your head between my legs?”

“Yeah—I know; it’s weird.”

It is incredibly weird, but when I picture Valerie just standing there watching us with zero emotion—no yelling, screaming, hell, no punching her husband in the face—it aligns with her demeanor.

“So you two didn’t even talk about it?”

“Not directly, no. She didn’t directly ask about it, and so of course I didn’t openly bring it up.

“Hang on. Valerie didn’t ask a single thing about walking in on us?”

“Right. And, I sure as hell didn’t bring it up. I was more focused on getting her lucid and back to the present moment.”

“Well what did she say about writing your daughter’s name on the shower wall like a lunatic?”

His eyes meet mine. “She said she didn’t do it.”

“What?”

He begins pacing. “Yeah. Just like she says she doesn’t remember calling out for Chloe in the middle of the night, or asking why—whatever that means anyway.”

I grab his arm. “Astor, I’m telling you, she’s playing you. She’s playing us. Who else would have written Chloe’s name on the shower wall? It was her.” When he doesn’t agree with my theory, I press. “Valerie was standing there, plain as day, watching as I orgasmed. Of course she saw it. Of course she knows there’s something between us. Of course she wrote Chloe’s name on the shower wall. For her to act confused is exactly that—an act.”

“I don’t know, Sabine. She was really out of it when we got back to the room. Disoriented, confused. I’m going to call the doctor first thing tomorrow morning. Maybe have Jackie come by; I think it’s supposed to be her day off but I think we need her.”

“You need to do more than that.”

“What do you mean?”

“You need to address it with her again. For her not to go crazy after seeing you with another woman means she has ulterior motives for staying with you.”

“Sabine,” he shakes his head. “She’s sick.”

“No, Astor. I’m not letting this go. There is something else going on here.”

We both stare at the door, as if she’s going to reappear.

“How is the new nurse handling it?” He asks.

“That’s something else . . . something is weird with her too.”

“What do you mean?”

“While you were in with Valerie, she was staring out the kitchen window with this scared, nervous expression on her face.”

“What was she looking at?”

“Nothing. I checked.”

He frowns, then sighs. “She’s going to quit.”

“No, I don’t think so. I get the vibe she needs the money. But it was . . . strange.”

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