Page 99 of Nothing to Do

“You just lie there, staring straight ahead. It doesn’t matter, he’ll yell if he wants to yell, no matter what you say. You gave up crying long ago, he got a kick out of that, says you’re pretty when you cry…”

Sway was right, Roxie too, it was unimaginable. How could someone live under such oppression and in their own house? Their safe space was violated, their free will taken away. Just like the way Roman took over the island and commandeered everyone’s separate reasons for being there, he grabbed what he wanted and held on. The cost for others didn’t even feature in his thoughts. He was oblivious to his own insanity, to his own selfishness.

“There are people you can talk to now,” Roxie said. “To get help for that trauma.”

“Do you talk to Deacon about it?”

“No, God, no way. I would never—”

“You’re protecting Roman?”

“I’m protecting Deacon. He’d get mad and want to—he’s passionate. I’ve already caused so much friction in—”

“This isn’t your fault.”

“Thea’s right, this isn’t your fault. Don’t feel that way. Don’t ever feel that way. You talked about gaslighting, you’re gaslighting yourself.”

“Deacon was a comfort. I sold the house when Roman was in rehab.” She scowled at herself. “What a coward. I sold the house and ran the minute he got out.”

“You had reason.”

“He was doing better in rehab. Clean. He couldn’t understand how I’d stay with him as an addict and leave him when he was sober. Too much damage was done. I was still broken. He was fixed and I was…”

“You don’t owe anyone anything,” Roxie said. “Shit, it pisses me off, how guys can manipulate and—”

“He says he loves me and I never wanted to break his heart.” If he had one. “I’m not sure he knows what love is.”

She wasn’t sure he did either. Not when it came to loving anyone except himself. “He broke your heart. Broke your spirit. Did either of you ever acknowledge that?”

Sway’s chin went down; tension weighed in the air. Not aggravating or hostile, the aura was more one of nostalgia tinged with regret.

Roxie got up to go give Sway a hug. “You shouldn’t be going through this alone. Talk to someone. A professional. In confidence.”

“Who could I talk to? Who wouldn’t sell the story to the highest bidder?”

“Anyone who wanted to continue to practice.”

“The media get these things, even without permission, they pay off a secretary or get someone to go into computer files. It gets out there.”

“We’ll find someone, we know people, have connections, if—”

“This isn’t just my career or reputation. Some of the things I might say… it would impact more than just me if anyone knew the full truth.” Fortifying herself, Sway pushed back her shoulders. “I’m okay, I won’t fall apart. I just… thought I was over it, that it was over. I thought we were past it. But now, with this… It won’t ever be over.”

“You have to stop pandering to him.”

“That’s exactly what we did, what I did in ending the relationship,” Sway said, raising her arms. “We broke up. That was it. I was done. It was over. But it was never over, it will never be over.”

“How did—”

“He calls, he texts, I block my number, he gets it again somehow. He calls my agent, my publicist, he calls directors and actors I’m working with. It’s everywhere. All the time. Emails. Calls. He shows up. I thought with him on the island I’d catch a break, but somehow, somehow he still gets through, he still makes my life all about him!”

“Come stay with us in New York.” Roxie took Sway’s hand. “Crimson Palace is a fortress. Tripp can tell you, he lives there too. You can have an apartment, or a suite if you’re not worried about cooking or whatever. We’re full-service there, we’ll feed you, house you, protect you—”

“Why would you do that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Roxie asked. “We have the means. And I have a side hustle you’d definitely be qualified to help with.”

Sway looked to each of them. It wasn’t on her, but she smiled anyway.

---