Page 7 of Rook

“Assault.”

“On who?”

“The man who ran a sweetheart con on my mom.”

“Sounds like he had it coming.”

“More than you know,” Rook said. Then, to my surprise, he went on. “My ma has always been… fragile.”

“Fragile physically?”

“That too. But mentally. She’s bipolar.”

“But… isn’t bipolar manageable with meds?”

“It can be. It was. On and off. But she got worse as she got older. Then after the con…”

Rook trailed off, his gaze far away, his eyes haunted.

“I’m a good listener,” I invited.

“She had a rapid and severe decline after. She began rapid-cycling, self-harming. And then there was the psychosis. I could have gotten her back on track.”

“But you took your anger out on the bastard who hurt her and got locked up.”

“Yeah. And so did she. I never even got the full story about how she got sent to the facility. I’m assuming it was a suicide attempt. A seventy-two-hour hold became weeks. Then years.”

“She’s been there for years?”

“Yeah. I can’t get her out.”

“Why not?”

“Because of my P.O. She won’t even let me go visit her.” The pain in his voice was ragged. I felt torn open for him.

“Why not?”

“Mostly, I think she just gets off on the power of refusing me.”

“What about other family? Do they go see her?”

“It’s only us. I have contact with the hospital, but they can just give me general updates. I need eyes in there.”

“And only family can visit?” I asked.

“Yep,” he said, popping the p, his jaw granite. “My brother over there just suggested I get married to get someone in there.”

“I mean, it’s an idea, isn’t it?”

Why was I entertaining this? There was no way I could go through with this? Live a lie with him. Even if he would even consider me an option.

“I’m not dating anyone. I’m not even the dating type.”

“Who says it has to be real, though, right?”

“Who the fuck would agree to a not-real marriage?”

The words were out before I could even think them through.

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