Page 28 of Margot
CHAPTER EIGHT
SUTTON
The oxycodone the ER doctor prescribed had my mind floating in another dimension. I lay in bed while Lennox went to the store and all I could do was replay the sickening way my fingers got crushed in the door. My heart sank a little further into my chest with each loop of the wicked mental video.
How the hell did this happen to me after getting such a huge offer?
My life was a joke.
A cruel joke.
Warm tears spilled down the sides of my face, pooling in the hollows of my ears while I lay there, hating every moment of my experience. At least the deep throbbing in my hand stopped thanks to the pills.
I didn’t even want to turn on the TV. All I wanted to do was sleep. Maybe when I opened my eyes, everything would be washed away. A horrible nightmare that never really happened.
I shut my eyes, hoping I was high enough of pain pills that sleep would take me easily when I heard Lennox come in the front door. He’d been a lifesaver and I should have told him that. I should have let him know how grateful I was that he dropped everything and rushed to my side but I couldn’t. My mouth was cemented shut.
I hated myself for it.
“Hey, beautiful,” he smiled when he came into the bedroom with bags full of stuff. “I got you a pillow especially for your arm and I went to the book store and got you a few things to read while you rest and heal. I figured once we got back from the appointment that we could order dinner and watch some movies. Anything to get your mind off this shit.”
The bed dipped under Lennox’s solid weight when he sat beside me. “Thank you, Lennox,” I sighed. I hoped he knew I appreciate him for everything that he did. I hoped it came across in the way I spoke to him.
“How are you feeling? Not your fingers but how are you mentally?” He asked, his thick brows knitting together.
“I don’t know. I feel…angry. I have to cancel the concerto with the Philharmonic. I can’t play for more than a month. I want to rip Ebony’s head off.” My chest heated with red-hot anger.
“I’m going to try my best to get her transferred out of the office. It would be better if she just got terminated altogether.” He scrubbed at his beard with the heel of his hand and then shook his head.
“Did she tell you she did it?” I asked him, sitting up a little more. My fingers throbbed a bit but it was nothing compared to when everything first happened. Oxycodone provided a nice cushion between the pain and me.
“She did. She tried to explain it all away but I didn’t give her a chance to. I honestly can’t understand it.” He looked truly confused and I didn’t know how he didn’t understand it.
“She wants you,” I said, looking into his copper eyes. “I’m your wife. She probably hates me. I just don’t understand where all the animosity came from all of a sudden. I’m sure she’s always wanted you but why ramp up the pettiness now? It’s like she’s scorned or something.” I fumed thinking about the look in her eyes as she let the door go just before I grabbed it.
Lennox rubbed the back of his neck and then groaned. I could tell he had more words that needed to come out but he was holding them back. I was an expert at holding things back so I knew how it looked.
“Fuck her. I’m worried about you right now. We need to get ready to go soon.” He looked down at his watch and stood to his feet. I missed him being beside me already. When he was right there, it felt like my world wasn’t falling apart.
I glanced down at my middle finger in a splint and cringed. It turned my stomach to even see it. Thick white foam stabilized by shiny metal hugged my finger and tethered it to my pointer for full immobilization.
“I don’t want to go, Lennox,” I blurted.
“I know. That’s why I’m not asking. I’m telling you that we need to get dressed. I’ve never been to her office before so I need time to drive around and get lost.” He stared at me until I stood to my feet. My lips poked out like a child having a tantrum and that’s exactly what I felt like.
I got dressed anyway though. Lennox had to help me since I kept trying in vain to use my injured hand. He brushed my hair and tied it back in a low ponytail for me too.
“Thank you,” I said softly. I wanted to say so much more but the shut door in my brain refused to open and let my true gratitude pour out. I was certain that if I could have expressed how grateful I really was for Lennox, I would have mauled him on the floor.
…
The drive to Dr. Adler’s office was stiff and silent. The last thing I wanted to do after breaking my finger was talk to a therapist about it. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I wanted to play the piano. I wanted to feel the Steinway’s keys beneath the pads of my fingers.
I stared out of the window as buildings zipped by. My fingers involuntarily moved, trying to play music. My injured fingers stayed still thanks to their new confines.
It was torture.
“Stop trying to play in the air,” Lennox warned as he turned into the parking lot of a small office complex. There were only four businesses in the complex and one of them was Dr. Adler’s. My stomach churned nervously when I saw the steel sign and black letters pointing out which building was hers.
