Page 9 of Perfect
I don’t think I’ve spent more than fifteen minutes in bed before I feel loose and hazy, every nerve ending in my body tingling from multiple orgasms. I lay on the small bed, staring up at the ceiling, sexually satisfied for the first time in my life, and I start laughing deliriously.
I’m glad no one else was in the house because I wasnotquiet.
The number of orgasms I had during my marriage barely surpasses single digits, andnoneof them got close to what I just experienced. Danny was so vehemently against me masturbating or owning any kind of sex toy because he was convinced I didn’t need anything but him, which was fuckingbullshit. Somehow, of all the things Danny kept from me or took away from me, this one pisses me off the most.
I’m not letting anyone take anything away from me ever again.
4
THEO
MONDAY, AUGUST 7
My grandparents’ estate attorney, Catherine, volunteers to pick me up from prison. She brings coffee, and after a painfully awkward attempt at small talk, she pivots to explaining the inheritance again. She visited me after Nana died, and we’ve gone over this before, but it’s a safe topic and it takes long enough to go through that we’ll be close to Astoria by the time she’s done speaking. I barely listen to her as I watch the low, flat sprawl of Salem give way to the agricultural fields of the Willamette Valley.
Was this drive always so pretty?
I hum in response to whatever Catherine’s saying about the trusts as we navigate away from the wide interstate cuttingthrough the suburban mess outside of Portland to the highway that heads towards the coast. The low, densely wooded hills slowly transform into dense copses of trees as the road narrows to two lanes, and I stop listening to Catherine entirely once we start driving through the Tillamook Forest. I never realized how much I missed how the light filters through the tall evergreens and illuminates the ferns and mossy tree boughs. Even the fresh clearcuts we pass seem scenic to me, the mismanaged undergrowth fully visible around the tree stumps and through the mess of tree limbs scattered across the forest floor.
I start to get anxious once we pass through the coastal mountain range and start driving through the drab seaside towns with their squat, weather-beaten buildings. When I see Astoria rising out of the Columbia River, my body tenses and my knee bounces quickly.
I have no idea what the fuck I’m supposed to do with myself now.
Catherine drives us to her firm on the edge of downtown, and I follow her into the converted house and upstairs to her office. I focus on breathing as I take my time pretending to reread the paperwork before signing it. I’ve read it thoroughly before, but I want to delay facing my new reality for as long as possible. Catherine hands over a large keyring with keys to the Anderson House, the house in Yachats, the safety deposit boxes, Boss’s old Chevy, Nana’s Prius, and my beater Subaru from college. My head is buzzing looking at all the keys, and I excuse myself to the bathroom just to get some space.
As I walk down the stairs into the main level, a young woman gives me a warm smile as she heads into the reception area, and I catch the faint scent of her floral perfume as she walks by. I stop short on the last step and stare at her, but she doesn’t notice.
She’s fuckingstunning. She’s short, with dark hair that falls at her shoulders and big brown eyes. She’s wearing a loose,emerald green dress with a neckline that shows off her long neck and sloping collarbones, and I’m immediately, painfully aware that she’s the first attractive woman I’ve seen in person in nine years. I lock myself in the bathroom, splash my face with cold water, and take a minute to calm down. I take a few calming breaths, trying to compartmentalize.
I need to get the fuck out of here. I need to get to the house and be alone.
I need to not think about that woman.
As I head back upstairs to wrap up with Catherine, I can’t help but peer into the reception room. The woman is completely unaware of me, mindlessly running her full bottom lip between her teeth as she focuses on the computer in front of her. She’s not wearing makeup, and I can see she has a small spray of freckles across her nose and cheeks.
God, she’s so cute.
I shake my head and head back upstairs, vaguely listening to Catherine as she passes me a portfolio of paperwork and all the keys.
“Our receptionist will send you the final statement later this month. The statement is just for your records—Dottie put the money for the probate services in trust before she passed.” I nod and try to smile, thanking Catherine and taking the keys and the paperwork.
When I leave, the receptionist is chatting quietly with a tall woman with red hair, so I don’t have an excuse to talk to her.
That’s probably for the best.
***
“Good afternoon, Theodore. I’m Dr. Mills.” I shake her hand before sitting in the chair across from her, giving her a polite smile.
“Nice to meet you.” It’s not. This is bullshit.
“Is there a name you prefer to go by? Please feel free to call me Melissa.” I feel my mouth thin out. I have no fucking interest in being familiar with her.
“Theodore is fine, Dr. Mills.”
“Okay. You’re scheduled to meet with me every other Thursday as part of your parole. Does that work for you?”
“That’s fine.”
