Page 62 of Mangled Memory
“No. And yes.”
“Explain.”
“The old saying about redheads and their tempers is true, at least in my experience. It’s embedded in your DNA the same way your beauty is. It’s one of the things that sucked me in—the way you brandished that fire.”
I stop short, rendered speechless.
“You’ve always been fiery, but it’s rarely pointed at me in accusation and contempt like you’ve shown today. Allegations of… I don’t know what.” He shrugs. “You hate the cameras? I’ll disable them in the bedroom. Or I won’t watch. But just saying, Princess. Me watching my wife in all her splendor isn’t creepy or pervy. It’s fucking glorious and hurts no one.”
“And if it hurts me?”
“How does it hurt you?”
“I feel caged.”
“Are you not free to leave?”
“Only with a shadow, remember? So, in your house—” I stab a finger at him. “I’m monitored, watched, and guarded. Much like a tiger in the zoo. And if I leave, I have a man on me so I’m never alone.”
“You cannot remember me. You cannot remember your gallery. You fell and hit your head and almost took yourself away from me.” His voice rises with every sentence. “I almost lost my wife. You almost lost your life. And the measures I took to afford you all the protection you could have are what? Annoying? Fuck that.” He walks away. “I’d do it again… fifty times over. And not apologize. I’m leaving.”
He leaves the hall where we’ve had our tête-à-tête and moves through the great room before the whoosh of the door being yanked open is bookended by its slam.
My emotions are swirling.
Me: Any chance you have time for me today? I need some help.
Joanie: I can make time. Are you safe?
Me: Except for my own self-destructive tendencies? Sure.
I head to the bathroom, brush my teeth and wash my face, and dress for the day. I take the time to clean up the coffee mess before finishing that second glorious cup.
By the time that’s all done, there’s a message from my therapist waiting.
Joanie: Ten a.m. Does that work?
Me: On my way. Thank you.
“It’s not that I can’t see his point. It’s that he refuses to see mine.” I lean back in my chair in Joanie’s office later that morning after recounting the whole fiasco.
“So what do you make of your hot and cold with him?”
I think about it for a moment. I love that Joanie doesn’t rush me to fill the silence or have an answer quickly. “The hot is easy. He’s every fantasy. Handsome, protective, sexy. Then there’s the money, power, and influence. He could save me from any problem.”
Joanie’s brow lifts.
“Correction… Any problem that money can solve. When it comes to this—” I point to my head and quickly use the finger to point to my heart. “And this. Money can’t fix those or buy loyalty or afford me peace.”
“And the cold?”
“Well, he seems hell bent on doing things…” I let the thought trail off as I ponder. “The only answer I can think of ishis way. Which is kind of stupid when it comes down to it. You do things your way. I do things my way. Why ishisway so annoying to me?”
“Are you sure that’s all it is?” Joanie studies me and leans back in the chair.
I shake my head. No. I’m suspicious and always waiting for a trap.
“What could it be? What’s the worst it could be?”
