Page 48 of Love Sick

I admire him for his kindness.

“I know Joy would have told you that I wanted half of everything in the divorce and it’s true. But I didn’t want it for me. I wanted it for Kyle. All the money from the divorce I’ve put into a trust fund for him, which he will receive when he turns twenty-five. I didn’t trust Joy not to blow it all on herself.”

Just who is this woman?

Was I a total idiot not to see Joy for the obvious horrible human that she is, or that my son was struggling mentally and therefore turned to drugs?

“Don’t beat yourself up over this, Luna,” Dominic kindly says, clearly reading my expression. “Joy was a master manipulator. And you are a good person. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call.”

“Thank you. If I was ever awful to you, I’m sorry.”

Dominic smiles. “You never were. Take care of yourself.”

We bid farewell and I know this won’t be the last time I hear from him.

Sophie escorts me to the door with nothing but hospitality. Kyle’s hatred toward them is because of Joy who certainly wasn’t a victim in this.

What Dominic shared about her and Misha, if that is true, that may play a part in why she’s missing. Perhaps she doesn’t want me to know the truth.

Kyle is waiting for me in the car.

When I enter, he doesn’t speak. He simply speeds off, while I wonder what to do next.

I’ll never take a shower for granted ever again.

Even though I’m sitting in a chair designed for the shower, I am so thankful that I can wash my own back after so many weeks of Alanna giving me a sponge bath. Just the thought of her has me reaching for the tap and turning it to cold.

I’ve not played the piano since the night I responded to her in ways other than with disgust, as I am afraid that it’ll happen again.

Music was my escape, but since the transplant, it’s been nothing but a burden.

Maybe my music came with an expiration date. I sometimes felt as if my defect of a heart is what made me special, so maybe now that I have a “normal” heart, the music has stopped.

But I know that’s not true.

Playing music with Alanna feet away, I felt “it.” I’ve never known what “it” was because that’s not how art works. An artist just knows. And I hate how that feeling returned because of Alanna.

I scrub the sponge over my skin, attempting to wash away the disgust which lingers on me. I want to hate what I wrote, but I can’t. It’s been playing over and over in my head since the moment my fingers touched those keys.

It was something I took for granted because it used to happen every single time I played. But now that I know what it feels like for it to be taken away, I never want to lose it again.

But the question is, what do I have to lose to hear it again?

Switching off the water, I decide to dress and find something to eat.

It’s a struggle, but I dry off and change into the torn blue jeans and white tank Alanna gave me. I slip on my silver rings and chains, which is exactly the things I usually wear. She’s clearly paid attention as everything is a perfect fit.

Is she wanting things to go back to “normal”?

Surprisingly, this place has running water and the bathroom is functioning.

I’ve not ventured far in fear of bumping into Alanna. But something is up.

She’s left me unbound in my room and not visited as often as I thought. The other bizarre thing, is that Jonathan is still in that damn rocking chair. I thought she would be guarding him with her life. But she seems happy for him to sit with me, trusting that I won’t throw him over the railing.

I decide to suck it up and find where she is.

Once my boots are laced, I lean onto the crutches and hobble out of the bathroom, listening for any signs of movement. I suddenly wonder if Alanna has left me alone.

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