Page 53 of Fractured
It’s been hours. Sasha comes and goes with dinner. I don’t eat it. The light is fading, so I turn on the overhead lights and continue to paint till my eyes water, sitting back and looking at my work so far. I finally feel some sense of relief; I will let it all come out on canvas, all the angry words they spoke to me, every time I was silenced, every time they looked me over.
I sigh and look down at myself. I’m in desperate need of a bath and some sleep. Putting my brush down, covering my painting carefully, and put my paints away. Slipping off my overalls and t-shirt and laying them on my chair. I go to my suitcase and grab some new underwear and a tee.
Heading to the bathroom, I flick on the lights and start the tub. Soon, steam rises, and I pour in some lavender bath salts. I fix my bun and toss my underwear into the laundry hamper. Stepping in I settle back in the hot water, letting the heat soothe my stiff muscles. No one will understand my work, and hopefully, by the time it’s done, I won’t be here to have to explain it.
I’m wrinkled and ready to sleep. Stepping out, I dry off and put on a clean white t-shirt and panties. Click off the lights and stand at the doorway looking over at that stupid bed. I still hate that bed, especially after last night.
He made me fly, and I know now he is capable of making my body feel so much more. I cannot sleep there, maybe everagain. Ripping the fuzzy pink blanket and a pillow off the bed, and tossing them on the couch.
I sit in the window again, hug my knees to my chest, and look out over the backyard trying to calm my wild thoughts. The pool glows a bright teal in the dark, illuminating the surrounding trees. Pot lights line the wall and it is sort of creepy and beautiful at the same time, just like this house. I rest my head on my knees and watch the world until my mind settles a bit more and I can sleep.
Four days. Four days that feel like a scene from Groundhog day.
Every day is the same. I pick up the tray, take it to my window, eat, put the plate down, and then take the tray to the table by the door. Paint, have a bath and go to bed. Repeat. A monotonous set of steps that I feel I will repeat for a very long time. Ughh...
It's Wednesday morning, and I'm sitting in my studio chair, absorbed in my work when the knock sounds. I whip my head up and peek around my canvas at the window.
The shadow of the glass I put there as my clock hasn't moved far enough for it to be lunch, so this is new. I wipe my hands on my towel as I approach the door. Swinging it open I expected to see Sasha, but instead, there is a gigantic bouquet of lilies in my face.
Sasha steps in halfway and hands them off to me, her nose wrinkled like it’s a skunk in her hands, a large brown envelope dangling in her one hand. “These came for you, as well as some paperwork your father sent for you to sign.”
I take the flowers and put them on the table by the door. She hands me the envelope and I turn to go and stand behind the small white desk, digging in the drawer for a pen. I pull out the paperwork and do what I do every three months: I sign my name on the tabs of my grandfather’s trust fund account andplace them back in the envelope.
It's not a large sum, but it's mine, and I've been saving for years, and if this plan works out, it will keep me going for a long time as I build a new life for myself.
Giving the envelope back to her she takes it and closes the door behind her. Walking up to the lilies I pull the card out from the top and flip it in my hand. I know who they're from, and if it were any other point in my life, I'd be overjoyed to receive a bouquet of flowers from a man, any other man I should say.
But this is Alexander, he gives nothing without expecting something in return. I pull out the card.
Isabella,
I saw these and thought you might like them.
A.
Ah, his move, guilt flowers. White Knight to D5
I roll my eyes, pick up the vase going to the door, and put it on the floor by the table.
Sorry, not falling for it. My move. Black Pawn to C6
I don’t want or need your flowers; I need nothing from you, Mr. Russo, except one visit to the museum to see Anna.
I wake up on Friday morning and follow the same pattern. I’m sitting at the window with my lunch in my lap when Sasha knocks on the door again. She opens it and her hands are full of bags and boxes. She goes over to the bed and puts them down, placing an envelope on top.
My eyebrows are so high on my forehead that they hurt. Sasha says nothing and walks out leaving me sitting on my window seat in stunned silence. Setting my plate on the tray I approach the bed slowly wiping my hand on my coveralls.
Leaning over I try to read the envelope without touching anything, but it is sealed. Damn it!
I am assuming the large box has a dress in it, my sister gets these kinds of boxes all the time and a small jewelry box is placed on top. Letting out a long sigh, I pick up the little box, look it over, and set it on the nightstand. I reach for the envelope and slide out the card.
Isabella,
We are required to attend a charity event tomorrow night. I took the liberty of purchasing you a gown and the necessary accessories needed to attend.
Be ready by 7:00 p.m. I will meet you downstairs in the foyer tomorrow night.
A.
