Blaire’s sobbing wails drifted into the front room, where Jackson lay, still stunned, on the sofa. What happened? Did she have some sort of psychotic episode or something? His mind accessed memories of courses he’d taken in mental health. Stress could cause certain kinds of psychosis, but he still couldn’t wrap his mind around her complete change in personality.
And, suddenly starting to smoke? Where did that come from?
As he lay there, he felt dirty, used, like a condom left to stick to the floor to be discovered sometime later. The feeling was familiar and unwelcome. He hadn’t felt this way in years.
Still, he hadn’t gotten this far in his life and career by lying about, moping. No, he got this far by doing something. Reaching down, he tugged his pants up to his thighs and swung his legs from the couch. Rising, he grabbed his waistband and yanked his jeans in place, and then fastened the fly.
He wiped his face with his palm to clear his thoughts. Then, he trudged down the hall toward the bathroom. Reaching for the doorknob, he assumed it would yield, but it was locked.
“Open the door, Blaire.”
“Go away,” she shouted.
He jimmied the knob back and forth. “Open up, Blaire.”
“I said, go away!” she called again.
He pounded on the door with his fists. “And I said, open up the goddamned door and let’s deal with this as a couple. Or, are we no longer together? Is that what this is?”
She grew quiet.
He pressed his forehead against the wood grain door and slapped it with his palms. “Please, baby. I need to talk. We need to talk.”
Sniffles met his ears.
The house seemed so quiet he swore he could hear dust falling. He kept his forehead against the door so long it started to go numb.
Finally, she said softly, “Go away.”
“Not happening,” he said. “I’ll wait here until you’re ready to talk.”
“You’re so stubborn,” she hissed.
He sighed.
“No, what I am is scared, Blaire. I stopped by Lola’s to see you. She said you weren’t scheduled to work. I was scared shitless when I came home and didn’t find you here,” he said. “I thought you left me. Another abandonment. Or, worse, that something happened to you. And, now that this new you is here. I can’t tell if I’ve already lost you, but if there’s any way to find our connection again…any way at all…I want to try.”
Once more, that pin drop silence descended all around him.
Finally, Blaire broke the quiet with a wail. “You don’t get it, Jackson.”
“What don’t I get?”
“I was his victim. From the moment he first met me, I was his prey. I let myself be caught in his web. And, I don’t ever want to feel like that again.” Sobs echoed from the bathroom. “When I got those flowers…with his fucking message…I was right back in the same position—as his victim again. He’s stalking me. He’s playing with me. I’m being manipulated and terrified, the same as all those women down in Venezuela. It’s payback time for me. Karmic retribution.” Her sobs grew louder. As she spoke, he could barely understand her through the door. “I refuse to play his victim. I won’t do it. I was his sweet plaything. Not anymore, Jackson. Not anymore.”
Jackson let out a long sigh. “Okay.”
“Okay, what?” she said.
“What do you mean, what? I only said, okay.”
“It’s the way you said it,” she said.
Frustration jabbed at his insides. “How the fuck did I say okay that makes it a problem?”
The silence resumed.
“Can you please open the door so we can talk face to face?” he said. He made fists and pressed them against the door, stopping himself from pounding against the wood.
“No.”
He sighed again. Pivoting, he pressed his back against the door and slid to the floor, letting his legs stretch out before him. With the door between them, he could choose to view the situation in several ways. The door could be a wall. Or, it could provide a safe space. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know Blaire needed to feel safe. He refused to see the door as a barrier. If his thoughts veered in that direction, he feared he might lose it.
He might lose her.
“What are you doing?” she said.
“I’m sitting with my back to the door.”
Which you’d be able to see for yourself if you opened the fucking door.
“Me, too,” she said, quietly.
He relaxed against the door. With a stretch in his imagination, he swore he could feel her back pressed against his. “Keep talking. Tell me more.”
She sniffled. “There’s nothing else to tell. I changed my look so he can’t recognize me. I even got contact lenses to change my eye color.”
“Okay.”
“There’s that okay again,” she said.
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know. Something helpful.”
Ouch. Jackson pulled his legs up to his chest and draped his arms over his knees. “I’m not sure what to say that might be deemed helpful.”
“Tell me how you’re going to shoot Karlos in the balls if he comes to our door.”
“Oh, I’d do that in a heartbeat,” Jackson said. In his mind, he pictured aiming, firing, and then watching Karlos crumple to the ground, screaming in agony.
“Teach me how to shoot his balls off.”
His eyebrows rose. “You want to learn how to shoot a gun?”
She didn’t say anything.
“Blaire? I asked if you want to learn how to shoot.”
A noisy, snuffling sound like she blew her nose emerged. “I don’t like guns.”
“You don’t have to like them. You only have to respect them.”
“Okay, then.”
“So, that’s a yes?” he said.
“Yes,” she said.
“Do you want me to teach you?”
“Maybe. It might be better if someone I didn’t know taught me.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because you’d be telling me what to do and I’d probably rebel.”
“That makes sense.” I guess.
“Actually…no. I don’t want to learn how to shoot a gun.”
He started to say “okay,” but bit it back since that seemed to be a trigger word for her to invite him into a fight. He squeezed the back of his neck, trying to ease the tension out of his system. All I want is for her to be happy and us to get back to good.
“Are you mad at me?” she said.
“Not sure. I’m not sure what I am at this moment.”
“I’m sorry, Jackson.”
His heart seemed too numb to answer.
“Did you hear me?”
“Of course I heard you.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I don’t know what to say.” He stretched his legs out long again and let his head fall back against the door. The only thing he could think about was how he would die if Blaire left him. Dramatic, but true. She’d become his lifeblood—at least the Blaire he knew yesterday.
“Do you still love me?”
“I think so,” he said.
“You think so?” she said.
“Blaire, I’m so confused, I don’t know what I feel. Just a second ago, I thought about how I’ll die if you leave me, and that thought makes me feel pathetic. Like I’m this needy son-of-a-bitch who can’t survive on my own. But life with you is ten thousand times better than it was without you. I do know that with certainty.”
Again, the quietude mantled him, but this time it didn’t feel so weighted.
“Jackson,” she said.
He stared at the ceiling. “What?”
“I’d die if you left me, too. There would be no reason left to breathe.”
That thought wrapped around his heart like a warm blanket. His eyelids fell closed, and he simply focused on his breathing. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. He imagined Blaire doing the same. Something about that thought gave him a measure of comfort.
We’re going through a rough patch, that’s all. We’re going to get through this.
“I’m unlocking the door now,” she said, breaking the stillness.
He jerked away from the door.
The door opened and Blaire, sitting on the floor, appeared in his line of sight. Eyelids red and swollen, her face mottled and blotchy from crying, she crawled on her hands and knees toward him.
He held out his arms to her and she reached for him. Thank God she still wants me. Wordlessly, he fell back onto the wooden floor, holding her tightly.
She pressed her face into his neck and took a breath. “I’m not going back to sweet, nice pathetic Blaire.”
“Okay,” he said.
“Are you going to be okay with that?” she said, her breath warming his skin.
“I’m going to try,” he said. Even though the hard floor dug into his bones, he loved her soft warmth on top of him. “I’m doing everything I can to protect you, you know. I have calls into the FBI, calls into the local police. A lot of good it does, though. The police chief told me that unless there are threats to your life, there’s little they can do.”
She stiffened in his arms.
“Don’t,” he said.
“Don’t what?” she said.
“Don’t pull away from me. I need this. I need you.”
She relaxed, and he hugged her tight.
“I’m so scared, Jackson. Karlos is a monster.” Her hot, wet tears dripped down his neck.
“I’ve got you, baby. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“You don’t know what he’s capable of,” she said.
“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” he said.
And that was the thought that scared him the most.