by JD Nixon
And none of us could disagree with that.
Chapter 11
In a surprise move, Heller took the three of us out to lunch, a sort of mini-wake for both Samuel and Miss Grimsley. I wasn’t my usual self, subdued, and not contributing much to the conversation. The events of the last few weeks had really affected me.
“Would you like a glass of wine with your meal, my sweet?” asked Heller, leaning over my chair when he stood to buy the drinks. “I think one would be fine.”
“No, thanks. I don’t want anything that will alter my perception, even in the smallest way.”
When he returned with a beer each for Farrell and Bick and a soda and lime for us, the conversation had deliberately moved on from the Grimsley affair, though my mind was still fixed on the matter.
I pecked at my meal, a very tasty mixed seafood pasta, with disinterest. I wasn’t oblivious to the others’ glances of concern throughout the meal, but was too caught up in thought to care. Miss Grimsley had indicated that not everyone could see Samuel, even with the tea. But I could. Did that mean I had a deep running vein of self-delusion in me? And if so, how was it manifesting itself in other parts of my life? Did I think that people cared about me when they didn’t? That I was good at things when I wasn’t? I’d thought I could survive as an actor, but I almost starved. Had I worked in any other business than Heller’s, I probably wouldn’t have lasted long as a security officer either.
It scared me that I no longer had the confidence to believe I was able to distinguish fantasy from reality. I would never forget that awful feeling I’d experienced with the portrait of the woman of not being able to trust in the accuracy of my own memory.
Later that night in Heller’s bed, somewhat comforted by being enveloped in his strong arms, I wondered aloud if I’d ever be able to trust my judgement again.
“Your judgement wasn’t at fault, Matilda,” he replied. “If anyone’s was, it was mine for sending you on an unsafe assignment. I honestly thought it would be a nice, easy job for you.”
“I know you did, but often it doesn’t turn out that way.”
“It’s difficult to find assignments for you that simply deliver what’s expected.”
“Maybe I should find a different job?”
“No. I like you working for me. It was hard on me when you worked for Dawson. I had no idea what you were doing or where you were during the day. At least here, I know your assignments.”
Assured by that, I leaned my head on his chest, my hand resting on his waist. I wasn’t in the mood for sex and he didn’t make any overtures, as if reading my mood. I was almost asleep when he spoke again.
“Matilda, I’ve been thinking a lot about the whole situation with you in hospital. The staff refused to acknowledge me as your . . . partner, or whatever you want to call it. They wouldn’t let me visit you at all at first. I was so furious. They threatened me with the police if I didn’t leave. It was only when Dr Reid rang the office to speak to me that I was allowed in.”
“Don’t take it personally. They weren’t letting anyone visit me. Dr Reid contacted you because he thought it might help me connect with my reality to speak to you as I’d vaguely recognised you in the house.”
“There’s nobody who cares more for your welfare than I do. I should have automatically been allowed to visit you and talk to your doctors. I hated that you were in hospital, thinking you were all alone after such a traumatic experience. And I hated not being informed about how they were treating your . . . illness.”
I figured this was the wrong time to tell him I most likely wouldn’t have wanted him to visit me at that point anyway, not really knowing who he was.
“I think we should have a more formal arrangement, so I can look after you at all times. I need to be able to take control if something happens to you again. I have to be able to make decisions about you and your welfare when you can’t. You trust me to do that for you, don’t you?”
I nodded, not sure where he was going with the conversation.
“I want you to sign an agreement that gives your permission for me to take over your affairs when you’re incapable of looking after yourself. I’ll have Corby draw it up for me.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. “An agreement? How terribly romantic of you, Heller. We could also get married, but I know that’s never going to happen, and neither is me signing any stupid ‘agreement’.”
Incredibly resentful and upset, I rolled out of his bed and stomped back downstairs to my flat. I turned on every single light in the whole place, including all the lamps. I climbed into bed, afraid of being here by myself. I hadn’t slept alone since I’d come home from hospital. But I was too pissed off at Heller to stay with him one second more.
I lay in bed for ages, my eyes wide in the glaring light, the blankets pulled up to my neck. I was afraid to go to sleep in case I woke up to find the portrait of Rose hanging on my bedroom wall. It was the secret fear I hadn’t shared with anybody. Though I realised it wasn’t rational, she remained an object of great fear for me. What would I do if she appeared? Would I cut myself again and offer her more of my blood? I would know then it hadn’t been the tea to blame for my delusions, it was my mind. Sometimes the tea just seemed like a convenient excuse so that people could avoid the possibility I’d completely lost touch with reality.
My front door opened and I heard familiar footsteps heading towards me. Light switches clicked off all over my flat.
“It seems you forgot to turn off a few lights before you went to sleep,” Heller commented mildly, standing at my bedroom door.
“Did I? Silly me. How wasteful.” I realised then I had a death grip on the sheets and relaxed my aching fingers. He turned off the bedroom light and climbed into bed with me, pulling me close to his body.
“I’m sorry, my sweet. I didn’t mean to upset you. I didn’t know you’d be so insulted by my suggestion. It made perfect sense to me. Perhaps I was in business mode.”
“When aren’t you in business mode?”
“When I’m doing this.” His hands got busy. “And this.”
I pushed his hands away. “Stop it. I don’t want to.”
“Please don’t be angry with me. I hate it when that happens.”
I sighed. “I’m not angry. I know you were worried for me and that what you proposed made the most sense to you. But I just don’t look at things the same way as you do, Heller. I don’t want to have some business agreement with the man who shares my bed. I want you to think about me with this,” I laid my hand on his chest between his pecs, “not this,” I said, kissing his temple.
“That’s why you’re so important to me. I need you for balance or I’d be all business.”
“Not all business,” I replied archly. “You managed to find time for plenty of one night stands.”
“Mere physical release, Matilda. Nothing more. And aren’t you pleased I’m no monk?”
I snorted with disrespect. “You a monk? Hardly.”
“I’m very holy. I guarantee I’ll make you offer up ardent prayers of gratitude for the services I’ve rendered,” he smiled.
I yanked my pillow out from under my head and tried to wallop him with it, but he skillfully dodged the soft blow. “You have such an enormous ego, I don’t know how it fits through the door.”
“I have to walk in sideways,” he laughed, prudently staying out of reach of my deadly cushiony weapon.
I abandoned the pillow and jumped on him instead. We mock-wrestled for a while, laughing, the quilt slipping off the bed, the sheets twisting into a knot. He was gentle, letting me ‘win’ the skirmish. I sat on him, ignoring the telltale stirrings of his mighty ramrod.
He closed his eyes, clamping his hands on my waist to shift me. “Matilda, please. That’s not a good place to sit if you wish to rest tonight.”
“Feels good to me,” I said with a touch of pure wickedness. I even wiggled around a little to torture him more.
“I’m warning you. I can’t be
held responsible for the power you’re unleashing.”
My resultant giggling fit from this conceited statement cost me my dominance over him. He flipped me on my back, taking his turn to straddle me.
“Shall I be merciful or not?” he pretended to ponder, doing his best Hamlet impersonation.
“What if you hurt me?” I asked with a good dollop of pathos, making my eyes as huge and full of heart-tugging appeal as Bambi’s.
“I wouldn’t. We’ll go to sleep,” he declared, kissing me. I let him kiss me some more before I slept, confident that with him next to me, Rose wouldn’t dare to reappear.
But despite the laughter I’d shared with Heller, alone in my dreams I returned to the house. Disturbing, jumbled fragments of terror starring Rose, Samuel, Miss Grimsley and a crazy, filthy, blood-caked me haunted me for hours, robbing me of the peaceful sleep I needed. The dreams morphed into the mental health ward, where I struggled, restrained to the bed, begging, pleading to the doctors to release me. But they didn’t hear me, huddling in the corner, conferring and discussing me, finally agreeing I needed an immediate lobotomy. One of them advanced towards me, the circular saw in his hands glinting evilly in the light.
I woke up screaming in absolute terror at that point, backed up against the bed’s headboard, fending off the circular saw with my hands. I was so afraid, it took Heller a while to even get me to recognise him, let alone calm down. I started crying. I’d had drugs in hospital to control my moods, but I was on my own here, vulnerable and emotional, a prisoner of my memories and fears.
He rang someone and within fifteen minutes poor Dr Kincaid arrived at my flat, panting with exertion suggesting he’d run here. Heller and he had a hurried and hushed discussion in the lounge room before Dr Kincaid gingerly entered my bedroom. I had the blanket pulled up around my ears, clutching it tightly, my eyes constantly darting around the room searching for any signs of Samuel or Rose. My pyjamas adhered to my body with perspiration.
I knew I wasn’t in a good way because Dr Kincaid didn’t even make one rude comment about being forced here to treat me again.
He sat on my bed, and in a sympathetic way I’d never imagined he’d possess, initiated a long, calm conversation with me about what I had been through and my current fears. Heller leaned on the doorway, grim, silent and not interfering. The doctor gave me a sleeping tablet, which I willingly swallowed, trusting in his judgement.
“I don’t know why I’m freaking out like this tonight. I’ve been fine since I came home.”
“Did something happen recently to trigger bad memories?”
“We went to a funeral today, the second one in quick succession. It really wasn’t a sad event, and deep down, I know that. But I’ve felt quite upset and depressed about everything since the funeral ended.”
“Maybe you should take up the psychiatrist’s suggested counselling. You’ve been through some very traumatic experiences, Miss Tilly. Don’t discount the effects of that. It can sometimes take a while to truly recover.”
“I’ve been thinking that myself.”
“What’s his name? I’ll ask him to ring you. It might be enough to talk to him over the phone.” He patted me on the shoulder. “Don’t forget that you’re working through what happened to you through your dreams. It’s unpleasant and frightening, I know, but it can help in the long run. But I’ll be concerned if these nightmares continue, so I need to know if you have any more.”
“Matilda, I’ll give Dr Kincaid the contact details for Dr Reid. You go back to sleep. I’ll join you shortly.”
I nodded, already feeling drowsy from the sleeping tablet. I rolled over in bed and slept peacefully for the rest of the night.
The next morning, I was ashamed of my hysterical behaviour the previous evening. Heller was still asleep in bed with me – something I always loved. I wasn’t in a hurry myself, groggy from the tablet’s after effects.
Eventually he roused and stretched his entire body, his feet hanging over the edge of my bed. It was a nice treat first thing in the morning to watch all his muscles rippling and tensing, especially when the sheet slipped down, displaying his spectacular nakedness.
“Interested?” he asked with a smile when he noticed me admiring his morning glory.
“I want to, believe me, but with my current energy levels, I think I’d need someone here to help me get on and off.”
He laughed and kissed. “We’ll take each day as it comes. It won’t be long before you’re regularly ripping off my clothes and violating my virtue again.”
“Your virtue?” I laughed. “I think you waved goodbye to that a long, long time ago.”
“And I’ve never regretted it once,” he smiled again, throwing his long legs over the side of the bed and ambling to the bathroom. I watched him walk there and back, enjoying the scenery immensely.
“I better head back to my place to get ready for work.” Nonchalantly, he strolled out of my bedroom.
“Heller! Put some clothes on!” I squeaked, scandalised.
“Why?”
“You can’t walk upstairs butt naked.”
He leaned over and slipped on the jeans he’d worn last night, shaking his head. “You’re so strange sometimes, Matilda.”
“There are cameras everywhere.”
“So?”
“Do you want your men to cop an eyeful of your package?”
“I don’t care.”
“They might.”
“They’re used to it.” He leaned over the bed to kiss me. “Goodbye, Miss Morals. Take it easy today. Are you going to stay here?”
“I think so. I should do some housework.”
“Please don’t work too hard.”
“Nah. I’ll potter around, I promise.”
“I’ll see you tonight. I’m very busy onsite all day.”
“Okay, bye.”
The day passed peacefully, my flat a lot cleaner by the end than it had been at the beginning. It’d been a while since I’d spent much time with Daniel and Niq, so I trooped around their normal after-hour stomping grounds looking for them, finding them on the rooftop, playing pool.
I’d thought that might be a strong chance, so had worn clothes suitable for the hot tub. I’d tried on all my bikinis, but the tops now gaped embarrassingly because of my weight loss, exposing my boobs to the world. So I wore one of them under a t-shirt, teamed with a pair of board shorts.
“Hi, guys,” I said, kissing both of them. I climbed into the hot tub, groaning with pleasure when I sank into the warm water. I hadn’t even made it upstairs to the rooftop since I came home from hospital. “Oh man, I missed this. It’s so wonderful.”
The guys soon joined me and we chatted for a while.
“So, Tilly,” said Niq excitedly. “Is it really true you saw a ghost?”
I made light of the experience. “Oh yeah, it was no big deal.”
Daniel shot me a knowing look. He knew what really had happened, but I was so glad they’d decided to shield Niq. He didn’t need to know I’d been in a psych ward.
“You’re so pale now, you look like a ghost yourself,” teased Daniel. “And thin enough to almost be a skeleton.”
“Guess I have my Halloween costume sorted,” I smiled. “I’ll just go as myself – the multi-monster.” I splashed him with water. He splashed me back, but I didn’t fail to notice he was gentle about it. “I won’t break with a bit of water, Danny.”
“Who knows? You might also be an evil witch who dissolves in water.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m sitting in water, so I don’t think that’s a valid hypothesis.”
“In that case.” He splashed me a couple times.
“Hey!” I complained, water dripping from my hair and face. I held up my hands, which no longer were bandaged, but were still covered with plasters. My wrists remained bandaged, some of the cuts I’d inflicted on myself quite deep and infected with bacteria. It would be a while before they were back to normal. “I’m not supposed to get
these wet.”
“What happened to your arms?” Niq asked innocently.
Daniel and I exchanged a glance. “I hurt myself a little while I was on the assignment. I have a couple of bad cuts on them.”
“What from?” he persisted.
We were straying into dangerous territory. I’d rather die before I admitted to Daniel that, in my delusion, I’d thought his knife scars were the best way to remember him. I’d begged Heller to not let anyone ever tell him, and he’d agreed that would be wisest thing to do. The last thing Daniel needed was a setback from someone he trusted so much just when he was making real progress towards getting back to his normal, beautiful self.
“I cut myself on something, sweetie,” I said evasively, picking my words carefully. I couldn’t meet Daniel’s eyes.
“On what?”
Curse the kid for being so nosy. “Something sharp.”
“What?”
“I don’t remember,” I lied, using the world’s most feeble excuse.
His look was all pity. “You must be getting old if you can’t remember something like that.”
“Guess I must.” I stood up desperately to stop the interrogation. “Have you guys eaten?”
“Stay here, Tilly. Niq and I can manage dinner.”
“I don’t mind helping. It’s good for me to do the things I love.”
“Okay, but we’ll get the food.”
Daniel and Niq brought back a nice array of meat perfect for the BBQ and a nice mixed salad. I raised my eyebrows at the quantity. “How many people are you expecting?”
“You know what it’s like around here,” grunted Daniel, dumping his armful of food on the bench. “The second you start cooking, everybody else turns up expecting some.”
And that’s exactly what happened again, Sid and Clive arriving first, Heller later when he returned from work.
I greeted Sid and Clive quietly. Clive answered me with an inarticulate grunt that could have meant anything from, “Good evening to you too, Tilly” to “I hope you drop dead soon, but not before you’ve caught the plague”. Sid did something most unexpected, awkwardly kissing me on the top of my head. Daniel and I tried not to giggle while Sid busied himself retrieving a couple of beers from the fridge.