Mansions

by Whitney Bianca

  “I think about her everyday, Jessica,” I say, carefully. It's not a lie, of course. I miss Adrienne with every cell in my body. It's been too long since I've seen her, too long since I've laid beside her. But I don't want to reveal my depth of feeling for her, whatever that depth may be. “I have so many questions about her. I don't think anyone can answer them, not even you.”

  “Why?” Jessica asks and I can tell she is truly confused. I'm confused myself, but I've long since given up questioning why I feel so strongly for Adrienne. She's just part of me. That's how it is and how it always will be.

  “I'm intrigued,” I say. “I like when people aren't easy to figure out. Unfortunately for you, you're entirely too easy to figure out. I can admit that I took advantage of that.”

  “I hope you get an incurable disease and your cock shrivels up and falls off, you piece of shit.” My eyes widen at the language that spews out of her pretty little lips. I swallow hard to keep from laughing. The ex-model from Wisconsin still has some fight left in her. It makes me feel better to know that. I slide my phone out of my jacket and type a quick text. Then I set the phone on the table.

  “You're in luck, Jessica.” I'm suddenly feeling magnanimous. “I have another surprise for you.”

  “I don't want any of your surprises, you fucking psycho,” she says, sitting up straight in her seat. I think I see a little flicker of fear behind her eyes and it excites me.

  “You'll like this one.” I clasp my hands together on my lap and wait. “I promise.” But she's not listening to me. She's watching the door, her eyes following the person that most likely just walked in. I don't have to look over my shoulder to know that it's Bryan. Her face goes still and I wonder if she's reliving the night at the loft and remembering Bryan on top of her, inside of her. I wonder if she remembers how much she moaned. He silently weaves his way through the tables on his way towards the booths in the back of the restaurant. In his hands, he holds a familiar rectangular black snakeskin box.

  When I see it, a lump of possessiveness forms in my throat. I tell myself that it's not time to be selfish; I've been selfish enough in the past few months. It's a time to be kind for once in my life. Being merciful is not always weak. Sometimes it's just smart business. At least that's what I tell myself as Bryan slides the box on the table in front of me.

  “What is it?” she whispers even though she knows. Her eyes dart from Bryan to the box and back again. She thinks it's a trick, and I don't blame her. But for once, this is no trick.

  “What I owe you,” I say as Bryan takes a step back. He doesn't leave us, though. He stands there at my side, a looming reminder of everything that's happened since Adrienne's “death”. I run my hand over the smooth, glossy leather one last time. Then I push it toward her and let it go. She doesn't hesitate to grab it and open it. Her eyes go wide as she stares down at the treasure that I'm giving her, like she still doesn't believe it. “Now she can be with you,” I say but the words hitch in my throat. It's surprisingly painful. “Part of her, anyway.” She nods and I can see the tears in her eyes.

  I hate tears.

  She snaps the box shut and stands so abruptly that the table shakes. She doesn't say anything, not even a thank you before she grabs her bag and her glasses and the box. She takes the long way around Bryan, careful not to move anywhere near him as she makes her way out of the dim dining room. I don't watch her as she scurries off like a frightened rabbit. There's no triumph in her victory. Only the good sense to get away before she can lose again.

  I turn back to my drink and finish it off with a last gulp. Bryan is shifting on his feet and I glance up at him. He's got his eyes to the floor but I know where his attention really lies. I've had him watching Jessica ever since the night at the mansion. I wonder vaguely if he's concerned for her and, if so, what that means. I stand, setting the heavy glass on the white-clothed table with a thunk.

  “Go catch her,” I say.

  *****

  The air is chilly as I step out into the loud New York City night. Winter is almost upon us now, I can feel it in my bones. The air tunnels between the buildings and howls. It's a cloudy and I glance up the sky. Only a few stars shine bright enough to be seen beyond the clouds and the halo of the city lights, but that's enough. It feels good to see them. Even the cold feels good tonight. My black car idles at the curb in front of the restaurant, exactly where I expect it to be. I slide inside the backseat and close the door behind me.

  “Where do you want to go?” I ask Jessica, who's across the seat, holding the box on her lap like she's afraid to let it go. She doesn't want to be here, but she doesn't have a choice.

  “I have my own car. I can drive myself.”

  “You're in no condition to drive,” I say with a shrug. “Don't worry about your car. I'll have it parked outside your home within the hour.”

  “I can take a cab,” she responds. “My transportation is not your concern.”

  “I asked you to meet me here,” I say. “Therefore your safe return is my responsibility, is it not?” She scowls but she doesn't say anything else. She just stares out the window, her hands tightening on the box.

  “Take her home,” I call to Bryan, who's in the driver seat. He doesn't answer, just nods. He doesn't even have to ask the address. He knows. We ride in silence for over ten blocks, lights and people passing by the windows in a blur. We get stuck at a red light on Broadway and the seconds seem to tick by like minutes. I realize I have a question for her, a question I should've asked a long time ago, but I wasn't thinking. A question only she can answer, because Adrienne never would.

  “Why didn't Adrienne ever sell the manor?” I cross my legs, letting my relaxed body language say that getting the answer means nothing to me, even though it does. “Why did she let it go to ruin?”

  “I don't want to talk about her,” she responds coldly.

  “Yes, you do,” I say. “All you want to do is talk about her with someone. So talk.”

  “I don't want to talk about her with you.”

  “Who else would you prefer? Should I call someone?”

  “Why do you care so much about her?” she turns in her seat to look at me. Again, I marvel at how much different she looks from a year or so ago. Gone is the blissfully ignorant smile, the dim but warm eyes. She's not harmless any more, not to me and not to herself. It's oddly discomforting how much things can change in a short amount of time.

  “I don't think you really want to know the answer to that,” I reply smoothly.

  “Did you fuck her?” She clicks her tongue. “Adrienne fucked a lot of people. I doubt you were special to her.” Her words have the effect she was hoping they'd have but not for the reason she was aiming for. The fact that she was aware of Adrienne's sexual escapades is surprising to me. For a second, I sit and let the realization sink in. I tell myself that the past is the past, but it still difficult to come to terms with. I don't like thinking about who Adrienne fucked before, and not just out of jealousy. I hate the thought of her desperately debasing herself for it with people who don't worship her like I do. When I give her what she wants and needs, it's like a religious experience. With someone else, it's akin to blasphemy.

  “Our families are intertwined,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “When you asked for my help, I didn't hesitate.” I motion toward the box she's holding tightly on her lap. “And now she's home. Correct?” I stare at her intently until she looks at me again. I know she wants to curse me for making her go through so much anguish to get Adrienne's remains, but she won't. She doesn't want me to take them away again.

  “Adrienne didn't sell it because she didn't have the mind for those kinds of things,” Jessica says, finally. “She didn't know what to do with the manor. So she ignored it. She was good at that.”

  “What about you? Why didn't you sell it?”

  “It wasn't mine to sell.”

  “She hated it,” I state, not bothering to ask for confirmation. “Because of Hamina?”

>   “Adrienne loved her father,” Jessica says, lifting her eyes to look at me. “We all loved each other. Is that so hard to understand?”

  “Frankly, yes,” I say, because it confuses me. I'd always assumed that Adrienne was afraid of her father. Assumed that he'd beat her, or ignored her, or treated her with contempt. Maybe because that was how my father raised me.

  “There were bad memories,” Jessica says. “Her mother died in that house.”

  “After an extended illness,” I add, because I've read Francine Hamina's death certificate. Of course I have. I've read everything that was ever written down about the woman. But old Page Six articles and a few magazine spreads aren't enough. I want more.

  “No,” Jessica shook her head. “It was a suicide.”

  “Suicide?” I ask, genuinely surprised. Maybe I shouldn't be, but I am. Adrienne never mentioned her mother committing suicide.

  “Adrienne was just a child, but she'd already seen so much,” Jessica continues, ignoring me. “Adrienne told me once that she saw her mother fucking the head cook in the kitchen. And after it happened, the woman didn't act any different. She put her dress back on and asked when lunch was going to be ready. Other people would whisper stories about how beautiful and witty his Franny was, how in love with her he was. But she was always difficult. He sent Adrienne away to school so early because she was being neglected.”

  “So Adrienne's mother killed herself in that house,” I say to myself. Everything is making more sense now. Everything.

  “Why did you want it?” Jessica asks, as Bryan turns left onto a tree-lined street in the Village. “It's a shell of a house now.”

  “I told you. The land is worth a lot of money,” I lie.

  “Did you ever see it?” she asks, staring out the window. “During its heyday?”

  “Yes,” I nod, thinking of the house and, more importantly, of the beautiful barefoot girl who I met there. The beautiful girl who had no idea what fate had in store for her. And I, the stupid boy who had no idea how that chance meeting would change everything.

  “After she died, I should've burnt it down to the ground,” Jessica says, startling me out of my thoughts. “It's what she would've wanted.” Her words trigger the memory of the dream I had a few weeks ago. I haven't forgotten it. It was so vivid. I can practically feel the heat from the flames on my face. It makes me uneasy. I can't shake the bad feeling that's settled under my skin since. Now that Selene is dead and buried, I was sure it would be gone. But it hasn't abated. Hearing Jessica's words has only highlighted how much it's still trapped under my skin.

  The car slows to a stop in front of Jessica's posh townhouse. It's on an attractive, tree-lined block, but her house is the only one that's completely dark. No lights on at all. Bryan pulls over to the curb and parks.

  “Don't contact me again,” she says. “I don't want to see you again for a very long time.” Then she exits the car before Bryan is even out of the driver's seat to open her door. I watch her as she hurries up the steps and into the dark house. Bryan doesn't move to follow her; he just stands beside the car until she's safely inside.

  I like Jessica, I decide. I like her enough to leave her alone.

  For now.

  Bryan slides back into the driver's seat. I can feel the tension is still thick in the car, even with Jessica gone. “Where to?” he asks, his voice deep and emotionless, as always. He sounds the same, but there's something different about him tonight. Unfortunately, I can't be bothered with it right now. My mind is too wrapped up in all the questions I still have and the dread that hasn't quite gone away since I had the nightmare. I had every intention of being strong and holding out for another day or two. It was important to sooth Selene's family and friends with the appearance of grief. It was important to not act strangely or suspiciously but Adrienne can't stay at Hamina Manor any longer. I should've listened to her. I never should've locked her up in that crumbling prison full of ghosts and bad memories. It's time for her to be with me. Finally.

  “Take me to Adrienne,” I say because I've waited long enough. We both have.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The drive is long, made longer by my impatience. I open the window and have a smoke, trying to calm my nerves. I'm being foolish, and I know that. Although I haven't spoken to her for weeks, I know that Adrienne is fine. She'll be angry with me at first and she'll make me suffer for it but she'll be happy to see me. She'll be happy to leave Hamina Manor. I'll find a place for her. I'll figure it out. There's so much to say, so much to explain. Now that everything has been handled, the changes will come swiftly. She'll be happy to be back in the city again, I tell myself. She'll be happy to be by my side as well. I'll surprise her with lavish and expensive gifts that she won't want and make her eat too much rich food. I'll make sure she gets exercise and fresh air and that she lives the best life.

  In order to do that, I have to marry her. And I plan to, when the time is right. I'm a widower now, a free man. I've made so many sacrifices to get to this point. The distance between us is the only barrier now. Adrienne will succumb to me and I will do everything in my power to make her happy. It's scary to me to think how quickly my life has changed, but I'm not in denial anymore. I gave that up the moment I gave up Selene and my old life. It's not comforting or comfortable, but the feelings I have for Adrienne can't be controlled. They aren't going to go away, either.

  I breathe a sigh of relief as the jagged roofline of Hamina Manor comes into view. The dream of the fire is still so recent in my memory that I almost expected to see flames highlighted against the dark sky. But the house remains dark and untouched on the landscape, just as I left it. My nerves disappear and a spark of excitement takes their place. Tonight is the first night of forever. She'll make it hard, but it'll be worth it.

  Bryan turns off the headlights as we get closer. He punches in the code at the entrance and we pull into the driveway, undetected by anyone that could be watching. The gate creaks shut behind us and he slows the car to a crawl, carefully making his way up the winding, overgrown driveway to the house. He knows the way mostly by heart now, I would guess. He's been here more often than I have, after all, checking on the state of the house and on his man that he's hired to take care of things. I've never met the man, but I trust Bryan to find good people. It's worked well up to this point.

  All of the windows on the lower level of the house are dark. Only two slivers of light shine through the upstairs windows, through the cracks in the heavy drapes. I know where to look, so I can see them easily. Adrienne is up there, I can feel her. She's been waiting for me to rescue her all this time and now I've finally come for her.

  She's going to be livid it took me so long.

  Bryan parks the car around the side of the house, beside the kitchen entrance. He uses his phone as a flashlight on the jagged stone path as we make our way silently to the unembellished back entrance. Before I go in, I glance over at the big willow tree in the backyard, because I can't help myself. I almost can't believe it's still standing, but it's there, shadowy against the dark sky. I know beyond it is a steep cliff and the Hudson river, glittering below. The property is worth millions, indeed. It's in a perfect, picturesque location. One day all the overgrowth will be cut down and its real beauty will shine again. Not that it's my problem. In that moment, as I stare out into the dark expanse of lawn, I realize I want to get rid of it as soon as possible. I don't need it anymore, if I ever did. The only thing that's important is the woman inside of the house. Nothing else.

  The door is ajar when we reach it.

  “The lock was rusted,” Bryan says, his voice breaking the silence. He examines the lock and then shakes his head. “I thought it had been fixed.”

  “Why hasn't it?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. I'm not used to things like this slipping through the cracks. Bryan clears his throat and I know he isn't either. He pushes the door open and steps inside without another word and I follow him in.

  I can smell death in the air
as soon as I'm inside the door. The house smells mostly of rot and mildew and decay, and those scents almost overpower it, but I can still smell the unmistakeable scent of death. It reminds me of standing outside the bombed out café in Turkey. Bryan stiffens beside me and I know he can smell it, too.

  “Where's your man?” I ask, keeping my voice low. “Call him now.” Bryan stares at me for a long moment but then does as he's told. He puts his phone to his ear and I continue through the kitchen. There's dishes piled up on the countertops and paper bags and containers as well, from all the food I've sent. The state of the house is alarming, and I've only seen one room.

  I feel my way to the servant's staircase, stepping over the garbage and mess that dots the floor. I've only stepped foot in this house twice. Once, when I was a teenager dressed in my Sunday best for her mother's funeral. The second time was months ago, when Jessica first signed over the deed. Even though I've only been here so few times, I haven't forgotten the way to her room. I picked it for her based on it having the best view of the backyard and the river. I have no idea which room was hers in childhood; I didn't care at the time. Now it seems more important, which room was hers and which was her mother's. The hallway is dark, but not as dark as the kitchen. A solitary sconce is lit at the end of the hallway, the bulb flickering like it's ready to burn out. The light is dim, but it still highlights the wear in the carpet, the way the wallpaper is peeling and bubbled. The more I look at it, the more I hate myself for leaving her here. In my haste to hide her away, I didn't think. I wasn't considerate.

  It was a mistake.

  The door to her room is closed. I'm scared to open it, I realize, as I stand on the threshold. Cool air wafts down the hallway and I can feel it on the skin of my neck. I feel out of place, suddenly. I don't belong here anymore than she does. The house is wild and angry. I can hear it creaking and groaning faintly as the wind picks up outside. It's empty but the air is as heavy as a museum. Or a mausoleum. I hesitate at the door, wondering what I'm going to find on the other side. I tell myself that it'll only take a few moments to bundle her up and take her out to the car. By morning, we'll be back in the city and she'll be where she's meant to be, with me. Eventually, she'll forgive me and then life will go on the way it's meant to be.