Broken, Bruised, and Brave

by L. A. Zoe

  Keara stepped close to me, then spoke in a quiet voice so Rhinegold couldn’t hear her. However, the lower volume didn’t turn down the anger. “You’re encouraging him.”

  “It’s just a movie.”

  “It’s part of his delusions.”

  “We’re talking about all that.”

  “I’ll tell Mother and Sanders. You’re making him worse, not better.”

  “Do you want to stay here with him?”

  Keara’s nostrils flared, like a racing horse. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that!”

  “Or you’ll do what? Convince his father to kick me out? Fine! I didn’t ask for this. Mr. Cunningham twisted my arm. I can go back to waiting on tables tomorrow, and forget about your whole twisted family.”

  Of course, I couldn’t leave Rhinegold just like that, but I was too angry to care what I said to his stepsister.

  She glared at me with eyebrows tensed into thick protruding ridges. “You —”

  “Does Helena know you’re trying to help her marry your leftovers?”

  As soon as I said it, I wanted to take it back. Wanted to beg her to forgive me for my rudeness. Beg Rhinegold to excuse referring to him as leftovers.

  But of course, I couldn’t.

  Red flushed her face with fury. Her fists balled, and she stepped toward me. “How dare you?”

  “Why are you even here? You’re supposed to stay away from him!”

  “That’s Mother’s idea, not mine. Rhinegold and I are over. We made a mistake, and now I’m accepting it. What about you? When she told me they were going out for the night, I came over to see for myself, because I couldn’t believe his father could be so stupid.”

  By that time we were almost head to head, toe to toe, and I held my fists at my waist, trembling with the need to smash in her face.

  I looked into bright, gleaming blue eyes, the color of the deep sea.

  “You’d rather they hired Helena.”

  “Of course not, she’s in college working toward her goal, so she can make beautiful violin music the rest of her life.”

  “I don’t have rich parents to buy me things, so I’m saving up for college myself. You got any objections to this arrangement, you talk to Mr. Cunningham.”

  “I’ll speak with my mother!”

  “Good. You walked in on us, and surprised us watching a movie. Big deal. If you really wanted to help him, you’d … “

  My voice trailed off. What would she do? What could she do? I didn’t even know myself.

  Carrying a tray of steaming mugs, Rhinegold walked to us from the kitchen space, “Easy now, ladies. Just take it easy. Keara, I brought you some hot chocolate to warm you up. Made some for all of us. No need for my two princesses to fight.”

  “See?” Keara said to me. “Thanks to you, he’s still delusional.”

  “How much did you object when you two were upstairs practicing sex?”

  “I was just fifteen. What did I know?”

  “We’re not princesses,” I told Rhinegold in a tired voice. “Not even close.”

  “The world agrees with you,” he said cheerfully. “But I don’t.”

  Keara stood up straight, arms lined up at her sides, and shook. In a trembling voice, she said, “I am so out of here!”

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  The Knight’s Lance Fails

  Rhinegold watched Treebeard the ent carry Merry and Pippin into Fangorn Forest.

  He rode with Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli to rescue them, though the journey felt strangely fast, intense, feverish.

  Until a hard elbow slammed his ribs.

  “Rhinegold!” SeeJai said. “You were snoring.”

  She paused the movie as he shook his head, looking around. Back in his basement. No, not his—Father’s. He wasn’t a boy any longer, just a guest, a wounded knight taking advantage of the king’s hospitality to recover from a grievous wound.

  She shook his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get to bed. I thought your Father would come down and look in on us when they came back, but maybe they’re not back yet.”

  Rhinegold shook his head. “They’ll go straight to bed. Did your mother look in on you?”

  SeeJai’s eyes fell. “She never went out. She was always in her room, or the living room, so we just said goodnight. Come on.”

  His left arm ached again, and his head still felt woozy. While dreaming through the movie, he killed orcs, and now felt disappointed that wasn’t real.

  SeeJai tried to help him up, but he shook her off. He wasn’t so bad off he needed a woman to carry him. She wasn’t big or strong enough anyway.

  “What about the lights?” SeeJai said. “I always turned off the lights to keep our electric bills low, but where are all the switches? Will your father get mad at me if I leave them burning?”

  “He won’t even notice,” Rhinegold said. “He’ll just dress, grab a little food in the kitchen, and be on his way to work by five tomorrow morning.”

  “Let me get you up first,” SeeJai said. She pointed to their dirty dishes. “Then I’ll come back down to clean up.”

  “Don’t bother,” Rhinegold said, swaying a little. “The maids will take care of it. Didn’t you notice this basement’s not dusty, even though Father and Sybille never come down here?”

  “Staying with other people makes me nervous,” SeeJai said. “I don’t know how they do things, what they expect. Even at Areetha’s. She didn’t like me turning off the living room lights, so I had a hard time getting to sleep on the couch.”

  She put his arm around her shoulders. They helped push each other up the stairwell, and then to the second floor.

  Automatically, he turned toward his bedroom, and SeeJai had to correct him. Oh yes, Father wanted them in a guest bedroom.

  The twin bed with a dark maple frame and headboard, the elegant wing chairs, and the antique dressers covered with Hummel figurines, glass angels, and plaster ballerinas made him feel as though he’d booked a room in an expensive, old-fashioned hotel.

  One of the maids had taken an old pair of his faded blue flannel pajamas from the dresser in his own bedroom and laid them out onto the duvet covering the bed.

  “Jammies for me,” Rhinegold said. “None for you, SeeJai. I guess they expect you to sleep naked to keep me entertained. Or they assume you brought your own luxurious negligees.”

  She unzipped her bag. “The same old sweats.” She pulled them out and held them to her nose. “And still smelling like old sweat. Tomorrow morning, show me the washer and dryer.”

  Rhinegold grinned. “You just give everything to the maids. I’ll show you the baskets.”

  “I don’t want servants doing everything for me. I’m NOT a princess!”

  He took her hand, and kissed her palm. “You’re a servant too. But I’m your job, not cleaning or cooking or laundry.”

  “I’m just not used to it.”

  “Neither am I, anymore. Though it’s scary how fast I remember what it’s like.”

  In one corner, somebody set up a card table. It held Rhinegold’s prescriptions, instructions from Dr. Krishna and the doctor at the hospital, medicine bottles, a pitcher of ice water, and several plastic glasses.

  SeeJai checked her watch, poured water into one of the glasses, and shook out the tablets to take at bedtime. “Then I better do my job. Take your pills.”

  The quiet unnerved Rhinegold. No bangs, laughter, or bursts of TV noise from the other tenants. No horns blaring, bass pounding of rap, shouts, or gunshots from the street.

  The heavy hard wood door made a loud thunk when they closed it. And the bed creaked loudly when they climbed into it.

  “This is so noisy,” SeeJai said. “What if your father and Sybille hear it?”

  “Father’s either asleep or reviewing paperwork for tomorrow. Sybille’s watching a movie. Besides, I don’t recall Governor Thompson and his wife making any noise when they slept in this bed.”

  “Governor … Thompson?”

  “Ex-gove
rnor. Had to quit twenty years ago because of some kind of financial scandal. Father helped him out with it.”

  “Not enough.”

  Rhinegold shrugged. “At least he didn’t go to jail.”

  By habit, Rhinegold lay on his left side, extending his left arm straight in front of him on the stack of pillows, so SeeJai could snuggle up to him.

  “Yipe!” Her sudden weight on his lower left arm shot excruciating pain to his heart.

  She bounced up. “Oh my God! I’m sorry!”

  When he caught his breath, he hugged her. “I’m all right. I didn’t think either.”

  They shifted positions so she lay against his right arm, while his left hand rested on her hip. The lower half still felt inflamed, and stiff. He stretched it out, so his hand reached her upper thigh.

  SeeJai seemed about to speak, but he pressed his mouth closer. He hungered for a kiss, to feel her soft lips against his, let their wet tongues exchange tastes. Her mouth salty and sweet combined. Eating corn chips while drinking Sprite?

  So much had happened since the last time they lay in a bed together, body to body, kissing and hugging … the attack and injury from Lenny the Wolf Man, watching The Snow Queen, collapsing in Riverside Park, the hospital, moving back in with his family … but so long as he had SeeJai, his beloved, he could cope.

  Her mouth caressed his like a ravenous wolf. His passion rose as straight and solid as a Roman column. He squeezed her buttocks, then ran his hand up and down her back, savoring her spine.

  “Princess,” he breathed into her mouth. “My darling, my love. Light of my heart.” He breathed faster, his heart shuddering. “My goddess. My magic queen.”

  SeeJai pushed her mouth back. “No!” Voice at low volume, but still explosive.

  The expression on her face scared him. Her body stiffened at his touch, in his arms.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not your princess or a goddess. That’s crazy talk.”

  “What if it’s just a figure of speech? An exaggeration for effect?”

  “That’s not what you believe, though is it?”

  He shook his head. “Not deep down.”

  She shook his shoulders. “Listen, Rhinegold. I love you, okay? I’m your beloved. Your true love.”

  “You’re beautiful,” he said.

  “If you insist. But I’m not anything royal or magic or crazy.”

  “I’m your knight,” Rhinegold said.

  SeeJai’s hands stroked the sides of his face. “You’re my man. You’re strong and brave and good, and a fighter. You love me and I love you. Why can’t that be enough for you?”

  “We can screw like mindless animals.”

  “No!” Her shout rattled his ears. “We’re not animals or angels, with nothing in-between. We’re people.”

  “So, just fuck you, huh?”

  “Take me as I am—a woman who loves you. A woman who’s surprised by how much you love and want me, but I’m glad. I’m not a princess, just a small, skinny broad in sweat clothes. Aching for your cock inside me. Not a knight or a warrior, just the spoiled son of a lawyer.”

  His passion left him. He hugged SeeJai close and kissed and smelled her hair. Without a word. Just trying to focus on the moment. On the warm, solid woman in his arms. The rise and fall of her ribs as she breathed. The slight rattle of congestion in his chest. Her musky scent, so exciting, but tonight not strong enough. Her ear against his cheek.

  Her hand went down the front of his pajamas. Rubbing and squeezing, but he remained flaccid.

  “What kind of man am I if you’re not a elfin waif?” he asked.

  She withdrew her hand, and put his around his side. “A good man who’s tired. Who lost a lot of blood. Who needs to build up your body. Steak and eggs for breakfast tomorrow morning.”

  “I failed you.”

  She gave his lips a quick kiss. “Heroes can die in battle, can’t they? You’re just wounded, is all. And you need more sleep.”

  As Rhinegold closed his eyes and felt himself slid down a black mountain into an infinite darkness, he swore to convince SeeJai her magic was real.

  Her soul blazed with a light like the dawn of time.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Reporting to Mr. Cunningham

  I sat across from Mr. Cunningham in his home office.

  Sweat bubbled out of my underarms as from underground hot springs.

  A dark, dignified man cave, as serious as Rhinegold’s basement boy cave was entertaining.

  Dark mahogany bookshelves with thick law books. Papers, yellow legal pads full of black scratchings, and folders covered Mr. Cunningham’s desk, with a dark computer screen at his elbow. Plush, gray thick wool carpeting that cushioned all noise.

  Lots of family pictures hung on one wall. I reminded myself to look at them tomorrow, if I were still living there.

  Mr. Cunningham still wore his expensive navy blue pinstripe suit. A diamond stickpin still held his Hermes tie to his Antonio Valente white shirt. He reeked of Giorgio Armani men’s cologne and excessive dignity.

  Much as I admired how hard he must have worked to go from food stamps to this big mansion, I could also understand why Rhinegold didn’t want to imitate him. He must spend a lot of energy just keeping up appearances. Couldn’t someone succeed as a lawyer without putting on a show?

  My stomach roiled, and in the back of my throat I still tasted the highly spiced lasagna I shared with Rhinegold for dinner.

  Mr. Cunningham stood with his hands behind his back, facing to the side, looking thoughtful. “He’s sleeping already?”

  “In the basement. He dozes off and on during the day. The nurse says to just let him, he needs the rest.”

  Mr. Cunningham nodded. “She told me his wound is healing well, for only a few days. The infection and inflammation have gone down a lot. You realize, that’s a point in your favor. I’m sure, on his own, my son would still be trying to pretend it’s not serious.”

  I cleared my throat. “He wanted to take me to some local woods he calls the Forbidden Forest, but I said not until the nurse approves. Even just walking, in all this snow, he could fall and hurt himself more. And no kata. She did say he can walk on the treadmill at a low speed, since that doesn’t strain his arm.”

  Mr. Cunningham turned to stare at me. “So, what’s the problem?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t want to cry, hated crying in front of Mr. Cunningham.

  “I’m not here to heal his arm, and I’m not touching his mind. He insists on watching those old movies. Or reading those same old books. Or new fantasy books, but fantasies. I try to talk about it with him, but … we argue. A lot.”

  To my surprise, Mr. Cunningham pulled his chair from his side of the desk, and sat down right in front of me. He bent forward, and stretched his hand out to my knee, making me feel reassured. He spoke in a quiet, soft but authoritative voice.

  “It’s only been a few days since his … episode. I don’t like the work ’breakdown,’ and the doctors use fancier words. When he was a boy, he usually got over them with just a few visits to a psychiatrist, but those were weeks apart. I think you’re being too hard on yourself.”

  Sniveling now, I shook my head. I hated this. I wanted to go back to the restaurant, where life was simple. I lived by what customers ordered. The menu and the order pad. Take it to the customers. Keep them happy. Some people argued about spices. Or nuts. Or gluten. Nobody wanted me to live in Middle Earth or Westeros.

  What really hurt was the unfairness of it all.

  Everybody I loved, I lost.

  SeaJae.

  Mom—alive, but a zombie after the accident.

  Helena not only left me, but betrayed me.

  Now, Rhinegold.

  The only man I ever cared about.

  Slip sliding away from me, down an ice-slick hill into a chaotic mental maelstrom I couldn’t understand.

  Or, apparently, save him from.

  As much as I loved him, it w
asn’t enough. He wanted the King of Elfland’s daughter. He wanted a faery princess. He wanted Sansa Stark. He wanted Galadriel. He wanted Daenerys Targaryen. He wanted a sparkling angel.

  He thought he saw all those things in me, but of course that was just nonsense. I was only me, SeeJai. A near-ugly social wallflower, a butchy misfit.

  I lay down at the top of the snowy mountain and extended my hand to him, but he ignored it, preferring hallucinations and their false promises.

  And I wasn’t strong enough to grab him and pull him to safety against his will.

  “I don’t think I’m helping,” I said, between snivels. “Maybe hurting. At night, he wants to make love like … as though … he’s a knight with a beautiful princess, but I won’t … I tell him that’s nuts, just do it like you love me, like I turn you on, but then he … can’t.”

  He kept his face expressionless, and his ears zeroed in on my every word and his eyes took in every detail of my face. Even the counselors schools used to send me to didn’t listen with such concentration. When we were still friends, Helena understood what I told her, but just because as another carefree girl she and I were tuned to the same frequencies.

  I didn’t mean to talk about Rhinegold and mine’s sexual problems, but somehow he pulled it out of me, just with the strength of those eyes.

  Nobody else ever listened to me with neutral, dispassionate skill.

  Not even Rhinegold. He loved me. He paid close attention. But he did so full of his own love, his own thoughts and feelings. So he could misunderstand me just to suit his own interests.

  Mr. Cunningham didn’t speak until satisfied I had nothing else to say, for the moment. His voice, although a deep, male sound, reminded me of Mom, or how she might have been before the accident. Or how I imagined mothers should sound to their little children.

  “You’re being too hard on yourself. He injured himself mentally much worse than physically, yet you don’t expect that arm wound to be healed so quickly and easily. When we spoke, did I indicate I expected an overnight healing? Of course not.”