The phone rings and wakes me from a deep, dark, troubled void. How long have I been asleep? Days? Hours? I have no idea what time it is as I glare at the harsh sunlight streaming into my room. The phone continues to ring. Damnit. I scramble for it. It nearly falls from my hand as I press the 'talk' button.
"Hello?" I cough and clear my throat, still raw from yet another night of sobbing. That's getting old and it's not getting any better.
"Anastasia?" It's the British voice of a man I don't even begin to recognize. Come to think of it, I don't think I know anyone British.
"Yes?" I warble again even more confused now then I was when I woke up.
"Anastasia, my name is Doctor Flynn. I need to talk to you about Christian." Doctor Flynn. Christian. My heart flutters for a brief moment and then sinks deep into a pit in my stomach. Oh God hassomething happened to him? I slink back in my bed, resisting the urge to pass out.
"Is he ok?" I hurriedly ask, closing my eyes against the answer. Please, no. No, no, no. I haven't talked to Christian in weeks. He sent flowers, the same white roses that were wilting next to my bed, and I said nothing. Jose's art show came and went and I ignored Christian's emails and requests to see me. I was broken. I couldn't do it. But that had been a week ago. I assumed he had moved on but what if it was something much much worse. I would never forgive myself. I noticed Doctor Flynn remained silent. My eyes were still pinched closed.
"Is he ok?!" I repeated, more feverishly this time.
"I don't know." His answer was soft and apologetic. How could he not know? This was the man Christian told everything to.
"Christian has missed his appointments with me for two weeks in a row. He has never missed a single appointment..." I am listening to the fear in Flynn's voice as I scramble to my feet. "I have tried to reach him numerous times. His assistant, Mr. Taylor, came by yesterday to tell me that he had been fired and asked to leave. He seemed distraught." Good news. Someone had seen Christian as recently as yesterday...and he was ok. Bad news. Christian fired Taylor?! How on earth.
"I know this is stepping over the line, but I wondered if I might convince you to go see him. With me, of course. Mr. Taylor let me know that you had left, and I understand your hesitance, of course. But if it set of some kind of reaction in him...you may be the only one that can help me right now."
I am only half listening to Flynn as I pull my jeans up. The same ones that were in a pile by my bed from yesterday. I balance the phone on my shoulder as I pull my jeans over my hip and button them. I glance at my half-dressed self in the mirror. I look like hell. I feel like it, too.
"What time can I meet you there?" I interrupt him, not wanting to waste a single minute.
Doctor Flynn is perched at the doorway to Escala with Taylor as I drive up. I feel a pang of embarrassment about my car as Taylor rounds it to help me out the door. We smile familiarly at each other, both wearing the same mask of sadness. Without thinking I throw myself at him and he welcomes me into his arms. He pats my back as I allow a few tears to escape into his shoulder.
"Taylor, what happened?" I lean back and clean my face as he stares at me, producing another hankerchief. He is silent. He nods towards Doctor Flynn as he slides into my car to park it.
The doctor is a good looking, younger man. Not the Sigmund Freud I was picturing. I blush as he watches me walk towards him. I can only imagine what Christian has told him about me. He extends a hand and I shake it.
"Thank you for coming, Anastasia." He is kind and sincere and I smile at his pleasantry.
"Of course."
We walk in silence into the lobby and into the elevator. He presses the button and we both inhale deeply as we start the ascent towards Christian.
"What are you expecting to find here?" I ask bravely, unsure if I want an answer. I turn to look at him and he frowns slightly at my inquisition.
"I'm not sure, Anastasia." His honesty is appreciated even if it does scare me.
"What do you expect me to do?" My voice lowers. I am afraid.
"I'm not sure, Anastasia." He turns to face me.
"You've never dealt with something like this before?" I am worried that this is turning into the blind leading the blind.
"I've never dealt with someone like Christian before. It's all unchartered territory." He tries to smile and I try to smile back. Believe me, I know.
"I just thought that having the one thing he really loves would help me to get through to him."
My heart stops for a moment. Knowing how honest Christian is with this man. What did he just say?! Does Christian love me? The same Christian who recoiled from me when I suggested that I was in love with him? That in no uncertain terms forbade me to love him and refused to love me back?! I start to feel angry...where is that coming from?
"Christian told you he loved me?" I'm an embarrassed school child and still afraid of the answer. Flynn raises an eyebrow.
"He didn't have to." His face softens. He's almost sad. We both remain silent until the elevator finally dings the announcement that we've made it.
We both walk slowly into the dark apartment as if we are waiting to be attacked by a deranged killer. Escala. It's changed. It's silent. It's dark. Darker than usual. The rainy Seattle afternoon doesn't help. No Taylor...no anyone. We both stand there waiting, watching, listening. I know he is there...I can feel him. But where?!
I leave Doctor Flynn's side, suddenly feeling brazen and determined. I walk to the kitchen. It's dark but the island is splattered with bottles of scotch. Mostly empty ones. One half full and sitting left open. There are a few tumblers sitting around too. Some fill the sink. I've never seen a dirty dish in the sink...ever. I suddenly know Taylor wasn't the only one fired. I am distracted by the sound of Doctor Flynn padding into the apartment. I turn and decide I need to follow him.
We walk towards the piano and my breath hitches. I remember the last time I was here. The panic in Christian's face as I assured him I was leaving. I can hardly bear it. I look out the window past the piano at the sunken and grey skyline and picture Christian's eyes that reflect it's same color. I scan the horizon and then I notice something on the other side of the piano. It's Christian.
Sprawled on the floor between the piano and the large pane of glass overlooking the city. His legs splayed out haphazardly towards the glass, his bare feet nearly touching it. His jeans are wrinkled and slouchy...and not in the way I would normally find breathtaking...in a way that terrifies me. His torso is covered in a white tshirt only, and his long arm extends from it...his long fingers curled around the half empty tumbler of scotch that sits on the floor next to him. I can hardly take my eyes off of him until I force myself to look at Doctor Flynn. He is staring at Christian with the same awe that I feel. He turns to look at me and then quietly nods to me as if he has read my mind and my desire to go to him.
I pad quietly towards him, my blue trench coat still on but hanging open. I stop and drop my bag on the couch. The muffled sound of my purse slouching down onto the leather causes Christian's head to turn towards me. I pause, and hope that he will look at me but instead he slowly turns back towards the glass. I round the piano and catch a better glimpse of him. He hasn't shaved. Maybe not since I saw him last. I've only ever seen him with a days worth of stubble and if it wasn't so in characteristic I would find it sexy. His grey eyes are sunken and deeper than usual. They are underlined red and unhealthy. He's not well. He's not himself. And I'm scared of him...more than I have been before. I slowly step towards him and still he remains motionless. I stand next to him, almost close enough to reach out and touch him. My wounded fifty in such a state I can hardly stand to look at him.
I lower myself onto my knees next to him, placing my hands on my knees, ironically, as nothing about him seems in control for the first time since I met him.
"Christian?" I whisper his name almost inaudibly. He doesn't react at all. I watch him remain motionless. I wait for what feels like hours and glance back at Doctor Flynn. He has stepped just a bit closer and nods me to continue. I welcome his presence.
"Christian, please look at me..." I whisper as I lean into him, moving carefully to brush a strand of copper hair from his eye. His hand snaps to attention, catching me by surprise as he clenches my wrist before I can reach him. My hand hangs open in the air as he tightens his grasp on my wrist and then releases it. Without a word I know touching him is not an option. I also notice that Doctor Flynn has moved to the piano. Christian's sudden movement alerted him, too. He boosts my confidence. But the vacant look on Christian is more than I can stand. My eyes gloss over with tears. I lean in closer to him.
"Christian, please...I need you."
He blinks quickly at my words, and I know he is processing them. He slowly turns to face me, finally raising his grey, sad eyes to mine. I try to smile. He takes me in and having his eyes on me for the first time in weeks sends a charge through me that I had forgotten I missed. But his face quickly hardens and I see the fire behind it.
"You shouldn't be here. Get out of my house."
He stares back at me with eyes I barely recognize and all at once I want to turn and run. I don't know him anymore...as quickly as he became attached to me, could he unattach as quickly just as I had always feared? I remain motionless, still kneeling beside him, locked in his cold gaze. His nostrils flare. He lifts his ice-filled tumbler between us and in one swift move he throws it past me. I duck instinctively, covering my head. The glass sails by me, spilling ice as it soars toward the wall, eventually meeting it and shattering with a loud crash. I scream to myself even as I cover my head. I notice Christian completing the movement it took him to throw his glass but something is wrong. He nearly falls to the floor as he turns and recoils from the exertion, both arms bracing him on the cold tile floor. He is heaving. I can't help but reach for him to help, but he shakes me off again, weaker this time but strong enough to get his point across.
"I said get out. You need to get away from me."
His voice is shaky and resonant, and he doesn't look up at me. I move back slightly and then turn to Doctor Flynn. I am in desperate need of backup.
Flynn quietly approaches us and takes his raincoat off. He slings it over the piano without looking and something slips and shatters on the floor as he does. We both turn to follow the noise but Christian doesn't move. I notice it's a glass ash tray. Filled with the butts of a few cigarettes and the foul smelling ash they've left behind. I sneer at it. Who the hell would have been smoking?! Surely not Christian. Elena maybe? Leave it to her to move in as soon as the opportunity arose. Doctor Flynn is inspecting it closer than I am. His brow is furrowed. He picks up the remains of a half smoked cigarette and whispers to himself.
"These haven't been smoked. Just lit."
He's talking to himself but I fight to take in the information.
"What does that have to do with anything?" I answer back almost unaware of Christian's form still heaving between us. Flynn's eyes turn to Christian and mine follow. His head still hanging between his arms, his chest heaving. His body a defeated slump of what it was just two weeks ago.
And then I notice something completely unsettling. At the hem of Christian's white undershirt. It's stained...soiled...part of it stuck to his abdomen. I squint my eyes in the dying cloudy Seattle light to try to make sense of it. Flynn had descended on Christian, kneeling on one knee on the other side of him, glancing over his side and examining the same confusing mess that I am.
"Sit back, Christian."
Flynn is all business now and I have to say in impressed at how well Christian minds him. He rolls back off his hands and leans against the leg of the piano, not unlike the way we found him.
Oh my God.
Flynn recoils slightly as I can't help but raise my hand to my mouth and utter his name.
The hem of his shirt is slightly blood stained and yellow. Parts of it stuck to his skin and other parts black and charred in small intense circles. I know immediately what I am looking at and I feel sick. I have to fight the bile down in my throat.
"Anastasia, I need you to go get Taylor and have him call Dr. Fielding. Right now." His voice is stern and as much as I don't want to move from Christian's side I think I may throw up if I don't. I nod slightly and scramble to my feet.
"How long since you've eaten?" Doctor Flynn handles Christian delicately and I'm almost amused that someone is asking Christian this for a change.
"I fired Taylor." Christian answers back.
"He's downstairs. It's alright."
I am backing towards the door trying not to trip over my own feet as my tears finally release and stream down my cheeks. I keep telling myself...this is not your fault. This is years of damage you can't begin to understand or undo. You didn't do this. But why can't I believe it? I back all the way to the opposite wall and it catches me. I pause there for a minute, still watching Christian.
"How long since you've eaten, Christian." Doctor Flynn persists and Christian lowers his head and shakes it slowly as he looks for the answer.
"What day is it?" Christian answers humbly.
What day is it?! How long had he been like this?! Has he been to work!? What is he doing?!
Doctor Flynn notices me.
"Anastasia, I need Taylor. Right now."
For some reason I am seeing red. Maybe it's my ridiculous desire to take care of him but I can't stand it anymore. I charge back across the room, ignoring Doctor Flynn.
"What day is it?! Christian what are you doing?" I'm yelling towards him as I move back across the room. Flynn watches me but Christian seems unaware. I round the piano and as the skies open up just outside the glass so do I. Tears stream down my face as I yell at him.
"How dare you. You're not a baby, Christian!..."
"Ana, please" Doctor Flynn tries to settle me but I blow him off.
"This isn't you. Look at you. I want my Christian back. You have people that need you."
Doctor Flynn has moved for his jacket and is looking frantically through his phone. I take the moment alone with Christian to try somehow to get through to him.
I take a deep breath and sink to the ground beside him, tears still wetting my face. How could he sit there and not react to me? This man who said he couldn't bare to see me cry?
"Look at me, damn it!" I'm shouting at him even though I'm within inches of him and I grab him by the shoulder and turn him towards me. He winces. Hard.
I immediately regret manhandling him. Or belittling him for that matter. I notice his shirt has lifted enough to reveal the skin of his abdomen and I barely take it in before I gasp audibly and weep unashamedly. Oh, my Christian! He belly blood stained with cigarette burns. The rest of his skin pale and gaunt.
"You were right, Ana." He whispers weakly as he raises his eyes to mine, "I am a fucked up son of a bitch. And you need to get away from me."