"Frozen Truths"
Chapter 6 {Tobias' POV}
-o-o-o-
The one thing I hate about my job is the paperwork, and how much of it there is. Mr Pablos is never able to complete much of it himself due to his "busy schedule", which means the task is always being passed down to me.
Therefore, most of my time is spent filling out documents, without the luxury of a computer, as these all have to be written out by hand. So my only source of spellcheck is a dictionary, which I keep up in the library.
Huffing, I push my chair away from my desk and stand up, leaving the study. I pass Christina in the kitchen, alone, polishing silverware. I give her a nod in greeting, but I'm curious - wasn't there supposed to be a trainee shadowing her today?
Shrugging it off, I move away from the kitchen and climb the many stairs, rubbing a hand across my face, drained of energy. I hate having to work from home; not only is it all boring business deal documents and contracts, but Nita makes it her mission to constantly check up on me, which alone is exhausting enough.
I proceed down the hallway, but I slow down a little as I notice the door to the library is open, but I know that it is always kept shut.
I move towards the doorway, and spot the cause of the open door - the new maid, with her back to me, looking through my bookshelves. I wouldn't usually mind, but I'm irritable and tired, and I don't exactly appreciate her touching all my things.
"See something you like?" I ask, leaning against the doorframe.
She spins around to face me, like a deer caught in a pair of headlights, a feather duster and an old, Latin book clasped in her hand, and I soften a little.
Nita told me that the new employee was twenty years of age, but this girl could be the same height as a petite fifteen year old, only five foot, at most. Her skin is pale, and her eyes are wide and - even from where I'm standing - I can see that they are the colour of a raging thunderstorm. She's beautiful, that much is obvious.
"I - er, sorry? I was just dusting and this caught my eye and -"
"I'm kidding," I say, interrupting her as I walk away from the door, towards her, my curiosity getting the better of me. "You must like to read; most aren't impressed with what I've done with the place.. Nita thinks reading fills your head with disappointments."
"Yeah, I like to read," she answers, carefully. "Not to this extent, but I do enjoy a good novel."
I watch as she tucks the book back in its original place on the shelf, and her cheeks have become a little rosier than they were before.
"You must be the new girl, Tris, isn't it? Nita tells me that you were the best applicant by far, so on behalf of the both of us, I wanted to say welcome." I add, attempting to break the ice a little.
"Thank you.. and i'm sorry if I was being nosey, looking through all your books like this. It wasn't very professional of me." She apologises, pushing a piece of hair back behind her ear.
"Nonsense," I chuckle. "It's not like you set fire to them."
I look away from Tris and toward the bookshelf, at the dozens of shelves full of books, all of which I've been collecting since I was a little boy.
I've always loved to read, whether it be dumb kid books like 'Diary of a Wimpy Kid', or even classics that are aimed at a more mature audience, such as 'To Kill a Mockingbird', or 'The Great Gatsby'.
In elementary school, while the other kids traded soccer cards at recess, I would spend my time in the library, my nose stuck in a book. And even during high school, between playing football and running the debating society, I was still mostly seen with a book glued to my hand.
A little lame, one would say, but I've never paid much attention to what anybody else has to say. So over the stages of my life, I've managed to build up a rather impressive collection, if I do say so myself.
I turn back to Tris, who is fiddling with the handle on her duster, awkwardly.
But before I can speak, she beats me to it. "Have you read them all?"
"Not all of them. Some of them are in Greek, and very confusing French." I answer, smiling a little.
"Qui savait que le français pouvait être source de confusion?" She flings back, speaking fluently and pronouncing it all perfectly.
"Donc vous parlez français? Pantalon sablier." I fire back, surprising her a little, I think.
"I am not a smarty pants," she smirks. "But I did study French for a year or two in high school."
As much as I'd like to stay here and talk French all day, I know I have work to do, and there's no avoiding it, as much as I long for it all to disappear.
"Well, I had better get on," I say, clearing my throat and turning towards the shelves behind me. "I just came to get a dictionary. I'm busy writing up some documents, and cannot make any mistakes. Trouble is, I'm being made to do it by hand - so no computerised spell check for me."
"And I should get back to cleaning all of these, though, reaching all the way to the top is going to be a little difficult.." she trails off, anxiously. I look over my shoulder and see her looking up at the book cases, which reach the ceiling, nibbling at her bottom lip.
Knowingly, I pull out the huge ladder from the concealed compartment in the wall, long enough for her to reach the very top. She smiles at me shyly in thanks, and I give her a small nod in return and head for the door, after grabbing the dictionary I came up here for, in the first place.
But before I can leave, I remember that she probably doesn't know who I am, unless Nita has mentioned me (which is likely), but I feel it necessary to introduce myself to her in person.
I stop and turn myself back towards her slightly and say, "I'm Tobias Eaton, by the way, just call me Tobias, though. I'm not as hard about formalities as Nita is." And then I do leave, closing the heavy wooden door behind me.
Returning to my study, I collapse back into my chair and start looking up the words I need, sighing as I do so. I used to enjoy my work, the opportunities Mr Pablos would open up to me. But lately, I've been having second thoughts about what I'm doing with my life.
Do I really want to spend the rest of my days working in the tedious business industry, attempting to be grateful for the scraps my father-in-law throws my way? I should be thankful for all that I have, and I am, but I can't help but want to just wish it all away. A fresh start, a new beginning of sorts.
I grab my iPod out of my drawer and slip my earphones in, hitting the play button. A Fall Out Boy song begins to play and I put my head down again, burying myself in my work, and banishing those longing, wishful thoughts away to a dark corner of my mind. Still lurking in the shadows, but not taking my mind as prisoner completely.
As the day progresses, I continue on with my work, switching from playlist to playlist, ignoring everything else around me, until voices drift in from the open window to my left, that looks out onto the usually quiet flower gardens.
After attempting to ignore it for a good few minutes, eventually I wander over to the window, and peer outside. Knelt down at the flowerbeds is Tris and Christina, trading light-hearted banter as they dig up weeds, tossing them into a bucket.
I bite the inside of my cheek - I'm not even sure why Nita gave them that job, that's for the gardener who comes in once a week, not for our maids. She likes to give them horrible jobs, though, which was one of the reasons that Ava quit a good few months ago.
We only got around to putting up the ad two weeks ago, however, because it had to be "aesthetically pleasing" enough. Which means pleasing to Nita's standards, which are immensely high. I don't dare say that what she tasks our staff with is too labouring, as I know she'd go full supernova, and I don't wish to be on the receiving end of that. Not at all.
I watch as Christina looks side to side, clumsily, as she manages to miss my presence completely, and grins at Tris. "What I wouldn't give to throw all this into Nita's closet." She says, gesturing towards the bucket filled with a mixture of weeds and dirt.
The corner of my mouth twitches but I suppress the smile - I shouldn't find her comment amusing, I know that. But I have the same urges sometimes, and find humour in that.
"A little much, don't you think?" Tris reasons, seemingly taken aback by her bluntness. "I know that she may seem a little.. cold, but maybe there's a nice person underneath."
"Yeah I'm sure.. deep, deep down." She responds, voice laced with sarcasm.
I should jump in and defend my fiancé, shout at them, tell them that there is a wonderful person in her, but I can't bring myself to do that. I'm a lot of things, but I am not a liar.
"Exactly." Tris smiles, amused now rather than stunned.
I take their break in conversation like a slap to the face, and I shuffle back to my desk, cheeks burning. I shouldn't listen in to things that don't include me, it's impertinent and terribly intrusive. I mentally scold myself for a good five minutes as I attempt to bury myself back into my work, eventually resorting to closing the window so that I can no longer hear the duo's verbal exchanges.
There's a short, rhythmic knock on my door just as I sit back down, and I sigh before calling for her to come in.
Nita slips inside my office and locks the door behind her, giving me a seductive smirk. She struts her way over to my chair and lowers herself down onto my lap, straddling me, winding her arms around my neck.
"Hey baby," she purrs. "How is work coming along?"
"Yeah, I'm close to getting it all finished up. Your father seriously knows how to dish out the hard labouring challenges, huh?" I chuckle, attempting to fill it with enough humour to keep her at ease.
"I can ask him to lay off, if it's getting too much -"
"That will not be neccesary," I cut her off, shaking my head. "Just because he is soon to be my father-in-law, does not mean I deserve to be treated any different."
"I miss you, baby. I'm all alone, with nobody to keep me company." Nita pouts, and I lightly kiss her.
"I'm sorry, but you could always make conversation with Christina or the new girl? I'm sure they'd happily get into a conversation with you, don't you think?" I suggest.
She rolls her eyes, giving me the "you can't be serious" face, and I concede. I knew she'd react that way before the words even passed my lips.
Before I can speak again, she covers my mouth with her own, her press-on nails ticking the nape of my neck as she rests her hand there, keeping me in place. I reciprocate her advances, but I can't help but notice the lack of spark.
Everyone always talks about that beautiful feeling you're supposed to get when you kiss your soul mate, and that feeling is never present in these kind of situations. But I'm a guy, and whilst I'm caught up in the more intimate sexual encounters, I don't usually mind as much, but it's always there at the back of my mind, prodding away at me.
Maybe I'm just overreacting; the kind of romance that I've always thought to be realistic had been put in my head by the books I've read. Perhaps happily ever afters don't exist, after all.
I think that it is time that I abandon my childish fantasies, and begin to look at things realistically - this is my life, and no matter how much I wish for it to be different, it never will be. And I cannot change that. I have wealth, a beautiful woman who will become my wife, a wonderful house, a stable career. I have a lot, and I think that sometimes I may take it for granted.
Zeke was right when he told me not to get my head too lost in the clouds, because when reality becomes clear, it hits you like a ton of bricks.
Nita pulls away first, and adjusts my shirt back to normal, tutting. "This shirt isn't your colour, you have so many better options," she says, moving away from my lap and standing. "You don't want your standards to drop, do you?"
"Of course not," I assure her, forcing a smile. "I'm sorry, I was just in a bit of a daze this morning. I'll make sure to wear a nicer one tomorrow."
"You have seemed a little far away lately," she says, carefully, her dark eyes narrowing slightly. "You aren't having second thoughts about the wedding, are you?"
"No," I answer smoothly, though I curse myself for not telling the truth. "I'm more than excited to become your husband. I couldn't have found a better woman to take my surname."
I want her to see through my act, to tell me that she doesn't believe me, that I can't trick her so easily. But she doesn't. She just flashes me a smile and readjusts her necklace, giving me a chaste kiss on my cheek.
"Oh, and by the way, my mother called - she wants to arrange a dinner party, and invited us to come along. A lot of my family whom you've never met will be attending, which gives you a great opportunity to impress them all." She informs me, bouncing one of her chocolate curls back into place.
"I can't wait." I say, smiling weakly.
She gives me another swift kiss, not lingering a bit, before turning away and walking towards the door, closing it behind her.
I sink further into my chair, covering my face with my hands, sighing into them. I'm a coward, and I always will be. There's no way in hell that I'll ever be able to tell Nita how I truly feel about us, so there's nothing left to do but go through with it, and hope that a spark somehow ignites itself as time goes on. It could happen.. right? I'd like to think so.
Maybe I'm just going through some kind of phase. Maybe in a few months, I'll be right as rain; I'll feel the same way about Nita as I did when we first met. We'll fall in love all over again, and I'll be happy.
I won't need freedom, or adventure, because I'll have found happiness right where I am. And then I'll be content, I'll be ok, I'll be grateful and thankful. It has to work out that way.
Otherwise.. what happens then? I live a life of misery and despair? No - I won't let that happen. I am in control of my destiny, which means I control where my life goes from here. And I know that I can make something of the life I've been given, settled here in this lifeless, colourless town. We could start a family together, have kids, grow old together. We could make it work, I just know it.
Abandoning all hope of finishing up my work, I pull my copy of Jonathan Swift's, Gulliver's Travels. Reading is always able to take my mind off things, and I know for certain that trying to complete those tiring documents is going to do no good for my mental health.
I take my book and leave the study, taking the route that leads me to the library, which - this time - is empty. I flop down onto the chair tucked up to my wooden table, which is covered with a large map of the world, of which I have marked the places I would visit, if I was ever given the chance to do so.
I'm pleased to see that most of my belongings have been left alone, with the exception of a few of my books that were scattered around the table - they've been moved back onto the shelves, and somehow, in the right place. I've always ordered them alphabetically, from top to bottom, and she's managed to do it correctly.
A ghost of a smile touches my lips; at least now this place will be able to be cleaned, without being wrecked at the hands of Christina. She's been with us for a long while, and she's a great employee, but her distaste for my library is very apparent, and pretty amusing.
Leaning back, I open up my book, to where my page is marked, and continue to read, letting my thoughts run away with the words printed on the pages.
-o-o-o-
I wake with a start, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead, and I sit up, gasping for air. Leaning back on my palms, I take a moment to catch my breath.
As my vision returns, I sigh in relief as I come to the realisation that I am still in my bedroom, with Nita beside me, who is groaning, having been woken up.
"Tobias," she snaps, rolling over so her back is to me, and I can practically hear the scowl on her lips. "You're going to have start sleeping on the couch if you keep waking me up like this. What is your problem, anyway? Grown men aren't supposed to have nightmares."
Wordlessly, I slip out from under the sheets and throw on a pair of black sweatpants and a hoodie. Nita doesn't try to stop me as I leave our room, and close-to slam the door behind me.
Descending the cold steps that lead downstairs, I head for the bar and grab one of the Grey Goose Vodka bottles from behind the counter, and then leave the house by the sliding doors, that lead into the backyard.
I shuffle my way over to a sun lounger and sit down, letting myself relax against the mesh material. I unscrew the top to the fresh bottle and bring it to my lips, taking a long drink, cringing as it burns my throat. But it's a welcomed form of discomfort, and it helps me to relax further.
With it being early November, the night is freezing cold, but I'm too numb to feel anything, anyhow.
Nita was right - grown men aren't supposed to have nightmares, especially not as badly as me. It's childish. But I don't know how to prevent them from invading my sleep, holding my mind hostage and twisting everything into dark shadows, threatening my very existence.
It's moronic, really; it's not like dreams can hurt me in any way, but they all feel so real, like he's really there, lurking in the dark, waiting.
I take another swig from my bottle, relishing in the blaze that now rages in my throat. There's no way I'm going back up to our bedroom now - I know when we wake up, I'll get that look. The look of shame. The look that explicitly implies how ashamed she is to be with me, and how immature I am. I can't stand that again, so my best bet is to just spend the night out here.
And just like every time I get bad dreams, the only way to force myself back to sleep is to essentially knock myself out. Half the bottle usually does the trick.
I lift my eyes up to the sky, a blanket of velvety darkness, with no stars in sight, much to my dismay.
When I was ten years old, I was sent to see a counsellor. I'd been having bad dreams - seriously, the kind where you shout in your sleep and yell and fight and wake up covered in sweat. Not good. Not at all. The counsellor spent a whole year trying to get me to open up about what happened in my past, repeatedly telling me to "trust her".
Yeah, right. Why would I trust her? Ever since he started to get attached to the drink, I was never able to trust an adult again. Even now, I struggle with the whole 'trusting people' thing.
In the end, a whole year on, she pretty much labelled me as hopeless and just gave up on me. She told me that she couldn't help me to deal with the past if I wouldn't talk to her about it.
As I grew older, though, and the memories of his wrath began to somewhat fade, the nightmares slowly dwindled down to once a week, and that was fine with me. Even now, I still suffer with at least once a month, and Nita doesn't appreciate those nights at all.
She doesn't know what happened to me as a boy, and I don't plan on telling her. She wouldn't understand; she's had such a perfect life, the ideal childhood. She'll never know how the past can haunt you, so I understand that she would never be able to empathise about where I come from. I don't want her pity, which I know is what I'll get plenty of if I do tell her, so I figure it's best to keep it to myself.
Besides, I never want to go back to those dark times in my life. Start looking at all of that and I'll unravel faster than a sweater with a hole in it.
The only person who is aware of my previous situation - with the exception of my mom, obviously - is Zeke and Hanna, who were my rocks for a good amount of time.
Mom went a little.. crazy for a while, and ended up spending a few months in Rehab. Nobody knew that, though; we made up some bullshit lie about her looking into a wealthy estate over in England, and was staying over there for a while to work things out.
Thankfully, everybody bought it, and when she returned - with help - she slowly became the person she was before. It was fine at first, but she took the new found freedom for granted, and started to change - she became selfish and shallow, believing that diamonds and jewels were more important than me, than the people who loved her and took care of her when she was going through that rough patch.
I've come to the conclusion that family is a waste of space, and that I don't need them, anyway. However, if Nita and I do have children, I'll do everything in my power to make sure they have the perfect childhood; at least, a better one than I had. And I would be a great dad, no matter what. I'd never turn out like him. Ever. And I'd never lay a hand on Nita either, not even in my most furious fits of rage.
I'm not like him. I'm not.
When I take my next drink from the bottle, I take a quarter of it in one gulp, trying to drink away the memories. I hate the fact that this is the only way I can forget and fall asleep after said nightmares, and I don't take pride in the fact that I use alcohol as my own personal sleeping drug.
But I avoid overdoing it any other time, and confine myself to two drinks, maximum. I wouldn't say that I like to get drunk, so I tend to avoid the stronger-based liquor. These nights are exceptions to those self-boundaries, though.
I've found that my nightmares seem to follow me, as if it were my shadow, forever. I'm not sure that they'll ever go away. Not completely.
As I continue to drown in my thoughts and drink my way through them, it's not long before my vision blurrs and everything in my body seems to heavy, like I'm being pulled down by an invisible force. My eyes droop, and my head sags against the chair.
Letting the bottle drop to the ground, I pass out to the sound of shattering glass.
-o-o-o-
Authors Note:
New chapter! I worked super hard on this, so I hope you guys enjoy. I took your reviews into account and used your comments to create the events for this chapter so thank you to everyone who took the time to drop me an review or a PM.
Also, thank you to Eunice339 who gave me the idea for the eavesdropping part, thank you!
Leave a review to let me know what you thought, I'll try and update again as soon as I can :)
- GuiltyMind