Chapter 9
The file was on her desk when she came in. Sharon saw it as soon as she walked through the door. The folder was red with a white label on the front. She had filled in countless of these herself on behalf of other officers but somehow it struck her, seeing it lying on her desk, knowing that this particular file wasn't about somebody else but about her. She turned in the doorway, her eyes seeking out Provenza's. He met her eyes and she knew he had left it there for her to find. She smiled in thanks, not missing the way his gaze lingered a moment longer on the bruises on her face and then he looked back down at the paperwork on his desk.
Sharon closed the door behind her, unbuttoned her blazer and circled around her desk. She sat down slowly, ignoring the lingering ache in her back, and pulled the file towards her. Seeing her own name written on the label in neat capital letters felt somewhat strange. She had been so used to being the one to write the reports, not being the one about whom reports were written.
The first thing she saw when she opened the file was an incident report, already filled out, signed and dated. All it needed was her own signature at the bottom of the page. But her attention was drawn to the pictures attached to the top right corner of the report with a single paper clip. Sharon winced as she removed the photos. She was looking at herself but it felt like she was looking at someone else.
The pictures had been taken in the ER a few minutes after she arrived. Andy had insisted he'd do it after Sharon pointed out that a report needed to be written. He'd pulled out his phone and had looked at her. "Better it be me than someone else," he'd said as he'd brushed the hair out of her face to fully reveal the full extent of the bruising.
The flash on the camera had been bright and unforgiving and Sharon had closed her eyes after the first shot. Each snap, each flash, had felt like an intrusion. Seeing herself like this, bloodied and bruised, with her eyes closed, made her feel uneasy and filled her with dread. Sharon stared down at the cut across her face, saw the dark droplets of blood that trickled down her cheek, and she felt angry. She hadn't seen it coming when she felt she should have. She knew Anderson was a violent man. How had she misread the warning signs?
Sharon slowly lay the pictures out like a puzzle in front of her. Seeing herself as a victim was not something she was used to and for the first time she was confronted by the startling realisation that this was how the people she came across every day had to feel. People who were victims of crimes and who saw themselves being reduced to pictures on whiteboards and handwritten reports in folders.
Sharon knew that the DA's office would be using the pictures to charge Anderson with assaulting a police officer on top of the first degree murder charge for killing Oliver Grey. Jason Scott Anderson would most likely spend the rest of his life on death row. If at all possible, Sharon knew she would be spending as much time as she could in court when the case came to trial.
"Captain?"
She looked up to find Provenza standing in the doorway.
"Lieutenant," she smiled. "What can I do for you?"
"Just checking if we've got everything covered," Provenza answered and pointed at the pictures on her desk. "And we probably have to take some more pictures."
Sharon nodded. Her injuries had changed since these pictures were taken and she looked worse now than she did when she first arrived at the hospital. In this unguarded moment she was taken back to the night where she had taken pictures of Rusty's bruised and bloodied face after Daniel Dunn had hit him. Had he felt like this too? Like it was some kind of invasion of personal space?
"I'll get Andy to take some more," she said without looking up. "Was there anything else?"
"I just got a call from your old friends over in Force Investigation Division."
Now Sharon looked up. "What?"
"They became involved after what happened with Anderson. Apparently they are, and I quote, investigating Julio for excessive use of force. All because Anderson had a black eye when he left here." Provenza looked intently at Sharon's face. "All things considered, he should be lucky a black eye is all he got."
Sharon sighed and leaned back in her chair. That scenario hadn't even crossed her mind but she knew the system better than anyone and Anderson's black eye would have automatically triggered a use of force investigation. She removed her glasses and dropped them on the desk before rubbing the bridge of her nose. She didn't know how she was going to last until Monday without her good ones.
"Leave it with me, Lieutenant," she said softly. "But Julio will have to be on desk duty until this whole thing has been cleared up." There was a pause. She knew he didn't like it. Frankly, she didn't like it herself but the rules were there for a reason. She looked out into the Murder Room and saw Julio at his desk, typing away on his computer. He had his back turned towards her.
"I'll talk to him," Sharon added before Provenza had a chance to question her decision. "But later." She gave him a look that made it very clear he was not to mention it and the Lieutenant nodded before turning around and leaving the doorway. She watched him walk away and followed him with her eyes across the Murder Room until he had reached his desk.
She then focused on the file in front of her and began reading the statement and incident report. There were several pages, each with the account of one of her detectives detailing what had happened. She knew that these statements would also back Julio when it came to the use of force investigation as well as provide clear evidence to the court what Anderson had done. With a sigh she signed at the parts where she needed to and then reattached the pictures. She carefully placed the file in her top drawer, on top of the file with Philp Stroh's picture on the front, and closed the drawer again.
Sharon stood up slowly and walked out of her office into the Murder Room. It was one of those rare days where the phones didn't ring with the report of a body and people were catching up on paperwork that had accumulated in recent days. Without speaking she made her way over to Andy's desk and he looked up when he heard her approach.
"Everything ok?" he asked. There was a hint of concern in his voice.
"We're going to need some more pictures for the report," Sharon said.
Andy nodded and stood up. She led him into the conference room and closed the blinds. When she turned to look at him she found him watching her and she came to the realisation that this was the first time they'd been alone since their conversation in the restaurant, not counting the time in hospital. And as Sharon looked up to meet Andy's eyes, she knew that he'd realised it too.
"So," she said, wiping her hands along her blazer. "Let's do this."
Andy slowly approached, phone in hand, and he held still a couple of inches away from her. When he held up the camera and Sharon saw the flash, she felt the same dread she'd felt in the emergency room. When she heard the first picture snap she almost flinched but composed herself and pulled her hair out of the way to show the side of her face.
They didn't speak while Andy took the photos but when he slipped his phone back into his pocket he said, "About the other day…"
"I understand," she interrupted him. "And I'm sorry for having made you feel like…" She wasn't sure how to finish that sentence. She didn't know how she'd made him feel. She clumsily looked up at him, green eyes filled with confusion.
"I guess neither of us is very good at this," Andy pointed out. He smiled. It was a sheepish smile, childlike almost. The kind of smile that betrayed nerves and insecurity. "I just…." He hesitated and looked around, almost as if he was unsure if this was the right time and place. He then decided that it was. "I really care about you, Sharon, and I don't want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable but…"
The conversation was making her uncomfortable. As much as she felt that they needed to have this discussion, Sharon felt unable to actually get the words out and say what she needed to say. They really had reached a point where they had two different visions and both were very valid. She nervously fingered one of the buttons on her blazer, twisting it around a couple of times before buttoning it up.
"Is there a reason why?" Andy asked. He wasn't being intrusive. She sensed he was trying to be kind, was trying to understand her. "Is it Jack? Is it because it's been quite some time since..." He didn't finish that sentence.
Sharon wasn't sure what he was trying to say. Was he inferring she'd been a nun during the years she'd been separated from Jack?
She blinked a couple of times. "I don't have an answer for you," she admitted. "I know you feel like you want some kind of explanation but I don't have one. I'm not ready. This…" Se deliberately left a silence between them. "….This was not something I'd planned for. And when I said I was prepared to see where this road would lead, I meant I'd be taking small steps. I understand your feelings but please, also understand mine."
Andy looked at her. "I do," he said and let his fingers run down her cheek. The touch was soft and Sharon felt herself relax a little. The tension she had felt about this eased a little. When she looked up at him and found Andy still looking back, she felt that they had gone back to a time before all of this.
"Are there any more pictures we need to take?" he asked her and Sharon's eyes widened.
There were more bruises. On her back, on her legs, on her arms. Back in the hospital one of the nurses had taken those pictures because Sharon had not wanted Andy to do it. She didn't want him seeing her like that, undressed and bruised. They had barely reached the point where they would sometimes touch each other underneath their clothes and she wasn't prepared or ready to bare herself in such a way. He had waited outside, his shadow visible through the curtain, as Sharon undressed and exposed her injuries to the nurse.
"I errr…." Sharon swallowed and felt the blood flush to her cheeks. The awkwardness filled the air again. She knew she was rejecting him and he knew it too. But she just couldn't. Green eyes looked up at him. "I'd rather…"
"I'll get Amy," Andy said. She heard the defeat in his voice. He smiled and she knew he was trying to reassure her. "It's fine, Sharon. I understand"
"Why don't you come over for dinner Saturday night?" Sharon suggested in an attempt to break the tension that had started to build again. "It's been a while and with everything that's been going on…"
Andy nodded and leaned in, kissing her softly on her cheek. "Of course," he answered, his breath warm against her skin. His hand briefly found hers and she squeezed it before he stepped back. He held up his phone. "I'll go and have these printed off and send Amy in."
Sharon watched him walk away before slowly sinking down in one of the chairs at the table and waited for Amy.
Moments later the young detective walked in and Sharon quietly instructed her to close all the blinds. Once finished, Sharon slowly stood up. She felt uncomfortable. She didn't want to have to do this but she knew that for the report, all her injuries needed to be logged. It felt humiliating to have to undress in front of Amy, more so than undressing in front of the nurse at the hospital.
"Captain, are you sure you want to do this now?" Amy sensed Sharon's hesitation.
Sharon nodded and began unbuttoning her shirt. The pink silk fabric slipped down her shoulders, revealing a simple white laced bra but also the deep purple bruise across her shoulder. She felt self-conscious about the freckles on her skin, about the faded stretchmarks on her belly, the way her skin was starting to show her age in places. She felt Amy's eyes burn into her as she slowly turned around, revealing the extent of the bruises on her back. Sharon heard Amy gasp and she shivered as the cool air of the conference room touched her skin.
Amy's voice was soft when she said, "I didn't realise it was this bad. How hard did you land?" She took a step towards Sharon and pulled her phone from her pocket.
"Hard enough," Sharon answered through gritted teeth. She flinched when she heard the first picture being taken. She held her shirt in front of her chest, clutching the fabric tightly against her fingers, as Amy carefully continued to take pictures.
Sharon showed Amy her arm when the young detective asked for it and when Amy snapped the last picture, their gazes locked and Sharon could see the sadness behind Amy's eyes. She knew they would never speak of this again. She had allowed Amy to see her at her most vulnerable and she knew Amy wouldn't do anything to betray the trust Sharon had in her. Amy turned around, allowing Sharon to get dressed without being watched even though by now there was nothing left to hide. It was when Sharon softly cleared her throat that Amy turned around again, smiling this time.
"Thank you for trusting me," she said softly as she clutched her phone to her chest. "I'll print these pictures and will see to it they go straight into the report. No one else will have to see these."
"Thank you, Amy," Sharon replied.
Amy held the door for the Captain and Sharon exited the conference room and returned to her office.
The remainder of the day passed in relative quiet. They didn't roll out and by the end of the day the piles of paperwork that had been piling up on people's desks had been significantly reduced and the one on Tao's desk had disappeared altogether. It was the kind of day they didn't get many of and although Sharon appreciated it, especially considering the circumstances, she almost wished for something to happen because her team would become restless. But the phone didn't ring. It seemed that, today at least, no one had died that warranted Major Crimes being called out.
It was almost five o'clock when her phone pinged with a text message and Sharon cast a quick glance at the screen. She was in the middle of a witness statement from a different case, one that required her presence in court in the coming weeks, and the message was an interruption. She picked up her phone when she saw Brenda's name on her screen.
Just checking in. How's the bruising?
Sharon smiled. If someone had told her five years ago that Brenda Leigh Johnson would be texting her to inquire about her injuries, she would have told them it was more likely for hell to freeze over. But a lot had changed in five years and now Sharon unlocked her phone and began typing a reply.
I still look like I'm about to audition for a horror movie.
She hit send and waited for a few moments, expecting the little grey speech bubble to appear almost immediately. It didn't so Sharon put the phone back down and looked back at the paperwork in front of her. The letters danced before her eyes and she groaned as she removed her glasses. Her eyes were tired and she could feel the beginning of a headache building up. Sharon resigned to the fact she wouldn't be able to continue reading and cast a quick glance at her watch. Five o'clock exactly. There was actually a chance she would be home for dinner.
Sharon packed up, leaving her desk tidy and paperwork stored in the drawer, and picked up her purse. She switched off the light and walked into the Murder Room. Everyone was still working.
"Go home," she announced, causing people to look up. "Have an early night for once. See your family, go out for dinner or catch a movie." She looked around. Every single one of these people worked long hours, giving their lives to their jobs. Spending time with loved ones was rare. She smiled. "Just go home."
Her eyes singled out Andy. She relied on him to take her home. He stood up after switching off his computer and together they walked out of the Murder Room and rode the elevator to the parking lot below the building. They didn't speak but Sharon didn't feel they needed to. The silence was a comfortable one and when they reached Andy's car, he held the door for her as she got into the passenger seat.
Andy drove her home and saw to it that she made her way to the elevator without a problem. She kissed him goodbye, maybe lingering a moment longer than she normally would, almost as if to reassure him that they really were alright. Then the doors slid shut and she found herself alone in the small space, with the large mirror cruelly reminding her of just how badly her face had bruised.
Rusty was already home and after noticing the tired look in her eyes, offered to cook. Sharon accepted his offer and after pouring herself an ice cold glass of water from the fridge, wine was off limits due to the painkillers, she walked to her bedroom and got changed. Bare foot she padded back into the kitchen ten minutes later and found Rusty standing by the stove stirring what looked like the beginnings of a pasta sauce.
"How was class?" she inquired as she leaned against the counter.
"Boring." He looked up at her, smiling. "How was work?"
Sharon smiled too and put a hand on his arm. "Boring."
The remainder of their evening was calm and quiet. Rusty cooked a delicious pasta and Sharon cleared the table once they were finished, stacked the dishwasher and switched it on. She wiped down the counter and switched off the kitchen lights. She then took the painkillers she was supposed to have taken two hours earlier and joined Rusty on the couch to watch some TV. She noticed how he spent more time looking at his phone than he did the screen and she wondered, just for a moment, if he was texting Brenda. It was only when he smiled in that particular way that she guessed he was texting Gus instead.
It was only ten o'clock when Rusty said he was going to bed and he kissed her goodnight. Sharon sat in the living room for a little while longer and watched the late news before switching off the TV and getting up. When she walked past Rusty's room she heard music and the sound of fingers typing on a keyboard. Rusty was probably working on his next vlog. She briefly knocked on his door, said goodnight and then made her way down the hall to her own bedroom.
She washed the remnants of make-up off her face, brushed her teeth and brushed her hair. She'd shower in the morning. She didn't have the energy for it now. After Sharon put down the brush she stared at her reflection for a little while. Time was beginning to leave its marks on her skin and Sharon was reminded, not for the first time in recent days that she was getting older. It didn't bother her but it was something she knew she couldn't avoid. Her body would need longer to recover after the fall. Longer than she would've needed ten or twenty years ago. She was approaching sixty-five and with that came thoughts that most other people would have too. Things like retirement and the years ahead and how she'd fill them would occasionally pop up in her head.
Sharon changed into a pair of silk pyjamas when she walked back into the bedroom and climbed into bed. She turned to pick up the book on her bedside table only to remember that she couldn't read with the glasses she was wearing and she let out a frustrated sigh before taking off her glasses and switching off the light.
She lay in the dark for a while staring at the ceiling, but eventually she drifted off to sleep.
The air was cold, so cold it made the hairs on her arms stand up. She could smell it; the putrid smell of death. Somewhere in the distance a door closed. It echoed, like the sound of a bullet being fired from a gun and she turned around. The single lightbulb on the ceiling swung precariously from side to side, flickering every so often and shrouding the entire corridor in darkness for a split second.
She carried on, the sound of footsteps hollow and haunting, until she reached the door. There was no window so she could not see in. The door handle was cold against the palm of her hand and she opened it. The room behind the door was so brightly lit it was blinding. The autopsy table stood in the middle of the room, draped with a white sheet. She could see the form of a body underneath, saw a bare foot sticking out, a tag dangling from the toe.
She didn't want to but she had to walk over to the table. Something stirred inside of her, something unsettling, as she came closer. Her hands were shaking when she reached for the sheet. She felt sick and the tears stung behind her eyes when she pulled the sheet back and looked down at the lifeless face underneath. Rusty's dead, wide open eyes were staring back at her.
She woke up with a terrified scream and sat up with a jolt. Beads of sweat glistened on her forehead and her heart thundered in her chest. Her mouth was dry and tasted like she'd swallowed a handful of sand. The sheets were tight around her body, having wrapped themselves around her legs as she'd thrashed around. She kicked in an attempt to free her foot and only realised she'd called Rusty's name out loud when she saw him standing in her bedroom doorway, his body backlit by the light coming from the hallway.
"Mom?" He asked softly as he crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. Sharon could just about make out the shape of Rusty's face in the darkness but she couldn't see his eyes. She knew he was looking at her, she could feel his gaze on her. Sharon felt the weight shift as Rusty came closer.
She felt his hand on her shoulder, shaking her softly to make sure she was awake.
"Did it happen again?"
Sharon didn't answer. What could she say? How could she tell him?
When she didn't speak, Rusty covered his mother's hand with his own. Sharon realised her own hand was cold because her son's was warm. He laced his fingers through hers. She was breathing hard. Adrenaline and panic pulsated through her veins.
"It's ok," Rusty soothed. "It was just a dream. It's not real. Mom, it's ok." He drew circles on the back of his mother's hand and felt how she slowly stopped shaking.
There had been nights like this one before. Nights where he would hear Sharon scream or cry when she woke from her nightmares. Sometimes he had to wake her because she was still dreaming. Nights like this were the only times where he did not hesitate outside her bedroom door. She never told him what she saw in her dreams and he didn't ask. Instead he would sit with her until the panic subsided. They wouldn't speak much, choosing instead to sit silently in the darkness that surrounded them. Rusty would always wait until Sharon's calm, steady breathing told him she was asleep and even then he wouldn't leave. He would watch her for a while, just to make sure that whatever demons haunted her didn't come back.
They didn't speak about it in the morning. It was like a secret they chose not to talk about. Something that they only shared in the shadows of the night. It was only in those moments that Sharon allowed Rusty to comfort her. And he knew it was because she didn't want him seeing her like that in the light of day. She believed in being strong for him, for everyone around her, and she wasn't the kind of woman who showed her weaknesses easily.
"Did I wake you?" Sharon stammered. The insane pounding of her heart began to settle down. "Oh Rusty, I'm so sorry."
"Don't be. Just go back to sleep," Rusty said softly, his hand still covering Sharon's. "It's ok."
She wanted to say something. Another apology, perhaps. Or maybe just that she loved him. But the words didn't come so instead she lay back down, her heart still thudding harshly against her ribcage and her skin still clammy.
Rusty sat with her until she drifted off into a quiet slumber and even then he did not leave. He watched as her chest rose and fell slowly, her features soft and void of stress, the bruises masked by darkness, and he felt an enormous sense of pride. He knew Sharon chose to suffer her nightmares in silence because she didn't want the images in her head to settle into his too.
He crept out of his mother's bedroom long after she'd fallen asleep and made his way back to his own. He slipped back under the sheets but left the lamp on his bedside table on.
Just in case.
Brenda poured herself a second cup of coffee and squeezed some honey into it before taking a small sip. The bitterness of the coffee was diluted by the sweetness of the honey and it was just what she needed. Most mornings she wasn't ready to face the world unless she'd had at least two cups.
She leaned against the counter, her eyes closed, and inhaled the scent. She loved the smell of coffee in the morning. As she stood, her mind began to wander and she replayed the events from recent days in her head.
Seeing Sharon with her face bloodied and bruised had been startling. It had upset her more than she'd been prepared to admit at first but by the time she'd left Sharon's condo after taking her home from the hospital, she couldn't shake the feelings that had welled up inside.
She'd intended on making her way back into some kind of life in Los Angeles slowly, maybe rekindling some old friendships, including with Sharon. But 'slowly' had gone out the widow and she'd been catapulted right back into some part of her old life and it was as if she'd hit some kind of a whirlwind. What had started as a tentative cup of coffee with Rusty had ended with dinner at Sharon's and, eventually, it had resulted in Brenda taking an injured Sharon home.
Brenda had wanted to stay. She hadn't wanted to leave the condo. It was selfish, she knew that, but she'd wanted to stay with Sharon just to make sure she was ok. But she couldn't, for all kinds of reasons. So sending a text message every day and promising to get Sharon's glasses fixed was the best she could do.
Brenda's eyes snapped open as her cell phone rang. The ringtone was sharp. She hadn't changed it since she got this new phone and she vowed that after today she finally would because the sound drove her mad. She grabbed the device of the side and groaned when she saw Gavin's name flash across the screen. It was too early for this.
"Good mornin', Gavin," she said sweetly.
"Good morning to you too, Brenda Leigh," her lawyer answered.
Brenda walked from the kitchen into the living room, coffee mug in hand, and sat down on the couch. She pushed aside the empty Hershey wrapper and yesterday's paper before putting the mug down on the table.
"What can I do for you?" she wanted to know.
"That depends."
Brenda furrowed her brow. "Depends on what?"
"On how badly you want these divorce papers signed."
"Really?!" She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Are you tellin' me Fritz is still bein' difficult?"
"You know what he wants, Brenda. He wants you to admit to the adultery claim. He's not going to sign anything until you do," Gavin answered. There was a pause and Brenda could hear what sounded like footsteps in a stairwell. "I can fight him until the cows come home but it's not going to make things any better for you. And that lawyer of his is a piece of work."
"Takes one to know one," Brenda retorted.
"If that's meant to be some kind of compliment, you might want to try again."
Brenda shifted and pressed the phone against her ear a little harder. This whole thing had been going on for five months now. She was done and she was fed up. She'd started the divorce proceedings long before she even came back to Los Angeles in the hope it would be done by the time she did. Instead she'd walked into some kind of legal mud fight and things were getting messier by the day.
She knew Fritz had every right to claim adultery as the reason for their divorce. It wasn't the only reason, they both knew that, but at least this way Fritz wouldn't look like the guilty party and it would all be on her. He would just be the poor guy who was abandoned by his ex-wife because she finally accepted that she was gay and cheated on him with a woman ten years her junior.
"Fine."
"What?" Gavin sounded surprised.
Brenda tucked a curl behind her ear and irritation coiled in the pit of her stomach. "Give him whatever the hell he wants. I'm done. This whole shit show has been goin' on for too long and I'm done."
Gavin sounded hesitant. "You know what this means, right?"
"I'll be known as a cheat and it'll be official," Brenda replied. She pulled her legs up onto the couch and leaned back into the pillow. "But I don't care anymore. I just want this to end. I want to start livin' again."
"If that's what you want," Gavin said. "I'll send the papers to Fritz's lawyer by courier. They should have them by lunchtime."
"Thank you."
"So, have you seen Sharon yet?"
"I'm not havin' this conversation with you," Brenda answered sharply. She could hear Gavin chuckle at the other end of the line and she wasn't sure if she loved him or loathed him at this moment. She sighed. "Yes, I have." Her stomach tightened the way it always did when she mentioned Sharon. "I've seen her."
"Oh you have to tell me all the details."
"We had dinner and it was a total disaster. Then I took her home from the hospital the next day after someone attacked her so all in all, it's been fan-fucking-tactic."
"Are you being sarcastic?"
"What do you think?"
"So no pretty rainbows and glitter then?"
"This is my life we're talkin' about, not yours," Brenda quipped but grinned anyway.
"Fine. Whatever. Have it your way." Brenda heard a door open in the background. "So, are you sure you want me to send these papers back to Fritz's lawyer?"
"Just give him what he wants. I'm tired and I'm done. Just make sure that Fritz agrees to give me back some of my stuff at the house."
There wasn't much she wanted and she hadn't been back to the duplex since returning to Los Angeles but there were some things she wanted. Some photos, a couple of candle sticks her Mama had given her and a few other small things that meant something to her.
"I'll get it sorted," Gavin promised and they said their goodbyes.
Brenda didn't put her phone down straight away but opened her messages instead. Sharon's name was at the top. She typed a quick "good morning" and hit send before abandoning the phone on the coffee table and getting up to go and take a shower. When she stepped under the hot flow and tilted her head to let the water rain down on her face, she wondered for the first time what had truly driven her back to Los Angeles. Was it the divorce? Was it because she had finally reached a point in her life where she could no longer hide who she really was?
She'd always known, had always felt it, but had never said anything. She simply couldn't and the longer she chose to ignore it, the easier it became. Strange, perhaps, but she was so good at lying to others that lying to herself just became second nature.
She'd stared into her dinner a little longer than necessary when her Daddy made a less than flattering comment about the gay couple down the road when she was still in High School and she accepted Steven Hill's request to accompany him to senior prom. She even kissed him goodnight. And she still kept quiet when Jimmy left home and moved to New York, taking nothing but a couple of suitcases full of clothes with him. Daddy never did tell her about the fight they had the night before but she'd heard their raised voices. She'd stood in the doorway of his empty bedroom that morning and overheard her Daddy telling her Mama that Jimmy had chosen his friend over his family. It seemed that only Brenda understood Frank wasn't just Jimmy's friend.
Moving out of her parent's home to go to college had felt like a relief. No longer were her father's prying eyes watching her every move or scrutinising every boy who so much as looked at her. Finally she was free to see whoever she wanted and eventually the inevitable moment came where she fell in love with a girl. It lasted only a few months and ended just around spring break, Brenda didn't even remember who had broken up with whom, but those few months were the freest she'd ever felt. Going home for the holidays and sitting around the dinner table, Brenda didn't answer when her mother asked her if she was dating anyone. She merely looked at Jimmy, who had reluctantly flown to Atlanta, alone, for the briefest of moments and then they both stared into their plate. Some things were perhaps better left unsaid.
From that moment on she was just looking for the picture perfect life. But marrying George had been a bad idea, she knew that before she even did it, but she still walked down that aisle and said 'I do'. She didn't love him. She knew that now. She loved the idea of loving him. He was an asshole who drank too much and called her names. But her parents had expectations and she tried to live up to them, even if George wasn't exactly what her Mama and Daddy had expected.
It lasted only six months. No one spoke about the divorce. Just like Jimmy leaving for New York, it was like it had never happened.
She wanted to erase the disappointment she saw in her Mama's eyes. She couldn't bear the sadness. She knew she'd destroyed the image they had of her and she wanted to fix it, she just didn't know how. So when Fritz walked into the hotel during her first week in LA, a time where she felt lonelier than ever, she knew. She knew how to make things better and undo some of the damage from the past. When she announced she was marrying Fritz, her parents were delighted. Finally they were getting what they'd always wanted. Then Jimmy rang her one night when she was home alone.
"Brenda Leigh, what are you doin?'
She'd pretended she didn't know what he was talking about. "What do you mean?"
"You and I both know what I mean."
She'd hung up on him.
It seemed to be going well, living this seemingly picture perfect life. The life her parents always wanted for her, minus the crazy hours perhaps, and minus the grandchildren she knew they so badly desired. Bringing children into all of it had just been a step too far.
Fritz was a good man. A kind man. He was prepared to accept things about her nobody else ever had. And somehow, someway, she grew to love him. Not the earth shattering and all-consuming kind of love all those trashy romance novels her Mama collected talked about but she respected him and cared about him. He was her friend, her ally. She'd finally found a way to make it work.
And then, Sharon Raydor had walked into her life and Brenda's carefully constructed web of lies fell apart.
Because she fell in love with Sharon. Not during that first meeting in the middle of a hospital corridor. No, she'd wanted to strangle her then. But it had happened, at some point. Brenda didn't know when but it had snuck up on her and then it had just been there, staring her in the face. And she couldn't lie anymore.
Brenda's eyes snapped open and she took in a large gulp of air.
This was her life now. And she would live it.
Somehow.
