Chapter 10: Defragmenting
Betty goes her own way when you get home but Gladys trails you up to your room from where she'd been waiting in the common room downstairs. She shuts the door behind her.
"There's a… wound… on your side that doesn't seem to be healing, Kate," she says carefully. You know the one she means; it's been inflamed and it's been weeks since it was put there. You wonder if she's the one that noticed or if Betty has been sneaking peeks at you and asked Gladys to approach you because she has a fiancé to hide behind.
"I know." You say shortly.
"Maybe I could take you to a doctor," she says hesitantly.
"Any doctor is going to ask how I got it and I can't. I can't talk about that Gladys. I can't." Because once you start talking you won't be able to stop and you'll convict yourself.
"Have you been putting anything on it?" She asks, and you nod toward a pot of antiseptic on the dresser. She examines the label. "Do you want me to put some on for you?" She asks, and you can hear the hesitation in her voice, but you nod because it's something your mother used to do for you and Gladys is the closest thing to her you have now.
It requires removing your dress, but Gladys has seen your back many times now and there's no shock there in her face when she sees the extent of the broken skin of your torso and it's comforting in a way you hadn't expected.
Her hands are softer than Betty's, you notice as she brings her hand over the gash over your hip. Must be all those creams in her hotel room. She runs her hand over a few of the older scars too. When she finishes you have to hug her so badly that you don't even pull your dress back on first. She's so gentle and soft and your life has been the opposite of either of those things so long.
"Do you want me to get Betty?" She asks, obviously unnerved but pliant and resting her arms around you.
"No. I need her too much already." You tell her. You realize what you've said out loud when Gladys pulls back, her eyes wide. You pull her back into you so you can bury your face in her shoulder. "She's all I've got."
"You've got me" she starts.
"No, you've got James. And Betty's got Ivan."
"I thought you didn't want Betty."
"How would you know that?" Because you want to know how Gladys knows about this. It's easier with your face hidden from hers.
"You disappeared. I wanted to know why. You should tell her. Besides, haven't you seen the way she looks at you?"
"She was my friend, Gladys. I never had a friend like her, before or since. What am I supposed to know about the way people look at each other." But you did know, the looks she never gave Gladys or Edith warmed your insides like whiskey.
If someone can look at this body, day after day, and still be able to tell you they love you, they probably meant it.
But she doesn't look at you like that anymore. But you find comfort in the fact that she doesn't look at Ivan like that either.
Author's note: Try spending 12 hours a day with the same three people, one of whom is a brony, one of whom pretends to be a shark and the other doesn't speak very much.
It's like being in a room of puppies. At first it's fun and adorable and then it's like where did all these puppies come from I'm sure there wasn't this many a few minutes ago oh god they're eating all my lollies and there's crap everywhere and they're climbing on my lap and now my facebook page is full of ponies and I don't know how to fix it and oh god what's happened to my life.