Chapter 28
House watched her critically. "And that's when he took up plate throwing, right??
Romoly nodded. "I didn't know what to think. He'd never ONCE done anything so violent and angry. Usually he gave me the silent treatment when he was angry. Clifton Arthur James was very good at the silent treatment. It used to drive me insane and I'd do whatever needed to be done to resolve the situation quickly so he'd talk to me."
"ARTHUR?!?!?" House chuckled, which turned into a full-blown laugh when she saw her face crack a smile. "His middle name was ARTHUR??"
Romoly broke and started giggling, which soon turned into a cackle. House watched the sudden show of emotion with great interest. This woman, whom he accused just mere moments ago of being devoid of emotion, had completely run the gambit of emotions in those said moments. It was phenomenal…and House realized he truly loved watching her laugh.
She nodded, still cackling. "He…" she held up a hand, as if to say 'give me a moment'. This, unfortunately, just got her snorting as she choked out each word, "…hated…" SNORT. "…that…" SNORT, SNORT. "…name…"
House was blown away by the sheer force of her laughter; it was clear she hadn't laughed like that in a long, long time. It was also clear she'd gone through so much that she COULDN'T laugh about that she was very long overdue for it. So he chose to shut up and not say a word. House laughed even harder at her red face and how she started slapping her leg. Wow…she's really enjoying that. When was the last time I laughed like that? His mind froze when he realized he probably hadn't, at least not in his adulthood.
Romoly was calming down, taking snorting breaths to try and calm herself. "Wow…that felt really good. I haven't laughed like that in a long time…way too long." She wiped tears from her eyes. "Now, where was I?"
"Good King Arthur the Stud was chucking plates at your head."
She snorted but resolved to keep it together; if she didn't she'd never finish the story. "The weird thing about that incident was that he had absolutely no recollection of even getting upset with me; he said it was like he simply blanked out. I asked him if he'd that had ever happened before and he said every once in awhile. I advised him that counseling might be a good course of action but he laughed that off, like he laughed off everything that could've possibly been important. The guy never took anything seriously…I'm guessing it was something he learned while his wife was dying of pancreatic cancer. Anyway, Clif said, "Shrinks are for sissies who can't handle life. And do I look like a sissy?" I tried several times but you can't help someone who won't help themselves. I had to just let it go.
As time went on, it began to seem more and more like an isolated incident and the event itself faded…yet the feelings and concerns remained there, as if to remind me this really might not have been an isolated incident. But I simply wasn't seeing any signs of reoccurrence." Romoly stopped and took a deep breath. Rubbing her face with her hands she turned her attention to House who hadn't even flinched.
"Six months later, he got angry again. And it was over nothing, absolutely nothing. We'd been talking about something so mundane that, to this day, I can't even remember what it was about, when he suddenly started yelling at me about some party we'd gone to 3 months prior. He claimed I had supposedly said something that was 'Dumbass' (his words). I had no recollection of what was said; I'd barely recalled even going to a party. Somehow he'd dredged up SOMETHING from the recesses of his brain and threw it back at me." She paused then got up. Pacing the floor she began pulling her hair up, running her fingers through the snagged locks. Romoly was so engaged in her hair antics she failed to notice how House was watching the shirt slip higher, higher, higher still, revealing more and more of her trim thighs. He swallowed and remained entranced, watching the long, lithe limbs as they paced his floor. Despite the serious subject matter at hand, he was still a man…a man who had yet to sleep with the woman he desired most in the world. He was gonna look whenever he could.
Romoly walked to the piano and, finding a rubber band atop a stack of newspapers, grabbed it and pulled her hair up. She then began pacing the living room again. "But you want to know the really scary part? He was like two completely different people, almost like Jekyll and Hyde. While that second occasion hadn't been violent it did become the catalyst, the snowball that gathered speed…and more snow…as it rolled down the mountain. From then on, the occurrences became more and more frequent…and more and more violent. After three months it had became a daily part of life. I was walking on eggshells; I didn't know what to do. I was afraid to talk to him, look at him; I had no idea when he'd turn. I had no idea of how to live. I completely ceased being the Romoly of only the year before and became this one: emotionally introverted and logical, analyzing before diving in. Do you realize it takes me half an hour to pick an ice cream flavor because I start wondering, 'Oh, do I REALLY want that flavor?? If I bought this one, would I forgive myself if I was still craving another flavor?'" She stopped and looked at House. "I used to be so spontaneous. We'd do almost anything at the drop of a hat. Like the time we flew to Vegas because we woke up, one Friday morning and Clif rolled over and asked, "Wanna got to Vegas?". That was one of the best trips I'd ever taken. And we lived like that. It was the best." She sighed. "But when he began turning, I had to cope with living those last months. And becoming this person…" she dragged her hand down her body to indicate the present Romoly, "…was the only way I knew how to survive."
House chose this time to interrupt. "Then why in God's name did you stay with him? Why didn't you leave when it first happened?"
"Because I knew, all along, that that behavior wasn't CLIF. The Clif I knew never did anything remotely similar to that. He was kind, good, a real gentleman. He was the only man in my life that had ever opened doors for me; he was the only man who would sit and listen to my problems. He actually cared…and I had two and a half years of learning who he was. I KNEW what was happening wasn't right…that he needed to seek help…but he wouldn't. During these horrible last months, in between the fights and the yelling and the throwing of objects and the hitting, he was the Clif I knew and was mad about: he opened the doors; he made breakfast; he still bought me flowers every week, a habit he began on our first date and continued, even into the week he died. How could I leave that, especially when I knew HE was still there? I had to do what I could to make him see, to fully bring the Clif I knew and love back to me. But he continued refusing help. It was this refusal for help that lead to…that…morning…"
Romoly's voice came out stilted and choked with emotion as she slowly walked to the window and looked out, catching a glimpse of the last of the rain shimmer across the earth like a blanket of silver, its brilliance only enhanced by the half-moon poking its way through the newly-parted clouds. House wordlessly watched the combination of streetlight and moonlight as it elucidated her face, creating a halo effect that caught his breath. She was truly beautiful with the soft light radiating the unshed tears in her extraordinary eyes.
She turned to look at him. "It's always been ironic to me that I was there with him when this all started that first day in the kitchen. And I was with him with it all ended, that day on the balcony of that hotel, by the hands of the police sniper…"
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