Chapter 7
Ian:My thinking process
Only when I'm sure they're out of sight I try to move. I barely can, and it hurts like hell. I manage to get to my car somehow, and when I look in the mirror, I decide that I need to see my doctor. Fortunately, he's on duty.
My upper lip needs stitches, and my left eye is promised to be a 'pretty neat shiner'. The other parts of my face and body are severely bruised, but nothing is broken, dislocated, or concussed, according to the doctor. This is remarkable, considering how hard Cedric punched me.
'What happened?' Dr. Grant inquires.
'A fight,' I say. I'm too tired and shocked to make something up to make it sound better.
'Well, Mr. Lovelace, you certainly know how to provoke anger in a person,' the doctor remarks dryly. He advises me to take it easy on the weekend, and to call in sick the first couple of days the next week.
I make it five. I don't feel well at all, and I don't want to startle my staff with the way I look. And besides, I have a lot to think about.
First, my main concern is my constitution. My body aches all over, even at places Cedric didn't touch. I don't have the strength to be bothered with what happened exactly. Only in the back of my mind, there's a lingering notion that I have to face that question as well as the repugnance to do so.
After The Dream, I can no longer avoid it. Cedric and I are in the water, having a swim, like we used to have sometimes when we were students at Cambridge. Suddenly, we're both about to drown. Cedric clings to me, keeping me down. I can't breathe, but I manage to extricate myself from him. It's a tremendous relief, until I notice that he's just floating in the water. I immediately realise that he's dead. I wake up in shock. It's a truly horrible dream.
What does it mean? Well, it certainly means that I have to think about the meaning of the fight we had. Or the fight he had with me, to put it more accurate.
I didn't take him serious at first. He sounded angry when he summoned me to step outside, but the idea of CC being capable of violence was just ludicrous actually. And besides, I don't like taking commands. Not from anybody, but certainly not from CC.
He meant it, though. He had a fierce look in his eyes that I had never seen before, not even when he caught Henrietta and me shagging each other.
I followed him outside (to have better opportunity to flee, if necessary) as did Geraldine and her gang.
I didn't have a clue what was going on in CC's head, so I teased him to tell me about it. I had better not done so, but I couldn't possibly have known it would provoke such a strong reaction.
He rushed towards me, grabbing me. I ran, but he tackled me, and I fell down. It hurt. I attempted to distract him by asking what he thought he was doing and trying to get away, but he threw himself on top of me, pulling at my hair. Jesus. I squirmed, but he appeared to be very strong when angry, which he certainly was now. He turned me on my back and I knew I was in for something bad. He hated me. Fiercely.
I admit that I was scared. I was also extremely focussed on any detail of what was happening. On the look in his eyes before he started hitting me. I saw anger, of course, and hurt, but also … longing? On the blows themselves. Hard, hurtful, and surreal and all too real at once; they were going to kill me. I heard CC's words on top of my screaming to stop him. 'Why? Why did you leave me?'
He stopped, looking at me for a second. Despite the shock and the aching of my already swelling face, I noticed a sudden lull. The world seemed to tilt for a moment, as to provide me with the opportunity to grasp the meaning of what just had happened, but then it shifted back into place.
CC got off me, asking if I was able to stand. I wasn't ready to try, so I told him to leave. Which he did, looking defeated, not at all like the victor he actually was.
He had been mad beyond comparison, though. Why?
He has always had a very gentle temperament. He never was cross about anything with anybody when we were in college and law school. Much to my exasperation sometimes. Why would he suddenly become so violent over a woman as nice but average as Geraldine Brady? He used to be not only CC but a sissy as well.
And then a thought occurs to me. What if it wasn't about Geraldine at all? Or even about Henrietta? What if it were about me?
Again, I experience the sensation of the world tilting, lifting a tip of its veil to disclose a secret that, once grasped in all its implications, will change my outlook on everything entirely.
It would make sense. It'd explain his high regard for our erstwhile friendship, his utter loyalty to me, as well as the hurt in his eyes when he caught me with his wife (and not the other way around; it was my betrayal that mattered most, not hers). It would explain why he demanded to know why I had left him when he was beating me up.
The answer to that is quite simple by the way: because he left me first, when he chose Henrietta.
A sudden headache comes over me. I suspect it's caused by the loud thud as the tilted world shifts into place again. I don't want to think about it all anymore now.
It keeps haunting me though, and it's trying to change me. It is changing me; I find that I feel empathy for Cedric's despair all of a sudden, despite my bruises. Remorse. (Me? Capable of being empathic and remorseful?) It's horrible, and yet it's pulling at me to come closer.
Vulnerable. I feel vulnerable. It's very unfamiliar to me. I once decided not to be vulnerable. I don't remember what provoked it, as I was very young at the time, but I do recall that the decision was quickly made, and fairly easily implemented.
It's tottering now, however. Maybe it's due to the physical damage Cedric has caused me; maybe it's not. But it certainly is because of Cedric.
What if he not only hates me, but is in love with me as well? How would that make me feel?
I don't know.
At the end of the week, I'm not so tired anymore, and I start to feel restless, so I go back to work on Monday, still looking at bit damaged. This turns out to be a good thing; my staff takes pity in me.
I still can't take my mind off Cedric though. I decide I need to talk to him. I don't know whether my theory about him is correct, or, if so, what the implications would be. But I have to check.