Shades of Red and Purple
Chapter II: China Doll
Dusk was steadily congealing over LA as Amita arrived home. She nudged the door open, silently, weighed down under her bag and a hefty armload of papers. She set all her things down, gently as she could, then carefully removed her shoes. She treaded lightly across the linoleum of the kitchen floor and tapped open the door to the living room. Paul was in there, stretched out on his recliner in front of the TV. In an unsuccessful attempt at stealth, she tiptoed behind him towards the hallway.
"You're certainly home late." He didn't even turn around.
She paused clumsily but finally straightened herself out to turn and speak at her boyfriend's back. "I had a staff meeting, I'm sorry."
"Sorry, eh?" he said gruffly. He still had not bothered to even look at her. "Sorry you didn't bother to tell me?"
"It slipped my mind, I'm really sorry," she said pleadingly as she held onto herself for support.
Paul lunged forward from his seat and finally spun about to face her. His eyes were on fire when he looked upon her. "Slipped your mind?" he asked incredulously. "Slipped your mind! I had no idea where you were! I thought we had an agreement!" He marched forward and gripped her wrists in his leathery hands. He pulled her close and spoke directly into her face. "You're supposed to tell me where you're going; I'm supposed to know where you'll be at all times. Now that you're living under my roof you're living by my rules, and you need to respect them."
"I tried to call, I really did, but I couldn't get through to you!" She tried to find a scrap of sympathy in his face to appeal to, but found none. Feebly she tugged at his grip, and she would wrestle against him if she honestly thought she could get away.
"Then you should have come home!" scolded Paul, tightening his grip on her the more she fought, just as a boa constrictor does.
Amita scoffed in a moment of unrestrained frustration. "What the hell do you expect me to do, blow off an important meeting? Honestly!"
He released her only to slap her hard across the face, and she dropped sideways onto the floor. One hand pressed against her sore cheek as the other propped her up so she could look on her boyfriend once more. Paul's face was twisted in an offended snarl. "You watch that smart mouth, Little Miss. I'm not going to take that kind of disrespect. Now apologize."
"I'm sorry," she lied, in the faintest of whispers that could have been mistaken for the sound of a breeze coming in from under the door.
The speed with which she was seized up off the floor left her dizzy, but not quite dizzy enough that she didn't feel the pain of her arm being twisted hard around her back. He held her up against the wall and muttered into her ear. "Sorry, I didn't hear you. Tell me a little closer now."
"I'm sorry," Amita sobbed into the beige living room paint. "I won't screw up again, I promise."
Paul smiled a little and kissed her neck. "See, that's better."
He threw her back down and her side struck the coffee table as she fell. She yelped and held onto herself, moving into a withered sitting position. She sat there tearfully studying space when a sharp kick suddenly thrust her back into reality. Standing above her, Paul barked down, "What are you doing just sitting there? I've been waiting for my dinner! Move!"
Amita scrambled to her feet without another word and made for the kitchen with a slight stagger in her step. She made his favorite dinner to bandage up her mistake, but he would not be appeased this night.
In the CalSci library, Charlie found Amita the next day. She was sitting, peacefully reading, completely oblivious to the world around her. His heart flickered a little, embarrassed by the previous day's blunder. Knowing he'd never be able to avoid her until retirement, he settled for peaceful coexistence instead. He walked up to her with a friendly smile and a wave. "Good morning, Amita."
She looked up at him with a relieving grin. "Good morning, Charlie. How are you feeling today?"
"I'm feeling shocked about how many of my students barely remember complex number systems," Charlie mused. He was pleased beyond words that they could still converse with normalcy. He quickly added, "And how are you?"
Amita shrugged indifferently. "Can't complain. A little tired, I guess, considering I didn't get much sleep last night."
Charlie tried very hard not to be as concerned as he was. "Is everything okay?"
"Oh yeah, fine!" Amita assured him easily. "We all have a sleepless night every once in awhile."
"I suppose," Charlie said to Amita as much as he did to his own doubt.
Suddenly her brows furrowed, and she muttered, "Hey, Charlie, do you have the time."
He was thrown off guard by the spontaneity of the change in her expression that it took him a second or two to finally answer her question. "Hm? Oh. Yeah, it's… about nine o'clock."
Amita bit her lip and slammed her book shut. "Damn, I'm going to be late for class." She sprung up from her seat and winced a little as she hit the floor. She replaced the book onto the shelf, snatched up her bag, and set off all in a startlingly quick succession. Then she was out the door. The limp in her walk had been slight, very slight, almost insignificant, but it had been there, and Charlie had seen it. His mind raced, but not with numbers and patterns, not now. He scrambled to catch up with where his thoughts were headed, and when he got there he didn't want to believe what he was thinking. He knew one thing, though; he needed to talk to someone, and he needed to talk now.
