Intentional End

Chapter 23

Early Sunday Evening

October 14

"Bobby?" Gleason called from the bedroom and he was on his feet and down the hall in a heartbeat.

"Glea-, Honey!" he stopped in the bedroom doorway, and then continued to her side of the bed and sat, "Sweetheart, hi. How do you feel?"

She struggled to sit up and put a hand to her head. "I feel funny. And I have to pee."

"Come on, let's go to the bathroom. Are you hungry?"

Gleason put her feet on the floor and he helped her up. "Yeah, but I feel queasy, too."

"Come on, Sweetheart."

Bobby left her at the bathroom and continued to the kitchen where he put on the kettle and set the bags of rolls and bread on the table. He prepared the tea pot and set out dishes and knives.

"Do you want orange juice?" he said as she entered the kitchen.

She didn't reply, but sat in her chair, looking very confused. Bobby's gut clenched, here we go, he thought. Slowly, she turned and looked at the kitchen clock – five-fifty-seven. He watched the play of emotions again and she streaked straight to fear.

"Oh my God! I need to go, I need to be in Chicago!" She shot up and turned and Bobby had her by the arms. "Let me go, Bobby, I need to be back. Let me go!" She was escalating and the screaming was next.

"Baby, Baby, it's ok. I spoke with them, it's ok. Honey, they said it's ok. Gleason, listen to me. It's ok." He turned her and bent to look into her eyes, "I talked with them and they said it was ok that you weren't back tonight." God, he hoped this works.

She searched his face and calmed. "You, you talked to them?"

"Yes, Honey, I told them that you would be back next week and they said they understood." He watched her struggle to comprehend.

"They said it was ok? They weren't angry?"

"Here, sit down. Sit down, Sweetheart," he pulled out her chair and she sat down hard. His heart broke watching her confusion. He had to lie to her to keep her calm, and he loathed lying to her.

"When, when did you talk with them?" She looked at him and he couldn't look at her, he didn't want her to see his guilt in the lie.

"This afternoon." He took a loaf of bread from the table, turned to the counter and busied himself slicing it. He didn't think she would pursue that line of thought; he didn't think she could. "How about some sliced tomato and cheese with your bread?" he asked, setting the bread on the table. "Hmmm?"

Gleason was lost in thought, unable to follow a single line. "I don't have to be back tonight?"

The kettle began to sound and he turned to pour it, ignoring her last question. He wanted her to lose the strands of that concept. "How about some tomato and cheese?"

She looked up at him and nodded.

They ate and said little. Bobby cleaned up the kitchen and then the couple sat on the sofa, Gleason with her head in his lap. Bobby stroked her head and chewed his left thumb. He wondered what he would do tomorrow.

She had fallen asleep and two hours later, his leg was getting numb, "Glea-, let's go to bed. Honey, wake up." He stroked her head and slowly she roused and sat up. And promptly dashed for the bathroom.

Christ, she's pregnant and losing her mind. He was beyond exhaustion and ready to give up.

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Early Monday Morning

October 15

He laid in the dark trying to decide whether to go to work or stay home with Gleason. He had to go in, the pilot's wife was going to be arraigned and then he and Eames were going to begin the interviews.

Maybe if he called her every hour, checked on her. Or, maybe Estella would come and stay with Gleason. No, Estella had been stand-offish ever since he screamed at her that morning after a night of drinking. He'd apologised profusely, but the damage was done. His drinking had ruined a lot of things. Maybe Becky would stay with Gleason. Maybe he should just call off again and take it on the chin with Deakins and Eames. He didn't know what to do. The alarm clock went off, he shut it off and he dropped back onto his pillow.

Gleason said over her shoulder, "You should get going, Love." She sounded so normal.

He turned his head and then rolled to embrace her – cautiously. "Good morning," he murmured into her neck. "How do you feel?"

Gleason turned and faced him, "I'm ok. I feel wonderful in fact. How are you?"

Bobby stared at her, something was different – she was herself. Gleason grinned at him and said, "What are you looking at?"

Bobby smiled and replied, "My beautiful wife." His hand went to her neck and he kissed her. Her tongue met his and her hand moved over his back.

"Make love to me," she said softly. And he did.

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"I'll call you. Every hour, ok?"

"Yes, Love, every hour."

"Swear you'll stay here. Please, Gleason, don't leave. Please." Bobby pleaded with Gleason, hands on her arms, bending to look her in the eyes.

"I'll stay, I will."

He did not want to leave her. He did not want to leave her. "I have to go. I love you."

"I love you, too, forever. Now go. I'll talk to you in an hour." She kissed him and he looked at her with worry and dread and then left.

Gleason and Bobby spoke at nine, ten and eleven as planned. When they spoke at noon, Gleason told him she was going to have some lunch and then take a nap; she would call him when she woke up. Bobby didn't like this, but said nothing; he agreed to wait for her call and wished her sweet dreams.

At half past noon, Gleason gathered her phone charger, heart pills and throw, adjusted her wrap around her, and headed out.

At two-twenty, she was in the air, on her way to Chicago.

At five of four, Central Time, she let herself into her flat. It smelled musty, so she opened all the windows, even though the air was unseasonably cool.

At four-ten, she called Bobby.

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"Yeah, she left. They talked every hour and she left at about twelve-thirty." . . . "Want me to check with our guy at Metro-Air?" . . . "Ok. Yeah." . . . "Tonight? Already?" . . . " Jesus." . . . "Ok." . . . "Yeah, I'll clear out their place tomorrow when he's gone. Do you think he'll head to Evanston?" . . . "Ok. Sure. Bye."

Robinson hung up and sat for a minute. He was going to miss watching the couple across the alley. He felt like this at the end of every ongoing surveillance. He knew it wasn't professional, but he tended to get attached to the people he watched; especially nice people like the professor and her detective husband. That cop's going to go ape-shit, Robinson thought, when he finds out she's gone back to Evanston. Oh well. Robinson shut off the monitors and started packing up.

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"Hi, Honey, I'm almost home. Did you rest well?" Bobby couldn't wait to get home; he had fretted about her the whole time she was napping. It had been good, though, to go into work as his mind was off of her for a time. He was eager to see how she was this evening.

Gleason didn't respond right away and Bobby's fist tightened on the wheel, "Gleason, are you there?"

"Bobby," oh he is going to be so angry. Gleason told herself that she had done the right thing coming back to Evanston, as she had to be back for her classes starting on Wednesday. She had to. But, she felt terrible about disobeying Bobby; he loved her and only wanted to keep her safe. But safe from what? He had been very possessive since she returned. Returned from where? Her mind wasn't what it had been yet. It would be clear eventually, they had promised. Who had promised?

"Gleason, answer me, are you alright?" He accelerated and blew through a yellow light. "Gleason!"

"Yes, I'm, I'm here, Bobby. I mean, I mean – Bobby, can I call you back?"

"Glea-, I'm coming up the block. What's wrong?"

She was terrified of telling him what she had done, so she hung up.

"Gleason?!" Bobby flipped shut his phone and ran to his building. He fumbled with his key in the lock and then took the stairs two at a time, pounded down the hall and unlocked the door. She wasn't in the kitchen, living room, or bathroom; he stepped into the bedroom. The first thing he noticed was that her throw was gone from the foot of the bed.

The phone rang in her hand. It's him, it's him, answer it, "Hello?"

"Where the fuck are you?" his voice was deep and dark, he was furious and terrified. She heard him panting as though he had run.

"Bobby –,"

"Did you leave or did they take you?" He stood with his finger and thumb over his eyes.

She didn't answer and he exploded. "Answer me, goddamn it!" he shouted, "Did you leave or did they take you?"

"Bobby, I, I had to come back. I had to, they said I had to. I need to teach on Wednesday. Don't be mad."

Bobby placed his hand on the back of the kitchen chair and leaned on it ; he was shaking with anger and fear. He needed to calm down and made himself breathe deeply.

"Bobby?"

He took several deep breaths and then said steadily, "Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, Love, I am fine. I feel very good. Can you come up this weekend or do you want me to come home?" She talked as if nothing was wrong, as if nothing had happened.

Bobby still shook with anger, his fear was dissipating. "Why did you lie to me?" His voice was deep with fury.

"I, I didn't mean to. I'm sorry, Bobby, but I had to come back. Don't you understand? I had to come back to prepare for my classes."

"You swore to me that you would stay here. Goddamn it, Gleason! YOU LIED TO ME!"

Gleason jumped back from the phone and put a hand to her face. She couldn't understand why he was so angry. Yes, she left when she said she would stay, but she had to come back, she had to. Why couldn't he see that?

She felt a shift in her mind, an actual shift – goddamn him anyway. I should be able to do whatever I want. Who is he to tell me what to do? "You listen to me, Bobby; I don't have to answer to you. I needed to come back to do my job and too bad if that doesn't fit well with your plans. Fuck you." And she hung up.

Bobby looked at the phone and immediately hit "re-dial," but he knew she wasn't going to pick up and he was right. He looked at the clock, nearly six; he could get there tonight, but he knew he wouldn't.

He sank into his chair and leaned against the back; god he was tired, just exhausted. He forced every muscle to relax; he'd held himself tight since she called to say she was back. All the tension with her, not knowing how she'd be, worrying that 'they' would come for her, sick over the fact that she might be, probably is, pregnant. And, he still had to deal with the reality that she had been raped.

Bobby began to breathe heavily and then began to sob. He sat forward, face in his hands and sobbed out loud. Everything was so wrong. Everything. He cried a long time. Jesus, he was tired. Bobby sat up and hit "re-dial" one more time and put the phone to his ear. Surprisingly, she answered.

"Hello?"

He hitched a sob and said, "Honey," and then cried again.

Gleason listened and then said, "Bobby? What's wrong?" She sounded like she had no idea they'd just screamed at each other. "Love, what is it? Are you all right?" He couldn't stop crying, "Bobby! Tell me what's wrong."

"Glea-," he sobbed, he didn't know what to tell her, he didn't know what was wrong because everything was wrong, "Glea-, I, I'm so tired. So tired," and he cried anew.

"Why are you so tired, Love?" She was clueless.

"I'm, I'm tired of worrying about you. I don't want anything to happen to you. I don't know what's wrong with you. I, I think you're pregnant. Something's happened to you. I want to take care of you." He sobbed aloud.

Gleason listened and didn't know what to do, what to say. They sat and listened to each other breathe.

Eventually, they talked – for more than an hour and Bobby had to plug in his phone in the bedroom. Gleason said she needed to go out and get groceries as she had nothing in the apartment.

"Oh, don't go out," he groaned, "Don't go. Please."

"Bobby, I have no food here. I'm hungry. I need to go to the grocery and get a few things. I'll be fine."

He wiped his hand over his face. "I want to talk with you while you are shopping. Ok?"

He is so goddamn possessive! Gleason felt herself getting hot, she was ready to scream at him, but blink – it was gone. She felt mildly dizzy.

"Can we talk while you shop? Huh?" Bobby felt like a whiney little boy and hated himself for it.

"Uh, I, I need to go to the grocery. I'll call you when I get back. Goodb-."

He heard the change in her voice, "Glea-? Honey, talk to me. Sweetheart? Are you ok?" What just happened? "Gleason, is someone there?" Silence. "Gleason! GLEASON?" He was on his feet, hand over his head and down his neck.

"My phone is going to run out. I need to plug it in." She sounded flat, expressionless.

"Is someone there?"

"What? No, nobody is here. I need to go, Bobby. I'll, I'll call you when I get back. I won't be gone long. I'll call you back. I have to go." And she clicked off.

Bobby hung up and sat on the edge of the bed, he was losing his mind. Then he stood, went to the bathroom and then the kitchen. He looked at the bags of bread and rolls and ran his hands over his face. Bobby made a sandwich and had a beer and then went back to the bedroom to wait for her to call.

She called back seventy-one minutes after she had hung up and Bobby shuddered a sigh of relief. The couple talked for twenty minutes and Gleason said she needed to eat something. She called half an hour later and they talked for another hour. The spoke one more time before she said they should go to bed. She would call him when she woke up, but she was going to sleep in, so he shouldn't worry.

He didn't want to hang up. He did not want to hang up. "Baby," he started to breathe heavily again, his hand went to his eyes, "Glea-, Jesus, I am so worried about you. What time are you getting up? What time will you call?"

"Bobby, I don't know. I want to sleep in. I'll call you when I get up, ok?" she was getting exasperated.

He knew he was being paranoid. "When? Ten, nine? When? When will you call me? How will I know you are all right?"

"I'll call you at eleven, noon your time. Ok? I'll call you before noon." They listened to each other breathe. "I love you, Bobby, forever. Don't ever forget that. I'll love you forever." And she clicked off.

He sat with his head in his hands. His gut burned, his head pounded. He locked up the apartment and went to bed, not expecting to sleep. But he did, immediately and through the night.

She shut the windows, turned on the heater and went to bed; she was so tired. She slept and she dreamed.

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"Mommy! Come on, Mommy! Hurry!" The child ran to his mother with his arms open.

"I'm coming, Tian, I'm coming." Gleason trudged up the road.

"Hurry, Lily is crying." He reached her and she bent and hugged him. "Come on, Gramma and Nanna are here, too. Hurry."

"Who is Lily? And Nanna?"

"Come on, Mommy." Christian pulled his mother by the hand and they crested the slope. Gleason stopped and heard a baby crying. She looked at the foot of the hill and saw two women, one holding a crying baby with frizzy red hair.

Gleason and her son walked down the path toward the two women. The baby turned in the woman's arms and stopped crying, hitching tiny sobs, reaching for her. Gleason stared at the child and saw it was a little girl, with the biggest brown eyes. "Lily?" She looked at the two women, "Mrs. Goren?"

"My girl," the other woman said so softly, "My girl."

Nora, that's what Nora used to call me. On the island, my mother would call me, My Girl.

"Christian, where are we?"