Shattered 4
The next morning, things were different.
Norman got up early and was already puttering around the kitchen, making breakfast for the woman who still considered herself his wife. He was afraid he'd shown some true feelings the night before, and maybe it planted the idea in Connie's head that something was seriously wrong. It would take some slick acting and sacrifice, but he would make sure that by the time she left for work, she'd have little doubt of his devotion.
"Norman? What are you up to?" Connie seemed a bit dazed to find him working in the kitchen-- but pleased, nonetheless.
"I wanted to apologize for last night." He smirked like a bad little boy, caught in an act of mischief. "I thought some pancakes and sausages, hot coffee and some fresh fruit might make up for it."
It smelled delicious and Connie was glad that 'morning sickness' had not been part of her routine. She walked to the counter and took up a plate.
"Here, I can do that."
"No, no, no!" He eased her away with a gentle hand and raised his spatula demonstratively. "Go sit down. Breakfast is served!"
She was positively glowing, assured that everything was back to its pleasant daily routine. She took her place at the table, noticing the fresh daisy in the bud vase. Norman brought the plates, laden with hot food, and set them on opposite sides of the table. He poured the coffee, set out the maple syrup, butter and milk, and finally took a seat across from her. Only then did she notice the bandages on his hands.
"Norman-- what happened?" Her smile disappeared, replaced with a look of concern.
"A glass broke in the sink. Nothing to worry about-- now dig in while it's still hot." He seemed full of energy and good spirits, slathering butter and syrup on a stack of hot cakes.
"Let me see. You might need stitches."
"Don't be silly-- I've had worse." He excused her worries good naturedly with a little laugh. Lots of blood, but it wasn't half as bad as when Mary Loomis---- "Make sure you make a note of everything you need on the grocery list, I'm going shopping today."
Connie was pleasantly surprised. She hadn't seen him quite this buoyant in some time, and the injuries to his hands were almost forgotten. They chatted idly as they ate, as happily married couples often do.
"You know, I haven't had the chance to tell you--" she mentioned casually. "Jason Petrie has been paroled."
Norman sipped his coffee and nodded. He remembered the name, and after a moment, remembered the man. He had been under Connie's care at the hospital, after being involved in a series of homicides. The jury was still out on the subject of the man's sanity. Norman met him while a patient, and even now squirmed uneasily in his seat to recall the fellow who looked every bit the handsome young college student he was not.
"How did they manage that?" he sniffed and took another bite of breakfast.
"I'd like to say it was all my doing." she teased. "And that the man is genuinely cured of delusions and instability. I think it was more elaborate wheeling and dealing, and some legal slight-of-hand."
"Too bad. There are some people who should never get out."
That's the way they felt about me…..the way I felt.
"Anyway, that was about a week ago. It slipped my mind to mention it. He's been released to his brother's care."
"Let's hope we don't hear that name again, in the news or otherwise." Norman took a swallow of coffee as he looked up at the clock. "You'd better get showered and dressed, or you'll be late."
She tried her best seductive look on him.
"It wouldn't be the end of the world. I remember how you used to make me late for work on a regular basis."
"Well, we've got something bigger to think about now, than just our unbridled passions." He started gathering his plates in an effort to keep at a distance from those thoughts. "And I know you say it's alright to have sex throughout your….term. But be patient. This is all new to me. A little scary, too." More than a little. Not to mention I'm disgusted with the idea of touching you. Traitor. "I'll make you up a lunch with the pot roast and potatoes, and if you're a good girl, I'll even pack some cookies."
He managed to keep up the façade, smiling, and joking as he cleared the table and put the dishes in the sink.
"Norman, I love you!"
He leaned back on the counter and crossed his arms with a smirk.
"Of course you do. Now get moving!"
She hurried off like a newlywed, while Norman watched. Suddenly he spun around and gripped the counter edge, feeling a bit dizzy.
It doesn't matter, just keep calm. It's for your benefit as much as hers. Mustn't give the slightest hint---
When Connie reappeared, she was dressed and ready to leave. Norman walked her to the door and handed her the lunch he had promised.
"You've got some extra fruit in there. Make sure you eat it." He opened the door to see her off. "And remember what the doctor said. Easy on the caffeine."
"Yes, mother!"
Before he could reply, Connie leaned up and kissed him full on the lips. Her tongue forced its way into his mouth before he could resist. He bumped back against the open door and finally eased her away.
"See you tonight." he winked.
She was off and down the steps, happily on her way before Norman could lose his peaceful veneer. He waved as he watched the car pull from the driveway, and then gasped as he fell back against the door. He felt violated, and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Suddenly he turned and rushed for the bathroom. His stomach was lurching, and he had to make it to the toilet before breakfast resurfaced.
How long could he keep the pretense up?
Norman lay down on the couch, a damp cloth over forehead and eyes, trying to think.
It was getting harder to play the role, to smile and sound happy, pretending nothing was wrong. The more time passed-- the more the new life in Connie grew-- the more Norman felt he was being crushed. He had refused from the start to believe the creature was human or any of his responsibility. He couldn't afford to think of it like the toddlers in their strollers he saw whenever he was out in public. Those little angels were born happy and healthy, of good parents-- or so he was convinced. As far as he was concerned, his life was playing out like a horror film-- like the Omen, and Connie was carrying some spawn from hell.
That thinking will only lead to trouble. Once a person is convinced of evil, they have no choice but to step in and stop it. I'm the only one who knows the truth. It would be my duty. No-- I can't keep thinking that way. The world won't care to know it was spared from another Norman Bates-- they'd just see a psychopath who murdered a pregnant woman.
He rolled onto his side as if a change in position would alter his thinking as well. It would be more productive to look on the positive side. It seemed, as time passed, that positive side had a name.
Laney Kirkpatrick. Her name was next to his, on one of their notes.
The memory of that summer, and the little girl who had made it possible, had been the catalyst. Digging up the jar, reading the notes, recalling when a lonely boy still had a chance to make something of life-- that had planted the seed of hope that drove him to survive. He would get away from the nightmare, run away like a kid if he had to-- those silly little trinkets did more to fuel a purpose than anything else he'd known since leaving the hospital. Those childish gifts were not based on deceit, lies, or selfishness.
He went to the drawer that held the box of their 'souvenirs', and sitting cross-legged on the floor, he picked through them again.
Is it possible she's still alive? Would she even remember me?