JENNIE
"My mum is so fucked up." Lisa finally speaks after long minutes of silence. My hand jerks at the sudden noise, but I quickly recover and return to bathing her as she continues. "I mean this is some shit right out of Tolstoy."
My mind scrambles through Tolstoy's works before landing on The Kreutzer Sonata. I shiver despite the heat of the shower.
"Kreutzer?" I ask, hoping I'm confused or that she and I have interpreted the dark story differently.
"Yes, of course." She's becoming emotionless again, crouching down behind that damn wall.
"I don't know if I would compare this . . . situation to something so dark," I softly argue. That story is filled with blood, jealousy, and rage, and I'd like to think this real-life one will have a better ending.
"Not completely, but yes," she answers as if she can read my mind.
I play the story line through my head, trying to see some connection to Lisa's mother's affair, but the only thing I can come up with has to do with Lisa herself and her beliefs about marriage. That causes me to shiver again.
"I didn't plan to ever marry, and I still don't, so no, it didn't change anything," she coldly responds.
I ignore the pain in my chest and focus on her. "Okay." I run the cloth down one arm, then the other, and when I look up, her eyes are closed.
"Whose story do you suppose we'll have?" she asks, taking the cloth from my hand.
"I don't know," I answer her honestly. I'd love nothing more than to know the answer to this question.
"Me neither." She pours more body wash onto the cloth and runs it across my chest.
"Couldn't we make our own story?" I look up into her troubled eyes.
"I don't think we can. You know this is going to end one of two ways," she says, shrugging her shoulders.
I know she's hurt and I know ahe's angry, but I don't want Chit's mistakes to affect our relationship and I can see Lisa making comparisons behind the brown of her eyes.
I try to take the conversation in another direction. "What is it about all of this that bothers you the most? It's that the wedding is tomorrow . . . well, today," I correct myself. It's almost 4 a.m. now, and the wedding is, or was, supposed to start at two this afternoon. What happened after we left the house? Did Mike come back to talk to Chit, or did Christian and Chit finish what they started?
"I don't know." She sighs, dragging the cloth down my stomach and across my hips. "I don't really give a fuck about that wedding. I guess I just feel like they're both fucking liars."
"I'm sorry," I tell Lisa.
"My mum is the one who'll be sorry. She's the one who sold her fucking house and cheated the night before her damn wedding." Her touch becomes rough as her anger builds.
I stay quiet but remove the cloth from her hands and hang it on the rack behind me.
"And Vance, what kind of fucking asshole has an affair with the ex-wife of his best friend? My father and Christian Vance have known each other since they were kids." Lisa's tone is bitter—threatening, even. "I should call my father and see if he knows what a backstabbing whore—"
I reach my hand and cover her mouth before she can finish the harsh words. "She's still your mother," I softly remind her. I know she's angry, but she shouldn't call her names.
I remove my hand from her mouth so she can speak. "I don't give a fuck that she's my mother, and I don't give a fuck about Vance either. And the joke's going to be on him, because when I tell Kimberly about them and you quit your job, he'll be fucked," Lisa proudly declares, as if this would be the best form of revenge.
"You will not tell Kimberly." I look into her eyes, pleading. "If Christian doesn't tell her himself, then I will, but you will not embarrass her or harass her about it. I understand that you're angry at your mother and at Christian, but Kimberly is innocent here, and I don't want her to be hurt," I say firmly.
"Fine. You will quit, though," she says while turning her body around to rinse the foamy shampoo from her hair.
Sighing, I reach for the shampoo bottle in Lisa's hand but she pulls it away.
"I'm serious, you aren't working for him anymore."
I understand her anger, but this isn't the time to discuss my job. "We'll talk about it later," I tell her and finally manage to get the bottle into my hands. The water is growing colder by the minute, and I'd like to wash my hair.
"No!" She jerks it back. I'm trying to stay calm and be as gentle as possible with her, but ahe's making it difficult.
"I can't just quit my internship; it's not that simple. I'd have to inform the university, fill out a bunch of paperwork, and give a solid explanation of what happened. Then I would have to add classes to my schedule in the middle of the semester to make up for the credits I was receiving from Vance Publishing, and since the deadline for financial aid has already passed, I'd have to pay out of pocket. I can't simply just quit. I'll try to figure something out, but I need a little time, please." I give up on washing my hair.
"Jennie, I literally couldn't give less than a fuck about you having to file some paperwork; this is my family," she says, and I immediately feel guilty.
She's right, isn't she? I honestly don't know, but her busted lip and bruised nose make me feel that way. "I know, I'm sorry. I just need to find another internship first, that's all I'm asking." Why am I asking? "I mean saying . . . that's what I'm saying . . . that I need a little time. I'm already going to have to move into a hotel as it is . . ." The anxiety I feel at the prospect of being homeless, jobless, and once again friendless is taking me over.
"You won't be able to find another internship anyway, not a paying one," she harshly reminds me. I knew that already, but I was trying to force myself into believing that I had a slight chance.
"I don't know what I'm going to do, but I need some time. This is all such a mess." I step out of the shower and reach for a towel.
"Well, you don't have much time to figure it out. You should just move back to central Washington with me." Her words stop me in my tracks.
"Move back there?" The very idea of it makes me nauseous. "I'm not moving back there, and after last weekend, I don't even want to visit the place again, let alone move back. That isn't an option." I wrap the towel around my wet body and leave the bathroom.
I reach for my phone and panic when I see five missed calls and two text messages. All from Christian. Both text messages are pleas to have Lisa call him right away.
"Lisa," I call to her.
"What?" she snaps. I roll my eyes and swallow my annoyance. "Christian has called, a lot."
She emerges from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her. "And?"
"What if something happened to your mother? Don't you want to call and be sure she's okay?" I ask her. "Or I—"
"No, fuck both of them. Don't call them."
"Lisa, I really think—"
"No," she says, interrupting me.
"I already sent him a text, just to be sure your mother is okay," I admit.
She grimaces. "Of course you did."
"I know you're upset, but please stop taking it out on me. I'm really trying to be here for you, but you have to stop snapping at me. This isn't my fault."
"I'm sorry." Her hands run over her wet hair. "Let's both just turn our cell phones off and get some sleep." her voice has calmed, and her eyes have softened tremendously. "My shirt is stained," she says, dragging the bloodied garment across the floor, "and I don't know where the other one is."
"I'll get it from the suitcase."
"Thank you." She sighs. The fact that she finds so much comfort in me wearing her clothing makes me happy, even in the middle of this disastrous night. I retrieve the shirt she wore earlier today and hand her clean boxers to sleep in before refolding the articles in the suitcase.
"I'm going to change our flight when I wake up. I can't concentrate right now." She sits on the edge of the bed for a moment before lying down.
"I can do it," I offer, pulling her laptop from the suitcase.
"Thanks," she grumbles, half asleep already.
Seconds later she mutters, "I wish I could take you away, far away." My hands are still on the keyboard and I wait for her to say something else, but she breaks into soft snores.
As I pull up the airline's website, my phone vibrates on the table. Christian's name comes up on the screen. I ignore the call, but when a second comes in, I grab the room key and quietly retreat to the hallway to answer.
I try to whisper. "Hello."
"Jennie? How is she?" he asks, panicked.
"She's . . . she's okay. Her nose is bruised and swollen, her lip is busted, and she has a few bruises and cuts." I don't hide the hostility in my tone.
"Dammit," he breathes. "I'm so sorry that it came to this."
"Me, too," I snap at my boss and try to ignore the hideous painting in front of my eyes.
"I need to talk to her. I know she's confused and angry, but I need to explain some things to her."
"She doesn't want to talk to you, and honestly, why should she? She trusted you, and you know that her trust is not something she gives lightly." I lower my voice. "You're engaged to a lovely woman and Chit was supposed to be getting married tomorrow."
"She's still getting married," he says through the line.
"What?" I walk farther down the hall. I stop in front of the peaceful painting of the kneeling angel, but the more I look at it, the darker it becomes. Behind the angel is another; this second one's body almost translucent, and he's holding a double-edged dagger in his hand. The brown-haired maiden is watching him, a sinister smile on her face as she seems to wait for the assault on the kneeling angel. The second angel's expression is contorted, his naked body all planes and angles as he prepares to stab the first angel. I look away and focus on the voice on the other end of the line.
"The wedding has not been canceled. Mike loves Chit, and she loves him; they will still be married tomorrow despite my mistake." The words sound as if he's struggling to get them out.
I have so many questions to ask him, but I can't. He's my boss and his affair is with Lisa's mother; this is none of my business.
"I know what you must think of me, Jennie, but if I'm able to explain myself, maybe you both will understand."
"Lisa wants me to change our flight and leave in the morning," I inform him.
"She can't leave without saying goodbye to her mother. It will kill her."
"I don't think it's in the best interest of anyone to allow her to be in the same room as her," I warn and walk back to the room, stopping just outside the door.
"I understand your need to protect her, and it pleases me greatly to see how fiercely loyal you are to her. But Chit has had a hard enough life as it is, and it's time for her to have some happiness. I don't expect her to show for the wedding, but please do what you can to have her at least say goodbye to her. God knows how long it will be before she comes back to Thailand." Christian sighs.
"I don't know." I run my fingers along the bronze frame of the Lucifer painting. "I'll see what I can do, but I can't promise anything. I won't push her."
"I understand. Thank you." The relief in his voice is clear.
"Christian?" I say just before hanging up.
"Yes, Jennie?"
"Will you tell Kimberly?" I hold my breath and wait for his answer to my highly inappropriate question.
"Of course I'll tell her," he softly responds, his accent thick and smooth. "I love her more than—"
"Okay." I'm trying to understand, but the only image that's coming to mind is Kimberly smiling in their kitchen, her head tipped back in laughter and Christian's eyes sparkling as he watches her in amazement, as if she's the only woman in his world. Does he look at Chit that way?
"Thank you. Let me know if you need anything. Again, I'm sorry for what you saw earlier, and I hope that your opinion of me hasn't been completely destroyed," he says and hangs up the phone.
I take one last glance at the hideous monster on the wall and walk back into the hotel room.