It should not have been that bleeding difficult to locate a matching sock.
She opened drawer after drawer, attempting to find one pair of matching socks.
"Bren? What are you doing?"
She briefly glanced at the mirror on their dresser, where his reflection peered back at her.
"Packing," said Brenda, as she folded a shirt.
"I can see that," said Dylan. "Why are you packing my stuff?"
"Because Val's made a stupid choice," said Brenda. "You told me you make stupid choices all the time. So you're the best one to tell her how stupid her choice was. After I buy you more socks. How do you not have a single pair of matching socks?"
"You can't fly out, Bren. It was hard enough just trying to get the permission to fly you home, let alone across a whole ocean."
"I know that. You can."
"It's true. I can, but I won't."
"You have to. You have to make Val see you. You have to make her understand."
Dylan stepped forward to cup Brenda's back.
"It's not that I don't want to help Val," he said. "I do, and I'm trying to help her as much as I can, but I'm not flying out there. Not when you were just released, not when we have to monitor your health, not when we're so close to seeing our girl that I have to help you stand whenever you sit on our sofa."
Dylan locked his arms over Brenda's chest, sniffing at her hair.
He frequently did that, though Brenda hadn't a clue as to why.
"I'd never forgive myself if you gave birth and I wasn't here, or if something happened to you and I wasn't here," Dylan went on. "Because the last time I wasn't here, something did happen; something huge, something that could've taken you away from me forever. Don't ask me to leave you, Bren. I won't do it, not even temporarily. If I have to stand here and fight with you about it, I will. The last thing I want to do is fight with you."
Brenda's tense shoulders slackened against Dylan's chest as she slowly turned around, still holding Dylan's unmatched sock.
Dylan reclaimed his sock.
"She pled guilty." Brenda couldn't stop the emotion that leapt over her cheeks. "Why would she plead guilty, Dylan? Her lawyer was right there. Her lawyer should have made her plead not guilty."
"Not much you can do when your client decides to talk over you." Dylan's fingers grazed over Brenda's cheeks. "You heard it. They almost had a jury trial in the bag, and then Val pled guilty."
Turning her lips towards Dylan's fingers, Brenda kissed each one.
Just feeling Dylan against her brought an overwhelming sense of comfort.
"What happens now?" she asked, trying to swallow down the jagged rocks that clogged her throat.
"We wait for Val's sentencing," said Dylan.
"Can she change her mind and plead not guilty?"
"She can, but she has to do so before the sentencing and it's up to the Judge whether to accept it."
"I want to talk to David," said Brenda.
"I can't get a hold of Silver."
"Then I want to talk to Steve."
A compromise was made. Dylan would call Steve, as long as Brenda lay down and continued to lie down during their conversation.
Brenda sat up against the pillows, the back of Dylan's head situated on her chest as they listened to the numerous rings.
Steve's voicemail clicked on.
Dylan's message was interrupted by the call picking up.
"Yeah."
Steve sounded as miserable as Brenda felt.
"Steve," she said, "can I talk to Val?"
"Sorry, Bren," said Steve. "They took her to her cell as soon as the arraignment was over."
"Has anyone talked to her?" asked Brenda.
"We all thought Tom could get through to her. Tom thought he could get through to her. But the only person Val's permitted to see her one-on-one is Rick."
"Rick?" asked Brenda.
"Her lawyer," said Dylan and Steve in unison.
Lots of men were called Rick, Brenda assumed.
Regardless, she made a mental reminder to ask Dylan if Valerie's lawyer was a different Rick than they had encountered on the ferry.
"She won't let David see her?" asked Brenda.
"He isn't allowed anywhere near the jail," said Steve. "Silver's worried that Val thinks he hasn't made any effort to see her. He thinks it affected her decision."
"Have you?" asked Brenda.
"Repeatedly," said Steve.
"Tell her my water broke," said Brenda.
Dylan's level of alarm matched Steve's.
"It didn't," she whispered to Dylan, who had already flipped to the page in Brenda's address book that held the phone number for their midwife.
"Don't do that, woman," he said, returning to his previous stance.
"So it did, or it didn't?" asked Steve.
"It didn't," said Brenda, ruffling Dylan's hair, "but tell Val it did. Val lies all the time, so lie to her. Tell her she needs to withdraw her plea and come home to be here when her goddaughter is born, or I'll never forgive her."
"I don't think that's gonna work, Bren," said Steve.
"It has to work," said Brenda. "I can't lose another friend." She lost control of her emotions. "I can't."
Dylan hugged Brenda's waist.
"You won't," he promised.
"I can't remember Mina, Shane, or Zahur," said Brenda. "I don't know anything about them. I don't know what kind of friends they were, the kinds of things we did together, what we talked about, but it still hurt when you told me they were gone, like every body part splintered at your words. I know Valerie. I remembered bits of her before I remembered you. I've talked to her about everything. She knows everything about me and how much more will it hurt if I lose her, too? I made Val promise she would take care of herself. This isn't taking care of herself."
"No one's losing Val," said Steve. "I'll swear to you what I swore to Clare. I'll get Val home, even if I have to break her out of prison myself."
"Maybe she doesn't want to come home," said Brenda. "Maybe she's tired of looking out for me. Maybe she's annoyed over all the times I've run and she had to go searching for me. Maybe that's why she's chosen prison over coming back."
"Val loves you," said both Dylan and Steve.
"If she loves me, why is she hurting my heart like this?" asked Brenda.
"Val suffers from depression," said Brandon as he entered the room. "Severe depression. She thinks people don't notice, but we do. She thinks she's a burden to us, when she isn't."
"Val told me I'm not a burden," said Brenda. "When I broke the eggs," she told Dylan. "She said I'm not a burden, so she should know she isn't one."
"What Val knows and what her mind tells her are two different things," said Dylan. "Believe me, I know."
"There must be something we can do," Brenda huffed, blowing a stray piece of hair away from her face. "I tried to get Dylan and Brandon to go out there. They both refused."
"Unless you want to give birth by yourself, we're not going anywhere," said Brandon.
"That's basically what I said," said Dylan.
"I probably could give birth by myself," said Brenda.
"No!" said Brandon and Dylan.
"I just don't like that Val needs all of us and you two can't be with her because I can't fly," said Brenda. "We're probably the closest family she's got, and none of us are out there."
"Val's got people with her, just like you have people with you," said Steve.
"But my mother won't even go out there because of me, and she loves Val like another daughter," said Brenda. "If we were out there, Val wouldn't've pled guilty. Val was wrong. I am a burden."
"You are not," said Dylan, holding Brenda against him. "You will never be," he added. "Oh, and Sanders? Tell Val if she's gonna choose to remain in jail despite her bail being completely paid off, she'll miss seeing her best friend get married."
"I knew it!" said Steve. "I fucking knew it!"
"Knew what?"
Clare hovered with Donna in the hallway.
Brenda ushered them in.
"Hope it's okay that we dropped by," said Donna. "Clare told me about what happened with the arraignment and I had to come over here to check on you."
"Besides trying to pack up my stuff and ship me off to Buffalo, Bren's handling it somewhat better than we thought she would," Dylan told Donna.
"Trying to ship us both to Buffalo," said Brandon.
"I'd go, but I can't get the time off," said Clare. "Plus, I promised Val I'd look out for you guys."
"See?" said Brenda.
"See nothing," said Dylan.
"We had an idea of how to maybe help Val," said Donna. "And we knew if we brought the idea to Dylan, he'd insist on paying for everything, so we've called around to the others first so they can pool their money and Dylan can pay the rest."
"The others as in the gang?" asked Dylan.
"The gang and then some," said Donna.
"It may surprise you that Val actually has several friends from her days in Buffalo that were willing to all pitch in when Tom told them about her situation," said Steve. "Even Ginger."
"Even Ginger?" asked Dylan.
"Who's Ginger?" asked Brenda.
"The woman Val told me tried to ruin her life," said Dylan.
"I don't like Ginger," said Brenda.
"Nor do I," said Steve, "but she did pitch in."
Donna elaborated on their plan.
"He might be the only person who can get Val to think twice about her decision," said Clare.
"Then I'm off to book another flight," said Dylan.
Clare and Donna talked Brenda into a shopping trip as a potential distraction, though Brenda doubted anything could distract her from fretting over Valerie.
"Dylan told you, then?" asked Brenda.
"He said we needed to take you shopping," said Donna. "He didn't say why."
"Probably because I don't have a lot of white clothing," said Brenda. "Certainly none that fit."
Donna completely spun around in her seat.
"Let me see it!" she demanded.
"See what?" asked Brenda.
"If you're looking for something white, there's got to be a ring involved," said Donna. "Show us."
"I would," said Brenda, "but…"
"But you want Val to see it before us," said Clare.
"I'm sorry," said Brenda.
"Don't be," said Donna, though her disappointment shone through. "You're closer with Val. We get it."
"I might never be able to show her," said Brenda. "I might," Brenda's lip quivered, "I might never see her again."
"Hey." Donna's hand reached out towards Brenda's, who accepted it. "If anyone's more excited than you and Dylan about this baby, it's Val. She'll be here."
"She can't be here if she's in jail," said Brenda.
"Val thinks we're better off without her," said Clare. "That's all it is. She's wrong. She'll realize that, she'll change her mind, she'll come home, and we'll all yell at her for ever thinking that. You have to hold onto that, Bren."
"I don't know how she can think I'm better off without her," said Brenda. "Or how I don't have nightmares of what she's facing in jail."
"I miss her too," said Clare. "We might be having similar nightmares."
At least Brenda had Dylan to support her through hers, thought Brenda.
Clare's Steve was an entire ocean away.
"I just want her to come home," said Brenda. "Not eventually. Not someday. I want her to come home now. She was supposed to be back by now."
"She will," said Donna. "Val may have given up; the rest of us won't. Her lawyer won't. In the meantime, let's find you something white. Are we looking for a dress?"
The dress, said Brenda, would be saved for later.
She asked Donna if Donna would consider making her a dress.
"It's just, I saw how Dylan looked at me when you asked me to try on that one dress," said Brenda, "and though I didn't realize it at the time, that's how I want him to look at me when we do have our wedding."
"Dylan always looks at you the way a groom looks at his bride," said Clare. "He'd have that look no matter what you wore."
"Though I'll absolutely make you a dress, Bren," said Donna. "I'm flattered you would ask."
Beautiful outfit after beautiful outfit was discarded into a pile in the corner of a fitting room.
Beautiful, but not the outfit Brenda wanted to wear when she became Dylan's wife.
"Maybe they don't have the perfect outfit for maternity," said Brenda.
"Nonsense," said Donna. "We'll just keep shopping around until we find it."
Clare offered out her arm.
Brenda took it.
"You looked like you could use some support," said Clare.
"I could," said Brenda, who knew Clare had mostly been speaking for herself.
Brenda liked spending time with Clare and Donna, but it wasn't the same without Valerie.
She thought Clare may have shared Brenda's pain.
"There." Donna stopped in front of a window mannequin. "What do you think of that one, Bren?"
"It's gorgeous." Brenda stood close enough to the window that her nose almost pressed against the glass. "You could show up to a red carpet in that."
"Then that's the one," said Donna.
"They probably don't have it in maternity," said Brenda.
Donna pushed open the door.
"Let's find out," she said.
Brenda knew before she looked in the mirror that she had found her ensemble.
"Should it be off-white?" she asked as she stepped outside the fitting room.
"It can be whatever color you want," said Clare, "but damn, girl, this is definitely the one! What do you think, Don?"
"You look amazing," Donna gushed. "If you like it as much as we do, get it."
"Dylan won't be able to stop gawking," said Clare.
"Is the cape too much?" asked Brenda.
"Not unless you think it is," said Donna.
Brenda did not think the cape was too much.
As she waited to pay, she spotted a dazzling belt that seemed to have captured the essence of the ocean itself.
She pictured Dylan's reaction when he saw her wearing that belt.
Brenda added it into her purchases, along with a pair of ballet flats and earrings that matched the belt.
"I can't believe you bought all of this for less than two hundred fifty," said Donna, sifting through the bag. "Teach me your ways."
"We just found a great shop with some great deals," said Brenda.
She managed to succeed in temporary distraction with the lunch discussion she had with the women, where they mostly spoke about their respective partners and placed fake bets over when Brandon would admit his love for Kelly.
"It's got to be soon," said Brenda. "They've talked a lot whilst they've been apart."
"Have they?" asked Clare.
"They have, but Brandon's made it hard to listen in," said Brenda. "I don't know what they're saying. I hear David mentioned a lot, but other stuff goes unheard."
"I'll pry it out of Kel," said Donna.
"I'd like to meet D'Shawn at some point," said Brenda.
"I'll mention it to him," said Donna.
This was different, she thought.
It was usually Dylan calling out in their home to find her, not vice versa.
He still hadn't answered.
Brenda tried to not think much of it.
She hung up her outfit in the wardrobe bag that would prevent Dylan from stealing a glimpse and then withdrew her other purchases to add them to the nursery.
Where she found him, asleep on the rocking chair with a stuffed animal splayed across his chest.
Brenda pushed Dylan's hair away from his face and allowed him to continue sleeping as she softened her movements.
She had put away two onesies when a pair of warm hands folded around her.
"Hey," he said, kissing a line down her back.
"Hi," she smiled, holding his hands.
"Don't we have enough clothing for her?"
"I couldn't help myself."
"I have no problem with that as long as you found the reason you went shopping in the first place."
"I did," said Brenda. "It's hanging up in the closet and no, you can't peek. I guess you took a nap."
"The crib came. I was putting it together and sat down for what should've been a second."
"What stuffed animal did you have on your chest?" asked Brenda.
"Your Mr. Pony," said Dylan. "Jim brought it by for her. Don't worry. We didn't let him inside."
"Good," said Brenda. "He isn't allowed into our home until we can be sure his about-face is genuine. Where's my brother?"
"Out back. He's talking to someone Alina recommended who might be able to help Cindy open up enough to tell us what happened with Abby."
"Will that help Val?"
"We think so," said Dylan. "Brandon talked to Suzie earlier. She says she was over at a friend's that night. We're not sure if Suzie's telling the truth or hiding something, but she told us to try Curtis."
"Did you try him?"
"Tom did. He says Curtis isn't the easiest person to get in touch with, that his job makes him go off the grid a lot. We'll keep trying."
Dylan massaged Brenda's back as he led her into their room adjoining the nursery.
"How does that feel?" he asked.
"It feels like my water broke," said Brenda. "But it didn't," she hastily added. "I just feel kind of -"
"Wet?" Dylan spoke into Brenda's ear. "Sticky? Maybe your underwear feels a bit soaked, like you went swimming and forgot to dry yourself before you slipped your underwear back on?"
"Exactly like that," she said. "When I'm around you. When you touch me, or even when you breathe near me. Sometimes it happens when all I did was think of you."
"That just means you want me," he told her, slipping the strap of Brenda's denim jumpsuit down over her shoulder.
The strap of her tank top followed.
"You already know I want you," said Brenda.
"Physically," said Dylan. "You want me physically. We want each other, physically."
"Then can we have each other physically?"
Dylan's fingers deftly undid Brenda's braided ponytail.
"I'd rather wait until your checkup next week. If we get the okay there, then we can."
"What if I'm really bad at it?" asked Brenda.
"It's impossible for you to be bad at it," said Dylan.
"But what if I don't know what to do, like you do know?"
"You didn't know the first time, and you still weren't bad at it."
Dylan pressed a line of kisses from one side of Brenda's neck to the other.
"Even if there was the slimmest chance you would be bad at it, I'd still want you," he said.
"They can't fit us in for a checkup until the day we planned to marry," said Brenda.
"Then we'll have the checkup the moment they open the doors, go down in the afternoon to City Hall or wherever we can do it, and then have one hell of a wedding night. We can easily fit it all into one day. If I know you, and I do, we'll get your heart slip-n-sliding to the point that I'd really like to know it's okay before we try. Nine months is a long time to go without feeling you."
"You're feeling me now."
"It's a different kind of feeling you. It's the kind where we used to lie in our bed for hours, before your classes, in-between your classes, just feeling each other."
Brenda pulled Dylan's head towards hers for a searing kiss.
"I won't say I don't still want you to go to Val," said Brenda, "but I do like having you with me while we wait to see if she'll change her mind."
"I'll always be with you, Bren," said Dylan. "Even if we have to be apart sometimes because of our jobs or whatever other reasons, I'll still be with you."
"I didn't think I could love you like my diary said I used to, or love anyone like I used to," said Brenda, "and I think I was right. I don't think I've ever loved you as much as I do at this moment."
"Keep telling yourself that," said Dylan as he plunged in for another, lengthier kiss.
Brenda thought if they kept kissing, their two sets of lips may merge into one.
"And to think," she pulled away, "you almost convinced yourself you could survive without these lips," she said, pointing to her own.
"Well, I can't," said Dylan. "So don't let me." He traced his thumb over Brenda's bottom lip and went in.
They again pulled away, both trying to catch their breath.
"My lips are at their best when they're on top of yours," said Dylan, "or when they're grazing over any part of you."
"My lips are the same," said Brenda. "They especially like it here." She moved her lips to Dylan's chest, in the area that held his heart.
Brandon knocked on the door, one hand covering his eyes.
"We're fully clothed," Brenda told him, pulling her straps back up. "Relax, Brandon."
"But don't come into our room after next week," Dylan warned, buttoning his shirt until the top two buttons remained open. "Once we get the okay, your sister and I are gonna be glued to the bed. We may stay there permanently."
"That's nice," said Brandon, reading over what appeared to be an old diary.
"Whose is that?" asked Brenda.
"Abby's," said Brandon. "We thought we could find something in here that might be able to help Mom and maybe Val."
"Then why don't you look relieved?" asked Brenda.
"Because it's not in English," said Brandon. "I don't know what fucking language this is. Silver just saw a year and neglected to notice that anything that might remotely be a confession of any kind are the only things that aren't in English. Everything else is just boring, ordinary, everyday shit. Seriously. Even for the 1970's, in the diary of a sociopath, nothing cool stands out."
"If it's in French or Spanish, Dylan can translate," said Brenda.
Dylan glanced it over.
"It isn't," he said. "Looks a bit Spanish, a bit French, but it's neither. Could be Portuguese, Italian, German, anything really. Where were Abby's parents from?"
Abby was from Albany, said Brandon. She had moved with her parents to Minnesota when she and Cindy were preteens.
"So the Gottis could be from anywhere," said Dylan. "Abby could speak a language we've never heard of."
"And we can't read a word of anything revealing." Brandon threw the diary down to the dresser. "So much for helping Val."
"I know who might be able to translate it," said Brenda.
She had grabbed the diary and left the room so quickly, the men had to hurry to catch up.
"Brenda!" Dylan panted. "Slow down!"
"How is it that I waddled down the stairs faster than you ran down them and you're the one who's panting?" asked Brenda.
"That's why you need to slow down," said Dylan.
"I can't slow down," said Brenda. "Brandon said what's in this diary might help Val."
"Might," said Brandon. "That's the keyword. Might. Don't hurry down the stairs because of it."
"I was barely hurrying," said Brenda. "I just walk fast."
"Just walk fast, sure," said Dylan. "That's why you're gripping the banister."
Brenda decided Dylan could, at times, be too observant.
She released the banister.
Brenda sat in the back, Brandon in the front as Brenda directed Dylan where to drive.
"I don't like this," said Dylan. "You should be resting."
"I'll rest when Val is free," said Brenda.
Brandon announced he would continue trying Curtis.
"Hei," said Kai as he opened the door. "I didn't expect any of you."
"Sofia," said Brenda. "How many languages did you and Clare say Sofia speaks?"
"A large amount," said Kai. "She is here right now, if you like to speak with her." He shifted from one foot to the other. "But so is -"
"Brenda. Hallo."
"Hallo, Luca," said Brenda. "Is this weird?" she asked Luca and Dylan both.
"Not unless you make it so," said Luca.
"What he said," said Dylan, appearing slightly nervous.
Brenda squeezed Dylan's arm.
He gave her a grateful look and slipped his hands into her pockets.
"We just came to see Sofia," said Brenda. "We're hoping she can translate something for us that will help us help Val."
"Help Val?" asked Luca. "Is there an issue with Val?"
"There is a rather enormous issue with Val," said Dylan, "which is why Bren refuses to rest until it's solved, even though she's been told by numerous doctors that she needs to."
"Brenda," said Luca.
"Don't you get onto me, too," said Brenda.
"That explains why Clare has been unavailable to join us lately," said Ivan.
"I thought I told you why Clare is unavailable," said Kai.
"Maybe you did," said Ivan. "I am too full of drink to think."
"Sofia!" Kai called. "Our friends are wondering if you can translate something for them."
Tall, chestnut-haired, neurologist Sofia.
The focus of many Nordic magazines, Sofia towered over Brenda.
"Her fiancée is over there," said Luca in response to Brandon's automatic reaction.
"Fiancée," said Brandon. "Right. Yeah. I knew that."
Dylan's gaze remained pinned on Brenda.
She mouthed to him that it was acceptable if he glanced at Sofia, but Dylan didn't waver.
"You need something to be translated?" asked Sofia.
"Everything in here that isn't in English," said Brenda. "We don't know what language it is."
"It is Romansh." Sofia skimmed down a page. "A language in Switzerland. My Romansh, it is rusty. My translation may be faulty."
"It's better than we can do," said Brenda.
"This cannot be correct," said Sofia.
"What can't be correct?" asked Brandon.
"These letters," said Sofia. "It is F, B, and I."
"FBI?" asked Dylan.
"And agent?" questioned Sofia.
"FBI agent?" asked Brenda.
"Trouble," said Sofia. "That is all I can read. There was trouble, with FBI agent. I apologize that I do not understand more."
"You've helped us tremendously," said Brenda as she gathered the diary to her chest. "Kiitos."
"Your pronunciation is much improved," said Kai.
Brenda thanked Kai, too.
"So Mom and Abby got into trouble with an FBI agent," said Brandon as he drove home.
Dylan had moved to the back, to sit beside the now drooping Brenda.
"Told you not to overdo it," he said, rubbing her shoulder.
"I had to," said Brenda. "For Val." She met Brandon's eyes in the side mirror. "What kind of trouble could they have gotten into that would prove Abby's out to get her daughter?" asked Brenda as she snuggled into Dylan.
He was cozier than any blanket, cozier than even their fluffiest of blankets.
"If we can get some kind of evidence that Abby's shot someone before, it will help to persuade Val that Abby's capable of doing it twice," said Brandon. "If we persuade Val that it is possible Abby did kill Victor, then Val won't be so convinced that she's guilty and won't be so willing to give herself up to jail."
"But we need someone else who speaks Romansh," said Brenda. "Someone who speaks it fluently."
"Leave that to me," said Brandon. "I know someone who might have an idea of who would."
"I think I know someone who knows someone," said Dylan.
If Dylan's lap had started protesting when he pulled Brenda down onto it, Dylan didn't show it.
"You've travelled all over," he told Iris. "Met all kinds of people at all kinds of retreats. Do you keep in touch with any of them?"
"A handful," said Iris. "There's a group of us that always go annually."
"Do you know anyone who understands Romansh?" asked Dylan.
"Why, yes," said Iris. "I know someone who is fluent in it."
"Then we need them to translate something," said Dylan, "and fast."
"That will be difficult, as he doesn't believe in computers," said Iris, "but I will call him regardless."
"Him?" asked Dylan.
"An old friend of my late grandmother's," said Iris. "The one who turned me on to these retreats. He has also led a few."
Iris told them she had left a message, just as Brandon had done with Curtis.
"I've decided I don't like voicemails," said Brenda as she handed Dylan the tools to finish putting together the crib.
"I'm with you there." Dylan screwed in a piece.
Brenda had tried to help, but couldn't kneel for long before she had needed to sit in the same rocking chair that she had found Dylan asleep in.
"Did you take your regimen?" asked Dylan.
Brenda told him she had. She did not tell him that she would have forgotten her additional beta-blocker prescription, had Iris not sat there and handed them to her.
She was used to the medication for her mind. In time, she would become used to the medication for her heart.
Brenda hoped that she would eventually no longer require any medication for any ailment.
"Do you think we can help Val?" asked Brenda, examining the wall of photos that included pictures of Valerie.
"We won't give up, Bren," said Dylan. "None of us will give up."
"That's what Donna said."
"Well, Don's right. You should listen to her."
"I just miss Val so much."
"I know you do, baby." Dylan stroked Brenda's knees. "I know you do. We both do. I'd venture to say everyone here does."
"Do you think she misses me?"
"Without question."
"Maybe I should sleep on the floor."
"Why would you sleep on the floor?"
"Our bed's too comfortable. Val isn't in a bed that comfortable. I shouldn't be comfortable when she isn't."
"It's perfectly fine for you to be comfortable, Brenda. You're not sleeping on the floor."
Dylan lifted Brenda from the chair, sat down in it, and moved her back to his lap.
"The crib," she said.
"I'll finish it later," he said. "Heart check."
"Do we have to do this every night?"
"Yes," he said. "Heart check."
Brenda placed Dylan's index and middle fingers on her inner wrist.
She watched as his lips moved in a silent count.
"Is it acceptable?" asked Brenda.
"Gotta check one more thing." Dylan removed the blood pressure monitor from its casing.
Brenda waited for her reading.
"Both acceptable," said Dylan, and kissed her. "The goal is to get them above acceptable, but given everything going on, this will do. For now."
"I don't like that you and Brandon have to worry over me when you should both be focusing entirely on Val."
"In case you haven't noticed, babe, my focus is entirely on you. Of course I'm gonna help Val, but not if it means I can't also keep an eye on you."
"I'm keeping an eye on you, too," said Brenda. "You don't normally fall asleep halfway through the day like that. Should we do a heart check on you?"
"If you want," said Dylan as he circled his tongue over Brenda's cleavage.
Brenda tested Dylan's own pulse and blood pressure.
"Excellent," she said, removing the monitor.
"See, Nurse? You don't have to worry about me. For once, I'm in tip-top shape. Maybe because my nurse had me chasing her down the stairs earlier."
"Doctor," said Brenda.
"Doctor McKay," said Dylan. "You taking new patients?"
"Afraid not," said Brenda. "I only have two patients in my appointment book and I'm not accepting any others."
"Good answer." Dylan kissed from Brenda's wrist up to her elbow.
"My main patient can kiss me wherever," said Brenda.
"Even better answer," said Dylan as his kisses dropped below Brenda's panty line.
Brenda gripped onto Dylan's head. Her legs moved in tune with his movements.
Her heart was full.
Her mind, however, questioned if it was okay for her to be experiencing ecstasy when Valerie was trapped in a downward spiral that seemed as if it would never end.
xx
Of all the people she had expected when the guard had informed her she had a visitor, it wasn't him.
She had surmised it would be her lawyer, which was the only reason she had accepted the visit.
Not that she wanted Rick to sit there and argue with her about why Valerie should have changed her plea.
She had asked Rick who had hired him.
Rick claimed that information was confidential.
Val had told Rick she didn't need a lawyer.
Rick said that wasn't what he had been told, and proceeded to be her lawyer nonetheless.
But it wasn't Rick on the other side of that glass.
"Nat," Valerie gripped at the phone cord, "what are you doing here?"
"I was sent," said Nat into the receiver. "You have a lot of people worried about you, Val, including me and Joanie."
"I know," said Val. "Steve tried to get in here earlier, claiming Bren's water had broken."
"What if it did break?" asked Nat.
"It didn't," said Val. "Bren's just trying to get me to change my mind, to plead not guilty. I know how her mind works, because it's straight out of my playbook. I'd fake labor to get her out of jail, too."
"Why don't you?" asked Nat. "Plead not guilty?"
"Because I have no problem with the courts knowing that my father was a chunk of rank shit and I killed him," said Valerie. "I dreamt of it time and time again and then one night, I finally did it. Suzie can tell you."
"Suzie told Brandon she was over at a friend's that night."
"Did she?" asked Val. "My bad. Must've forgotten."
"Valerie, I can't sit here and tell you I know what it's like to be raised by parents as awful as I've been told yours are. I can't, but my cousin Joey? He can."
"Joey?" asked Valerie.
"He was taken into the state system when we were teenagers," said Nat. "My parents ended up raising him as their own and if Joey went to jail for allegedly killing his abusive mother, I'd be doing exactly what my kids are trying to do for you. I wouldn't rest until Joey was free."
"I'm not changing my plea, Nat. I want the whole world to know who Victor Malone really was, and I want them all to know who killed him. I've hidden for too long. I've sat in silence for too long. I let him touch me for too long."
"You didn't let him do anything, Val," said Nat.
"Not at first," said Val. "At first, I struggled. I tried to push him off. I fought with him, bit him, kicked him, did anything I could. But then I got older, and Suzie got older. Victor would tell me that if I continued to fight him, he would quit coming into my bedroom. That sounded like the greatest thing ever and so I continued to fight him. What I didn't know was if Victor stopped coming to my room, he would start going to Suzie's. So I stopped fighting him. Anything he did to me after that is on me."
"Oh, Valerie." Nat's tears dripped onto the glass. "I had no idea."
Valerie didn't think she had ever seen Nat Bussichio cry.
She certainly didn't like him crying over her.
"No one did," said Val. "No one except Tom, who tried to stop Victor and nearly got rear-ended by Victor's car for it. Tom was on his bike. We were fifteen. He could've died. He could've died, because of me. Then David. David tried to stand up to my mother for me, my mother who was holding a pistol. He could have been shot. He could have been arrested. Then Kelly, which I know is the only reason she came to my arraignment. That and probably for Brandon. Now Brandon; he knows, too. And Clare. Cindy. Cindy knows. I'm the reason why Cindy isn't herself. She was fine before she knew all of this. You know the reason I killed Victor. Steve doesn't. Bren doesn't, Dylan doesn't. I want them to know Victor was a menace, that my mother enabled him. I want them to know why they have to keep Abby far away from my siblings, but I don't want them all to know what Victor did to me."
"I won't tell anyone who doesn't already know," said Nat.
"They'll find out," said Val. "If I plead not guilty and go to trial, it'll all come out. If they keep trying to prove my innocence, it'll come out. Tell them to stop. I don't want them to find out. I didn't want Brandon to find out, either, but Kelly had to go and bring it up with Brandon in earshot. I know she meant well. For once, she actually truly did mean well, but did Brandon have to hear?"
"Maybe you should plead not guilty," said Nat. "Maybe you should go to trial. Maybe you should allow yourself a chance."
"David doesn't want to see me," said Val. "Steve's tried, Tom's tried, even Kelly's tried. David hasn't. They were all at the arraignment, but he wasn't."
"As I understand it," said Nat, "young David made the unfortunate choice to steal a police car in the hopes that he would be able to join you in your cell. Instead, he has been forbidden from seeing you. He was there. Kelly hid him from sight, but he was there."
"David tried to get himself arrested?" asked Val. "For me?"
"The boy is ardently in love with you," said Nat. "Surely you can see that."
"But why?" asked Val. "Why, when he knows what I'm capable of?"
"If it is true that you did indeed kill your father, it sounds like to me that you did so to protect your sister," said Nat. "Why wouldn't David love someone who would protect her sister like that?"
"Because he doesn't believe I killed Victor," said Valerie. "He doesn't want to believe it, so he's continued to deny it. But I want to be the one who did. If anyone else killed Victor, I don't want to know. When I killed Victor, I took back the control he ripped away from me. If I didn't kill Victor, I never gained anything back. Why can't David understand that?"
"I wish I could reach through this glass and give you a giant hug," said Nat. "You have to know how loved you are, that every single one of us is pulling for you. That includes Kelly. Sure, she was at that arraignment for David, Brandon, and probably also Brenda, but those weren't the only reasons she was there. You and Kelly have always had a complicated relationship. You know that."
Valerie did know that.
She also knew something else.
Her deepest, darkest, innermost fear that she could never tell Nat, or anyone.
The possibility that neither Valerie, nor Abby, had been the one to kill Victor.
Valerie knew both of her siblings had been home that night.
She knew, because Victor had died before he had made it to Suzie's room.
If there was the tiniest chance Curtis had been the one to pull the trigger, Valerie wasn't going to let her younger brother's life be demolished by the memory of their deceased, monstrous father who had stolen Valerie's virginity and had tried to take her sister's, as well.
Valerie's life, on the other hand, was already demolished.
What did it matter if she did go to prison?
She had been in prison for as long as she could remember, ever since Victor's hands had first dropped below her waist.
Her brother, her sister; neither of them should be there in her place.
They should both have the chance at long, full, happy lives.
If Valerie's innocence was proven, Val thought it inevitable that Abby would target her other children next.
It was a sister's love that kept Valerie in jail, just as a sister's love had tried to coax her out.
"Just tell them to give up, Nat," said Val. "Please. Tell them all that I love them, and I love you, but this is my choice. They have to give up."
Val gestured for the guard to return her to her cell.
"You free?" asked Valerie's cellmate, a girl younger than her who had been arrested for what the girl claimed was false accusations against the girl for the murder of the girl's boyfriend.
At twenty, she was only about Suzie's age, but Valerie figured it was better to not piss her off.
"I'll never be free," said Val.
"Not if you remain in here," said the girl, whose name Valerie hadn't bothered to remember.
"In here, out there," said Val. "What does it matter? As long as I'm alive, I'll never be free from Victor."
"What are you saying?" asked the girl.
"Just that it doesn't matter where I am," said Val. "He still gets to me. He'll always be able to get to me. I'm in prison, literal prison, and he's still in my mind. Still taunting me, still touching me. Still covering my mouth as I try to scream. Still laughing when I struggle. At least I can sleep okay knowing my goddaughter will never have to experience anything I have. Her parents, her grandparents, her entire family would kill anyone who even tried to do that to her."
"Then they'd be in here with us."
"Yeah, they would," said Val.
"I'm gonna get free," said the girl. "You'll see. My name will get cleared, and I'll be outta here. They ain't sending me to no Death Row."
"They might not send anyone there," said Val. "It's been over thirty years since anyone was killed with the death penalty in this state."
"You ain't hoping you'll be one of them, are you?"
Valerie couldn't answer that because she simply did not know.
She knew she wasn't capable of ending her own life. She had tried it once before and when Brandon had come forward to beg her away from the ledge, Valerie's will to jump had slipped away from her.
David had stopped Valerie from any consequences that could have resulted from her sleeping pill and alcohol mixture.
Maybe Valerie was tired of living with the plaguing memory of Victor.
Maybe she wanted the bittersweet release of death, one she had failed to give herself.
No more torturous thoughts. No more demons of the mind. No more depressive episodes that took Valerie up to the Bluffs when she felt at her lowest.
Just no more.
"Abby always did say I'd get the punishment that was coming to me," said Valerie. "Maybe this is it. Maybe this is how I can be free. How I can protect my siblings, and save myself."
"Speak for yourself," said the girl. "I'll break out of this place if they even try to come near me with a needle. No way in hell I'm going down for Ty's death."
Needles.
Johnny.
Valerie's first two tests had shown her to be negative for the HIV diagnosis shouted out by Johnny that evening at the After Dark.
The third test could show a different result.
Death could be coming for Val either way, she thought.
What did it matter how it came, or when?
HIV, the death penalty rarely used, a lifelong prison sentence, mixing alcohol with sleeping pills?
"I just want to be free," she said to no one in particular. "Please let me finally be free."
It wasn't the most comfortable bed, thought Val, but it wasn't the worst one either.
She lay awake, listening to the sounds of the cells around her. All women. No men.
The only men were the guards.
For the first time in her life, Valerie didn't feel the need to defend herself against men her father's age, or turn on the charm with men her own age.
Guard herself against vicious women that had persuaded themselves the world was against them and would defend themselves with whatever means necessary?
She could do that.
She had always done that.
She had to, when Valerie's own mother had turned against her in favor of the man who continued to haunt Val's every waking moment.
Even in a fucking women's prison, he still followed her.
When Valerie closed her eyes, when she allowed her dreams to drift towards David, it didn't make a damn difference.
Victor stood there, watching her, stealing the happiness Valerie wanted to have with David.
The happiness she knew she could never have, with David or without him.
Because, Valerie knew, the only happiness she could have was the kind of happiness that would come when Valerie didn't have to think about anything anymore.
When Victor could no longer infiltrate her dreams, for Valerie would no longer have dreams for her father to infiltrate.
-x
Sources: Google and the websites for Kevin DeLoatch Law, New York Courts, New York Death Penalty Information Center.
(Shout-out to Crystal, Erdbeere1980, KJ to express my continued gratitude and appreciation, as well as those of you whose review I could respond to directly. Crystal, you're right that Dylan's taken about all he can handle. Crystal and KJ, Jim had to see a glimpse of Dylan's maturity, see him as someone other than the teenage boy making out with Brenda on the sofa, as someone other than the drug addict who left Jim's daughter behind, for Jim to even consider that Dylan being in Brenda's life won't necessarily destroy it. Dylan calling Jim to tell him about Brenda seemed the best way to open Jim's eyes to what everyone else has been seeing of Dylan. Erdbeere1980, cannot agree with you more on Val and on DV. They'll always be my endgame, regardless of which path the series took. KJ, Val's absolutely spiraling. Humans can only handle so much.)
Thanks a million! x
