He’s breathing hard, his cool, calm, collected veneer gone. For once, he sounds like a real person.
The wild energy rushes from me like air from a popped balloon. I’d forgotten it can be like that. Usually, I’d wear myself out, but sometimes a circuit breaker gets tripped in my head.
The garbage disposal whines. The pitch is too high. I think it’s broken.
“I told you to shut up,” I mumble although I can’t remember whether I did or not. I’m in bad trouble. I’ve gone over the edge again, and he knows, and there’s no one who can help me. Mrs. Flowers is gone. She gave me a clean slate, and I’ve ruined it.
He did this. He shoved me down a slippery slide.
I’m shaking so hard my teeth are chattering. I will myself to stop, but it’s too late. I’m not in control of my body anymore.
“Cora,” Adrian says, gentler. Confused. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” He eases his hold enough that I’m able to take a full breath and tentatively begins to rock me side to side. He held me like this in childbirth class, me between his legs, his arms roped comfortingly around me. I’d basked in it, letting my head fall back to rest in the crook of his neck. I’d felt like the luckiest person who ever lived.
“It’s okay now,” he murmurs again.
It’s not. Tears stream down my face, dripping onto the forearm squishing my chest. The pressure on my breasts hurts. I haven’t fed Winnie or pumped since she went down for her nap.
I need to stop crying, pull it together, and think of an excuse for what I’ve done. He can’t know that I’m crazy. He’ll take my babies from me. Send me away. Have me locked up.Visitation conducted under the supervision of Mr. Maddox or his designee.The tears fall harder, choking me.
“Shhh,” he says, turning me, pressing my face to his chest, wrapping me in his arms. “It’s okay. No permanent damage done.”
Such a lie.
I sob, and he strokes my hair, and I let him because I’m scared, and he’s here, and he’s being kind at the moment,and my enemies have always been the people closest to me, the ones who comfort and hold me after they’ve torn me apart.
“Mr. Maddox?” Minh calls from the doorway. I immediately freeze and clutch Adrian’s arm.
“Don’t let him see me,” I hopelessly hiss. Of course, Adrian will send him for help. Tell him to call Dr. Farhadi or something. No one keeps your secrets when you fall apart. They pass you off to someone who gets paid to deal with the hassle and then dust their hands.
“Is there something I can do, Mr. Maddox?” Minh sounds closer. I stiffen.
“Shit,” Adrian mutters and gently but firmly pushes me forward so he can stand. “Stay down.”
He rises to his feet, and I stay down like he says, hidden by the island, huddled on the floor. I haven’t felt this low since I left Baltimore.
“Nothing of any concern,” Adrian says in his businessman voice. “Just a little kitchen accident. I seem to have broken the garbage disposal. If you would call the repairman?”
“Of course, Mr. Maddox. I’ll take a look at it first. I might be able to fix it myself.”
“No need. If you would just call the repairman and then order dinner for tonight. Thai would be good.”
“Yes, sir. Shall I order for eight thirty?”
“Six o’clock, please. The girls will be eating with us.”
“Yes, sir. Are you sure that—”
“That will be all.”
“Of course.” Minh’s steps retreat.
I hook my fingers in the edge of a closed drawer and pull myself up. I’m still shaking and numb, but I’m not going to cower at Adrian’s feet like a beat dog for a second longer.
Adrian stares in the direction where Minh disappeared.His jaw is clenched tight. He doesn’t look at me when he asks, “What was that, Cora?”
Depends on which doctor you ask. Borderline Personality Disorder. Intermittent Explosive Disorder. Complex PTSD. The doctors at Bellamy Cross had their theories, the doctor at Villa Theresa had her own.
Mrs. Flowers said acting crazy in a crazy situation is the sanest thing a person can do.
