“Yes, it's—it's me.”
“Almost there. Where are you sitting?”
“It's a… small place. You'll see me straight away.”
He doesn't ask if I'm okay. He doesn't say,Thank god you're safe, or really, anything at all.
“Alright. Are you going to tell me why you left?”
I open my mouth to tell him the truth, but I can’t. Instead, what comes out is, “I'm sorry. I just needed some space.”
I don't know why I lie.
Maybe I don't want to see Marcus go after Ashland. Maybe I don't want a war on our hands, because that's exactly what it would be. Maybe I don't want to see Ashland get hurt.
I'm truly losing my mind.
“I've been worried sick,” he says, but it sounds like something rehearsed. “Your mother's been frantic.”
Is he reading from a script?
“Well, I'm back now.” Why do I sound so listless?
“Listen, I have an important dinner tomorrow night. Will you be able to pull yourself together appropriately? Will you attend, or do I need to tell people that you're unwell again?”
Unwell.
The word hangs there between us. Is that what he thought?
“I’ll be… fine.”
He didn't ask if I'm hurt. He didn't offer to come get me immediately. He's worried about how I look… for dinner.
“No, I'm fine. I just needed sometime.”
I can hear him audibly sigh. “I don't understand what this tantrum was about, Bianca.”
Tantrum?
What the hell is he talking about?
The contrast between him and Ashland slaps me like a hand across my face.
Ashland:Did he hurt you? Did he touch you?
Marcus asks me if I canpull myself together.
Ashland knew how I took my coffee.
Marcus doesn't even know my middle name.
“I’ll be there soon. We have things to discuss.” Something about the way he says it makes my stomach tighten.
“Alright. I'll be here.”
“Good. Now sit tight and call your mother.”
He hangs up on that somber note.
