Chapter 2 ~ Isabella
Alexander must be gone by now.
His flight should have taken off, which means he’s not here. The tension around my chest eases slightly and I can breathe a little easier.
My nail still has a ridge on it even though picking at it makes it sting.
I pick the side once more to smooth out the skin, bringing it to my mouth to ease the burn and the copper taste of blood hits my tongue.
Taking my finger out to look at it, I've picked it raw, the skin ripped back torn and bleeding.
I get up and head to the bathroom, opening drawers in search of a bandage.
I finally found one and wrapped my finger around it.
Going back out to the small seating area, I sit on the couch and bring my hair over my shoulder. Lifting my feet to once again rest on the edge of the coffee table, I stare absentmindedly at the flowers, stroking the ends of my hair.
I need to think.
As many times as I go over this morning’s conversation in my head, it always ends up with the same conclusion I came up with this morning.
He has taken everything that ever meant anything to me and I have a feeling he does not intend to give it back. Not like it used to be. I don’t care about my phone. I don’t care about my laptop either. It’s all material things, a distraction.
What crushes my soul is the small things I let past through the walls around my heart to keep and hold safe.
He fooled me into thinking I could keep working with his promise to drive me every morning.
I worked hard for it and dedicated myself to overcoming the obstacles to obtain this position.
In a matter of one phone call, he took that life’s dedication away.
I love Anna and Helen. My heart aches thinking about Helen, especially. He will never again let me go to that bookstore alone. My private time with her is over, as well as with Anna. The sanctuary I once relied on is now gone as of this morning.
I don’t love him, and if I’m honest with myself, I don’t even like him much. He is a beautiful man like his father. However, beauty is nothing when cruelty comes with the shining package.
The chills he gave me as he touched and caressed me. Well? That’s just the body responding to the affection I’ve never received or experienced before. It’s not genuine fondness, the lasting kind that grows into love and commitment.
I’m not a stupid woman. I can see the life ahead of me and only I can change the path they have laid out for me. When all your options are taken away from you, when you’re left with only one choice for freedom, I’d be stupid not to take it.
I agonize over the choice of going through with the marriage. I could end this right now. Stop it before it even starts.
Why haven’t I is the question?
What’s stopping me from taking the choice away from all of them?
I stroke my hair and the guilt washes over me every time that pathway crosses my mind.
I’m not them. I will never be like them.
That’s something they would do. A last fuck you, as Anna would call it. I don’t play games with people’s hearts. I’m honest enough with myself to know I could never do this with malicious intent towards others, to hurt them as they have hurt me. This is for me and me alone.
A knock at the door has me moving to open it. Sasha hands me my tray of lunch, grabbing the breakfast tray off the table as she leaves. Setting it on the coffee table, lifting the silver lid, taking the plate with me to the window seat. I settle in, opening the window and looking out over the yard.
I take a bite of chicken and chew. It tastes like dust in my mouth, but I need some food in order to keep up my strength. I sigh as I watch the birds dive in and out of the cedar trees. The sun is out, and the breeze is warm.
Looking out over the beautiful yard once again I put another fork of chicken in my mouth and chew. Maybe tomorrow I can go sit in the garden. Alexander has a library; who knows I might find a good book there.
I want to take in all the small pleasures in life while I can.
Taking my empty plate to the tray on the coffee table, I pick it up and place it on the side table by the door for Sasha.
Looking around the room there is not much to do. There is no remote for the TV, the desk has a few sheets of paper and a pen, and there isn't even a clock on the wall so without my phone, I don't even know what time it is.
I huff out a breath and go back to the couch and sit down, bringing my hair over my shoulder and stroking the ends, tilting my head and studying the flowers. A leaf falls off, my gaze follows it as it makes a small tick sound as it lands on the coffee table.
Reaching over to pick it up, inspecting the dry and curled edges. I examine the leaf again, rubbing the dusty green between my fingers. The dying flower arrangement reminds me of an hourglass.
Each petal that falls slowly ticks off the minutes until the vitality and beauty of each stem have run their course, reminding me that nothing, especially beautiful things, ever lasts.
The door of-the-art room is open, and my art supply boxes are piled haphazardly in one corner. Getting up I sit on the floor and dig through the boxes, finding the bowl I made in a pottery class that I took at university.
I take it back to the coffee table and drop the drying leaf inside, collecting another pedal that fell off and placing it in the bowl beside the leaf. This bowl will be my hourglass, my way of collecting all the falling pieces of myself that they have slowly stripped away.
Hours pass and I sit, watching and collecting falling petals. Sasha comes and goes, replacing the lunch tray with the dinner tray. I eat at my window; take the empty tray back to the table by the door.
The sun has set, and it is late in the evening. Taking out my bunny pajamas, I go into the bathroom and run a bath. I pour a handful of lavender bath salts into the hot water. I inhale the scent and take off my clothes, tossing them in the laundry hamper.
I step in and the heat burns my cold feet. I settle back in the tub and close my eyes. Enjoy every second of this bathroom, Izzy.
I soak in the fragrant water until it becomes too cold. As I get out, I towel myself off before slipping into my favorite jammies. Towel-drying my hair, I put it in a braid for the night, then brushed my teeth and turned off the light in the bathroom.
A cold chill runs up my back when I look across the room at my bed.
I can’t sleep there, not tonight. It’s too soon to smell him on the sheets, lay in the same spot where he touched me and kissed me like I meant something to him.
Walking over to the bed, grabbing a pillow and the pink fur blanket I rip it off dragging it behind me as I cross the room to my art studio. Flipping on the light, I drop my bedding in the middle of the room and walk over to my paintings that are stacked up against the far wall.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor I take my art pieces one at a time as I shimmy my butt as I go and line each canvas resting on the floor around the perimeter of the room.
A sense of peace settles in my chest when I sit back.
I reach for another box and dig out my nightlight.
I move a small painting over and plug it in.
I gather up my bedding and make a makeshift sleeping bag. I turn off the light and snuggle in. The soft glow illuminates the beauty of the world only I know, and it comforts me.
When morning arrives, I roll onto my side, and my back is stiff, but for the first time in a long time, I slept peacefully.
Slowly opening my eyes, and adjusting to the morning light, my English garden, with the bench and the giant purple flowers, is the first thing I see.
Crawling over to stroke the trees with my fingertip, the butterflies that flutter above the pond.
My heart sings, home.
Folding up my bed, I put it on top of the boxes and I make my way over to my suitcases and take out my jeans and my fuzzy pink sweater.
Today his mother comes to go over our schedule for the wedding.
Yesterday I was terrified. Today, I have a sense of stillness that has replaced the terror; one I’ve never felt before.
Flipping on the bathroom light, I get dressed and brush out my hair and it falls in waves around me, my ever-present shield from the world. I put a bit of mousse in it to keep it from fuzzing out all over.
Sitting on the couch I sit there and wait.
I don’t know if I’m supposed to eat breakfast in my room or leave the bedroom and go to the dining room to meet his mother.
No one told me what to do, so I wait. Reaching over I pick up the few petals that fell off during the night and put them in the bowl.
I don’t know how long I sat there waiting, but three more leaves have fallen off in that amount of time. Sasha comes in and tells me to follow her. We head down the hall towards the stairs. I hear my mother’s voice and then Rebekah’s. I guess we are having breakfast together.
I reach the top landing and his mother turns from the trio and smiles up at me.
“There she is! Oh, look at you, so beautiful.” She rushes to the bottom of the stairs as I met her. She kisses my cheeks.
Neither my mother nor my sister has even approached me to say hello since I came down the stairs. But I expected that in a way. I mean nothing to them but a means to an end.
“Come.” She links her arm through mine; “We need food in order to spend all my son’s money.” She snickers and pulls me closer.
My heart drops slightly, and guilt follows. She is so kind; she does not deserve what I’m about to do. But then again, I have no choice.
My mother and sister follow, and we take our seats at the table. I look at Alexander’s chair and my chest gets tight. No one takes his seat, and I’m thankful.