Chapter 34 #3
"I tried, but then Marina told me it would be a good opportunity. She thinks like they do. She thinks that since we're going to have a child together, this would be a good opportunity for our son-to-be to eventually take over as head of the family."
"Wait… Marina told you to take the role?"
"Yeah. Don't tell anyone that, though, especially not Dad. It apparently makes me look weak to have done something simply because my future wife wanted it."
"Ah. Let me guess—Marina told you that as well."
He doesn't answer, but the look on his face is enough. "Look, I didn't leak that article to the newspapers, I swear it, but if you want, I can help you find out who did."
At that moment my phone buzzes, interrupting us. I open it expecting a message from Jenna, but it's from an unknown number.
I want you and you want me.
"What the fuck?" I mutter.
"What?"
I shake my head and tuck the phone away. "Weird message. Anyway, you were saying?"
"I said I can help you find out who hired those reporters to write the hit piece."
I narrow my eyes, wondering if I can really trust him. "They said it was a woman," I tell him.
"Did you ask for the number of the person who called them?"
"Not yet."
"Hmm."
While George thinks, something clicks in my head.
The weird text I just got is almost the same phrase Marina used in my office. She's tried to show up at my workplace a few more times to get my attention, but I haven't let her in. The last time she tried, I told her I would tell George.
Is this latest text from Marina? She could easily have changed her number since we were together. In fact, she probably has, after all, she's been away in Europe and only recently came back. It fits the pattern.
Maybe I should tell George. For all that we're not that close, he's still my brother, and I don't want him to be tied up with someone like that. On the other hand, they have a kid on the way, which complicates everything even more.
Christ. This is going to be a shitshow.
"That's an interesting little pocket square," he says, and I glance down at the yellow fabric Jenna picked out for me. I smile.
"I know. Jenna picked it." Pride flickers. "Unlike you, I don't mind looking weak because my fiancée says so."
He snorts. "You really love her, don't you?"
"Yeah."
"Well, I think she's good for you, and I'm pleased for you," he says, pushing his hands into his pockets. "I spoke to Dad, by the way, and we agreed you should return as CEO."
"Not sure I want that anymore."
"I get that, but if you do want it, at any time, I'll gladly step aside."
I raise an eyebrow. "What about Marina?"
His shoulders droop. "She'll just have to deal with it, I guess."
"Where is she anyway? Is she coming?"
"No. She said she wasn't feeling well. She wanted to stay in bed."
"I see." Discomfort pushes through my skin. "George, is this Marina's cellphone number?" I show him the number this last message came from.
He nods. "Yeah, that's her number. Why? What of it?"
I have to tell him. "Look, this is awkward…
but there's something I feel I should tell you about Marina.
She came to see me the other day—actually more than once—and she was…
well, let's just say she indicated things that would make me uncomfortable if I were you.
Then just now I got this text from her cellphone. " I scroll down to show him the text:
I want you and you want me.
"Yeah." He doesn't even look shocked or ask me to clarify.
He just looks tired. "Yeah, I know. She's been off her meds for some time and not going to her therapy sessions, and I didn't know.
I noticed her behaviour was odd at that last dinner and I challenged her about it and we rowed, but in the end she confessed. "
"Wait—what meds? What therapy?"
"You know, the usual."
The usual? "I have no clue what you're talking about."
Surprise spreads across his face. "Her Prozac to control the anxiety, and I think the therapy sessions are called Dialectical Behaviour Therapy—something like that, anyway. You know… to manage her BPD."
"Her what?"
"Her borderline personality disorder. Wait—you didn't know she has BPD?"
I shake my head, my eyes wide in shock.
He whistles softly. "Well, she did mention she had difficulty sharing things like that, but I didn't think that meant she never told you."
"So she's…? Wait a minute—aren't people with BPD meant to be emotionally unstable?"
"Yes, among other things. They tend to have a distorted view of themselves and their relationships.
They find it hard to relate and struggle to control negative emotions—fear, anxiety, anger—that sort of thing.
" His weariness grows as he talks. "It's gotten worse since her pregnancy.
Now she has these obsessive delusions about the baby and about the importance of our family status, and sometimes about…
" He trails off, unwilling to finish the sentence.
"About me?" I ask, and he nods.
"I recognized the pattern because I had a friend in college who was the same way.
One day I was at your place and you had to go out, and after a few drinks, I plucked up the courage to ask her about it, and she just burst out crying and told me everything.
I think it was a catharsis for her. Someone she could finally talk to, after holding it in for so long, with no one knowing but her doctor.
That's how we bonded at first. You really didn't know? "
I shake my head again. "No. I never knew." Damn—how blind had I been in that relationship? I know I'm not a saint, but I was a terrible boyfriend. I almost don't blame Marina for what she did.
"I think it's the baby stressing her out," George concludes. "She's usually okay if she keeps up her meds. I'm sure she'll be back to herself once she gives birth and things settle down."
Just then, my cellphone starts ringing. I look at the screen. Alvaro. Weird—what does he want?
"Hold on," I tell George before I answer. "Hello?"
"Hello, Mr. Wolfe. I'm really sorry to interrupt, sir, but you did say to call if anything happened."
"Yes?"
"Well, sir, that Ms. Marina that used to be your fiancée was just here, and she asked me to let her in to talk to Ms. Jenna. Of course, I said no, just like you told me to, sir. She kinda went a little mental when I refused. She was acting… well… very strange, sir."
What a fucking coincidence.
"I see," I say, and a bad feeling forms in my chest. "Is Jenna still there?"
"I believe so, sir. Her car is in the lot."
"Okay, if Marina comes back, don't let her in. In fact, don't let anyone in except Jenna or me. I'm coming right over."