Eighteen
Cole
Days went by. The doctor came by multiple times a day and not only checked Trina’s wrapping and swelling but also maintained her pain medicine and helped her in the bathroom. For as much as I wanted to be the one shouldering the weight of that activity, Sheila made it known Trina didn’t want my help.
Not that it was a surprise. I brought her food, asked her if she wanted to sit outside and get some fresh air. I tried to make conversation. She ate—barely—and she kept silent.
The bell never rang.
Dr. McElroy tried to encourage me, telling me I needed to give it time. She needed help. Therapy. Sheila was working on a list of doctors and trying to find some who would do virtual appointments, but Trina hadn’t yet agreed to any of it, and we couldn’t make her.
The only time I saw barely a hint of happiness was when Valerie called, and I handed my cell phone to Trina. That conversation lasted over a half an hour, and through my stalking and pacing on the other side of the bedroom door in the guise of giving her full privacy, I’d heard more than one soft laugh. Her voice was dry and scratchy from lack of use and pain, but even then, that laugh had been exhilarating.
After the call ended, and I went to grab my phone back, I got a mumbled thank you in response, and while her gaze held no emotion, her eyes seemed to be softer.
I took it as a win, as pathetic as it was.
When I left to get some work done and spend time with my girls, Mom and Dad came over. Even though Valerie had a bag stocked full of comfortable clothes for Trina on the plane before we headed back to Deer Creek, Mom had also gone out and bought a bunch of lounge sets and soft pajamas for Trina. She kept cooking and baking up a storm, but considering how Trina had treated me, Mom didn’t head downstairs. They were just there in case she rang the bell, in case she ever gave any indication she wanted help from us.
By day five, Marie wasn’t thrilled Trina was in no shape to leave my house, and we’d made a short-term decision about the girls. They’d stay with Marie another week for her week of time with them, but after…
Well, after another week and a half, there’d be explaining to do.
Trina’s leg brace wasn’t required unless she moved around too much and it caused her pain. As painful as it was listening to her fumbling around, I tried my best to stay back and respect her wishes. I heard the water run when she was showering and using the bathroom, and by day seven, I decided she’d had enough silence and seclusion.
Nothing good could be going on in her head with all the noise she had to carry, and not only was she fine to move around, it’d be good for her.
The sky was bright blue, the temps were going to hit the low sixties so I decided that when I took Trina’s breakfast down to her that we were getting out of the house.
I’d carry her myself if I needed to.
A quick knock on her door got me a quiet, “Come in,”
and when I entered, I was surprised as hell to see her.
She wasn’t in bed like she’d been. Her hair was wet and air-drying even though she had a hair dryer she could use, and she wasn’t lying there, doing nothing but staring at the window.
Instead, she was using her bed as a stabilizer and doing elevated push-ups on them.
“What are you doing? Your ribs.”
I caught myself and the bark in my voice and scaled it back. “I brought you breakfast.”
Trina stared straight ahead, down slowly, up slowly.
“Get tired of laying down?”
“Need to stay in shape.”
The hell she did. And she definitely didn’t need to do it now. “You can relax, Trina. Take your time…you don’t have to?—”
“When Jonathan comes to get me, it’ll be worse if I’ve let myself go.”
She spoke like a robot, cold and plastic, and I hated everything about it. About the thoughts she had.
I knew she hadn’t been alone down here, planning a new vibrant future, with the entire world at her fingertips.
No, she’d been down here thinking of Jonathan’s retribution.
“The hell he will.”
I gripped the serving tray harder and set it down on her bed. “He’s not coming here, and you’re sure as hell not going back to him.”
She scoffed, like I was the fool. “Of course he’ll come here. Don’t be naive.”
Okay. So maybe he would. “Even if he does, he won’t get to you. I’ll never let him lay a hand on you again. You’re safe here. I swear it.”
She speared me with a glare, and there was nothing kind of shimmery or hopeful in that look. It was so dark, so ugly, I sucked in a breath. “I think I’ve believed enough promises that have been broken. I know who Jonathan is, and if you think he’ll just happily be okay with his wife going missing, you’re an idiot. Besides, I didn’t ask for this.”
All the breath fled my lungs and my brain.
Did she…was she mad at us for getting her away from him? Did she want to go back?
Trina turned back, all that long blond hair of hers fell over her shoulder blocking my view of her face. She did two more push-ups which I was certain she did to make her point and then climbed back into bed. Tray situated on her lap, she shoved the bacon to the side and began using the side of her fork to separate the egg whites from the yolks on her fried eggs.
I was still frozen, trying to understand and yet it was beyond my capability. As the words clawed up my throat to ask her what she meant, I choked them down.
“I’d like to take you somewhere today,”
I said instead.
She blinked at me. “No.”
“It’d be good for you to get out. I’m not saying go walk around in public, but I’d like to take you for a drive. See something outside these walls.”
“Is this a trick?”
“No.”
I shook my head and took a step back closer to the doorway. I’d like to tell her I’d throw her over my shoulder and haul her out there if I had to but had to remember what she’d been through. A joke right now about doing something against her will would be the least respectful thing I could say, no matter how badly I wanted to make her. “Choice is yours, but be warned…I’ll keep pestering you every day until you agree.”
Trina bit into a piece of toast and chewed. The bite was the size of something a mouse would eat and yet she chewed on it like she’d shoved the whole piece into her mouth. I should probably stop giving her bread and bacon altogether. All she usually ate were the egg whites, anyway.
“A car ride.”
She stated it like fact, and I nodded.
“Thirty minutes. No tricks.”
“And then you’ll leave me alone for the rest of the day?”
Goodness. We were bartering like I was making her doing something painful—like try oysters—and I’d never forget the expression she made, or the color she turned, when she finally did. But hell, maybe this was how she survived.
I really needed to see if she’d called any of the therapists yet. Doubted that too, but it was the reminder of how hurt she’d been that had me keep my tone light.
“Sure.”
I’d try, anyway.
“Okay then.”
She speared the last bite of egg whites with her fork and set that back on her tray. “I’m done now.”
Two egg whites. A nibble, if it could be considered that, of plain toast. No bacon. This wasn’t a meal, and there was no way she could be full.
“Fine.”
I moved toward her, caught the tightening of her arms as I reached across her and grabbed the tray, and picked it up. She did that every time I came close. Was it because she thought I was some threat? Or was it habit? Either way, every one of these small reminders were stark realizations she wasn’t the same vibrant, adventure-seeking girl I used to know.
I needed to tread carefully, and that sucked when I’d spent the rest of my life bulldozing through everything else I wanted.
“We’ll leave in an hour. Is that okay?”
“It’s fine.”
Trina wasn’t looking at me, not surprising. She rarely did. She was looking at the blank television screen. As far as I knew, she hadn’t yet turned it on even though the remote was on her nightstand. She just stared at the black television screen all day.
Maybe the exercise she was doing was at least something good for her. Or would have been, had it not been cloaked with the thoughts that Jonathan would come back and beat the shit out of her again.
“Okay then.”
I headed out of her room, up the stairs, and to the kitchen. As much as I wanted to take out my anger and frustration on my plates and slam them into the dishwasher, I didn’t want to alarm her, so I stayed quiet, grabbed my phone and went out to the back deck where I stood, staring off into trees and did nothing until my temper cooled.