6. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
Larken
What if I had a nervous breakdown, or some kind of breakdown, after I lost Dad? What if I really am as crazy as they're trying to convince me I am? It's the only logical explanation for all my symptoms. Maybe I actually have seen a doctor but I just don't remember it? I'm not sure, but breakdown symptoms or not, I recognize that I'm being isolated. And Adrian has stopped treating me like his wife almost completely, he treats me more like a troubled child. I've been thinking back on our entire relationship during my lucid moments to see if he's always treated me like this and I was too in love with him to see it. Surely someone would have recognized it and told me, wouldn't they? Did they, and I brushed it off because it didn't match up with the idea of him I had in my head?
Wait.
Someone did notice something was off.
Regan. And Conner. They noticed something was off. Regan even joked about it every time I mentioned us doing something as couples or I invited her over to watch a movie with me. She never said anything outright, but she wouldn't come over if Adrian was home, and we never did anything as couples after that first time.
I need to talk to her.
I need my phone.
I need to find it. It's somewhere in the house. It has to be. I'm going to find it and call Regan. I've been awake for days, though. I don't know how many. The pills Adrian gives me to help me sleep aren't helping anymore. I'm even more exhausted than I usually am, but if I can manage to find my phone I can call Regan and she'll help me get to a doctor. But I'll have to get around Anne to do it. And the security camera.
My bedroom door opens and Anne walks in. She sees that I'm awake and gives me a tight-lipped smile. “Good morning, Mrs. Nash. Are you ready for me to help you get ready for the day?”
I blink at her and respond without returning her smile. “I am ready for the day. I'm already dressed.”
“This is good,” she chirps. “I've brought your morning medication. As soon as you take it I'll bring up your breakfast.”
“I'd like to have breakfast in the dining room this morning, Anne. I feel strong this morning. I think I can make it down the stairs.”
Her smile drops. “By yourself?”
I shake my head slowly to avoid any dizziness. “No. You'll have to help me. I think it would be very good for me to get out of this room for a while. I can stay downstairs all day today. If I get tired I can rest on the couch. Adrian can help me back upstairs when he gets home.”
Anne's eyes harden, but she smiles at me again. “Alright. I'll help you downstairs. Here's your medicine. Do you need another drink?”
I turn my head to look at my glass on the nightstand. There is only about an inch of water in the bottom of the glass, but that's enough to swallow the handful of pills she has in that little plastic cup. The sooner I can get out of this room, the sooner I can show them that I'm not helpless. And maybe I can find my phone. “No, I think I've got enough to take it.”
I hold out my hand for the cup but she hesitates. “You barely have a drink. I'll get you some fresh water and be right back.” She walks around the bed and puts the little cup down when she picks up the glass. She looks at me and then the window before she goes to get the refill.
I've asked both Adrian and Anne what the medications are and they've told me. I've never had reason not to trust Adrian, but I've never seen the bottles and I usually don't have time to really look at it before I'm being rushed to just swallow it. I reach over and pick up the cup. One is definitely some kind of multivitamin. One looks like the supplement gel caps that Adrian takes every morning, heavy on the Vitamin B. One looks like the anti-anxiety medication I've been taking for months. And the other two could be pain relievers but they have numbers on them and I can't remember if pain relief tablets have numbers. I'm not sure if that's something I ever paid attention to before, I just took them straight from the bottle whenever I had a headache.
Anne comes back in and stops when she sees me inspecting the medication. “Is everything alright, Mrs. Nash?”
I nod, dropping the tablets back into the cup. “I was just looking at what I'm taking. Are these pain relievers?”
She glances at the cup, then at the window, then back at me. “Yes. To offset your headaches.”
I don't get headaches. I haven't complained about a headache in so long I can't remember the last one I had. “Okay.”
I tip the pills into my mouth and reach for the water Anne's holding out for me. I hold her gaze while I swallow them and put the glass back on the nightstand, not missing the moment her eyes flick back at the window. I slide my legs over the side of the bed and slowly get to my feet. Despite my unsteadiness, I feel like I could walk to the stairs right now, maybe even down them.
Anne grips my elbow when I take the first step. “Be careful, Mrs. Nash. We can't have you falling.”
I turn my head to speak to her, but whether it's to thank her or to tell her I'm fine is lost the moment she bumps me with her hip. I was ready to call it an accident, but then she does it again and loosens her hold on my arm. I fall to the ground and when I look back up at Anne she's looking at the window again.
“Do you think he saw you push me this time?”
She whips her head to smile down at me. “I don't know what you're talking about. You know how dizzy you are all the time. You just slipped out of my hands. Here, I'll help you up and then we'll get you downstairs.”
If I let her “help” me down the stairs she's going to push me down them. I know it. I can feel it. My gut is screaming at me to get as far away from her as I can, but I can't because the clarity I was feeling just a few minutes ago is quickly dissipating and being replaced with the harsh spinning dullness that claims me so often.
No. I don't think I can let Anne throw me down the stairs today. Maybe I'll feel more up to it tomorrow. “On second thought, I think I'd rather stay in bed after all.”
“Are you sure, Mrs. Nash? It's no trouble to help you down the stairs.”
I give her a flat look. “I'm sure it isn't, but I'm suddenly not feeling well. I'm going to stay near my bed today, Anne.”
“Do you need me to help you get settled?”
I shake my head and start inching and climbing my way back up onto the bed. “I've got it.”
She waits until I'm sitting on the side of the bed and then starts walking to the door. “Alright. I'll just go downstairs and fetch your breakfast.”
Sighing, I scoot back until my back is resting against the pillows piled against the headboard. I look down at my legs and frown. I used to go to the gym. I used to go for runs. Now, just walking around my bedroom is exhausting. I have to see a doctor. I cannot allow my muscles to atrophy. I can't. But I'm just so tired. I'm going to talk to Adrian again. Maybe if I don't get upset he'll be more willing to listen. About the doctor and about Anne.
“I hope you're alright with oatmeal and a strawberry smoothie,” Anne says as she comes back into the room with a tray.
I am not alright with oatmeal and I hate strawberries, but it's either that or be hungry until Adrian gets home. What's worse, is that she knows I don't like either of those things, but she still gives me both at least twice a week. I don't know what she does to the smoothie but it tastes, I don't know, stale. I get a smoothie every single day and she says she uses fresh fruit in them, but even the ones that have fruit that I actually like taste kind of freezer-burnt. I've told Adrian about it, but he brushed it off.
I've also told him that she basically forces me to eat foods that I hate and he brushed that off, saying that she's just doing her best to take care of me. I reminded him that we hired her to do a job and she should base my foods around my likes. He said he'd talk to her, but I'm still drinking stale smoothies and eating oatmeal.
“I guess I'll have to be, right?” I say flatly, my lip wrinkling in distaste.
Anne arranges the tray on the bed next to me and smiles. “I'm just trying to keep you healthy, Mrs. Nash. Try to eat the oatmeal before it goes cold.”
I'm going to let it sit on the tray and turn to chunky, gray paste. I can drink the smoothie quickly and get it over with, but the oatmeal requires mastication and I'm not wasting energy on it.
When Adrian comes home, I try to talk to him about Anne but he seems impatient and distracted.
“Larken, can you just drop it already? I'm not going to hire someone who's going to come in here and push you around and feed you bad food. That's ridiculous. I'll put in another call to the doctor in the morning. Other than stressing yourself out and being paranoid, how was your day?”
“Fine.”
“Good, good,” he says, reaching into his bag for the leather-bound folder I've grown to resent. My Dad's company, my company, is being controlled by a folder and a pen. “I've got some papers for you to look over if you're feeling up to it.”
This is something I've been thinking about for a while. I'm less unstable and more lucid in the mornings and that's when I need to try to read over the things that Adrian brings home. “I'll look over them in the morning. I'm feeling pretty tired right now.”
I start to rest back against the pillows but Adrian stops me with a hand on my wrist. “If you could go ahead and look over them, I'd appreciate it.”
“Tomorrow is Friday, isn't it?”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “Yes.”
“You only used to bring paperwork home on Friday.”
His lips curve into a full smile. “I just like to get some things set into motion before the weekend gets going, that's all. Less to deal with on Monday.”
I don't return his smile. “I don't feel up to looking over them tonight, babe,” I counter, using the pet name that used to be a term of endearment. “Just leave the folder here on the nightstand. I'll look over them in the morning. How was your day?”
“Just look them over, Larken. It's only a few contracts and one payroll addition. It will only take a few minutes.”
I sigh and close my eyes, resting my head against the headboard to emphasize my lack of energy. “I need to know what I'm signing, Adrian. My vision is blurry and I feel dizzy. I don't feel like this is a sound way to sign off on decisions. I'll feel better in the morning after I've had some rest.”
His lips tighten, no longer smiling. “Anne said you were difficult today.”
“I'm not being difficult,” I say. “I'm being responsible. I don't know what half of the papers are that you shove in my face. I'm just blindly trusting you to tell me what they are. It's irresponsible, Adrian. I'll read over the paperwork in the morning and sign what needs to be signed.”
“Fine,” he clips. “Are you hungry?”
I actually am. Usually I just eat whatever they bring me because I'm so tired and disoriented that it doesn't matter, but tonight I am legitimately hungry. “I am. Do you want to order take-out? We could get pizza delivered?”
I can feel him staring at me but I don't open my eyes to see what expression might be on his face. I'm tired of seeing pity and impatience written there. After a long minute, he sighs. “I was planning to make a soup. Tomato bisque with Parmesan and black pepper. Salad and rolls. Does that sound alright? I can pick up a pizza on the way home tomorrow.”
Tomato bisque is my favorite, and after a day of nothing but cold oatmeal and smoothies, I'll be happy to eat it. “That sounds better than pizza. Thank you, Adrian.” I smile, still keeping my eyes closed. “How was your day?” I ask again.
“Productive,” he answers. “I'll go get dinner together and bring yours up.”
“You could eat with me,” I suggest. “It could be like when we were dating and had movie marathons in bed.”
“I'll need the table. I need to look over some things for one of my projects. I'll stay with you for a while, though.”
Then he leaves and I open my eyes again, immediately looking over at the window. I miss Adrian, the version of him from before my Dad passed. I miss going on dates. I miss him bringing me flowers. I miss his jokes. I miss his affection.
I miss sex.
It's been so long that I might as well start looking into convents. He hasn't touched me in a way that wasn't clinical since I've been unwell. I didn't think he had an aversion to sickness, but maybe he does. It isn't like I'm dirty or unkempt or anything like that. Anne makes sure of it. I just need so badly to figure out what's wrong with me so that I can fix it. I want my life back.
Adrian comes back a while later with my soup and my mouth waters. “That smells so good, Adrian. Thank you for making it.”
“Of course, babe,” he says, putting the tray on the nightstand. “It's your favorite.”
He sits down on the foot of the bed and turns on the TV, quickly finding a football game with guys in bright blue shirts lining up against guys in brighter yellow shirts. Watching them run around the field makes me dizzy so I look at my dinner instead. It's beautiful. It looks like the pictures you see on food blogs. I can complain about plenty of things as far as Adrian goes, but I'll never complain about his kitchen skills. I pick up a roll and tear a chunk off the end and stir the melting Parmesan into the soup, then groan in appreciation after I put it into my mouth. “This is amazing,” I sigh.
He looks back at me and winks, then goes back to his game. “Pro ball will start in a few weeks. Maybe you'll feel up to going to a few with me.”
I nod. “I'd like that.” I'd like anything outside of this room. And if he's trying to take me to football games with him then he'll have to get me to a doctor.
After a while, he rises and tucks my hair behind my ear. “I'm going to finish up a few things downstairs. Do you want the TV left on?”
I shake my head and answer around my last bite of roll. “I have a hard time watching the screen. It makes me dizzy.” I used to enjoy listening to movies or shows, but stopped trying after it became too difficult for me to keep up with the plots.
He nods and turns it off, smiling at me before he goes back downstairs.
I finish every drop of soup and every leaf of lettuce on the tray and am happily full when I lay back against the pillows. Maybe everything will be alright if he's planning to take me to football games. Maybe things aren't as awful as I think they are, even with Anne. It's possible that my frustration and misery is causing me to imagine things.
I turn my head to look at the folder Adrian left on his nightstand. I could look over the papers tonight. It wouldn't take that long. I lean across the bed as far as I can and grab it, dragging it across the comforter and into my lap. It feels so much heavier than it should be. Adrian was right, there really are only a few things inside.
The first thing I pull out is the new payroll document for a new lobby attendant. Not quite a secretary, but more than a door opener. Roger Bellmont, with a starting salary of... No, that can't be right. I blink my eyes hard a few times and then look back down at the page. No, I didn't misread. That is far too much for a starting pay rate. Maybe I'm misunderstanding the position. I read over it again, much more carefully, scowling when the letters on the page start to blur together.
“Adrian!” I call. “Can you come up here for just a minute, please?”
He walks through the door drying his hands and smiling when he sees the folder open on my lap. “What's the matter?”
“Do you mind reading this to me aloud? I started working on it because I felt better after eating something, but things are getting muddled again.”
“Sure thing, babe.”
Then he starts reading aloud and after a few minutes his words start blurring together, too. This isn't going to work. “Wait,” I say, trying to lift my hand and failing. “I can't. It has to wait till morning.”
I don't remember much else after that, but when I wake up the next morning the folder is gone.
“Rise and shine, Mrs. Nash,” Anne chirps as she comes into my bedroom. She's wearing a top that clashes so harshly with her pants that I don't want to look at her. “I've brought you some tea and your smoothie. Mr. Nash said you weren't feeling well last night and I thought a light breakfast would be best.”
“What kind of smoothie is it?” I croak.
“Mango and banana.”
At least it isn't strawberry.
“Here's your medicine.” She hands me the little plastic cup. “Do you need more water?”
“Probably,” I say, my voice still rough.
She picks up my water glass and leaves to fill it while I look down at the pills in the cup and sigh.
She returns with a fresh glass of water and stands in front of me until I swallow the pills. “Now drink your smoothie before the vitamins make you nauseous.”
I remind myself that I'm glad it isn't strawberry and put the straw into my mouth. After I take a few sips, I put the smoothie down and glance back over at the nightstand on Adrian's side of the bed, my eyes wrinkling in renewed confusion. “Have you been in here this morning before now?”
“No,” she answers. “I only came in when it was time for you to wake up. Why? What's wrong?”
“Did you happen to see a brown leather folder anywhere since you've been here?”
She nods. “Mr. Nash put one in his bag this morning when he was heading out the door. Is everything alright?”
“Do you mind calling Adrian for me?”
“Sure. I left my phone downstairs. I'll go get it and be right back.”
“Thank you, Anne.”
I must have fallen asleep again because Anne's hissing voice wakes me up.
“I don't think so. Yes, I gave them to her, but she's been asking about them. She's going to catch on... She's sleeping now... No, I don't think... That's too much, Mr. Nash. That could... I thought you didn't want to do that because of the... No, I'm sure. I was in there just a few minutes ago, she's asleep now. You can check the camera yourself... I'll increase the dose if that's what you really want, but I won't accept the consequences... I'm aware of that, Mr. Nash, but that dose could... Yes, I understand. When she wakes up.”
The blood rushing violently through my ears as my pulse quickens keeps me from hearing anything else, but I keep my eyes shut and my breathing steady. Adrian is probably watching me on the security camera and I need to decide what I think about the conversation I just overheard before I react to it.
Why the secrecy? Why not just talk to me about my medications?
The medications that haven't been prescribed by any doctor.
She pushed me.
She really did. I didn't imagine it.
I force myself to breathe slowly as I try to remember everything Adrian has said to me since I've been ill. He has been wholly unwilling to listen to my concerns about anything, including Anne, no matter how receptive he seemed to be last night. I thought it was because he was under pressure and trying so hard to take care of me and my Dad's company. But now that I'm making myself really think about it, his demeanor has been more than a little off.
He's been... cold. He might use a pet name like babe or sweetheart, but now I'm realizing how condescending he's been. The familiar heat and tightening of panic begins climbing up my chest from the pit of my stomach and I fight to squash it back down. I can't afford to panic. I need to understand what's happening and panic won't allow me to do that.
Then my mind catches on another word she said. Consequences. What consequences? And for what?
It sounds like... It couldn't. They wouldn't. He wouldn't. Would he? Adrian wouldn't drug me. Right? What would be the purpose? What could he possibly gain? Our prenup is rock solid. He can't take anything from the marriage that he didn't enter into it with; even if I were to die, everything would be sold off for charity.
Unless … I sign off on it.
Oh my god.
He's been having me sign off on things for months. I have no idea what half of it really is because I've been too overwhelmed and confused. And I trusted him.
Trusted.
Do I still trust him?