Page 46 of Melancholia

Why the hell do I have to do what he says?

The answer to that is obvious, really. But still, I push it away. I lost my choice about playing this game long ago, whether I’m willing to admit that out loud or not. So I take a breath, then one more for good measure, and slip the dark plum ribbon off the black box—thinking that I have got to give Amir credit where it’s due, his packaging is consistently beautiful.

Whatever I’m expecting, clothing isn’t it.

“I’m confused,” I say into the phone, keeping my words careful. My hands go into the box, and some part of me expects, I don’t know, something humiliating.

But instead, I just find an outfit that I’d honestly wear. My eyes sweep over the dark burgundy, pleated skirt, then the grey sweater with sleeves that start full and become snug at the elbows. That’s all. A sweater and a skirt.

Both of which are exactly my style, not that I get the opportunity to dress up much. Normally all I wear are leggings and a tee, or a hoodie once it’s cold enough. It’s not like I’m swimming in dates or dinners where something like this would be necessary.

“I would think it’s rather obvious. You lost. So you’ll wear those today.” There’s something in his voice I don’t quite understand, but the more I try to analyze it, the farther it slips away from me.

“Are you fucking with me?” The words come out hot and sharp—much different than the way I intended to ask. The way I’ve thrown it at him, the question feels more like an accusation.

Amir doesn’t answer, at first. The silence stretches between us, becoming almost uncomfortable. “Are you done?” he finally asks, his voice still just as calm and patient as ever. I don’t answer. Anything I come up with feels like a child throwing a tantrum, and all I can do is stare down at the clothes.

“Yeah,” I breathe finally. “I’m done.”

“Good girl.”

I will never, ever, admit to the heat that jolts through me at those two words from him, and I find myself relieved that he can’t see me right now.

“Wear them. You have errands to run today, don’t you?”

I do, but I don’t know how he knows that. It’s not like I upload my less-than-social calendar to the cloud or post it up on some message board.

“A few,” I allow at last. I’m only awake to go to the pharmacy if they call, but he’s right that I have other things to do today too, after that.

“This is what you’ll wear. You can of course change after your errands, before you go to work.”

How kind of him.

“Do you understand?”

A sudden, sharp bolt of rebellion goes through me. “Yeah,” I grit out. “Yeah, I understand, Amir.”

I swear I hear a soft chuckle from him, and a woof from somewhere on the other end of the phone. Part of me wants to imagine him playing with his dogs, but the other part of me insists that would make him too human.

And in my head, Amir is a monster. Not someone with the good sense to bond with his dogs whenever he has the chance.

“I’ll see you later then, my little mortician. And Nell?”

I pause before hanging up.

“Don’t test me.”

He hangs up first, leaving me standing there in my apartment with the new clothes in my hands. The ones that are so me, and expensive enough that I can run my fingers over the fabric and feel the difference from what I usually buy.

The outfit really is gorgeous.

And there’s no way on the face of this earth I’m wearing it for him.

Instead, I place it carefully back in the box, just as my phone buzzes again. This time, however, I actually check the caller ID instead of assuming.

“Hello?” I ask tentatively, when I see the familiar number of the pharmacy in town.

“Hi, Miss Collins?” The woman on the other end is polite, even though she does sound eternally overworked every time I’ve spoken to her. “We have your prescription ready if you’d like to come get it this morning.”