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“No but we did decide to stay away from each other’s path,” he said. “Well, because of yesterday’s you-know-what.”
Carmen winced. “I remember it well enough on my own. You don’t need to remind me, thank you very much.”
Arthur had the urge to ask what exactly she remembered from yesterday’s encounter. When he closed his eyes, he imagined cradling her wickedly lush curves and doing unspeakable things to her. “I see.”
“What do you see?” she snapped.
He blinked. She was definitely displeased with something. However, before he could enquire, she said, “What about your family?”
“I have no one left,” he said with a shrug. In the distance there was a little boy skipping stones in the lake and his parents clapping for him. Carmen saw Arthur watch them wistfully.
“What about friends then?” she prodded.
He turned to face her. “What about them?”
“Don’t you miss them?” she asked. “Don’t they miss you?”
“They stopped inviting me when I started to turn down every single invitation. Except for one, I haven’t seen any of them in years.”
“Why is that?” she asked.
“When your own thoughts overpower you, there’s little time or space for you to think of anything else,” he said with a laugh but there was nothing funny about it.
“What do you mean?” Carmen asked, frowning.
“You’ve heard the rumors. You know what they call me,” he said. One look at her face and he knew that she did. “Well, they’re right. I’m not right in here anymore.” He tapped at his temple.
Carmen remained silent for a few beats before she spoke. “You’re not what people make you out to be. Society is quick to judge.”
“I’ve given them reasons,” he said, shaking his head. “I rarely leave my house, nobody outside my servants and her tutors have seen her. I have neglected my ducal duties. Of course, they will raise questions.”
“It isn’t so damning,” she said.
“It is when your mind and body is gripped in almost paralyzing fear anytime you venture out of your home. Any foreign environment can trigger it.”
“Music too?” she asked promptly. Arthur met her gaze. She didn’t look at him in fear or confusion. She was just curious. She just wanted to know.
Arthur found himself nodding. “Music too but yours…it doesn’t affect me in that manner.” It was part truth. It did affect him, but he didn’t want to tell her how. “That’s why I find it better to stay in the comfort of my own house where I can control my surroundings. Out here—” He shook his head. “—I can’t do that.”
“But you’re here now and you’re fine,” she pointed out.
“Only for now,” he said. “Anything might set me off.”
“What happens during one of such episodes?” she asked. Except for his physician nobody had bothered to ask him this question. He was just expected to deal with it. Grown men didn’t throw tantrums like this, after all.
“It’s as if I lose myself and the world around me. It’s like I’m trapped in some sort of a nightmare only it is never-ending.”
“What happened to you?” she asked. There was no pity in her voice, she was just trying to understand him. Everything around him disappeared including the park full of people, the sound of murmurs and laughter. Only she remained, her face cast in sunlight. She looked like an angel from heaven and he wanted to confess everything that he had kept locked up inside, hoping the pain and trauma would eventually fade away. It hadn’t so far.
“I killed my wife.”
