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“Don’t do that. Don’t raise your voice to me.”
This is a daily occurrence. A fight where I demand she tell me who took her and her refusing to give me anything.
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to shout but you’re testing me to no end. I’m your man, and you nearly died…”
“We haven’t had that talk yet.”
“Don’t fuck around. You have no idea what I’ve been through from my end these last couple of weeks.”
She softens her tone, and says, “I get you went through Hell, but I went through worse. Stop thinking I need you. If we’re going to be together, it’s because I want you. Unless I ask for your help, assume I don’t need it.”
It takes everything in me to not bite back but my sigh conveys what I’m feeling.
I tell her, “I’ve never met anyone like you, Lexi Mitchell.”
“And I doubt you will ever again.”
“Hence why I don’t plan on letting you go. Ever.”
She thinks she’s going back to her brother’s house. Little does she know I’ve had her things moved into my place and she’s coming home with me. I don’t care if we haven’t had our talk yet, it will end the way I want. This is just putting the inevitable in sight.
“Does Louis know I’m staying at yours?” she asks as I help her up the stairs to our floor.
Just to see her spark return, I tell her, “He’s the one who packed your shit and brought it over.”
I’m in for a fight now. I’ve been biding my time to tell her knowing she’ll be pissed I’ve taken her choice away.
“Okay.”
Okay?
That’s it?
No argument?
No demands to be taken back to her brother’s?
I open the front door, allowing her to enter, and assist her in carefully settling down on the couch. To ensure her comfort and convenience, I spent last night arranging and preparing everything she might need, arranging it all within her reach.
“I need my laptop,” she says.
“You heard the doctor, you’re not to spend too long focusing on screens.”
“I don’t need long,” she promises. “It’s just, I know how it ends now.”
I pass her the damn thing and ask, “What does that mean?”
She ignores me, firing up the computer.
Hoping she’ll give something away about who hurt her, I repeat, “Lex? What do you mean?”
She focuses her eyes on me and all I see is pain, but it’s mixed with a finality I can’t quite explain.
“It means my story, the chapter in my life that’s lasted far too long, finally has an ending. I can start a new chapter, but I can’t just yet, I have to finally lay this one to rest.”
I lost her to the computer. I dare not leave her, not even to go to the shops and pick up milk and something for dinner. I hate to even leave the room. I find myself watching her. At some point she grabs the remote from the small table beside her end of the couch and turns it on, tossing the remote at me. I get the hint she wants me to stop staring but once she’s concentrating on her story, she doesn’t notice me, just like I don’t notice what’s playing on the television. Every now and then she nods off but when I go to take the laptop from her, she wakes, and it begins all over again. The only time she takes a small break is when it’s time to take her painkillers and eat. It’s killing me that I can’t get close to her, but I love her too much not to give her the time she needs to heal, both physically and emotionally.
Day after day, all I can do is watch her. She’s healing slowly but the better she feels, the more she writes. Her fingers fly over the keys, words pouring onto her pages like there’s no tomorrow. She’s so far from me and nothing I’ve done over the last few days has managed to bring her back to me. She’s becoming a different person and I can’t work out if this new version is here to stay.
