When she was young, her mother told her she would sometimes sleepwalk. Perhaps, that’s what she’d done. Turning on the warm water of the shower she decided to freshen up before dinner. Removing her clothes she inspected herself in the mirror. There were times when she was with Tony, that her body displayed evidence of their intimacy or his domination.
Her skin appeared untouched. Nevertheless, her body felt ... she wasn’t sure how to describe it... content? The unrelenting tension she’d been experiencing since Harry’s first video game session was gone. Satisfied -- yes, that’s how she felt, content and satisfied. It was as if she’d been thoroughly taken, filled and pleased, by a memory.
Claire stepped under the soft hot spray. When the water struck her nipples she flinched and shielded them from the assault. That’s strange, she thought. Why am I so tender? As she poured the shampoo into her hand, she briefly inhaled the fragrance of Tony’s cologne. Her next breath was filled with the scent of flowers.
Claire shook her head as she massaged the floral cream into her hair. Her imagination was working overtime. She needed to compartmentalize Tony away. Hopefully, she had dinner plans with Harry. He could help her leave the world of fantasy and concentrate on reality. She wanted to tell him about Tony and about the bombshell of him not being the sender of the box. There was something else too... stepping from the shower, onto the soft mat, she tried to recall.
As she dried her skin, she remembered. It was Tony’s grandmother. She wanted to research Sharron Rawls... Something in the mirror caught Claire’s attention. It was her pile of dirty clothes. She picked up the camisole and the yoga pants. Hadn’t she been wearing under wear?
The most authentic thing about us is our capacity to create,
to overcome, to endure, to transform, to love,
and to be greater than our suffering.
– Ben Okri. Chapter 19
Early 1985...
Marie didn’t want to care this much, not about anyone. Then why was she sitting in her nightgown, at three in the morning, watching Ms. Sharron breathe? It wasn’t like she was anything to most of this family, other than hired help – and she sure as hell didn’t have a family of her own.
The breaths came, inconsistent, with a rattle. If the doctors could just stop the damn rattle.
Marie sat in the high-backed Queen Anne chair and wrapped her arms around her knees. The doctor, who’d been to the estate earlier, said the IV medication would fight the infection. Marie just hoped Ms. Sharron was strong enough to be the battle ground. What good was a strong army if the earth crumbled under their siege?
Marie didn’t have medical training.
Hadn’t that been said, about a hundred times in the past few days? Mr. Samuel and Ms. Amanda made no bones about the fact someone more qualified should be at Ms. Sharron’s bedside. Not only did they express their dissatisfaction with Marie’s medical qualifications, they also didn’t want her to be the sole person with Mrs. Sharron when she moved from this life to the next.
As was the case with everything, the decision wasn’t theirs to make. Marie would remain as long as Mr. Nathaniel Rawls wanted her there. He didn’t argue; he declared, “Sharron is comfortable with Marie. She’ll stay.” It may not be up for debate, but Samuel and Amanda made no attempt to hide their disproval.
Even without medical training, Marie knew Ms. Sharron was in pain and laboring. Everything Marie had read said Alzheimer’s disease was unpredictable. She could pass away today or live another five years. As Marie watched and listened, she felt the need to pray for today. This wasn’t a life she wanted Ms. Sharron to endure any longer. Then again, if she passed, what did that mean for Marie? It meant she would leave this estate and go on her way. Although, it would undoubtedly make Samuel and Amanda happy, Marie wondered about Nathaniel? It surprised Marie to realize she’d actually miss her talks with the stubborn old man.
Marie chuckled softly, old? He was in fact old, at least a lot older than she. In the past eighteen months he looked even older. Nonetheless, for a man with so many concerns weighing him down he was incredibly attractive. And the power he wielded, outside of this room, was impressive. Yet, the part of Nathaniel Rawls Marie would miss was the part no one else saw. Not the ostentatious, narcissistical, tyrant making deals and barking orders. She would miss the handsome, seasoned gentleman who sat for hours, holding a hand that rarely held back. The man who propped himself on the bed, held his wife’s frail body, and watched her sleep upon his chest.
“I thought I told you to go to bed?”
The deep voice startled Marie back to reality. She turned her tear stained cheeks toward the man who’d been in her thoughts. “I tried, but I couldn’t sleep.”
“So, can you sleep better in that chair?”
Marie smiled, “No, but at least I’m doing something.”
Nathaniel pulled another chair beside Marie’s, sat and squeezed Marie’s hand. “I can hire someone else to sit with her at night, so you can get more rest.”
Marie turned away and tried to breathe, her emotions were overwrought. Her question came through with more dejection than she intended, “Do you also think I’m incapable of doing my job?”
“Marie, are you crying?”
“No.” She lied.
His strong hand still covered hers. “I think you are more than capable. I just think you need a break. You can’t be by her side twenty-four hours a day.”
“What about you?”
Her skin appeared untouched. Nevertheless, her body felt ... she wasn’t sure how to describe it... content? The unrelenting tension she’d been experiencing since Harry’s first video game session was gone. Satisfied -- yes, that’s how she felt, content and satisfied. It was as if she’d been thoroughly taken, filled and pleased, by a memory.
Claire stepped under the soft hot spray. When the water struck her nipples she flinched and shielded them from the assault. That’s strange, she thought. Why am I so tender? As she poured the shampoo into her hand, she briefly inhaled the fragrance of Tony’s cologne. Her next breath was filled with the scent of flowers.
Claire shook her head as she massaged the floral cream into her hair. Her imagination was working overtime. She needed to compartmentalize Tony away. Hopefully, she had dinner plans with Harry. He could help her leave the world of fantasy and concentrate on reality. She wanted to tell him about Tony and about the bombshell of him not being the sender of the box. There was something else too... stepping from the shower, onto the soft mat, she tried to recall.
As she dried her skin, she remembered. It was Tony’s grandmother. She wanted to research Sharron Rawls... Something in the mirror caught Claire’s attention. It was her pile of dirty clothes. She picked up the camisole and the yoga pants. Hadn’t she been wearing under wear?
The most authentic thing about us is our capacity to create,
to overcome, to endure, to transform, to love,
and to be greater than our suffering.
– Ben Okri. Chapter 19
Early 1985...
Marie didn’t want to care this much, not about anyone. Then why was she sitting in her nightgown, at three in the morning, watching Ms. Sharron breathe? It wasn’t like she was anything to most of this family, other than hired help – and she sure as hell didn’t have a family of her own.
The breaths came, inconsistent, with a rattle. If the doctors could just stop the damn rattle.
Marie sat in the high-backed Queen Anne chair and wrapped her arms around her knees. The doctor, who’d been to the estate earlier, said the IV medication would fight the infection. Marie just hoped Ms. Sharron was strong enough to be the battle ground. What good was a strong army if the earth crumbled under their siege?
Marie didn’t have medical training.
Hadn’t that been said, about a hundred times in the past few days? Mr. Samuel and Ms. Amanda made no bones about the fact someone more qualified should be at Ms. Sharron’s bedside. Not only did they express their dissatisfaction with Marie’s medical qualifications, they also didn’t want her to be the sole person with Mrs. Sharron when she moved from this life to the next.
As was the case with everything, the decision wasn’t theirs to make. Marie would remain as long as Mr. Nathaniel Rawls wanted her there. He didn’t argue; he declared, “Sharron is comfortable with Marie. She’ll stay.” It may not be up for debate, but Samuel and Amanda made no attempt to hide their disproval.
Even without medical training, Marie knew Ms. Sharron was in pain and laboring. Everything Marie had read said Alzheimer’s disease was unpredictable. She could pass away today or live another five years. As Marie watched and listened, she felt the need to pray for today. This wasn’t a life she wanted Ms. Sharron to endure any longer. Then again, if she passed, what did that mean for Marie? It meant she would leave this estate and go on her way. Although, it would undoubtedly make Samuel and Amanda happy, Marie wondered about Nathaniel? It surprised Marie to realize she’d actually miss her talks with the stubborn old man.
Marie chuckled softly, old? He was in fact old, at least a lot older than she. In the past eighteen months he looked even older. Nonetheless, for a man with so many concerns weighing him down he was incredibly attractive. And the power he wielded, outside of this room, was impressive. Yet, the part of Nathaniel Rawls Marie would miss was the part no one else saw. Not the ostentatious, narcissistical, tyrant making deals and barking orders. She would miss the handsome, seasoned gentleman who sat for hours, holding a hand that rarely held back. The man who propped himself on the bed, held his wife’s frail body, and watched her sleep upon his chest.
“I thought I told you to go to bed?”
The deep voice startled Marie back to reality. She turned her tear stained cheeks toward the man who’d been in her thoughts. “I tried, but I couldn’t sleep.”
“So, can you sleep better in that chair?”
Marie smiled, “No, but at least I’m doing something.”
Nathaniel pulled another chair beside Marie’s, sat and squeezed Marie’s hand. “I can hire someone else to sit with her at night, so you can get more rest.”
Marie turned away and tried to breathe, her emotions were overwrought. Her question came through with more dejection than she intended, “Do you also think I’m incapable of doing my job?”
“Marie, are you crying?”
“No.” She lied.
His strong hand still covered hers. “I think you are more than capable. I just think you need a break. You can’t be by her side twenty-four hours a day.”
“What about you?”
