Chapter 11: Chapter 10
" It's just I'm not sure I really fit in here. There's no one I can really talk to." ~ Belle, Beauty and the Beast (1991)
Scott
Did I really just say that? I must've lost my mind! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! I pushed the pile of papers off my lap and dragged my hands down my face. My mind is so fuzzy! I've said many stupid things in my lifetime but this...this had to be the stupidest! The last time I acted like this it made me careless and it had cost me the most precious thing in my life. I decided that I wouldn't ever be like that again, that I didn't deserve to ever feel those feelings again. I closed myself off from everyone, even Spencer, because if I let them in they would see how not alright I am.
I don't know what made Francesca different, but I felt like I could be myself around her. Like she could weather whatever I threw at her, but she could never understand everything I've done. Nobody could...that's why they would never know my truths.
" Scott, are you feeling up to eating?"
She picked up the stack of papers I pushed onto the floor and then sat down at the edge of my bed.
" No," I said trying to keep my eyes from hers. I could see her shoulders fall in my peripheral.
" Ok, I'll just leave you to your work then," she said as she got up from my bed.
She smoothed the sheets where she had been sitting, put the papers on my nightstand, then left me to the silence of my room. I stared at the door and wished that she would come back. I wanted her to sit at the end of my bed and make me talk to her, but why would anyone do that? I'm not sociable and anytime someone wants to get to know me, I push them away because that's easier. Easier than worrying every second that they will get too close and my father will get rid of them.
Just like he did with Claire…
Francesca
With a slight click, the door shut and so did my eyes. I leaned against the door and heard him frustratedly sighing. I could imagine that he was running his fingers through his hair, pulling at the roots gently, like he always did. I pushed away from the door and walked down the hallway to one of the many extra bedrooms.
Peering inside, there were pieces of furniture and paintings covered in dusty white sheets, lit by only the dull light coming from the hallway. I closed the door silently behind me and scrambled to flip on the lights in the pitch black. I flicked the switches on and I could now see that the set-up was relatively the same as Scott's room except the bed was on the opposite wall. I pulled the thick painters' sheets off the bed revealing a dull gray comforter with just as bland white sheets.
" That's definitely going to need to change."
After a brief inspection, I decided that while it wasn't near as beautiful or as rustic my usual bedroom, but it would work well enough for the next couple weeks. I balled up all of the painters' sheets and carried them with me as I went back to my side. I would need some clothes and some of the basics, so I wouldn't have to go back and forth every day. Once I had collected all I thought I needed, I trekked all the way back to the extra bedroom. I turned on the lamps and such that littered the corners and tabletops which gave the room a warmth that is desperately needed. I placed my folded, day clothes in the drawers of the large dresser, laid my toiletries out on the ensuite bathroom's counter, and piled my many sketchbooks on the desk. I plugged my phone charger into the wall behind the nightstand and laid down in the bed; pushing off my concerns about the cleanliness of the sheets to rest my tired body. I turned off the lights from a twin switch behind my head and settled into the bed. I fell into a light sleep and was soon awoken by the haunting screams of my friends. I woke with a start, sweating buckets and tears running down my flushed face.
I sat up in the bed and pushed my sweaty hair back from my cheeks. I took a moment to steady my racing heartbeat and I could hear faint voices coming from the adjacent room. I guess I'm not the only one having trouble sleeping… I got out from under the covers and went over to the desk. I switched the lamp on and opened my sketchbook to a blank page. I drew for the rest of the night listening to movie after movie blasting from Scott's TV. Just before seven, I sneaked from my new room and went down into the kitchen to make breakfast and coffee for us both.
As I cooked, I made a plan on how I was going to get Scott out of his bedroom whether he wanted to or not. I would make him bathe and get into some clean clothes then we would meet up with the contractor, that Spencer gave me, to discuss the fixing of his office. How I was going to make him do any of that, the world may never know. I'll leave the actual planning of what I was going to say to the moment I say it, I guess. I quickly finished making breakfast and then I went to go wake the beast, that was if he was even sleeping. I knocked on the door and with a grunt of approval, I walked into Scott's room. He was doing the same that he has been doing for days, typing away on his computer.
" Ok, so I made breakfast, but the first thing that needs to happen is you need to shower," I said as I sat at the end of his bed. He looked up from his computer and shook his head.
Obviously, he didn't want me to help him bathe, but all consideration for modesty went out the window when he went into the hospital.
" I don't care if that's what you want. You need to shower. You smell horrible and I need to change your bandages on clean skin," I said trying to sound as stern as I could.
" Since when did you become the boss of me?"
" Since you can't or won't do it for yourself, and since I'm the only one here to help you," I said getting steadily angry.
" I never asked you to be. "
" Well, tough shit. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere until you get better," I enunciated, standing and putting my hands on my hips.
When he didn't say anything, I stepped up to where he was sitting. I pushed the laptop off of his lap and pulled the comforter from his legs. I turned his body, gently, so he was facing the right way to get up.
" Stop it, Francesca."
" Not a chance. You are taking a shower if it's the last thing I do," I declared.
He wiggled his legs out of my hands and tried to get back against the headboard. I grabbed his foot to stop him from turning. He looked into my eyes and I could see that he was angry.
" Let. Go."
" I told you...you are taking a goddamn shower!"
" No, I'm not!"
He tried to pull his foot from my grasp, but couldn't pull hard enough with cracked ribs and bruised back; he relented. I put both his feet on the ground then I sat down next to him. I put my hand gently at his back and helped him to his feet; allowing him to lean on me as much as he needed. I waited a moment for him to get his bearings before beginning the trek to the bathroom. Every step we took, he would hiss in pain and I could hear the strain that was every breath, but he needed to shower. I sat him down on the edge of the bathtub and got a towel out of the linen closet and turned on the shower so it could heat up.
" How do you want to do this?" I asked, sincerely wondering what he wanted to do.
" Just help me out of the jacket. I can handle the rest on my own," he replied.
I stood up from the tub and helped him to his feet again. I took a deep breath then I grabbed hold of the zipper pulling it down and unhooking from the track. I pushed it off his shoulders and he hissed when my frozen fingers brushed his toasty skin. I pulled back quickly then pulled the sleeves off his arms throwing the jackets into the dirty clothes hamper. I put my fingertips on the edges of his bandages and when he didn't stop me, I pulled the pin from his wraps and ripped the velcro off; unwrapping carefully so as not to hurt him more. I threw them away and stepped away from him. Not taking the chance of getting caught up in his exquisite physique again, I kept my eyes on his face.
" Ok, I'm gonna leave now. Yell if you need anything, but if you're not done in fifteen minutes, I'm coming in after you," I said as I walked out.
I stood outside the door until I could hear that he was in the shower and then I walked back into the main portion of the room. I busied myself by transferring all his papers and laptop to his desk so that I could strip the bed. I put the dirty sheets into the hamper and put clean ones on than I remade the bed.
I felt more like his maid then his wife, but I wasn't really either of those things. I didn't really fit into any of the roles that I had taken up recently, but I did them without question. Something inside me told me that he needed me more then he would let on, but with every off-hand comment and every rejection of my help, I've started to believe that my heart got it wrong this time. I continued to tidy the room until I heard the shower stop. I went over to the bathroom and knocked.
" Are you decent?"
" Yes." He replied flatly, but I could hear the slight hint of pain in his voice.
I pushed the door open and saw that he was standing in the middle of the room with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. The dark bruises stood out against the white towel and the bandage on his head was dripping wet. I went over and helped him back to his bed.
" What do you want to wear?" I asked as I pulled open his drawers. He didn't answer me likely because he was still sulking about how I had gotten my way. I smiled smugly into the drawers and did a little happy dance in my head...I made him bend, good he needs to learn that what he says doesn't just go down as law.
I just grabbed something random and put the clothes next to him on the bed in a neat stack.
" Put the boxers and pants on then I will help you with the jacket," I said. He nodded and I closed myself in his closet to give him some privacy.
I looked around at the numerous Italian suits hanging stiffly on velvet hangers and the rows of pointy dress shoes perfectly polished and buffed clean of any scuffs. But what really caught my eye were the piles of boxes at the back. They were almost hidden by the clothes but I could make out the bright brown of a cardboard box any day. I pushed the suits out of the way and kneeled down next to the boxes, my curiosity hoping that they were labeled. Of course, they weren't, but now that I was near them I could see their sheer amount and that there were also paintings wrapped in brown paper. I went to pull a box open but hesitated...this wasn't my place. His privacy was something he was entitled to and I should respect that, no matter how much I wanted to open them. But maybe if I saw what was in them I would understand him better. Maybe I would finally be able to understand why it was that he hated people and...himself so much.
Before my curiosity could get the better of me, Scott called for me. I got up from the floor quickly and after putting the suits back exactly where they were, I opened the closet doors. He was sitting shirtless on the edge of the bed and I could see that he was losing his patience. I went to work right away. I took the bandage off his forehead, cleaned the healing incision, and then taped down a new bandage. I then grabbed an ace bandage off the pile and carefully rewrapped his mending rips. I pinned it securely with a metal clip and then helped him into the jacket that I had picked out. Impressed with myself, I took a step back and looked at my "masterpiece."
" Ok, now we can go eat," I said with a smug smile on my face.
I wrapped my arm cautiously around his back and allowed him to bear his weight on me as we walked down what seemed like a never-ending staircase. I put him down at the kitchen table and served him his plate of food along with his pills. While he ate, I went outside on the back porch and arranged for the contractor to meet us in Scott's office within the hour. I finished quickly with the contractor, happy to get out of the cold wind and spitting rain of this Scottish day. I poured myself a glass of orange juice from the jug and sat at the counter to give Scott his space.
" Why do you try so hard?"
" What do you mean?" I asked staring at the back of his head.
" Why do try so hard with me? No matter what I say or do, you don't give up...what's in it for you?" he replied, turning to look at me.
" Knowing that you are okay and that you aren't dying somewhere, alone is enough for me," I said as a sat down in front of him.
I sat with him while he ate and I spent my time looking through Pinterest for ideas on how to make his office less dark and cold. A lighter color on the walls and staining his desk and wood shelves a lighter shade would help a lot. Then we'll have to replace the rug that was stained in blood and whiskey. Maybe hang a painting or two but then again why would he go along with anything I suggest? He has no reason to do anything I suggest and unlike his shower, I won't force him into changing his office. I look up from my phone to make sure he is taking his pills and I can't help but stare at his wrinkled forehead with so many questions.
What is going on in his head?
What I wouldn't give to know what was going in there...would amount to a very short list, but knowing a mans' mind is knowing his soul so I doubted that I would ever be privy to that. He demeaned himself so easily, but why would a strong, powerful man like Scott Jackson think so little of himself? What could've broken him so badly?
" Staring will get you nothing, Francesca."
" If you would talk to me then I wouldn't have to stare," I quipped back quickly.
His plate was clean and his pills gone from the table so I cleaned up quickly so we could be in the office before the contractor got here. In a similar fashion as earlier, we walked to his office and when I had finally set him down on his ruined couch, I got to look at the state of the room. When I rushed here last time, I didn't really look at what Scott had done but now I could see...everything.
There were piles of glass shards in a dried pool of brown liquid next to the door. There were copious amounts of empty liquor bottles splayed across and throughout the room, pretty much anywhere you could put a bottle there was one. The desk lamp had been thrown, denting the wall above the couch I had placed Scott on and now slumped in a pile on the ground opposite the desk. Paperweights and his letter opener were embedded in the wall above it.
I wandered further into the ruined room and saw the mirror that hung behind the desk was smashed. The shards were scattered across the floor covered in droplets of blood. His books were thrown around the room with numerous ripped pages on the ground covered in more droplets of dried blood. The silk black curtains were ripped from their rings and laid in a tattered pile under the windows. The window was cracked allowing for the wet, chilly wind of Scotland to rush through the room. The only thing left unharmed were his desk drawers. But the dark, dried pool of blood was haunting and I could almost feel its warmth like it was still running down my fingers...like it had that day.
" Please...please stop looking at all this," he said weakly from behind me. I turned to look at his downcast eyes and his pale complexion.
How could he have done all of this? His injuries made sense now, but I don't know what could drive a man so mad that he could destroy a whole room by himself.
" I can't...this has to be repaired so that you can get back to work," I began, " there's a contractor, one that Spencer gave me, coming to fix all this. If there's anything that you want to keep confidential...we need to get it out of here now."
" Clear my desk drawers. There are files and things that nobody can see," he said, never looking into my eyes and his voice barely above a whisper.
I grabbed the overturned garbage bin from the floor and rounded his desk to do as he asked. I opened each of the desk drawers placing every file carefully in the bin, trying my best not to look at any of them as I went. But one file jumped out of me...printed on the outside in bold black was the name, Claire Thatch.
Scott had called me this the day he was admitted into the hospital, but who she was, I had no idea. This could tell me, but some nagging feeling tells me that whatever was in this manilla folder wasn't the whole story. I put it amongst the rest and kept going. I placed the full bin outside of the door once I was done and then waited patiently for the contractor at the door frame.
" I'm not a monster...I did this, but this isn't who I am. I can be nice and I can be gentle or at least, I think I thought I could once," Scott said into the silence.
I dropped my crossed arms and kneeled down in front of him. I grabbed his clenched fists and flattened them against his knees.
" We are not defined by the things we do when we're in pain," I said just as quietly as he did.
" How did you become so wise?" he asked.
I was about to answer him, but before I could, a loud knock echoed from the front door. I stand and walk towards the door, but before I leave I say.
" I have lived."
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