One Small Mistake(80)
I’m clinging to the knowledge that Kathryn wants to sell Wisteria by December. It’s October now. Though I’m not sure I can wait any longer, I take comfort knowing when the cottage is sold, Jack will have to relocate me. Then I’ll be out of the basement, which opens up more possibilities to escape and if I can’t, wherever he takes me has to be more populated than Wisteria. More people can only mean more chances of discovery.
Now, I sit on the bed and wait for Jack to return with dinner. The first night he confined me to the basement, he set me up with a mini fridge and a microwave so while he’s away, I can feed myself. When he’s at Wisteria though, he likes us to eat together. I’m nervous. This evening I will explore my boundaries. See how far he’ll go to keep me happy. I started out small, asking for little things: cherry cola bottles and new hair ties, but now I want to push it just a little. I am laying the groundwork for bigger things. But this will be the biggest so far.
Even though I’m expecting him, when the basement door opens, I feel sick and my fight-or-flight instinct kicks in. Tonight I will attempt neither. I hear him close the door then lock it. His footsteps are musical as he descends the stairs. He’s in a good mood. Taking a breath, I try to extinguish the fear which ignites inside me.
A paper plate appears beneath my chin. ‘Milady,’ he chimes, setting it down in front of me and holding out my cutlery – a plastic spoon. I take it, careful not to touch him as I do. My food is already cut up. He’s not stupid enough to give me a plate I could break over his head, or cutlery made of anything more dangerous than cheap plastic.
As usual, he claims the armchair beside my bed.
‘Thank you,’ I say, focusing on his mouth. I can’t look at him, not right away, because I know as soon as I do, the memories from the hill will overwhelm me. I must ease myself into his visits, like dipping a toe into an ice bath; first there’s the shock, but once you lower yourself in, you eventually become numb to it.
‘Pasanda,’ he says. ‘Your favourite.’
‘Looks great.’ I hope that if I am calm, if I do not act like a wild animal, he will not treat me like one and maybe, just maybe, I will win a small battle, if not the war. Months ago, if someone told me I could hold polite conversation with the man who kidnapped and assaulted me, I’d have called you a liar. Truthfully though, you don’t know what you’re capable of until you’re tested. Raising my gaze a little farther, I settle on his nose. ‘You’re such a good cook.’ I smile, no longer the wilting flower; today I am daisy-fresh.
‘You almost never smile anymore.’
I bite my tongue against the ‘Why the fuck do you think that is?’ and say, ‘You seem in a good mood.’
‘I am.’
I should ask why but I don’t because, even though a good mood might make him more amenable to my request, I hate that he gets to feel any sort of happiness when he has reduced my world to one of constant fear. ‘Good.’
‘I like that colour on you.’
I’m wearing a dark green T-shirt – his – and a pair of black boxers – also his. He says he likes me wearing his clothes, he says he looks at me and thinks, ‘Mine.’
I poke at a lump of meat and say, ‘I’ve been thinking …’
‘Oh, yeah?’
Time to find out how much I can ask for. I wait until he sets his fork down before I begin. ‘Yeah. I was wondering if we could drive past my house? I wouldn’t get out or anything – I just want to see if Seefer is okay.’
‘The stray?’
I nod. ‘I miss her so much. I thought I’d be back in Crosshaven by now.’ I’m careful not to say ‘home’ as he’s told me repeatedly Wisteria is my home now. ‘She doesn’t have anyone else to take care of her.’
‘No.’
I let out a breath, trying to convey in one exhalation all the hopelessness a person can feel. I’m not stupid or delusional; I counted on him saying no. When Ada was renovating her house, she dragged me to multiple furniture auctions and private sales where she taught me during negotiation you always ask for the impossible, then settle instead for what you actually wanted in the first place. That way, you make the other party feel like they’ve won and they’re more likely to give you what you want. I widen my eyes, as if suddenly struck by a new idea. ‘Maybe you can bring her here then? Please, Jack, for me?’
‘That thing is always hissing at me. Never liked me.’
She’s a better judge of character than most then, I think, but say, ‘It would make me happier. Less lonely when you’re away.’ I’m hoping someone will see him taking Seefer and think it’s odd. In all the media coverage of my house, police were stationed outside. Maybe they still are. And even if no one notices, having Seefer here with me will give me reason to get out of bed in the morning because on the days Jack is at Wisteria I am coiled and tense, but on the days he isn’t, I lie in bed for hours, staring up at the ceiling, trapped in flashbacks of the attack or caught up in fantasies of escape.
‘I’ll think about it.’
‘Thanks, Jack.’ Finally, I raise my eyes to his and smile, letting my gaze linger because sugar is always more appealing than salt. And there it is, I am submerged in the memories, trapped beneath him, begging him to stop as his fingers pull my knickers to the side. I quickly drop my gaze and stab at a piece of chicken. ‘It’s October,’ I blurt in a bid to draw attention away from my discomfort. ‘Your mum wants the cottage sold before Christmas; what will happen then?’