Consequences(237)

He lifted her chin. “Claire, how are your accommodations?” The tears slipped off the lids and onto her cheeks. She didn’t reply. Her thoughts were again spinning. His voice was low, no one else could hear. “Consequences—appearances, I thought you’d learned your lessons better.”

“Tony, please take me home. I promise I’ll never disappoint you again. Please tell them you know I wouldn’t—couldn’t do this”—his black eyes penetrated, but she pushed on—“I know there’ll be consequences and punishment. I don’t care, as long as you’re all right. I just want to go home. Please—” Begging wasn’t part of her plan, but Claire wanted to be home. “Please, Tony, they’ll listen to you.”

Expecting his expression to contain compassion, she was disappointed.

“The entire thing seems to be a colossal accident; however, I’ve done some research and it seems you can plead insanity and receive treatment instead of incarceration.”

She sprung from her chair and started to pace. “What are you saying? I’m not pleading insanity! That means guilty and crazy—I’m neither!”—she turned to look at him—“And this wasn’t an accident. I didn’t try to kill you!”

He stood and moved very close, looking down at her. “I’ve found a mental hospital which is willing to accept you. I’ll pay the expenses so the taxpayers aren’t responsible for your lack of judgment.”

“I have been here for over a week. I’ve been questioned over and over. I haven’t divulged any private information. I have followed all the rules. The only rule I broke was driving a car. That’s it!”

“This plea will avoid a trial. The entire unfortunate incident is understandable. You came from a modest background. The life we shared had pressures and responsibilities—with entertaining, charities, and reporters—it’s understandable. You just couldn’t handle it.”

Claire sat down, feeling increasingly ill.

Tony walked over to her. He bent down to maintain eye contact, “I should have recognized the signs. Perhaps, I was too busy with work. When you recently canceled your charity obligations, I should have realized how overwhelmed you felt”—Claire listened as he spoke and experienced an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. It was his expression—a grin—one she recalled from a masquerade dinner almost two years ago. His expression spoke louder than his words—“You wanted out, and in a moment of weakness—no—in a moment of insanity, you decided the only way out was to try to kill me”—she watched and realized, this was a prepared speech. Oh my God!— “I’m only thankful you underestimated the amount of poison needed or you may have succeeded.”

The confusion in Claire’s mind began to dissipate, the fog cleared, and she saw Tony—his expression and his unspoken meaning. His speech continued, “If you’d succeeded, I wouldn’t be here to help you now”—she suddenly realized he was done with her. It was like the workers in Pennsylvania, she no longer mattered. He didn’t need her anymore! Tony pulled out a chair and sat facing Claire—“Aren’t you glad I’m able to help you?”

The bewilderment turned to a reality which hit her hard—not a physical slap—but it might as well have been. He wasn’t going to help her, instead of overwhelming sadness—two years of obedience and submission caused an overpowering rush of hostility. Tony’s words continued, “And, Claire, I hear the rooms at the mental facility are larger than the cells at the federal penitentiary.” His grin broadened.