Chapter Seventeen
Sitting at her desk at Safe Place, Marissa had all kinds of work to do: patient files to read, intake papers to approve, bills to process. Instead of tackling any of that, she just sat in her chair and stared at that black strip of metal with its red tassel.
After she and Butch had gotten home, she’d shown the odd, key-like object to a number of the Brothers, and none of them had recognized it or been able to put a solid name to the thing. Then Vishous had done an Internet search on an image of it—and come up with nothing.
By the time she and Butch had gone to bed, she’d been so exhausted, she’d fallen asleep as soon as her head had hit the pillow.
But she hadn’t stayed that way.
Her eyes had opened at around three in the afternoon, and she had lain on her back, staring up in the darkness while Butch had snored quietly next to her.
It was just as her hellren had said. Images of that female had played across the blank ceiling, a photo montage that had made her tear up. And the sad thing was, the urge to cry had gotten even worse as she’d thought of her and Butch.
Which was crazy.
There was nothing wrong between them. He couldn’t have been more supportive, taking her out to Havers’s, sticking with her through her efforts with the key, being understanding of everything she was feeling.
“I’m losing my mind,” she said—
“That’s what I’m here for.”
Marissa jerked her head up. “Mary, hi—sorry, I was talking to myself. I’m a little scrambled right now.”
Rhage’s shellan came in and closed the office’s door. “Yeah, I got that impression—I’ve been saying your name three or four times and not getting through.”
Marissa eased back, pushed her hair over her shoulders, and forced a smile. “What can I do for you?”
“You can talk to me.” The female sat down in the chair across the desk. “I’m worried about you.”
“Oh, God, don’t waste a second on that. We’ve got people here who are seriously in need of your help—”
“Good Samaritans like you and I have trouble doing our jobs if we don’t talk about the hard cases. It’s a fact. I’d also like to point out that I’m a friend of yours.”
In the silence that followed, Marissa kept quiet about all the paperwork she hadn’t been able to concentrate on because her head was messed up. And then she remained silent about the day she’d spent not sleeping. And finally, she said nothing about the strange distance between her and Butch—
“I can’t get her out of my mind,” she blurted.
Immediately, tears came, and she cursed as she reached for a Kleenex. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“I know,” Mary said gently. “Trust me, I’ve had a lot of personal experience with not talking. It wasn’t a good strategy.”
“Oh, come on, you’re the most self-actualized person I’ve ever met. You’re like a ten out of ten on the relating scale.”
“You’ve only seen a snapshot of my life, Marissa. You didn’t know me before. And I still struggle, just like everyone else.”
Marissa blotted under her eyes and had to fight a wave of straight-up bawling. “How do you deal with that.”
“The struggling? I talk to people. I talk to Rhage. I write things down.”
“No … the clean cut.”
“I’m sorry?”
Marissa waved her tissue around. “I’m not making any sense. Just forget—”
“You mean the fact that one life ended for me and another began when I got with Rhage?”
God, her heart was pounding for no good reason. “Yes. That’s exactly it.”
Mary crossed her legs and chewed on her lower lip, and as she took time to compose her thoughts, Marissa studied her even-featured face, and her newly bobbed brown hair, and her aura of calm confidence.
Yes, Marissa thought, Rhage was right. The female was gorgeous—not in the flashy, beauty-queen kind of way, or the all-angles, no meat, anorexic model stuff, and not even the girl-next-door standard. Mary was like the glow of a banked fire in the deep vicious winter, warm and sustaining, captivating and illuminating.
No wonder the Brother adored her.
With an exhale, Mary said, “I think it was different for me because I was dying—so I knew I was leaving? Even though I wasn’t aware of the cancer being back for a while, I’d been preparing for the day when they’d tell me it had returned. So I’d checked out. Packed my mental and emotional bags, got my ticket, was ready to go. I mean, my mother was gone, I hadn’t really connected with anyone else on the planet … there was nothing for me so there wasn’t anything to walk away from, if that makes sense?”
Marissa thought about the night her brother had kicked her out for being with Butch.
“If I understand things correctly,” Mary said, “that was not the case for you. Was it.”
Marissa had to look away. “No, it was not. I came back to the house Havers and I shared one evening just before dawn and he…” Now, her tears welled and fell in a rush, one after another, landing on her blouse, her slacks. She mopped up before she could go on. “All of my things had been packed. He told me he didn’t care where I went, he just wanted me out of his house. He put money…” She had to clear her throat. “He put money on one of the bureaus. It was as if he didn’t want to touch me.”
Sniffling, she popped free another tissue and blew her nose. “I kept the cash. I still have those hundred-dollar bills. Sometimes, when I run into them in my drawer, I think, why do I keep them? Why am I—oh, for heaven’s sake.” She had to take a third tissue. “What is wrong with me? That girl is dead, and I can’t find her family or who killed her—and I’m sitting here whining about my stupid-ass brother who’s old news. This is ridiculous.”
“This is past trauma,” Mary pointed out evenly.
“I am annoying myself.”
“Well, have you thought about what really happened last night?”
“Are you kidding me? There’s nothing else on my damned mind.”
“No, I mean have you thought about it.”
“If your point is that I had to watch a young female die in front of me and that her loss is a tragic waste of life that I am apparently powerless to make right, yes, of course I have.”
Mary shook her head. “With all due respect, you’re missing my point. Last night, for the first time since Havers ended your relationship with the only blood you have, you were forced to rely on him for help. You couldn’t save the girl, so you had to turn to your brother and hope and pray he did the right thing for her.”
“He did, though.” Marissa released a hard curse. “I mean, he was amazing with her.”
“And how did that make you feel, considering how badly he treated you.”
Annnnnd cue more tears. “I did think of that. When I went to see her just before she died.”
“Here’s what I know to be true. We can bury the past all we like. We can use a hundred thousand distractions, some of which are healthy, some of which are not, to keep it under the ground—but when something isn’t processed, it will absolutely, positively come back and bite us on the ass. You had a hard life before you and Butch fell in love, and it was no doubt a huge relief to leave all of it behind and start fresh. But you can’t outrun what came before. Remember, Marissa, we are every age we have ever been at each moment in our lives. We carry it all with us like luggage. Sooner or later, the stuff with your brother was going to come up again. That’s just life.”
Marissa performed another re-blot under her eyes. “I’m having trouble connecting with Butch right now.”
“Of course you are. He’s the one who caused the break.”
Marissa recoiled. “Now, wait a minute, hold on—he has been nothing but good to me—”
“It’s not an issue of fault, Marissa. You were on one path, he came into your life, now you’re on another. I’m not judging him or even saying he did anything wrong—I’m just stating a fact.”
For some reason, she remembered staying wide awake while she let Butch sleep. That never would have happened even a year ago. “What do I do?”
“You’re not going to like what I have to say.”
“It feels like it can’t get worse.”
“You’re going to have to make peace with your brother.”
Marissa closed her eyes. “I will never be able to forgive him.”
“Making peace doesn’t mean you absolve him of his wrongdoing. And honestly, he isn’t the only one you need to come to terms with. The glymera treated you horribly, your position within the aristocracy was untenable, and Wrath was a royal shit—and I do mean that with love. You’ve got a tremendous amount of pain and rejection that you at first held in because it was the only way to survive, and then you put aside because you finally got a break and a chance to feel good in your own life.” Mary nodded at all the paperwork on the desk. “If you want to get back to being productive, you’re going to have to look under all those rocks, feel your feelings, and come out on the other side of that journey.”
Tissue number four came out of the box with a snap, but she didn’t end up using it. She just twisted the thing in her hands. “I don’t want to forget the girl. I don’t want this to be all about me.”
“No one says you have to stop trying to find out who she is or do right by her. Just don’t use that as an excuse to pack up all this dirty laundry and shove it back underground. That’s a short-term coping strategy that will not hold—and the next time this all comes up again—and it will—it’s going to be even harder, because you’ll relive all this with the girl, too. See, this is how people get paralyzed. They stuff and stuff and stuff, and the triggers keep coming and the layers continue to build until the load becomes too heavy, and they fold.”
Marissa kept twisting and untwisting the tissue. “You’re right.”
“I know.”
After a deep breath, Marissa looked across the desk. “Can I give you a hug?”
“Please! Are you kidding me?”
They both stood up and Marissa came around to embrace the smaller female. The hug she got in return was so strong and steady, she teared up all over again.
“You’re always there when I need you,” Marissa choked out. “I love you too much for words.”
“That’s what friends are for.” Mary pulled back. “And you’re going to do the same for me sometime.”
Marissa snorted and rolled her eyes. “Doubt that.”
“Trust me.”
“I’m too much of a mess.”
“No, you’re human.” Mary shook herself. “Sorry, term of art. You’re alive and you’re struggling and you’re beautiful inside and out—and I love you, too.”
“I’m still not sure what exactly to do next.”
“Think on it. It’ll come to you. Remember, forgiving doesn’t mean forgetting, hiding isn’t a long-term strategy, and distraction isn’t your friend. Hit this head-on—and know that I’ve got your back, ’kay?”
After the female left, Marissa went around to her office chair and sat down again. For some reason, her eyes fixated on the phone—the desk one, not her cell.
The past. Her brother. Butch. The girl. The glymera.
Mary was right. There was a lot she wasn’t dealing with.
And to start things off, she might as well tackle the one that seemed the least scary. Or … well, maybe the most doable, how about that.
Picking up the receiver, she riffled through the papers and found the pink While You Were Out slip that had been given to her two nights before. Dialing the local number, she took off her pearl earring and leaned back in her chair.
A maid answered the line, put her on hold … and then a haughty female voice said, “Oh, hello! So very glad you’ve called.”
Marissa gritted her teeth. “I’ll do it. I’ll chair the festival.”
“Oh! This is marvelous! What wonderful…”
As the platitudes droned on, Marissa closed her eyes and heard Mary’s voice in her head: You’re going to have to make peace with your brother.
Oh, God, she thought. She had no idea how that was going to happen—but she did know about parties, damn it.
Start small. Then get to the big stuff.