Alone (7 page)

Fuck your protocol,
she wanted to say,
but held her tongue.

“
What can I do for you, Peter?”
she said instead. “I’m assuming this isn’t a courtesy
call.”

“
I need you to come in and
clear your desk out. You left some things.”

“
Throw them out,” she told him.
She didn’t care about the photograph, box of tissues and hand cream
on her desk.

“
We can’t do that. It’s
office...”

“
Protocol,” she finished for
him. “How did I guess?”

He sighed as if she was the one putting
him out. If he’d been in the room with her, she would have
throttled him for the sound.

“
Just come in when you can,”
he finished.

Serenity hung up the phone without
bothering to say goodbye. As if she didn’t have enough on her
plate. She wanted to ignore the request, but didn’t want him
calling back when Jackson was home. She didn’t want to imagine how
that conversation would go.

Her legs gave way and she sank down on the
sofa. She didn’t normally sleep so late. Usually she’d be well on
her way to work by now and Jackson would be the one sitting on the
couch, but the late night had taken its toll. She needed to get to
the hospital. Hopefully Jackson had taken a turn for the worse
during the night and the doctors had decided to keep him in a bit
longer.

Guilt jarred through her at the thought.
When had she become such a bitter person?

He’s done that to you.
Made you what you
are today.

Except that wasn’t the whole
truth. Jackson had certainly played his part, but she’d been dealt
many bad cards in her life
. Her husband was simply the latest. Feeling sorry
for herself didn’t help anyone. She’d rather be stronger, a better
person than she’d become.

Sebastian made her want
that.

Serenity forced herself to her feet and
climbed the stairs to the bathroom. She needed to go to the office
and pick up her things before collecting Jackson from the
hospital.

In the bathroom, she turned on the shower
faucet. Water gushed into the tub, spraying her with a cold fine
mist. The boiler kicked into life and the water warmed until steam
clouded the room. She slipped out of her underwear and stood naked
in front of the mirror.

Steam covered the glass, her reflection a
distorted blob. She wiped her palm across the mirror causing beads
of condensation to run down the surface. Her reflection peered
back; unworthy and untrusting. Serenity didn’t think she was ugly,
not on the outside. Inwardly, she felt like a failure. She couldn’t
see what drew Sebastian, though she couldn’t deny the attraction.
The possibility that he saw something in her made Serenity pause
and look at herself in a way she’d never been able to
before.

Was it possible for her to have another
life? Did she deserve something more than this?

She stepped into the shower, wincing as
the hot water hit her skin. Her body adjusted to the heat and she
immersed herself in the water like a baptism.

Sebastian, Sebastian,
Sebastian.

She ran his name over and over
in her mind as
scalding water coursed down her body. Steam filled the room
and she inhaled, cleansing her lungs. Serenity picked up the soap
and ran the bar over her skin, across her flat stomach, across her
pubic bone. A tremor of excitement shuddered deep at her core, in a
part she thought long dead. She couldn’t remember any time in her
adult life where she had physically wanted a man, yet now she
imagined her hand was his, her touch belonged to him. Thoughts of
Sebastian consumed her.

Too aware of time passing, Serenity
forced herself from the warm comfort of the water.

She stepped from the shower, her skin
flushed with desire. She wished he was there, taking her in his
arms, kissing her, slipping his fingers into her most intimate
parts.

The guilt rushed back, but with it came
surprise. Serenity endured sex. Now, she wanted, even anticipated
it. She couldn’t remember ever wanting someone, but the thought of
Sebastian touching her sent thrills racing through her.

Forcing thoughts of Sebastian from her
mind, Serenity went into her bedroom and dressed in her usual
outfit of jeans and a sweater. On top of the dresser, her ‘S’
necklace nestled in a small dish. She picked the chain up between
her fingertips and carefully hooked the silver around her throat.
The necklace slipped beneath the collar of her sweater. The jewelry
against her skin comforted her. The last memento of her old life,
the only thing her mother had ever given her, and as much as she
wanted to hate the woman, Serenity found it impossible to let go of
the past.

L
ooking up at her
old
office building, Serenity felt a pang of
regret. She had liked her job; even been good at it, when she’d
been there. Her position included taking care of the engineering
company’s payroll and overtime. She coordinated who covered should
someone call in sick on a major job. Though a predominantly male
environment, the situation suited Serenity just fine. She knew all
men weren’t like Jackson. If she worked with women, they would want
to know about her; ask questions about her life, her husband, the
things she liked to do. Invitations for drinks would come, worse,
requests for her and Jackson to come to dinner. Instead, Serenity
kept herself to herself, and the men allowed her aloof behavior.
They thought her standoffish, probably called her a bitch behind
her back, but she didn’t care.

Serenity enjoyed the projects she assisted
with, even if she didn’t have much to do with the actual building.
She found it interesting to talk to the engineers about the reasons
they chose certain materials for certain buildings, why they used a
particular joint or strut. There was science and mathematics to the
work, a precision. The beauty of a building didn’t draw her; she
loved the stability and predictability a great design
brought.

When she allowed herself to dream, she
imagined herself an architect in another life.

Serenity took a breath and walked through
the revolving glass door. From the lobby, she rode the elevator
twelve floors up to her old department.

The company secretary, Elise, was talking
on the phone as she walked in. Elise glanced up as Serenity passed
and gave a tight lipped smile of distant sympathy. Serenity forced
herself to smile back, but made no plans to hang around and
chat.

Instead, she headed straight to her
old desk. Someone had left a cardboard box on the surface and she
put the few items remaining on her desk inside.

Peter, her old boss, came out of his
private office.

“
I didn’t think you’d want
to come and say goodbye,” she said without bothering to look
up.

Peter perched himself on the edge of the
desk and folded his arms across his chest. Reluctantly, Serenity
put down the photograph she held and straightened.

He sighed. “I know it’s probably not
my place but I wanted to ask if I could do anything to
help.”

Genuine concern haunted his eyes, but the
words stabbed deep inside of her. She hated the thought of people
knowing about her home life, but mainly she was angry. The man had
the nerve to poke his nose into her business when he was the one
who’d fired her.

“
What’s wrong, Peter? Guilty
conscience?” she said, her voice sharp.

“
I... I thought ...” but he
didn’t finish his sentence. He sighed again and ran a hand through
his thinning hair. “Just take care of yourself,” he
finished.

She tilted her head to one side, her
eyebrows raised. “Of course,” she said. “No one else
will.”

“
Are you all right?” he asked
scrutinizing her, his eyes narrowed. “There’s something different
about you.”

She forced a smile, “I’m fine,” she said.
“I’m good.”

Serenity threw the few items from her
desk in the box and left.

A silver-framed photograph of her and
Jackson on vacation sat in the top of the box. Taken in the early
days, the photograph had captured her young and glowing, her nose
pink from the sun. The vacation to Florida had been the first she’d
ever taken and she remembered being happy for the first time in
years.

The girl in the photo didn’t exist
anymore; she had been broken and couldn’t be fixed.

Serenity took one last look at the picture
and then let it fall from her fingers into a trash can on the side
of the street. Without a second thought, she tipped the rest of her
things in and stuffed the cardboard box on top of them for good
measure.

She wiped her hands on the seat of her
jeans and a strange wave of pride washed over her. Peter was right.
Something was different about her.

With a lighter step, Serenity trekked back
across town. The whole time she searched for Sebastian, hoping to
see him. His face reflected in every tall man with dark hair. Her
stomach leapt in expectation at every turn, but she was always
disappointed.

By the time she reached the hospital, her
positivity had seeped away. She was tired and fed up. Whether from
the disappointment of not seeing Sebastian again, or the prospect
of taking Jackson home, she didn’t know, or care.

Why hadn’t she seen Sebastian again?
Was he angry with her for not leaving Jackson? Her emotions
churned. If she really loved this man, why hadn’t she done exactly
that?

Love?

Could she love him; a man she barely knew?
What did she need to know? What made you fall in love with someone?
Just because you knew their favorite food was steak or they had
seen ‘The Great Escape’ fourteen times, didn’t make you love them.
How they made you feel must be more important. She loved each and
every one of her unborn babies. They never had the chance to have a
favorite food, or color, or song, but she didn’t love them any
less.

Serenity didn’t understand her reasons for
staying with Jackson; she should have done exactly what Sebastian
said and packed her bags. Instead, she held onto the guilt that she
deserved everything she got—or maybe the guilt held onto
her?

A
rriving at the hospital, she headed
straight up to Jackson’s ward. She was late and the old nervous
butterflies fluttered in her stomach, certain he would punish her
for her tardiness.

From the doorway of the ward, she
could see Jackson lying in bed, his eyes closed. A white bandage
was taped down to the back of his head and a silver bedpan rested
on top of the covers, held loosely between his fingers.

Her heart gave an evil little leap for
joy. Her prayers about him taking a turn for the worse must have
come true. She chewed her lip as she approached him. He sensed her
arrival and opened his eyes.

He squinted. “Where have you
been?” he said in the ‘
I’m so ill and weak’
voice he saved for when he wanted
sympathy.

The sound made her want to scream, but
she forced a smile. “Sorry. I needed to go into work and get a
couple of things done. But I’m free now to take care of
you.”

Jackson grunted and flailed his hand
around on the bedside table, trying to find his glasses. Eventually
his fingertips touched the frames and he hooked the glasses up and
slid them onto his face.

“
That old bastard of a boss
didn’t give you a hard time, did he?” he grunted. “I don’t want to
go and have words with him about how he’s treating my
wife.”

She gave a small, unnatural laugh.
“Don’t be silly.”

“
Good.” With exaggerated
effort, he pushed himself to sitting and glanced at her empty
hands. “Haven’t you brought me anything? Where are my magazines?
Where the fuck are my grapes?”

Embarrassed at his language, Serenity
glanced around, making sure no one else heard.

“
I didn’t think to bring
anything. I thought you would be coming home today.”

Jackson grunted again and lowered himself
back down onto his pillows. “I started getting sick during the
night and then my vision went blurry. The doctors suggested I stay
in another night.”

“
Oh, I see.” She tried not to let
her joy at the thought of another night without him, and a possible
night with Sebastian, show. “Shall I go down to the shop? Get you
what you wanted?”

“
What’s the matter? It’s
like you can’t get away quick enough,” he complained, but then went
on to give her a list.

She made her way down to the shop, bought
him magazines, a couple of packets of chips and a coke. For a man
who’d been throwing up, he was certainly craving some junk food.
She wondered how much of his nausea and blurred vision was because
of a concussion or if his hangover had kicked in.

Reluctantly, she went back up to the
ward.

“
Read it to me,” Jackson
said, pawing at the magazine.

She resisted the impulse to roll it up
and hit him.

The rest of the afternoon was spent
reading to her husband and running around for him. Serenity found
herself repeatedly glancing at the clock, hoping Jackson wouldn’t
notice.