“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Jessica asked.
“More of a tea person.”
Jessica made a mmm sound, as if my choice of hot beverage spoke volumes about my worth as a human being. Of course, that was my imagination. Her face betrayed nothing. “I’ll have some made. Decaf? It’s late.”
She’ll have some made? Did the staff not get time off? Did they work in shifts? Well, if that was my new life, if those were the entitlements one was to expect, then I was going to be as considerate as possible.
“Caffeinated is fine. Doesn’t bother me. And green, if you have it.”
“Would you like to sit outside?” She indicated the back.
“Sure.”
She opened the sliding door to a patio and flipped a switch. Heating torches went up, lights went on. I nodded and walked out. I sat on a chair, listening to the ocean I knew was there but couldn’t see. I had trouble imagining having access to such a patio every night and being at anything but complete peace. Or was that what she feared? That losing the money to maintain the patio, the house, the studio meant she couldn’t be at peace? I imagined the level of anxiety I’d face if the things that kept me sane were taken away. My voice. My ears. Even my piano, with its broken pedal, was a rock I held tight when I felt anxious. Jonathan removing that much of her income had thrown her off a cliff, made her panic. Cornered her. Poorly thought out for a man who controlled everything at all times.
Even with the torches, it was chilly. I realized then, too late, that I didn’t have my scarf. The crew neck on my tee was relatively tight, but my bruises were visible with even the most minor inspection.
It was darker at the chair across from me. But Jessica was coming. She’d see me move to a darker corner.
I reminded myself to always remember the rules about Jessica, especially rule number one. Fuck her. It wasn’t about her. It was about protecting Jonathan from her little rat eyes.
I moved to the dark corner.
“So,” Jessica said as she closed the door, cradling a manila envelope.
I looked at her linen slacks and button-down white shirt again. Maybe she’d just gotten back from somewhere, or maybe she and Jonathan were partners in their sleep habits, hanging out until all hours and waking up after what most people would consider a nap. Maybe they used to stay up all night giggling and sharing stories, all dressed to the nines, not a hair out of place.
I had to shake myself out of my thoughts. “I’m sorry to come so late, but it seemed like everything was conspiring against us meeting.”
“‘Everything’ being Jonathan?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you ask him?”
“No.” Her question had been so direct and her tone so kind, yet condescending that I started to understand why Jonathan didn’t want me near her.
An older woman in a black dress came out with a tea tray and left silently. Jessica poured tea into two white cups that were so plain, they must have cost a fortune.
“I understand why you don’t want to ask him. He can be intimidating.”
I didn’t answer. I still didn’t know if I was playing rabbit-in-the-woods or qualified-to-kink, so I just poured myself tea. “I’m sorry I was rude to you when I saw you last.”
She waved it away. “I understand. I came on too strong. I assumed you were naturally curious.”
I consciously, and with great effort, let the insult slide. I’d asked for it, considering I hadn’t asked him the details of blocking me from seeing her and I had aggressively avoided Jonathan-bashing at Frontage. “This is a very nice house. The view must be incredible in the daytime.”
“It is. You can see all the way to the horizon. It’s cooler too, with the breeze coming in.”
“Have you lived here long?”
She smiled a little, and I wondered if she could see that I was feeling her out. “Erik and I moved here after I left Jonathan. It was far away from him. That was the best thing about it.”
“And Erik? Is he still here? It’s a big house to live in alone.”
“Moved on.” Turning the line of questioning over to her life was obviously not on her agenda because she changed the subject back to me. “So, why the change of heart? You wanted nothing to do with anything I had to say.”
It was time to pick what and who I was going to be. “When he got arrested, I got… Well you used the word curious. I felt like there were things I needed to know, and you were trying to tell them to me, but I wouldn’t let you.”
“And you figured you’d get them out of me so you could go back and tell him?”
I held my breath. I’d failed somehow, because she jumped on my motivations so quickly. I must have looked like a deer in headlights and turned shades of pink, even in the dark corner. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.” My voice crackled like a piece of paper being thrown in the trash.
“You’re going to tell him everything I said. And he’ll rebut me. Like my wrist, which I’m sure he denied breaking during sex. And beating me in his backyard. What did he tell you about that? Did he tell you I told everyone he wanted to rape me and hurt me? But he didn’t, of course, says he? Do you have any other source of information?”
I didn’t, but I said nothing.
“My lawyer says you found surveillance devices in your house, and he’s saying it was me. Is that what he told you? That I did it?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not the one with the sick fantasies. Why would I do that?”
How could I answer? How could I say, “So you could try to prove he was an abuser. To shame him. To get him declared incompetent.” I wouldn’t tip Jonathan’s hand. I gazed down at my palms in my lap and tried to think of some rebuttal that made sense, but I had nothing.
She took my silence as permission to continue, her words measured and careful. “Every piece of information you have comes from him. Let me tell you something. He has control fantasies. If cameras were in your house, you have no farther to look than the man next to you. If a woman says he broke her wrist because he was holding them behind her back during sex, believe her.”
“You said you were joking.”
“I shouldn’t have told you when you were working. That was the joke. It wasn’t funny, but I don’t lie. Jonathan does. You know that, right? You know he lies.”
I took a deep breath. How could I admit that without betraying him? To sit there and say I believed everything he’d ever said would earn me nothing but her laughter. I felt cornered, hateful. Jonathan was right. I shouldn’t have come.