Chapter 2

Chapter 2

After work, Cherry and I went to a café and toasted with a bottle of wine before heading home.

When I arrived at my apartment, I found Jason sitting there looking sullen. My mood changed immediately. I kicked off my stilettos and sat beside him, curling into his side. I ran my hand slowly along his arm, then leaned in and pressed my nose against his neck, breathing him in — that warm, familiar scent that always settled something in me.

"What is it, love?"

He ignored me.

“Please, talk to me.” I pulled back and looked straight into his face, searching it for whatever was wrong.

I couldn't stand seeing him upset. Finally, he spoke.

“Mara is at the institute.”

“Wow. Good.” I rolled my eyes and stood. Finally, I thought. She's out of our lives for good. Then I stood.

“Mara has returned. Congratulations to her.”

I prepared to leave.

“Not at all.”

His voice stopped me.

“She is at a psychiatric facility.”

I turned before he could see the smile tugging at the corner of my lips. Good. She was exactly where she belonged — far away from him, and away from me. There was no version of Mara I wanted anywhere near what was mine. I turned back and knelt in front of him, taking hold of his arms.

“That's great. Why are you sad?”

Jason's eyes lifted to mine slowly. Something shifted in his face — the warmth draining out of it, replaced by a stillness that made the air between us feel colder. His jaw tightened. He looked at me the way someone looks at a stranger who has just said something unforgivable.

I shoved the feeling down before it could take root. He was just tired. That was all.

“We wanted her out, and she is. Why the gloomy face?”

“I am the reason for her crisis,” he said quietly. “And I'm the only one she has.”

I stopped smiling. Something twisted in my chest. He sounded so full of guilt, so consumed with what he owed her — and not once did he ask how any of this made me feel. What about me? Wasn't I the one he came home to?

“I placed her there. Now they're asking me to pay her medical bills and visit her until she's better.”

I went quiet. My mind stumbled over what he'd just said — pay her bills, visit her — like I was hearing it twice before it made sense. How did they get in touch with you? I thought you severed all relations with her.”

“A friend of mine who works there contacted me.”

My jaw tightened, a hard line settling between my brows.

"You have money. You could pay," I muttered, almost to myself. I had been giving Jason money anyway. I was generous with him because I had more than enough. He came closer.

"Come on, baby."

His hands slid down my thigh, and I felt it — the exact second the word "assist" left his mouth and his fingers found me at the same time, like they'd been rehearsed together. Something tightened low in my stomach, something that I didn't want.

I knew exactly what he was doing, and I let him do it anyway. There was one thing Jason was amazing at: teasing me.

“You don't need to make the transaction this time,” he whispered. “I can assist you.”

He stroked my breasts.

“Okay. Okay.”

I moaned.

“But after this.”

I pushed him down.

We had sex again.

I sat up and caught my reflection in the dark screen of my phone — hair undone, eyes somewhere I didn't recognize.

Then the shower turned on, and I let the sound pull me back before I had to look any longer.

Jason dressed and went to the bank. I didn't care how much money he took.

Jason dressed and went to the bank. I didn't care how much money he took.

He was worth it.

Then my father's name appeared on my phone. He had called me five times. This time, I answered.

"What, Dad?" I asked lazily.

"I'm at your apartment. Open the door."

"What? And you're telling me now?"

"I almost turned back twice. Just open the door, Mabel."

"I'm not home. I went to a friend's.”

"Mabel. I'm standing outside your door.”

I let out a slow breath, the kind that comes when there's no point pretending anymore. I stood abruptly and pulled on a pair of blue jeans and Jason's shirt before going to the door. I looked through the peephole, and he was standing outside. I opened the door.

He walked in and looked around the apartment—the living room, the sofa, the refrigerator. Then his eyes moved toward the closed bedroom door.

“Can I sit?”

“Yes. Of course.” I let him in and closed the door.

He sat down.

“Are you alone?”

“Yes.”

His eyes dropped to my clothes.

“Then why are you wearing a man's shirt?”

“Oh, shit.” I looked down, and my stomach dropped. This was exactly what he'd been afraid of finding. I'd forgotten I was wearing Jason's shirt.

“He's not here,” I admitted. “He went out.”

My father stared at me for a moment and sighed.

"Do you remember when you were ten?"

Here we go, I thought, bracing myself. Another lecture disguised as a trip down memory lane.

"Yes," I said, and sat down on the sofa beside him, closer than I probably needed to be.

He leaned back.

"For your birthday, your mother baked you lasagna and a chocolate-topped banana cake."

"I remember."

"After the birthday party, she told you the chocolate icing represented love and the banana represented caring."

I listened.

"She still tells that story. Every year, around your birthday."

My eyes widened. I'd never heard that.

"You should call her sometime. Hearing it from her would mean more than hearing it from me."

I softened, something guilty settling in my chest. I hadn't called home in weeks.

"I will," I said.

He was quiet for a moment, looking down at his hands like he was deciding whether to say the next part at all.

"You've been absent lately," he said finally, his voice lower now. "Not just from her. From all of us. You don't return calls."

I looked away. He was right. I'd been avoiding them because I didn't want them to scare Jason away.

"I don't want to pry into your life, Mabel. That's not why I came."

He paused again, like even this much felt like overstepping.

"All I'm saying is, be cautious."

“Of whom? Jason?”

I laughed.

“No, Dad. Jason is the most honest person I've ever met. More honest than you or my brothers.” The words left my mouth before I could stop them, and the hurt on his face told me I'd meant them as a weapon.

I stood.

Just then, Jason entered. He looked at my father, then at me. He immediately sensed the tension. He turned around and walked out.

My father stood.

“Just so you know, call Paschal.”

Then he left.

I exhaled. Why was everyone so suspicious of Jason? I was upset for a while, but eventually I convinced myself that my father was only trying to protect me.

Jason returned thirty minutes later and went out onto the balcony. I knew I'd have to tell him what happened. Instead, I pushed the thought aside and called Paschal.

“Hola, sis.”

“Hi.”

“How is Jason?”

I looked toward the balcony.

“He's fine. He mentioned work's been rough this week — a lot of late nights." My hand found my forehead on its own, rubbing slow circles.

“Is he there with you?”

“Hmm... no.”

Paschal was quiet for a moment.

“Just so you know, I went to his place of work.”

My stomach tightened.

“And?”

“He hasn't been to work for the last three days.”

I swallowed. Three days. Where had he been going every morning if not to work?

“Any idea why?”

“No.”

“Okay. Look, Mabel. I won't lie to you.”

His voice became serious.

“I don't trust him.”

I tightened my grip on the phone.

“He seems deceitful.”

“You don't know him.”

“I care about you. We all do.”

“I know.”

I ended the call.

Then I turned around.

Jason was sta nding behind me. My mind raced backward through everything I'd just said, trying to remember how loud I'd been.