Brain Damage, page 23
part #2 of Prescription: Murder Series
“Maybe…” Natalie frowns. “I mean, the prisms definitely help some patients a lot. But I can’t say that I’ve ever seen anything quite this marked.”
“I didn’t think they were making a difference at all,” I admit.
Natalie nods again, looking thoughtful. “Let’s keep trying.”
We go down the hallway several more times, and I don’t bump into the wall once. And each time I use my left hand to push the wheel. Natalie is over the moon happy for me, and I’m pretty pleased myself. I’m baffled that these glasses could be making such a big difference, but I can’t argue with the results.
_____
Clark is expected to come after lunch today, so I eat my lunch in the hallway alone. I see Jamie walking by, and I try not to stare. He’s alone too, gripping his cane in his right hand as he walks confidently down the hallway.
“Hey, Charly,” he says when he sees me. He manages a crooked smile. “New glasses?”
My hand flies to the lenses on my face. I know these glasses are incredibly ugly, and I hadn’t really cared before. But suddenly, I feel self-conscious. “Yeah,” is all I say.
“They’re cute,” he said, even though they absolutely are not cute in any way, shape or form.
“Thanks,” I say anyway.
He hesitates, lingering in front of me. “Can I… would it be alright if I sat with you?”
I look down at the watch on my left hand. It’s a quarter to one, and Clark will probably be here soon. God knows how he would react if he saw Jamie out here sitting with me. “You better not,” I say.
Jamie nods. But he looks sort of sad.
“I’ll see you tomorrow in Walking Group,” I tell him. Although I’m not actually sure that I’ll see him. I think Clark has spoken to Dr. Greenberg about my schedule and how he didn’t think it was a good use of my time to be in Walking Group. He makes a good point, but more than that, I think he’s trying to get me away from Jamie.
It’s hard to blame him for that one.
“Hey,” Jamie says suddenly. “Who turned your tray around?”
“Huh?” I say.
Jamie gestures down at my tray of food. “You usually only eat half. You know I always turn it around for you.”
I stare down at the empty plate of food in front of me. I hadn’t realized it, but my tray did seem especially easy to navigate today. My drink was there, my side dish was there, my utensils were easy to find, and my dessert was there too. Usually locating all the parts of my lunch is something of a scavenger hunt
“I think it’s the glasses,” I tell him.
Jamie raises his eyebrows. “The glasses? Really?”
I shrug. It’s the best explanation I can come up with.
Jamie looks a little bit skeptical though, and I can’t blame him. No matter how much of a miracle these glasses are, it doesn’t really explain why I suddenly started using my left hand. And it suddenly occurs to me that when I checked the time, I looked at the red watch Amy had put on my left hand to get me to pay more attention to it. I hadn’t even had to think about it.
Chapter 54
Five and a Half Months After
These glasses are literally the ugliest glasses I have ever seen.
Like I said before, I’ve always had perfect vision. Mostly, it was a blessing, but there were actually some days I was jealous of people who needed lenses to see. When it was stylish, I would’ve loved to put on a pair of Tina Fey glasses. But you don’t do that if you have perfect vision. It would just be pathetic.
These glasses are definitely not Tina Fey glasses. They’re the kind of glasses that you see on a spinster librarian. And then one day, she takes off her glasses and you realize that she was beautiful all along, but you never knew it because she’s had these horrible, ugly glasses covering half her face. That’s what I’ve got on my face right now.
But they’re helping me so much, I can’t hate them as much as they deserve to be hated based on appearance alone.
“It’s like a miracle,” I gush to Clark, when he arrives soon after lunch.
Clark has his nose buried in his phone, which is per usual. I wonder if he’s texting with Haley. No, I’m not going to let that bother me.
“That’s great, Charlotte,” he says. He sounds distracted, which I’m used to, but even more irritating, his voice has a patronizing edge to it.
“I just have to get a nicer set of frames,” I say.
“Who cares?” Clark says. “It doesn’t bother me.”
That’s not surprising, considering that he hasn’t even glanced in my direction since he walked into the room.
“They look like granny glasses,” I say.
Clark shrugs. “So what? You really want to waste a bunch of money on a pair of fancy-looking glasses? Do you really think that’s a good use of your finances, Charlotte?”
“Sure,” I say.
He rolls his eyes. “It’s not. That’s why I’m helping you with your money. Because you don’t know better.”
“I don’t see what’s wrong with getting a pair of glasses that look nice,” I say, frowning at him.
“What’s wrong is that glasses are expensive,” he says. “We’re on a tight budget to begin with. It’s not like you need to look like some kind of model.”
Lately, it seems like I haven’t had one conversation with Clark where he hasn’t reminded me of how physically undesirable I am. I bite my lip. “But, Clark…”
“Charlotte, I said no.”
And that’s it. That’s the end of it.
When Valerie comes into the room, she lets Clark do everything. Despite his apathy and chronic tardiness, he’s gotten pretty good at transferring me in and out of bed, and getting me dressed. He hardly even struggles to get my arms through the sleeves of my shirt anymore. Maybe this will all work out after all.
“Much better,” she tells Clark.
Clark smiles at the compliment. “I told you I’m a fast learner.”
I look at my shirt. Clark buttoned it, but missed one of the buttons. All of the buttons are now off by one. “You missed a button,” I tell him.
He looks at my shirt and laughs. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
“Can you fix it, please?”
Clark flashes me an irritated look. “Oh, for God’s sake, Charlotte… you’re acting like some sort of diva today.”
Am I really a diva because I don’t want my shirt buttoned wrong? It looks so sloppy. I don’t want to go around the rest of the day looking like this.
But it’s obvious that Clark isn’t going to help me.
I sigh, and start fixing the buttons myself. They’re completely wrong and all of them need to be undone. I start with the top button, and have gotten two of them fixed when I feel Valerie’s hand on mine.
“What are you doing?” Valerie nearly screams at me.
I drop my head guiltily. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to fix the buttons.”
“But you’re using your left hand,” Valerie says, shaking her head.
Wow. She’s right.
“It’s the glasses,” I tell her.
Valerie is still shaking her head. “No pair of glasses would do that.”
I’m not sure what to say to Valerie, because obviously the glasses did do it. Unless she thinks I was faking my entire brain injury. Maybe I chopped off my own skull just for fun.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I just know that they work.”
Valerie nods. “Thank God,” she says.
Chapter 55
Five and a Half Months After
I wake up to a ringing sound coming from my left side.
I blink my eyes, taking a moment to adjust to the darkness in the room. The clock on the wall says that it’s a quarter to eight in the evening, but the sun is down and it’s pitch black outside. Under the best circumstances, it would be hard to locate an object on my left, but it’s much harder in the dark, when I’m waking up from a nap.
Then I spy my glasses on the end table to my right side.
I grab the glasses with my right hand. Taking care not to poke myself in the eye with the earpieces, I slide the glasses onto my nose. I close my eyes for a second, then reach out to pick up the ringing phone with my left hand.
“Dr. McKenna?” a breathless voice says on the other line.
I freeze. Nobody has called me “Dr. McKenna” in such a long time. It hardly even feels like me anymore. “Yes…” I say.
“Dr. McKenna,” the voice says, “this is Regina Barry.”
My skull throbs slightly. I grip the phone tighter, uncertain what to say except, “Oh. Hi.”
“I’m so sorry to call you like this.” Regina Barry’s voice is just as I remember—a mix of shyness and uncertainty. She seemed like such a sweet woman, plagued by a horrible skin condition. I was so glad to have been able to help her.
Well, at least until her husband shot me.
“How did you get this number?” I ask weakly.
“It wasn’t easy,” she admits, “but I have my sources.”
That sounded ominous.
“Why are you calling?” I ask, now gripping the phone so tightly that my knuckles are white.
“I just…” Regina Barry hesitates. “There’s something I had to tell you. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t.”
I shake my head. “Okay…”
“The thing about my ex-husband Kyle is,” she begins, “he would never have shot you because he was angry about you breaking us up. That doesn’t make any sense.”
I frown at the phone. I can’t believe Regina is defending her husband. After everything he’d done to her. And to me.
“Believe me,” I say. “He’s the one who shot me. I remember it.”
“No, I don’t doubt that,” Regina says. “I believe he’s capable of it. I just… I don’t think he did it because he was angry that I left him.” She pauses. “The truth is, Kyle couldn’t care less that we got divorced. He was happy to be done with me, in fact. He only cared that he got half my money.”
“Half your money?”
“My father owned a successful business,” she explains. “He left me a fair amount of money in his will. I wouldn’t have believed it at the time, but now I suspect that the only reason Kyle married me at all was for financial reasons. He… has a bit of a gambling problem.”
“Oh,” I say, because what else can I say?
She takes a deep breath. “Anyway, the thing is, Dr. McKenna, you were so kind to me, and you helped me so much. More than anyone else in my entire life. So that’s why I had to talk to you.”
I’m having trouble following what she’s talking about. Maybe it’s the brain injury. “I don’t understand.”
“I read this article about you online the other day,” Regina says. “I just got curious about you, since… well, you know. And until I read that article, I never realized that Clark Douglas was your husband.”
“Oh,” I say. This conversation is making me tired. I wish I could go back to sleep. “Yes. He is.”
“The thing is, Dr. McKenna,” she says, “I know Clark.”
“What do you mean?” I ask impatiently. My head is starting to throb. Maybe my nurse could bring me some Tylenol.
“Dr. McKenna,” Regina Barry says, “Clark was my neighbor. He lived in the apartment down the hall from me and Kyle for several years.”
The throbbing in my head intensifies sharply. “What?”
“Clark and I were neighbors,” Regina repeats.
I shake my head at the phone. “You must be mistaken. Maybe it’s a different Clark.”
“I doubt that,” Regina snorts. “Clark Douglas—crazy good-looking with those ridiculously blue eyes. Sort of hard to forget. Clark and Kyle were, like, best friends for a while…”
No. That’s not possible.
“And he was dating this gorgeous brunette model,” Regina goes on. “Or wannabe model… it seemed like she mostly did waitressing. I think her name was Heidi. No, Holly.”
“Haley,” I say.
“Yes!” Regina yelps. “That’s it. Haley. God, I hated the two of them.” She amends, “Well, all three of them, really.”
The throbbing in my head is making it hard to focus. Clark couldn’t have been neighbors with Kyle Barry. It doesn’t make any sense. After all, the only reason I gave Clark a chance for a second date was that Kyle Barry was threatening me, and Clark heroically stepped in and…
Oh.
Oh God.
“Did you tell this to the police?” I ask Regina.
“I tried,” she says. “I called several times, but I kept getting transferred to answering machines. I left my contact information, but nobody ever called me back. I don’t know. It felt like they thought the case was pretty much wrapped up and they weren’t interested in any new information.” She pauses. “So I decided to call you instead.”
“Yes,” I say weakly. The throbbing pain in my temple has become so severe, I’m afraid my brain may explode. Especially since I don’t have a skull anymore to hold everything in place.
“Dr. McKenna?” Regina Barry’s voice suddenly sounds very far away. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I manage. “But… I have to go.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Yes,” I say. “I’m fine. Thank you for calling.”
Before Regina can get out another word, I slam the phone back down on the receiver. I feel my breaths coming fast and hard. I need some Tylenol now. No, I need something stronger than Tylenol. Where’s that nurse call button?
The door to my room cracks open, filtering in a tiny bit of light. I breathe a sigh of relief—the nurse is here to give me my goddamn pain medication. I’m going to have some nice oxycodone in a little cup of applesauce. Maybe my brain won’t explode after all.
Except when I see the silhouette framed in the doorway, I realize it isn’t my nurse at all.
It’s Clark.
Chapter 56
Five and a Half Months After
For a moment, I feel a sense of fear so overwhelming, I can hardly breathe. All I can think about is Regina’s words: Clark was my neighbor. Kyle and Clark were best friends. I watch Clark step into the room, shutting the door behind him. His blue eyes suddenly seem almost black.
“Clark,” I manage, over my fear and the persistent throbbing in my temple. “What are you doing here? Visiting hours are almost over.”
Clark comes closer to me. I feel like I barely recognize him. Those beautiful blue eyes, the chiseled features, the chestnut hair—they all seem like the features of a complete stranger. He walks right up to my bedside, close enough that I can smell the alcohol on his breath.
“No more screwing around, Charlotte,” he says. He holds up a few papers in his hand. “I’m sick of the games. These are the power of attorney forms. I want you to sign them for me. Now.”
“Now?” I squeak. “But it’s the middle of the night…”
“Always with the excuses,” Clark mutters. “Charlotte, without these forms, I can’t even pay your mortgage and you’ll lose your precious apartment.”
“My mother has been paying the mortgage,” I point out.
Clark doesn’t seem to appreciate that answer. “Do you recognize the sacrifice I’m making for you?” he practically spits in my face. “I’m going to be dressing you, bathing you, wiping your ass. I’m the one keeping you out of a nursing home. You can’t even sign a paper for me, you ungrateful bitch?”
Christ, where is that nurse call button?
“I thought it had to be notarized,” I say in a small voice.
“I’ve got a friend who can do it,” Clark mutters.
“Oh.”
Clark places the paper on my lap then roughly shoves a pen into my right hand. I don’t want to sign these papers. I really don’t. But what else can I do? In a way, he’s right. He’s going to be doing everything for me. I need him.
Clark was my neighbor. Kyle and Clark were best friends.
The pain in my temple is almost blinding. I feel my hand holding the pen start to shake. I don’t know if I could sign even if I wanted to.
“Sign the paper,” Clark says through his teeth. “Sign it or I swear to God, I’ll walk away right now. I’ll leave you to figure out this mess all on your own.”
I have to sign. I don’t have a choice. I try to steady my hand enough to sign, but it’s hard. I can’t stop shaking.
“I’m doing you a favor, Charlotte,” he goes on. “You realize that, right? Just like I did you a favor when I married you.”
I stare up at him. “What?”
“Come on, Charlotte,” he snorts. “You didn’t really think that somebody like me would really be attracted to a fat, bitchy, ugly doctor? I did you a favor by marrying you. I took pity on you. But you were never grateful to me. You always just wanted more. You wanted me to work myself into the ground like you did. Or to have a baby, for Christ’s sake. God.”
My throat feels almost too dry to get any words out. “That’s not…”
“All you wanted was to be able to control me,” he hisses at me. “Well, now you don’t get to be the boss anymore. You’re not the smart one who knows everything anymore. Who looks down on me because I’m not as good as you are. Because I don’t have any money and my career is in the shithole.”
Clark was my neighbor. Kyle and Clark were best friends.
“Clark,” I manage. “I never…”
But Clark doesn’t want to hear anything I have to say. He’s on a roll.
“I’ve got news for you, Charlotte,” he says. “You better learn to get a lot more humble or else your life is going to be really crappy. Nobody is going to put up with your shit anymore looking the way you do now. I sure won’t.”
I look into Clark’s handsome face. I remember the first time I saw him, being so amazed that somebody like him could like somebody like me. And I was right. He never wanted me. He never liked me. Not really.
“Frankly,” Clark goes on, “I feel like I’ve been putting up with it for far too long. It’s sort of gratifying to finally see you get what you deserve.”
Get what I deserve.
“I didn’t think they were making a difference at all,” I admit.
Natalie nods again, looking thoughtful. “Let’s keep trying.”
We go down the hallway several more times, and I don’t bump into the wall once. And each time I use my left hand to push the wheel. Natalie is over the moon happy for me, and I’m pretty pleased myself. I’m baffled that these glasses could be making such a big difference, but I can’t argue with the results.
_____
Clark is expected to come after lunch today, so I eat my lunch in the hallway alone. I see Jamie walking by, and I try not to stare. He’s alone too, gripping his cane in his right hand as he walks confidently down the hallway.
“Hey, Charly,” he says when he sees me. He manages a crooked smile. “New glasses?”
My hand flies to the lenses on my face. I know these glasses are incredibly ugly, and I hadn’t really cared before. But suddenly, I feel self-conscious. “Yeah,” is all I say.
“They’re cute,” he said, even though they absolutely are not cute in any way, shape or form.
“Thanks,” I say anyway.
He hesitates, lingering in front of me. “Can I… would it be alright if I sat with you?”
I look down at the watch on my left hand. It’s a quarter to one, and Clark will probably be here soon. God knows how he would react if he saw Jamie out here sitting with me. “You better not,” I say.
Jamie nods. But he looks sort of sad.
“I’ll see you tomorrow in Walking Group,” I tell him. Although I’m not actually sure that I’ll see him. I think Clark has spoken to Dr. Greenberg about my schedule and how he didn’t think it was a good use of my time to be in Walking Group. He makes a good point, but more than that, I think he’s trying to get me away from Jamie.
It’s hard to blame him for that one.
“Hey,” Jamie says suddenly. “Who turned your tray around?”
“Huh?” I say.
Jamie gestures down at my tray of food. “You usually only eat half. You know I always turn it around for you.”
I stare down at the empty plate of food in front of me. I hadn’t realized it, but my tray did seem especially easy to navigate today. My drink was there, my side dish was there, my utensils were easy to find, and my dessert was there too. Usually locating all the parts of my lunch is something of a scavenger hunt
“I think it’s the glasses,” I tell him.
Jamie raises his eyebrows. “The glasses? Really?”
I shrug. It’s the best explanation I can come up with.
Jamie looks a little bit skeptical though, and I can’t blame him. No matter how much of a miracle these glasses are, it doesn’t really explain why I suddenly started using my left hand. And it suddenly occurs to me that when I checked the time, I looked at the red watch Amy had put on my left hand to get me to pay more attention to it. I hadn’t even had to think about it.
Chapter 54
Five and a Half Months After
These glasses are literally the ugliest glasses I have ever seen.
Like I said before, I’ve always had perfect vision. Mostly, it was a blessing, but there were actually some days I was jealous of people who needed lenses to see. When it was stylish, I would’ve loved to put on a pair of Tina Fey glasses. But you don’t do that if you have perfect vision. It would just be pathetic.
These glasses are definitely not Tina Fey glasses. They’re the kind of glasses that you see on a spinster librarian. And then one day, she takes off her glasses and you realize that she was beautiful all along, but you never knew it because she’s had these horrible, ugly glasses covering half her face. That’s what I’ve got on my face right now.
But they’re helping me so much, I can’t hate them as much as they deserve to be hated based on appearance alone.
“It’s like a miracle,” I gush to Clark, when he arrives soon after lunch.
Clark has his nose buried in his phone, which is per usual. I wonder if he’s texting with Haley. No, I’m not going to let that bother me.
“That’s great, Charlotte,” he says. He sounds distracted, which I’m used to, but even more irritating, his voice has a patronizing edge to it.
“I just have to get a nicer set of frames,” I say.
“Who cares?” Clark says. “It doesn’t bother me.”
That’s not surprising, considering that he hasn’t even glanced in my direction since he walked into the room.
“They look like granny glasses,” I say.
Clark shrugs. “So what? You really want to waste a bunch of money on a pair of fancy-looking glasses? Do you really think that’s a good use of your finances, Charlotte?”
“Sure,” I say.
He rolls his eyes. “It’s not. That’s why I’m helping you with your money. Because you don’t know better.”
“I don’t see what’s wrong with getting a pair of glasses that look nice,” I say, frowning at him.
“What’s wrong is that glasses are expensive,” he says. “We’re on a tight budget to begin with. It’s not like you need to look like some kind of model.”
Lately, it seems like I haven’t had one conversation with Clark where he hasn’t reminded me of how physically undesirable I am. I bite my lip. “But, Clark…”
“Charlotte, I said no.”
And that’s it. That’s the end of it.
When Valerie comes into the room, she lets Clark do everything. Despite his apathy and chronic tardiness, he’s gotten pretty good at transferring me in and out of bed, and getting me dressed. He hardly even struggles to get my arms through the sleeves of my shirt anymore. Maybe this will all work out after all.
“Much better,” she tells Clark.
Clark smiles at the compliment. “I told you I’m a fast learner.”
I look at my shirt. Clark buttoned it, but missed one of the buttons. All of the buttons are now off by one. “You missed a button,” I tell him.
He looks at my shirt and laughs. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
“Can you fix it, please?”
Clark flashes me an irritated look. “Oh, for God’s sake, Charlotte… you’re acting like some sort of diva today.”
Am I really a diva because I don’t want my shirt buttoned wrong? It looks so sloppy. I don’t want to go around the rest of the day looking like this.
But it’s obvious that Clark isn’t going to help me.
I sigh, and start fixing the buttons myself. They’re completely wrong and all of them need to be undone. I start with the top button, and have gotten two of them fixed when I feel Valerie’s hand on mine.
“What are you doing?” Valerie nearly screams at me.
I drop my head guiltily. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to fix the buttons.”
“But you’re using your left hand,” Valerie says, shaking her head.
Wow. She’s right.
“It’s the glasses,” I tell her.
Valerie is still shaking her head. “No pair of glasses would do that.”
I’m not sure what to say to Valerie, because obviously the glasses did do it. Unless she thinks I was faking my entire brain injury. Maybe I chopped off my own skull just for fun.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I just know that they work.”
Valerie nods. “Thank God,” she says.
Chapter 55
Five and a Half Months After
I wake up to a ringing sound coming from my left side.
I blink my eyes, taking a moment to adjust to the darkness in the room. The clock on the wall says that it’s a quarter to eight in the evening, but the sun is down and it’s pitch black outside. Under the best circumstances, it would be hard to locate an object on my left, but it’s much harder in the dark, when I’m waking up from a nap.
Then I spy my glasses on the end table to my right side.
I grab the glasses with my right hand. Taking care not to poke myself in the eye with the earpieces, I slide the glasses onto my nose. I close my eyes for a second, then reach out to pick up the ringing phone with my left hand.
“Dr. McKenna?” a breathless voice says on the other line.
I freeze. Nobody has called me “Dr. McKenna” in such a long time. It hardly even feels like me anymore. “Yes…” I say.
“Dr. McKenna,” the voice says, “this is Regina Barry.”
My skull throbs slightly. I grip the phone tighter, uncertain what to say except, “Oh. Hi.”
“I’m so sorry to call you like this.” Regina Barry’s voice is just as I remember—a mix of shyness and uncertainty. She seemed like such a sweet woman, plagued by a horrible skin condition. I was so glad to have been able to help her.
Well, at least until her husband shot me.
“How did you get this number?” I ask weakly.
“It wasn’t easy,” she admits, “but I have my sources.”
That sounded ominous.
“Why are you calling?” I ask, now gripping the phone so tightly that my knuckles are white.
“I just…” Regina Barry hesitates. “There’s something I had to tell you. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t.”
I shake my head. “Okay…”
“The thing about my ex-husband Kyle is,” she begins, “he would never have shot you because he was angry about you breaking us up. That doesn’t make any sense.”
I frown at the phone. I can’t believe Regina is defending her husband. After everything he’d done to her. And to me.
“Believe me,” I say. “He’s the one who shot me. I remember it.”
“No, I don’t doubt that,” Regina says. “I believe he’s capable of it. I just… I don’t think he did it because he was angry that I left him.” She pauses. “The truth is, Kyle couldn’t care less that we got divorced. He was happy to be done with me, in fact. He only cared that he got half my money.”
“Half your money?”
“My father owned a successful business,” she explains. “He left me a fair amount of money in his will. I wouldn’t have believed it at the time, but now I suspect that the only reason Kyle married me at all was for financial reasons. He… has a bit of a gambling problem.”
“Oh,” I say, because what else can I say?
She takes a deep breath. “Anyway, the thing is, Dr. McKenna, you were so kind to me, and you helped me so much. More than anyone else in my entire life. So that’s why I had to talk to you.”
I’m having trouble following what she’s talking about. Maybe it’s the brain injury. “I don’t understand.”
“I read this article about you online the other day,” Regina says. “I just got curious about you, since… well, you know. And until I read that article, I never realized that Clark Douglas was your husband.”
“Oh,” I say. This conversation is making me tired. I wish I could go back to sleep. “Yes. He is.”
“The thing is, Dr. McKenna,” she says, “I know Clark.”
“What do you mean?” I ask impatiently. My head is starting to throb. Maybe my nurse could bring me some Tylenol.
“Dr. McKenna,” Regina Barry says, “Clark was my neighbor. He lived in the apartment down the hall from me and Kyle for several years.”
The throbbing in my head intensifies sharply. “What?”
“Clark and I were neighbors,” Regina repeats.
I shake my head at the phone. “You must be mistaken. Maybe it’s a different Clark.”
“I doubt that,” Regina snorts. “Clark Douglas—crazy good-looking with those ridiculously blue eyes. Sort of hard to forget. Clark and Kyle were, like, best friends for a while…”
No. That’s not possible.
“And he was dating this gorgeous brunette model,” Regina goes on. “Or wannabe model… it seemed like she mostly did waitressing. I think her name was Heidi. No, Holly.”
“Haley,” I say.
“Yes!” Regina yelps. “That’s it. Haley. God, I hated the two of them.” She amends, “Well, all three of them, really.”
The throbbing in my head is making it hard to focus. Clark couldn’t have been neighbors with Kyle Barry. It doesn’t make any sense. After all, the only reason I gave Clark a chance for a second date was that Kyle Barry was threatening me, and Clark heroically stepped in and…
Oh.
Oh God.
“Did you tell this to the police?” I ask Regina.
“I tried,” she says. “I called several times, but I kept getting transferred to answering machines. I left my contact information, but nobody ever called me back. I don’t know. It felt like they thought the case was pretty much wrapped up and they weren’t interested in any new information.” She pauses. “So I decided to call you instead.”
“Yes,” I say weakly. The throbbing pain in my temple has become so severe, I’m afraid my brain may explode. Especially since I don’t have a skull anymore to hold everything in place.
“Dr. McKenna?” Regina Barry’s voice suddenly sounds very far away. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I manage. “But… I have to go.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Yes,” I say. “I’m fine. Thank you for calling.”
Before Regina can get out another word, I slam the phone back down on the receiver. I feel my breaths coming fast and hard. I need some Tylenol now. No, I need something stronger than Tylenol. Where’s that nurse call button?
The door to my room cracks open, filtering in a tiny bit of light. I breathe a sigh of relief—the nurse is here to give me my goddamn pain medication. I’m going to have some nice oxycodone in a little cup of applesauce. Maybe my brain won’t explode after all.
Except when I see the silhouette framed in the doorway, I realize it isn’t my nurse at all.
It’s Clark.
Chapter 56
Five and a Half Months After
For a moment, I feel a sense of fear so overwhelming, I can hardly breathe. All I can think about is Regina’s words: Clark was my neighbor. Kyle and Clark were best friends. I watch Clark step into the room, shutting the door behind him. His blue eyes suddenly seem almost black.
“Clark,” I manage, over my fear and the persistent throbbing in my temple. “What are you doing here? Visiting hours are almost over.”
Clark comes closer to me. I feel like I barely recognize him. Those beautiful blue eyes, the chiseled features, the chestnut hair—they all seem like the features of a complete stranger. He walks right up to my bedside, close enough that I can smell the alcohol on his breath.
“No more screwing around, Charlotte,” he says. He holds up a few papers in his hand. “I’m sick of the games. These are the power of attorney forms. I want you to sign them for me. Now.”
“Now?” I squeak. “But it’s the middle of the night…”
“Always with the excuses,” Clark mutters. “Charlotte, without these forms, I can’t even pay your mortgage and you’ll lose your precious apartment.”
“My mother has been paying the mortgage,” I point out.
Clark doesn’t seem to appreciate that answer. “Do you recognize the sacrifice I’m making for you?” he practically spits in my face. “I’m going to be dressing you, bathing you, wiping your ass. I’m the one keeping you out of a nursing home. You can’t even sign a paper for me, you ungrateful bitch?”
Christ, where is that nurse call button?
“I thought it had to be notarized,” I say in a small voice.
“I’ve got a friend who can do it,” Clark mutters.
“Oh.”
Clark places the paper on my lap then roughly shoves a pen into my right hand. I don’t want to sign these papers. I really don’t. But what else can I do? In a way, he’s right. He’s going to be doing everything for me. I need him.
Clark was my neighbor. Kyle and Clark were best friends.
The pain in my temple is almost blinding. I feel my hand holding the pen start to shake. I don’t know if I could sign even if I wanted to.
“Sign the paper,” Clark says through his teeth. “Sign it or I swear to God, I’ll walk away right now. I’ll leave you to figure out this mess all on your own.”
I have to sign. I don’t have a choice. I try to steady my hand enough to sign, but it’s hard. I can’t stop shaking.
“I’m doing you a favor, Charlotte,” he goes on. “You realize that, right? Just like I did you a favor when I married you.”
I stare up at him. “What?”
“Come on, Charlotte,” he snorts. “You didn’t really think that somebody like me would really be attracted to a fat, bitchy, ugly doctor? I did you a favor by marrying you. I took pity on you. But you were never grateful to me. You always just wanted more. You wanted me to work myself into the ground like you did. Or to have a baby, for Christ’s sake. God.”
My throat feels almost too dry to get any words out. “That’s not…”
“All you wanted was to be able to control me,” he hisses at me. “Well, now you don’t get to be the boss anymore. You’re not the smart one who knows everything anymore. Who looks down on me because I’m not as good as you are. Because I don’t have any money and my career is in the shithole.”
Clark was my neighbor. Kyle and Clark were best friends.
“Clark,” I manage. “I never…”
But Clark doesn’t want to hear anything I have to say. He’s on a roll.
“I’ve got news for you, Charlotte,” he says. “You better learn to get a lot more humble or else your life is going to be really crappy. Nobody is going to put up with your shit anymore looking the way you do now. I sure won’t.”
I look into Clark’s handsome face. I remember the first time I saw him, being so amazed that somebody like him could like somebody like me. And I was right. He never wanted me. He never liked me. Not really.
“Frankly,” Clark goes on, “I feel like I’ve been putting up with it for far too long. It’s sort of gratifying to finally see you get what you deserve.”
Get what I deserve.
