so be it.”
“I could have sworn you weren’t an idiot, but I think I’m going to have to revisit that thought.”
He goggled at her from his place on the floor. He tried to get up, but she pinned him down with a glance while reaching her hands out to touch him.
“What do see when you look at me, Garrett?” He opened his mouth, but she barreled right over him. “Do you see a little accountant? A woman who lives on her own? One who wears her glasses and never calls in sick? Who makes food for all her neighbors and has appointed herself the official Welcome Wagon for the people of this building? Do you think I’m straitlaced because of my long skirts and high collars and my staid life?”
He didn’t open his mouth this time. Instead he nodded.
“And what would you say if I told you I’m a recovered drug addict? That I used to walk the streets every night in search of that next high? What if I told you that I was a breath away from becoming a criminal when I finally got picked up by the police and found by a mentor who cared about me?”
“No way, Dory. Don’t spin some fanciful story for me just because you want me to think it’s all going to be okay.” His voice was rough and a glint in his eyes told her he was fighting a touch of madness. She’d seen it many times.
“I’m not spinning a tale, Garrett. Do you want to see my certificate for making it through the detox program? You want to see my discharge papers from the mental hospital after I tried to kill myself? Or you could go downstairs and talk to Marta. She can tell you all about the legal battles she fought for me. I’ll even release her from client confidentiality. My ex-boyfriend was a drug pusher, and he used to beat the snot out of me if I didn’t come home with enough money. It doesn’t get more real than that.”
Disbelief was written all over his face. She waited for the truth to sink in, wondering what his next demand would be. She was willing to give anything to him, prove anything to him, so long as it would save him from himself.
* * *
Garrett thought his ears must be clogged or that he was hallucinating. Maybe instead of anger now, he would experience madness each time he used his powers. It would be better than the homicidal urges that usually struck him.
But Dory was standing over him, waiting for him to make some comment. “I have to go.”
“No, you don’t, and you won’t. You’re going to sit there until I either talk myself dry, or you finally get it through your thick skull that we all deserve a second chance. It’s time for you to give yourself a break. What more do you need to punish yourself over? Morgan didn’t die all those years ago, and she killed herself…you didn’t do it for her.”
“I made her what she was.” The sight of her sticking that knife into herself would never leave him, nor would the image of Dory hanging in an abandoned back room. How could she think he had nothing to atone for?
“No, you didn’t. God, Garrett, give yourself a break. You think I don’t have regrets? I did stuff I’m not proud of. And all I’ve done to make up for it is some pro bono tax work. Is that enough? Maybe not. But I owe it to myself and the people in my life to move forward without drowning in the past.”
“I can’t…”
She held up her hand. “I’m going to fix you, and then you need to fix yourself. I’d like to be around when you do.”
Her hands on his chest were like a balm to his soul. The first time she’d done this for him, he’d lost too much blood to really feel it. The second time, he’d been too far gone to appreciate it. But now he was truly present as she sat on the floor next to him, her hands on his chest, her head bent over them. She murmured nonsensical things, phrases he would expect to find in some self-help book. But all of it cleansed him. He felt the darkness drain out of him, leaving behind not even an echo.
When she was done, he raised her hands to his lips and
“I could have sworn you weren’t an idiot, but I think I’m going to have to revisit that thought.”
He goggled at her from his place on the floor. He tried to get up, but she pinned him down with a glance while reaching her hands out to touch him.
“What do see when you look at me, Garrett?” He opened his mouth, but she barreled right over him. “Do you see a little accountant? A woman who lives on her own? One who wears her glasses and never calls in sick? Who makes food for all her neighbors and has appointed herself the official Welcome Wagon for the people of this building? Do you think I’m straitlaced because of my long skirts and high collars and my staid life?”
He didn’t open his mouth this time. Instead he nodded.
“And what would you say if I told you I’m a recovered drug addict? That I used to walk the streets every night in search of that next high? What if I told you that I was a breath away from becoming a criminal when I finally got picked up by the police and found by a mentor who cared about me?”
“No way, Dory. Don’t spin some fanciful story for me just because you want me to think it’s all going to be okay.” His voice was rough and a glint in his eyes told her he was fighting a touch of madness. She’d seen it many times.
“I’m not spinning a tale, Garrett. Do you want to see my certificate for making it through the detox program? You want to see my discharge papers from the mental hospital after I tried to kill myself? Or you could go downstairs and talk to Marta. She can tell you all about the legal battles she fought for me. I’ll even release her from client confidentiality. My ex-boyfriend was a drug pusher, and he used to beat the snot out of me if I didn’t come home with enough money. It doesn’t get more real than that.”
Disbelief was written all over his face. She waited for the truth to sink in, wondering what his next demand would be. She was willing to give anything to him, prove anything to him, so long as it would save him from himself.
* * *
Garrett thought his ears must be clogged or that he was hallucinating. Maybe instead of anger now, he would experience madness each time he used his powers. It would be better than the homicidal urges that usually struck him.
But Dory was standing over him, waiting for him to make some comment. “I have to go.”
“No, you don’t, and you won’t. You’re going to sit there until I either talk myself dry, or you finally get it through your thick skull that we all deserve a second chance. It’s time for you to give yourself a break. What more do you need to punish yourself over? Morgan didn’t die all those years ago, and she killed herself…you didn’t do it for her.”
“I made her what she was.” The sight of her sticking that knife into herself would never leave him, nor would the image of Dory hanging in an abandoned back room. How could she think he had nothing to atone for?
“No, you didn’t. God, Garrett, give yourself a break. You think I don’t have regrets? I did stuff I’m not proud of. And all I’ve done to make up for it is some pro bono tax work. Is that enough? Maybe not. But I owe it to myself and the people in my life to move forward without drowning in the past.”
“I can’t…”
She held up her hand. “I’m going to fix you, and then you need to fix yourself. I’d like to be around when you do.”
Her hands on his chest were like a balm to his soul. The first time she’d done this for him, he’d lost too much blood to really feel it. The second time, he’d been too far gone to appreciate it. But now he was truly present as she sat on the floor next to him, her hands on his chest, her head bent over them. She murmured nonsensical things, phrases he would expect to find in some self-help book. But all of it cleansed him. He felt the darkness drain out of him, leaving behind not even an echo.
When she was done, he raised her hands to his lips and
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