M Sellars - All acts of pleasure

I left the keys dangling from the ignition. It was a conscious move, driven by a subconscious hope that my wife would change her mind, and I would be able to simply restart the vehicle and head for home.

Of course, I already knew I wasn’t going to get my wish, but that wasn’t going to stop me from trying. I tilted my head up and absently inspected the headliner because I knew looking at Felicity was just going to make my heart ache even more than it already did.

“I know,” she replied, voice flat and soft. “But, it’s for the best.”

“I hope you’re right,” I answered, giving up and turning my face toward her. She didn’t meet my gaze, instead leaving her eyes directed out the passenger side window. I exhaled heavily and added, “You know, you were just locked up in one institution, and now here you are going into another. I don’t see how that’s for the best.”

“This is different,” she replied. “I’m doing it voluntarily.”

“Yeah, and that’s what makes it even more disconcerting. You’re walking out of one cell and right into another, all of your own accord.”

“This is a hospital, Rowan, not a prison.”

“Yeah, I know it is. But it’s the kind with padded walls, locked doors, and grim-faced nurses named after hand tools.”

My attempt at bringing levity to the situation fell flat, even for me.

After a moment she offered, “My insurance will cover part of…”

“Gods, Felicity!” I cut her off, shaking my head as my voice rose slightly. “That isn’t my point! It’s not the money, you know that. I’ll spend whatever it takes.”

She remained silent.

I closed my eyes and reached up to rub my forehead as I let out an embarrassed sigh. I hadn’t exactly lashed out at her, but I knew my tone had been far less than patient.

“I’m sorry,” I almost whispered.

“It’s okay,” she replied. “I know you’re stressed out too.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Maybe I need to check in with you.”

I looked at the clock on the dash, and it read a little past one in the afternoon.

“You know,” I said. “Technically, you’re supposed to be at your parent’s house in less than an hour for Thanksgiving dinner. Your brother is in town for it and everything.”

“Aye, we are supposed to be there. Not just me.”

“Well, I figured after everything that’s happened between your father and me…” I left the rest of the sentence unspoken.

She shook her head gently. “No. I spoke to my mother about that. You were expected too.”

“Okay,” I replied with a shrug. “Then what are we doing here now? Why don’t we go get cleaned up and have dinner? Maybe you’ll feel better after…”

“No, Rowan.”

“You’re going to miss Thanksgiving dinner? With the O’Brien clan all together under one roof for a change?”

“It’s not all of them, you know that.”

“Well, immediate family…and Austin is there. That’s kind of a big deal unless I misunderstood.”

“I know that, and yes it is. But, I’ve no choice in the matter.”

“So, you’re telling me you can’t at least put this off until tomorrow?”

“No, I can’t.”

“Well, I don’t get it.”

“I don’t expect you to.”

“Honestly, I still don’t understand why you just can’t see Helen on a daily basis for a while.”

“Because that won’t do.”

“So, how is seeing her here instead of at her office going to be any different?”

“The hospital will be safe.”

“Her office isn’t?”

“It’s not her office I’m worried about.”

“You don’t feel safe with me?”

“Aye, I do,” she whispered. “But you don’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit, honey, that wasn’t a nothing sort of comment. What are you trying to say?”

She sighed. I knew she was tired and still feeling the effects of the tranquilizer Helen had given her a couple of hours before. I hated to press her, but she was talking in circles just like she had when she was being held at the Justice Center. I could tell the wheels were in motion beneath her fiery mane, I just didn’t know what it was that had them spinning so fiercely.

“Think about what I did to you last night,” she finally said.

“We’ve already established that you didn’t…”

“Aye, I know,” she interrupted. “Miranda did it, not me. You say that, but you also know Miranda was inside me. Controlling me. And, this wasn’t the first time.”

“Yeah, and your point?”

“You’re afraid she could do it again. So am I.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m afraid…”

“You are. I can feel it.”

“Okay, so maybe a little, but that’s my problem.”

“No, it’s our problem.”

“You know, I’m working really hard on making it not happen again.”

“I know you are, but until we’re certain it won’t, you would be safer without me around.”

“Dammit, Felicity, that’s a load of crap and you know it.”

“No, Rowan, it isn’t, and you know it.”

“Felicity…”

“No. Stop it. You know I’m right about this.”

“So, what if you are? What am I supposed to do, honey? Come out here daily and play Parcheesi with you in the rec room?”

“You could,” she said with a nod. Then, for the first time during the entire drive here, she looked over at me. “But, I’d much rather you do something more constructive with your time.”

“And what’s that?”

“Find her,” she choked, her voice starting to crack as her eyes moistened with fresh tears. “Find Miranda and make her leave me alone.”

“No, Maggie, just slow down for a minute and listen to me,” I said into my cell phone, trying to stay calm while making my voice as stern as I could without losing control. “No one has been hurt. It’s a psychiatric hospital.”

Of course, I was lying about no one being hurt, but since it was only me, I doubt it would have mattered. Besides, that wasn’t something she needed to know about anyway.

I had spent several minutes laying out the story in my head, selectively removing unnecessary details, before making the call to tell my wife’s family we wouldn’t be making it to the gala holiday dinner. I hadn’t even been able to get half of it out yet, and we’d been on the phone for almost ten minutes.

I listened for a moment as she gibbered excitedly on the other end, asking a mouthful of questions while not bothering to stop long enough for me to answer even one. I had been slowly pacing along a six foot or so stretch of the waiting area during the call, just to work off the nervous energy, but now I was feeling tired all over again. I stopped mid-step and planted myself on a plastic chair, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my knees then I closed my eyes as I continued to listen.

When she finally stopped to take a breath I said, “Your daughter is not insane, Maggie, no one is saying that. Helen told me it looks like Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.”

She immediately asked, “Who is Helen?”

“Her doctor,” I replied. “Doctor Helen Storm. It just happens that she’s also a good friend of ours, so I tend not to be overly formal.”

I could hear Shamus in the background, cursing and making demands. He wasn’t helping my mood at all, but at least it was Maggie doing the actual talking. She was a far cry from being a fan of mine herself, however, she always went out of her way to remain civil and try to tolerate the “damned and hell bound son-in-law”, which was more than I could say for her husband. In my book, whether she hated me or not, she still showed me a graceful courtesy and I appreciated it.