Chain Reaction 3.1.74: Supplies!

 

Isabella

     After a little discussion, Braydon decided he liked the idea of me taking accounting classes. I really think I could help the gym if I handled the more 'business' side of the business. That won't take up all my time, though, at least once I get everything finally organized, but we've decided we'll figure it out as we go.

      A few days ago, I went and visited my sister in the hospital. I'm sad to say that I don't think I handled it very well. She kept trying to ask me questions about what had happened, and I did my best to relay to her everything Alex had told me. She kept asking about what happened with 'Mikey,' and it took me forever to realize she meant Brent. I finally got out that he was okay before dashing from the room in tears. How could my brilliant big sister act like that? I couldn't take it.

    Later, I called and talked to Alex, and he said the doctors think she'll recover eventually. It breaks my heart. I find myself throwing myself more into my job to deal with it--and my deteriorating home life.

    Today, Braydon tells me he has something he wants to show me. I hope it's good because so many things are going wrong in my life right now. The way he's smiling, I think it is.

     He's taking me to a door that no one uses. I don't even remember what it's for. "What is this, Braydon?"

     "You'll see." I can hear his grin.

      We enter a kind of storage closet. To my left is the lost and found, housing several lost jackets. Underneath them is a mop and bucket. There are also various things that for some reason didn't get thrown away.

     He sighs. "Okay, so it's not much, but I thought we could make it work."

     "Huh?"

     "Welcome to your new office!"

     "Oh." It's now that I notice the ancient computer behind him as well as the desk and chair. "Okay." I don't sound as thrilled as he probably hopes.

     "We really weren't using this room, so I came in and cleared out a bunch of stuff. I thought that after your reception shift ended that you could..." He starts noticing my expression.

     On the one hand, he fixed me an office. On another, it's a supply closet in the basement.

      "Um," he stutters, "Well, you could come down here and not be bothered. You know, focus."

     We've since changed my reception shift by cutting it down two hours so that I could work on the books. I was having some difficulty finding another place to go. I'd mostly gone up to the café to work. So this is what I get for saying I'm distracted by the beautiful old town scenery? Maybe I shouldn't have said that to him one day.

     "Thank you?"

     "Okay. Sorry. It's crap. I'll try to figure something else out, but in the meantime-"

     "No, it's fine." It's not. "I don't want you to have to rearrange everything just for me."

     "Isabella, you're saving this gym. I had no idea that many people were behind on payments. You can sell spa packages like nothing I've ever seen. You stopped Mrs. Elmhurst from leaving. I should definitely give you something better than this."

     "No, this'll be great. I have a nice, quiet space to think. I have tons of shelves to organize the various paperwork." No filing cabinet, though. But I can box things up and take them to his office. 

     We go back and forth about it, but eventually, I convince him that the way things are will work.

     Over the next few weeks, I do get plenty done in the two hours I have set aside for this task. However, tax season snuck up on me, and I'm glad I'm far enough along in my classes to be of some real help.

     Today, Braydon walks in as I'm sitting here waiting, forever, for this dinosaur to boot up. "I filed that extension you asked me to do."

     I let out a sigh. "Good. That takes a little of the pressure off. Are you sure you don't want to hire a pro again this year?" I'm not really qualified to be doing this, but honestly, tons of people do their own. It's not impossible.

     He asks me about the class I'm taking, that he's paying for. I tell him it's going fine and that I can't believe all the little ways I could've done what I started doing in a better way. Sometimes I still feel like I don't know what I'm doing.

     "Don't be so quick to knock yourself down, Isabella. I know I've told you before, but I think hiring you was one of the best decisions I ever made. Maker knows where I'd be now if I hadn't." You'd have stumbled along like you always did. He continues, "Hey, why not when you're done with this for the day I could treat you to a cup of coffee or something?" He takes in a quick breath of air.

     "No, I can't. Kade doesn't like it when I'm late coming home." We only really see each other a few hours a day. He gets up at about two and goes to get Ben from school. After I'd yelled at him that time, he started paying more attention to him. Then Kade has to leave for work around two hours after I get home. It makes my evening rush that much more stressful.

     "Is everything okay? Do you want to change your hours?"

     "Stop rearranging things for me or everyone is going to think you're playing favorites. I can work the job, Braydon." Then I mutter under my breath, "Besides, it's not like I'm eager to get home to him."

     "What was that?"

     "Nothing." Kade hates me working. It's like he sees it as some failure of his that I have a job. He keeps talking about so-and-so this and talent scout that. He's frustrated he hasn't 'made it big.' The worst is I've started paying for things, bills, groceries, etc. I don't ask him for pocket money anymore. And any time I talk about my job, I can see it in his eyes: he hates it. He's not interested in hearing about my day or how things are going. He doesn't want to know.

     "Isabella, you'd... tell me if...? Well, I just want you to know you can tell me if things with Kade start to get... unsafe." He'd met Kade one day when my spouse had shown the smallest pretend amount of interest in my career. Honestly, Kade was a total jerk to Braydon the second he met him. I was so embarrassed.

     "I'm fine," I tell him. And if I'm not, it's not really your business. 

     I think he can read my expression. "Sorry. I'm not trying to butt in on your personal life. I just... wanted you to know just in case." I get the feeling Braydon would gladly kick Kade's ass if whatever came to that, which that makes me feel strangely buoyant to think of.

     "Okay. Thank you for the... support."

     He smiles, still looking like he's apologizing. "I'll let you get back to work. Besides, I've gotta go up and order that equipment--now that I know how much I have for that in the budget." He grins and leaves my 'office.'

Alex

     We're home. We have been for a few weeks now.

     True to my word, I fired the security team I had and hired a new one. I had them standing at the front door and guarding the backyard, really only two at a time. And, as expected, Emily balked at that, claiming she felt like a prisoner in her own house. Well, she used the word 'captured' instead of what she meant, I think.

     Then she didn't speak to me for a full week. At first, I was determined to win, determined to have higher security, but eventually, I caved. They don't stand at the doors anymore.

     I come down the stairs to find Emily standing and staring at the television set. It's on some sports news network. She doesn't care for sports, but I've noticed that she likes any kind of news broadcast, probably having something to do with the high amount of talking.

     I'm worried. She's different in everything except for the ways she's the same. It's difficult to describe.

     She's mouthing some of the words after she hears them. It reminds me of how a toddler would watch children's programming and repeat what he or she hears.

     I've been taking her to speech therapy, but she doesn't want me in the room with her during the appointments. I guess I don't blame her. She can only take so much of my shocked expressions before she starts crying and being 'sadly.'

     And the swearing has taken some getting used to. She can't be around Brent, which breaks her heart, because of how little control she has over it.

     "So did the Llamas win?" I ask her conversationally.

     She jumps and immediately turns off the tv. "Sadly."

     "No, go ahead and watch it if you want to."

     "It was loud."

     I walk around the sofa.

     "Are you okay?"

     I'm exhausted. "I'm fine."

     "You look sad."

     If Drake weren't already dead, I could kill him for this. The doctors aren't sure how long Emily will be like she is right now. They're optimistic that she'll return to normal, but if that happens, they don't know how long it will take to get there.

     "Alex, talk," she commands.

     "How are you?" I ask instead of explain my feelings.

     "Well, my mouth is still stupid, and I'm f--king tired." She scowls. "Now you."

     "I'm not in the right kind of mood. I don't want to upset you."

     "But you're 'fine.'" She does the air quotes.

     I have noticed she limits her speech to things she knows she can say, preferring to leave out the mix-ups as much as she can. I suppose that's a good thing; it means she's able to think more before she talks.

     She lets out a huff and puts her hands on her face. "You don't talk, Alex. I know I'm stupid, but you're not. I'm not made of... glaaaaass. If you hate me now, say it. I hate this."

     "I could never hate you, Emily. I wish you'd stop accusing me of that."

     "But you're mad! You don't talk! Let it out, dammit!"

     "How? It makes no sense! I know why you did what you did, but I don't know why! Does that make sense? No!"

     "I had to save the baby, dammit!"

     "You didn't have to do it alone!"

     "Yes, I did!"

     "You left me! What was I supposed to do? What would I have done if I'd come home to an empty house? And you left me for him!" My voice cracks at the last word. Tears start spilling out of the corners of my eyes.

     "For the baby, Alex," she practically whispers.

     "But can't you see how it would've looked to me? How it did look to me before you woke up! Sure, Darrin told me what had happened, but how was I to know your real reason?"

     "I hated him. He makes me sick."

     "Do I make you sick, Emily?"

     Her face starts to fall, slowly at first, then gradually more like watching an avalanche. Her voice cracks now as she shakes her head. "No." She starts crying.

     Dammit! This is what I wanted to avoid! The last thing I want to do is upset her. If I do, I'm unable to comfort her. It drives me mad!

     She starts bringing her arms up like she wants to hug me, but she keeps stopping herself before she does.

     Oh, plum it all! I throw my arms around her.

     Her crying reaches the point where little hiccups start coming out, but she squeezes me into her. "I'm... bad."

     "Shh. It'll be okay."

     "I hurt you, and I'm s-s-sorry, Alex. You're not the... sick one. You're... perfect."

     "Emily, the last thing I wanted was to make you cry."

     "You don't make me sick." Her frame shakes with her crying. "I love you."

     I tenderly cradle her in my arms. Then my eyes widen. "You what?"

     "I love you," she repeats.

     "Emily!" I pull her back to see her stunned expression.

     "What?"

     "Say it again."

     "I lord you."

     "No, that's not what you said." I grab her face. "That's not what you said!" I breathe in. "And you said 'sorry'!"

     "I did?" She looks at the rug. "Sadly." The corners of her mouth turn down. "Why, Alex? I hate this!"

     I throw my arms around her again. "Say it."

     "Sadly."

     "Nope. Not good enough." I'm beaming. "I'll have to distract you." I start tickling her. She hates this.

     "No, Alex!" I love hearing her laugh. "Stop!" More laughter. "Dammit, stop!"

     I stop. "Say it."

      "You're crazy!"

      "Maybe, but I know you can say it. I'll just have to figure out how it happened."

      "No more tickles."

      "I'm not making any promises."

      "Dammit, Alex!"