“Only for a little while. I’ve also hired security for the place. You won’t be alone when I have to go out, and there will be men outside at all times.”
“I still think they mistook me for someone else,” she interrupted, her worry now evident in the way she clutched at his hand. “I don’t think it’s necessary to go overboard, Matteo.”
“I don’t know, Marie, I don’t know quite a lot about what caused this to happen, and until I do, you won’t be alone or unguarded. That’s how it’s going to be.” His tone told her there was no point to argue so she pursed her lips and nodded.
“Fine. But I won’t like it.” She glared at him but the minute her eyes caught his, the glare faded. “Especially since it’s August and the leaves will start changing soon. That’s one of my favorite things to see. Nope, I won’t like it at all.”
“You don’t have to. It’ll make me feel better, so that’s all that matters.”
“Selfish.” She spit out and looked away. But her lips twitched. “But in this case, I guess it’s good you are.”
“I know it is.” He patted her hand and they both looked up as the doctor came in.
“Guess who’s going home today?” The man’s smile was infectious as he came into the room.
Time to go home, at last.
“It’s been a month since I was released from the hospital, he still won’t let me leave the penthouse. It’s almost October. The leaves have changed and I probably won’t get to see them now. Our anniversary is soon too.” Marie turned to fill Trina’s coffee cup with fresh coffee from the French press that she’d brought into the living room. There was regret on her face mixed with a sadness that pulled at the corners of her mouth.
“It’s not safe out there,” Trina responded, repeating her cousin’s own line back to his wife. She couldn’t meet Marie’s gaze and stared out of the glass panes to the gray, rainy scene outside instead.
“I hate you both, you know that right?” Marie’s glare wasn’t mean and disappeared quickly. “I just feel like I’m a prisoner all over again.”
“What do you mean?” Trina sat forward her head tilted to the right as she leaned in towards Marie.
“Well, I told you about my mother, how ill she was? Well, that prison she had in me was a prison my entire life. Before she developed Parkinson’s she was, uh, well, she was an alcoholic.” Marie blurted out the words she’d kept hidden away from Trina.
She hadn’t wanted to open up that much to the other young woman, hadn’t wanted to reveal that embarrassing bit of information, but knew she couldn’t hide it anymore. She also knew by now that Trina wouldn’t judge her for her mother. Matteo’s cousin didn’t work like that, unlike the women back home in Louisiana. Trina’s acceptance and the love she offered from the first moment they met told Marie she had a real friend, at last.
“When I was growing up, my mother hated me, hated that I existed, no let me finish.” Marie paused to put her hand out, to implore Trina not to interrupt. She took a breath, pulled at the cuffs of the white long-sleeve t-shirt she wore to ward off the chill in the air. “She wasn’t like most women that ended up with a child they hadn’t planned to have and learned to make do, or grew to love the child before it was even born. She hated me and she was very open about it.”
“That’s awful, Marie. I’m so sorry you had a mother like that.” Trina sat at the end of the black leather couch and Marie could see she was thinking, but Trina didn’t say about what. It was a comfort to Marie that Trina didn’t try to reach out to her or try to insist Marie’s mother must have loved her. She just tried to think of how to respond, she was real about it all, and that mattered to Marie. Marie took over the conversation again.
“Oh, I’m still confused about it, I had started to see a counselor before the, um, accident.” She swallowed and took another calming breath as she tried to gloss over her stumble, tried to force those memories of the attack on her away. “It was hard, I was the mother more often than not because she was always drunk. I don’t know how we paid for things after she spent