have. When I set my mind to something, I can pull it off.
How else have I managed to write so many books? It takes patience, and persistence, and a concerted effort, fuelled by dogged determination.
It’s not just my diet that I’m keeping an eye on, I’m taking to exercise as if my life depends on it. This is what I tell Rob when he calls one day for a progress report.
“Your life does depend on it,” he says. He wants to know about the book, because that’s all he cares about. I string out the conversation and talk about everything else but the book because I like to wind him up like that.
The first draft is coming along better than I expected. In a few more weeks’ time I’ll have written the ending. Then comes the hard task of rewriting it and polishing it and checking to make sure that everything makes sense. But I hope to be back home by that stage.
“Keep it up,” Rob tells me. “I look forward to reading the first draft.”
I look forward to finishing the first draft.
Two weeks go past and I stay burrowed away in my study, away from Mari. She appears to be avoiding me too.
We can easily go for days without seeing or talking to one another.
The only reason I know she’s around is because my food magically appears on time.
MARI
I was worried for no reason. Ward has locked himself away in the study, keeping away from me.
It’s better this way.
Sometimes I look back on that time when he came to my room to apologize, and I wonder what I was thinking. I’m not an exhibitionist by any stretch of imagination.
Maybe Dale’s betrayal cut deeper than I thought. It dented my pride and took away a huge chunk of my self-esteem. That man broke my heart and I’m not sure I’ve recovered.
I don’t have time for romance. I have no interest in striking out or meeting someone new, but I feel unnoticed, unattractive and forgotten, here in this place, all alone.
I need to be around people. I need to be appreciated, I thrive when I’m told I’ve done a good job by my peers, and my managers, and the customers I serve. This is why working here leaves me so unfulfilled and unappreciated. The desire to be acknowledged and needed is necessary for our delicate human egos.
Although we’ve kept away from one another, I found myself staring at Ward as he was putting his dishes into the dishwasher. I couldn’t help but notice how his arms were more defined. There was a shape to his muscles that hadn’t been there before. And since when did he start wearing t-shirts that hugged his body like that?
The transformation that’s taking place in front of me is so hard to ignore, he is changing fast before my very eyes. I don’t hate him as much as I used to. I’m not even scared of him, and I definitely don’t feel nervous around him.
I wish he wouldn’t hide away the way he does. My mind strays back to the day I saw the tent pole in his pants. I shake my head and try to throw out the images that tempt me.
But Jamie confirms what I’m seeing. He says Ward is doing really well and he is shocked by the transformation. He makes a comment about Ward’s new haircut and beard and jokes that the guy is probably getting ready for publicity once the book releases. The movie is coming out as well. I’d made myself believe that I might be the reason for Ward’s new makeover, but Jamie’s words now make me doubt that.
I’m being silly. Fantasizing again. Making up stories where there are none. Being weak and filling myself with romantic ideas as usual.
Jamie is one of Ward’s fans. Right now he’s reading a book that Ward wrote and he tells me to read it, but like always, I decline to.
It makes me wonder, what possesses a man to write horror?
Chapter 22
MARI
Every day is the same, like Groundhog Day. The only thing I have to look forward to is Jamie’s visits.
Visiting my mom at the weekend breaks up some of the monotony. Maybe next weekend I’ll allow myself an evening of drinks and dinner with Jamie. Some normal conversation. A group of our friends are getting together, Jamie tells me. He said that Raleigh, a friend, more Jamie’s than mine, is going to organize a get together in a couple of weeks’ time.