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You should not have tried to run from Sheila. In the depths of the night, you left the clinic behind, kind strangers traversing the highway took you back to the city. Trembling in cabs of trucks, a fearful regret takes hold of you. The plan to escape was half-formed, with no destination in mind other than getting away. Your mother hates you for all that you have done, and not knowing where your brother is living at the moment, Sheila is the only person you know you can go to.
She has never let you inside her home before, only sitting in her car in the driveway while she hurried inside to retrieve things, ordering you to stay put, obeying her word like it was law. So knocking on the door is almost frightening, you actually pray it is not Mendel who answers, perhaps the only time you take God seriously is when he may protect you from that monster. He grants you your wish in the form of your wicked woman. She takes a moment to register just who you are, looking on the verge of sleep. Realization jolts her awake, wide-eyed and shocked, your presence was certainly not expected.
You take notice of how her finger is devoid of the engagement ring, however the cross adorning her neck remains ever-present, beautiful matte gold. An attempt to conceal your trembling falls through, everything you had wanted to say remains stuck in your throat, the silence threatens to kill. Sheila kills it first, her voice rippling through the absence, inviting you in. Stepping through the threshold, surprise at getting this far almost astounds you. Sheila had always seemed so guarded, these barriers being kept up, constantly, and in entering the place she shares with that monster, you feel as though you are walking through walls.
Making her way into the sparsely decorated living room, Sheila tries to conceal all traces of the man she is doomed to marry, flinging his coat down the hallway, shoving his notebooks into drawers. However, her bruised wrists are still on display, having not expected anyone to see her before they healed. The whole reason she had left the clinic for a while was because of how bad Brian had hurt her. Sheila coped with it all by telling herself it was what she deserved, and you burn with hopeless rage, telling yourself one day, you’ll make him regret it all, but for now, nothing.
The room feels like how you would imagine, dimly lit with a touch of moonlight seeping through net curtains. A bible strewn across the coffee table catches your eyes, how perfectly devout she is. You’ve wondered if this show she puts on is at all real, if she would still read the book and wear the symbol if no one was watching.
Sheila poses the question of why you’ve returned, somewhat uneasy, a hint of concern leaching into her voice. She takes her chin in her hand as she does, making you change your gaze from the floor to her, suddenly you cannot breathe. Her eyes act as a truth serum, and all is confessed, how you missed her, how you need her, how you love her.
You want her to hit you for being so fucking pathetic. You close your eyes, almost bracing yourself for the slap of her palm across your face. Instead, the contact is soft, she gently cups your face, such tenderness you never expected from her.
“Sweetheart-” She pauses for a moment, a sort of fear causing hesitation, hyper-aware of the cross's weight against her chest, the chain suddenly feeling like a shackle.
“I love you too.”
She loves you, her voice trembling. It has to be the truth, her hesitation proving that she doesn’t want to, ripping herself apart in an attempt to shove all of those feelings down into the depth of her soul.
Never, not even in your wildest fantasies, had you ever expected her to say that. Overwhelmed by the admission, tears well up in your eyes, an urge for closeness compelling you to hold her body close. Maybe you’ll crush her with the intensity of your embrace, of your love, but you aren’t really thinking about that as you kiss her, frantic and impulsive. Tucked away in this brief moment is everything you have ever wanted.