Experiment in Terror 09 Dust to Dust(39)

I stiffened. “What do you mean?”

He gave me a wry smile. “I may no longer be a Jacob, but that doesn’t mean I don’t pick up on things. She’s seeing things – finally. She’s going to need you when she finally comes to term with it.”

Until then, I finished in my head, she’s going to deny, deny, deny.

But that didn’t mean I was going to try. When I went back to our room, Maximus in tow, I discovered Dex talking to my mother and father, looking freshly shaven and bright-eyed. My mother seemed calmer too.

Maybe this was going to go okay. Besides, we didn’t even have to think about the house until tomorrow. Now, I was in Manhattan with my fiancé, friend and family and the night was ours. It couldn’t get much better than that. For all the doom and gloom and my tendency to blow shit out of proportion, I could at least try and enjoy the evening.

We went out to a delightful little Italian joint that my parents used to frequent when they were first dating in the city. Even though I didn’t have much appetite, I enjoyed the capriccio and copious glasses of red wine that was splashing around the place.

But most of the time, my attention was on Dex. He was sitting next to me and I kept my hand on his knee, just to feel him, just to let him know I was there. He was quiet but when he did talk, he was his usual smartass self. He kept on turning slightly in his chair, looking over his shoulder for someone or something. When I asked him what it was, he just brushed it off, saying he felt like he was being stared at.

I couldn’t see anyone in the restaurant who was paying us any attention. And maybe because of that, I was started to get a little more creeped out. Soon I was paranoid that we were being watched but I resisted the urge to keep looking over my shoulder every five seconds. Dex was doing that enough for the both of us.

After dinner, we ended up not seeing the Lion King like my dad had wanted but caught this small off Broadway play with John Lithgow. It was really good, albeit a little too dark for our moods but the acting and direction was compelling enough to steal my attention for a few hours.

When it was over and night had settled over the city, all of us decided to walk back up to the hotel instead of trying to catch a bunch of cabs. It was about a half an hour walk but I didn’t mind. I was going to use this time wisely.

While Maximus was talking to Dex and seeming to keep an eye on him, I decided to approach my mother. I pulled back on her silk shawl.

“Mom,” I said, “can I speak to you? Privately?”

She looked at me in surprise. Or maybe that was fear. Maybe she knew what was coming.

“Sure, pumpkin,” she said and in a rare act of affection, she smoothed back my hair from my face. “What is it?”

Even though she sounded casual, there as a tremor to her voice that told me she was anything but. I hated to ruin a moment that had us bonding in such a way, but…

“It’s nothing,” I said, looping my arm around hers. “It’s just that…I know what you saw.”

She flinched. I wouldn’t have caught it if I wasn’t watching her so closely.

“What are you talking about?” she asked lightly. Too lightly.

“In the elevator,” I said, not wanting to do this dance. “We stopped on the sixth floor. I was watching you. You looked as if you saw the devil himself.” Or one of his minions.

She gave me a look. “Oh, honey. I can barely remember a few hours ago. I didn’t sleep on the plane and then there’s the jetlag. I was so worried about you and Ada.”

Ah, classic diversion. So I only nodded and smiled and let her sweep it under the rug. But just this time. Next time – and I knew there would be a next time – she was going to be called out on it, as in denial as she was going to be.

I patted her arm and then we caught up with the roving band of delinquents I called friends and family. I found myself under the security of Dex’s arm as we weaved through the crowded streets, all the way back to the hotel.

If I could have just ignored every frightful thing that had happened over the last couple of days, this would have been the most perfect evening ever.

But it wasn’t.

As soon as we were inside the room, Dex picked me up by the shoulders and turned me around, slamming me back against the door so it shut. “I’ve never needed your cunt more,” he growled, pushing me harder into the door.

My mouth dropped open, caught off guard. Dex was always a dirty talker but he didn’t use the “C-word” all that often. Nor was he usually quite this rough with me.

As if to emphasize that point, he brought me off the door slightly and then slammed me back harder, my head banging against it, forcing me to cry out from pain.