Page 116 of Parrish

Chapter Thirty-six

Reina Parrish

Lost.

I stare at the word I’ve written in the journal my therapist gave me this morning after I didn’t cooperate during our session. I was still reeling from Jack’s visit and the cruel events of our marriage that he had shared with me. I wasn’t in the mood to have her dissect my every thought. She asked questions and flipped through the same series of photographs I’ve been looking at since I opened my eyes, trying to draw a memory from my blank mind. After an hour she finally marked me as a lost cause and handed me this journal, instructing me to write down the things that come to my mind. It could be as simple as a single word or as complex as an unfamiliar feeling but if I wrote it down, I could work through it. I could go back and read what I wrote and with any luck, things would start to click for me.

If you ask me, it’s a load of crap, but I was willing to try anything and besides, there was nothing else for me to do. I was tired of being cooped up in that room, alone and judging by my husband’s recent behavior I figured it would be a few days before he showed his face again. For a man who exudes power, he seems frail when it comes to matters of the heart.

I know he had a life before me, that he was married with a family, but I can’t help but wonder if maybe he was a little lost before I came into his life too. A man starving for unconditional love, for a woman whose love for him doesn’t waiver when things get rough. Someone who will stick by his side through the madness that surrounds him.

I stare at the word I’ve written again and draw a big fat line through the four letters, deciding I’m not lost. At least not when Jack is around. Yes, I’m confused in his presence but it’s strange. I don’t feel uncomfortable around him. I don’t feel misplaced. I might not remember the last ten years, but my body and soul are most at ease when he’s near. It’s as if they know what the mind has forgotten.

Call me crazy, but I’m not even turned off by everything he revealed. Another woman would’ve probably been terrified, she would’ve thought her husband is a monster and the last ten years of her life were nothing but a mistake. Now that I’ve had time to digest everything he’s thrown at me, it only solidifies the fact that my marriage to Jack isn’t perfect but it’s strong and for all the bad that we’ve gone through, there’s been more good and I want to know those times. I want to watch him replay our best moments now that I’ve seen him replay the worst.

I want to watch his eyes soften.

I want to watch his lips quirk.

I want those lines on his face to pinch together as he tries his hardest to get me to feel everything he’s feeling as he tells me all the ways our love has strengthened and prevailed.

But most of all, I want to feel that love.

I want him to wrap me in it and I want to reclaim my rightful spot in his and Danny’s lives.

Closing the book, I toss it onto the bed beside me and lift my eyes to the television. I try not to think about how long it’s been since Jack left or when he’ll return and focus on the episode of Law & Order. A black car fills the screen and for some reason, my eyes zero in on it. The characters fade from the screen and all I can see is the car. I start to search for something…something familiar, something important.

Red.

It’s the first word that comes to me and I reach for the book. Flipping to the next blank page, I scribble it down and divert my eyes from the single word to the black car on the television screen.

Cadillac.

I jot that down too. Did we own that type of car? Even as I ask myself the question, I shake my head. That’s not it. A second later the black car disappears from the television and a commercial for Bounty takes its place.

Rest in peace.

Cryptic and yet I can’t shake those three words from the forefront of my mind. I write it down under the next line and stare at the page, trying to make sense of why any of it sticks out. The door to my room swings open and my eyes are drawn away from the book. At the sight of my husband, I forget about the Cadillac and the clues associated with it.

All I see is him.

Dressed head to toe in black, his clothing matches his eyes. He barely looks at me as he dumps a duffel bag on my bed and turns to draw the blinds shut.

“What are you doing?” I question, taking in his mussed hair. I wonder if it’s a result of the wind lapping at it or if he’s driven his fingers through the salt and pepper strands way too many times. Whatever the case, I like it and a memory of me running my own fingers through his hair flashes before me.

“There’s clothes in the bag,” he says, turning to me. “Put them on.”

Raising an eyebrow, I stare at him as if he’s just told me to jump off a bridge.

“Hi, honey, I’m sorry I left you last night, but I hope you’ve gotten past the fact we survived a bomb, an impending prison sentence and all the other shit I unloaded on you. You look beautiful by the way. That bandage wrapped around your head really does it for you,” I say cheekily, crossing my arms against my chest.

His eyes narrow as he reaches behind him and cups the back of his neck.

“You cracking jokes?”

“Do I look like I’m laughing?” I counter, dropping my hands to my sides. “I’m trying to figure you out.”

“You’re wasting your time,” he grunts, tipping his chin to the duffel bag. “I need you to get dressed.”

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