Page 43 of The Wife Upstairs
He still doesn’t talk to me, though, and there are a million questions I want to ask him. Not just the obvious things like, “Why the fuck are you doing this?” but little things. I want to know what he’s told the world about me, I want to know what’s happened to Southern Manors.
Do people here miss me? Do they miss Blanche?
There has to be some way to get him to talk to me.
I think if I don’t talk to someone soon, I’m going to lose my mind.
Today, finally, a breakthrough.
Thanks to a shirt, of all things.
When Eddie came to bring me supplies, I noticed he was wearing the blue dress shirt I got him for our last anniversary. It was the exact same shade of blue as his eyes, which is why I’d bought it, and he still looked great in it. He’s been looking better in general lately, more like himself.
And so I said, “You look good.”
That surprised him. Instead of turning away from me, he glanceddown at himself, like he’d just realized what he was wearing. Saw the significance of it.
“Thanks,” he said at last. “I forgot you got this for me.”
“I got most of your clothes for you,” I replied, “except for that godawful houndstooth tie you like. That was all you.”
He smiled a little at that, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I love that tie.”
Well, now you can wear it all the time, I guess.
The words were right there, a pithy comeback, the kind of thing he used to like from me. But I held my tongue because I knew it would just make him leave. And I needed him to stay.
“It did look good on you,” I said. “Which was very irritating.”
A snort, then he turned for the door, and was gone. I’d wanted him to linger, to keep talking, and it was hard not to feel disappointed. But there was a looseness to him as he left that hadn’t been there when he came in.
It’s a start.
OCTOBER, THREE MONTHS AFTER BLANCHE
Eddie came back today, which surprised me. He’d just been here yesterday, and I was used to waiting three days between visits, counting the time as best as I can up here.
He brought more food and water with him, but I still had plenty, and after he dropped them off, he just stood there by the door for a long while, his hands in his back pockets.
“Do you want some more books?” he finally asked, and it took me a minute to respond.
“That would be great,” I said, and meant it. He doesn’t know I’ve been using this one as a journal, and I could really use some more reading material.
He nodded and, as he left, said, “Bye, Bea.”
He hasn’t done that before. It’s the first time I’ve heard my own name in weeks.
Another day, another visit from Eddie. He’s coming every day now. Not staying long, and twice now, he’s been here while I’ve been asleep, and I wonder if that means he’s coming at night. I don’t have the best sense of night and day right now, but I still sleep, and I assume that I must be keeping a semi-regular schedule. I don’t know why he’d suddenly be coming up at night, though.
But no, I told myself that I can’t do that, can’t try to guess at his reasons or his motives. If I do that, I’ll go crazy.
Well, crazier.
Eddie stayed for an hour today. Maybe longer.
He didn’t even bother bringing food and water, and for the first time since I woke up in here, I felt something in my chest loosen, like I could breathe again.
He’d brought me books like he promised, and as soon as he came in, I held up one of them, a political thriller I remembered him reading. “This was maybe the stupidest book I’ve ever read,” I told him, and he crossed the room, taking it from my hand, studying the cover.
