Page 57 of Ms. Fortune

“What are you doing here?” She looks around the room as if searching for someone. “I told Chelsie….”

“Chelsie went home to get some sleep. But it’s okay, I’m here now.” I reach for her hand again, but she pulls it out of my reach and shies away from me. I don’t understand what she’s doing. “Are you okay? What’s the matter? What do you need?”

“I need you to go.”

She’s avoiding my eyes and practically cringing in fear from me. “What? Go? Why would I leave you?” She’s not making any sense.

“Because I’m telling you to, that’s why.” What the hell? That’s not fear in her voice; that’s anger.

“Normandy, what are you talking about? Why are you saying this? I don’t understand.” I can feel it. My happiness slipping away. Ripping seams as it goes. And I don’t know why.

“I shouldn’t have to explain myself to you, Brandon.” She grabs her injured arm with tears in her eyes that I can tell she’s fighting to keep from falling down her bruised cheeks. My heart lurches as I watch her mentally building a wall between us. Brick by brick by brick.

“Well, I think you do since I have no idea why you’re acting like this.” My words are coming out angrier than I intend, but once they’re out, they’re out.

“I’m ‘acting’ like this because you proved yourself to be just like everyone else. But don’t worry, I don’t blame you. I blame myself for actually believing you. Actually thinking you could keep a promise to me. Trusting you with my life. With my life, Brandon.” She’s starting to shake uncontrollably, and I reach to pull her to me, but she puts her hands up, fending me off. “Don’t. Don’t touch me.”

“Normandy, I did everything I possibly could to transfer that money. I swear to you. After that gunshot, I thought you were dead for almost two hours afterward. I was ready to jump off the Brooklyn Bridge, thinking my failure killed you.”

“That’s just it, Brandon. It almost did. I would be dead if Max Calnetta didn’t take his brother down.” She shudders, and goosebumps rise on her arms. I can only imagine how horrifying that was for her.

“I am so sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I did everything I could. I had no idea that Frank wasn’t FBI. There was no way to know that. I also didn’t know that the government would hold up the payment like that. When I talked to my banker the day before, he said it would be fine and go through without an issue. I couldn’t foresee some random government agency I’d never heard of popping up and flagging the transaction for investigation. All of those things were out of my control, Normandy. You seriously can’t blame me for those things.” Does she think I made everything go badly on purpose? That I wanted her to get shot? She can’t be that crazy.

“I can, and I do.” She’s staring me down now, not afraid to look at me anymore. There’s a fire behind her dark eyes, a flame that would fry me on the spot if she could. “I trusted you. Something I swore I would never do again, but you sweet-talked me into it. You told me you would take care of everything. I had nothing to worry about. Everything would be fine. But all you’ve done is confirm exactly what I’ve been telling myself for years. The only thing I can count on are my scars. They don’t go away. They tell the truth. And now, thanks to you, I have another one,” she rubs her bandage lightly, where I’m sure she’ll have a scar from the bullet wound. “But this is my last one. This reminds me that I cannot trust anyone but myself.”

“You can trust me,” I say, but I know it’s falling on deaf ears. She doesn’t want to listen to me, no matter what I say.

“I’m sorry you flew all this way for nothing. Goodbye, Brandon.” She looks away again, clearly showing that she’s done with me.

So that’s it. Everything we’ve been through is just tossed aside like litter on the side of the road. I stare at her for a long moment more. Taking her in. She looks so tiny and fragile in that hospital bed, all the wires and machines hooked up to her, but when I look at her face, I see her strength. I see the self-determination that has gotten her through some really tough times and the fortitude she possesses to keep moving forward. But she’s wrong now. She’s got it all wrong.

I know in my heart that I tried to move heaven and Earth to keep her alive today. I did everything that I could to transfer that money to the Calnettas. And I was utterly devastated when I thought she was dead. I was inconsolable, and Taylor was seriously worried about me. And he was almost equally upset at his own failure. We couldn’t have done anything any different except breaking the law. Maybe I should have. I’ll never know.

There’s nothing I can say that is going to change her mind. I can see it on her face. She’s done with me. So, I say nothing. I can feel the ache in my chest start before I even turn to leave the room. My heart, which was so full of love, worry, loss, and then relief, is now empty. Everything that filled it up, everything that was Normandy, is gone. I can almost hear my heartbeat echo in the cold void that is left. Knowing that nothing in the world will ever fill me again, I leave.

Chapter 38

SPINNING WHEEL

NORMANDY

My mother is tracked down just before I’m released from the hospital the next day. She was apparently on a cruise in the Gulf of Mexico with a gentleman friend nobody knew about. Well, I didn’t know about him, anyway. My mom doesn’t talk to me about her love life, and I don’t speak to her about mine. We have an unspoken agreement that we’ll stay out of each other’s business. It works for us, though there are times when I wish we did have those conversations. Like now.

Chelsie’s staying with me temporarily since I’m still afraid to be alone, and her apartment is too small for the two of us, but she heads to the depot so that my mom and I can spend some time together. She comes to see me for lunch when she's back from her trip but hesitates when I answer the door to let her in.

“What’s wrong?” I don’t understand why she wouldn’t want to come into the house.

“I’m sorry. I haven’t been in this house since….”

“Since what?” I recognize the look on her face. It’s fear of a memory.

“Since I went through what you just did.” She straightens her shoulders, steps into the foyer, and lets out a deep sigh. “There. I’ve done it. It’s about time, right?”

I hug her with my good arm since I can’t lift the injured one very well. “That was fantastic.”

Leading her back into the kitchen where I have lunch prepared, I notice her taking in the rooms we pass with curiosity. I try to remember the last time I saw her here, but I can’t picture it. I was too young when we moved out. It’s hard to believe she’s not been here in so long.

“I begged your father to get rid of the house. He couldn’t understand why I couldn’t come back here, so I left and took you with me.” She sits at the kitchen table, still looking around as she talks. I don’t interrupt her either. I’m afraid if I do, she’ll clam up. “He told me later that letting me leave was his biggest regret in life.”

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