Looking Glass (reposted)
folder
Romance › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
16
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2,004
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
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Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Romance › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
16
Views:
2,004
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Chapter Sixteen
A/N: Erm. Yeah. Looong hiatus. Please show you don't hate me by reviewing!!!
ddf
Chapter Sixteen
Noah left Thomas’s apartment as soon as Deirdre had unpacked the few boxes she had deemed necessary—just some clothes, a clock that chimed every quarter hour, a laptop, and some audio books and CDs. That damn leather bag stayed packed by the door, of course.
It bothered him to see her moving so uncertainly around the apartment as she accustomed herself to the rooms beyond Thomas’s living room-turned studio, even with Josie at her side. She had cracked her elbow on the corner of the refrigerator, though her only reaction was a muscle jumping in her jaw. Seeing had made him want to swear—at her, at himself, at the whole situation. At all the years gone by. But he couldn’t say anything, and he couldn’t look at her, so he left.
He shouldn’t have touched her, Deirdre decided when she was alone again. It had made her remember. She shouldn’t have touched him back. Well. What was a little fuck, anyway? He had been pissed, and she had been angry, and they had hurt each other. They were good at that.
She rubbed the bridge of her nose and Josie’s head, and seated herself at the pottery wheel. She had a quota to fill.
*****
August, 2001
Joey Marks needed money, and he wanted Deirdre to give it to him. Again. Hey, a few thousand dollars a few times a year was much better than the alternative—him and a baseball bat and her happy little family. Their agreement had worked nicely for him the last few years, and she was smart enough to make it work for her. And if her fancy boyfriend had a problem with walking in on him and his little Dee making an exchange, well, it wasn’t something that was going to bother him. Little bitch on the run for so many months, homeless and dirty like she deserved, and then she struck the fucking jackpot, hooking up with that old artist perv. Joey had raised her like his own, even after her Brit whore mother told him Deirdre wasn’t his.
She owed him, and one way or another, she would pay.
Noah railed on her. Why hadn’t she just gotten a restraining order against that rat bastard? Why hadn’t she told him? He shouted. She shouted back.
“Do you really think a fucking piece of paper matters to a guy like Joey Marks? He keeps a baseball bat in his car, Noah. It’s just some goddamned money.”
“I don’t give a fuck about the money, Deirdre,” he raged. “What I give a fuck about is that you didn’t tell me. It’s been two mother-fucking years! And all this time you’ve put yourself and your daughter in danger because you thought—what? What exactly was going through that thick skull of yours? Please, by all means. Enlighten me.”
“I was trying not to worry you, okay? Jesus Christ! I was just trying to do right by my fucking family, so don’t you take that fucking tone with me, Noah Winters.”
“Right by your family? Or right by your pride? What’s a little blackmail to tough-as-nails Deirdre? She lives on the edge, and she can handle anything, right?”
“Fuck you.”
Noah dug the heels of his palms into his eye sockets, trying to relieve the pressure there. It didn’t help. He punched the wall, but that didn’t help, either, though the air immediately changed.
Deirdre stared at him, pupils dilated and breath hitching. Besides her shaking hands, she stood absolutely still.
“I can’t be here right now,” she said, and picked up her bag from its place near the door.
“Aw, shit. Deirdre, don’t go. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have hit the wall. I didn’t mean to scare you baby, honest.” He went to her, brushed his hand over her shoulder and down to the hand that gripped the leather strap. Her fist clenched harder around it.
“Deirdre,” he tried again. “Don’t leave.”
She heard the plea in his voice and felt her chest constrict like a vise. The whole apartment was like a vise. She couldn’t breathe. He was blocking her path to the door, though she knew he didn’t mean to. He didn’t mean to loom over her, either. She tugged her hand away from Noah’s.
“I’ll come back. I will. But I can’t be here right now.” She headed to the nursery, gathering Elspet in the safety of her arms. Noah watched on, stricken. They argued all the time. They even enjoyed it. Didn’t she know that he would never hit her?
“I’ll come back!” Her voice rose as she tried not to cry. Noah remained silent across the room. “Noah. I’m coming back. I just need . . . to know that I could leave. But I won’t. I’ll be back in a couple hours, okay? I promise. In a couple hours. I love you, and I’ll be back.”
His breath whooshing out was one of relief. He believed her. If she said she’d be back, he would believe her.
“I love you, too.” But she was already out the door.
Deirdre knew she was hurting Noah, and she hated herself for it. But she needed to know that if something unspeakable ever happened, she would be able to pick up her bag and her daughter and take them someplace safe. Like a fire drill—she just needed to know she had a plan.
She belted Elspet into her car seat, crossed to the other side of the car, and got behind the wheel. She pointed her car south, because at the first stoplight, the left turn arrow turned green first. She continued that direction for the next two miles, carefully using her signals and driving exactly at the speed limit. She needed to know she was fully in control.
So when she came to an intersection as the light turned yellow, she pulled to a stop when she could easily have zipped through before the red.
Noah had really freaked her out. She had never seen him hit anything before. Somewhere deep inside, she knew that he would never raise a hand to her. She just needed some time to allow that knowledge to float to the surface, even though she knew she’d scared him. She would go home. She had told him she wouldn’t leave him again, after the trip to Nashville that wasn’t. And if she could think so logically about it, she was sure she could go home pretty soon. Maybe just one hour would be enough. The light turned green and Deirdre started across the intersection. Maybe she’d turn around at the next light, go home, and cuddle with Noah until they both felt okay again. That sounded nice. She had gotten into the car, hadn’t she? She’d proved what she needed to prove to herself. Now it was time to keep her promise to Noah.
She was nearly across the intersection when she saw the other car. An SUV, barrelling toward her from the right. And then there was only glass shattering. Then nothing.
*****
2005
There weren’t words to tell Thomas the rest, and he’d been there, anyway. When Deirdre had gotten to that point of her story, she just stopped. There was no point in continuing. He’d been at the hospital and at the funeral. He’d helped her move out of Noah’s apartment. Thomas had driven her to the doctor six weeks later when her vision started going. It was the airbag deploying, she was told. It had caused trauma to her eyes. If only she had been a bit taller, she probably would have been fine. She didn’t think so, but hadn’t said anything. He had helped her open her first gallery after she’d dropped out of college, chosen people who would see the art she was selling when the vestiges of her vision were gone.
He hadn’t been there when she had seen Noah a final time. She had just opened her gallery, and he had come to congratulate her. Or something.
“Well, it seems you’ve done well for yourself,” he said. She could see him sneer, just barely, and she could hear it well. She drank in the sight of him, trying not to melt to a puddle under his gaze. It had been so long. He had tried to make it work, after. She knew that. They both had. But he couldn’t bear to touch her, and she couldn’t blame him. So she had removed herself from his life, for a while, anyway. He needed to be angry at her, maybe even hate her. If she hadn’t gone for that drive— She understood.
So she said, “Yes, thank you.” They stood in silence.
Finally, “That’s all you have to say? ‘Yes, thank you’? It’s been three months, and that’s all you can say?”
It was.
“You ice-hearted bitch.” Something connected outside her diminishing field of vision. The back of his hand with her cheekbone. Deirdre scrambled away, knee-jerk terror warring with guilt. He came closer, hands toward her.
“I think you had better leave,” she’d said. And he had.
Another vase flopped over on the pottery wheel, making Deirdre curse her ineffectual eyes and clumsy hands. For such a three-dimensional medium, sculpture was still visual. You had to look at it to understand it. It wasn’t like in third grade when you put your hand in a paper bag and guessed whether the fruit inside was an apple or an orange. Sculpture wasn’t tactile or aural. Except maybe the Dali Universe museum in London. The music there had been part of the experience. What if…
Well, it was certainly something to think about. Perhaps Thomas was right. Perhaps she needed to look past her own blindness for a solution. Leon had grown up to have a decent eye. And he could drive. She called him.
ddf
Chapter Sixteen
Noah left Thomas’s apartment as soon as Deirdre had unpacked the few boxes she had deemed necessary—just some clothes, a clock that chimed every quarter hour, a laptop, and some audio books and CDs. That damn leather bag stayed packed by the door, of course.
It bothered him to see her moving so uncertainly around the apartment as she accustomed herself to the rooms beyond Thomas’s living room-turned studio, even with Josie at her side. She had cracked her elbow on the corner of the refrigerator, though her only reaction was a muscle jumping in her jaw. Seeing had made him want to swear—at her, at himself, at the whole situation. At all the years gone by. But he couldn’t say anything, and he couldn’t look at her, so he left.
He shouldn’t have touched her, Deirdre decided when she was alone again. It had made her remember. She shouldn’t have touched him back. Well. What was a little fuck, anyway? He had been pissed, and she had been angry, and they had hurt each other. They were good at that.
She rubbed the bridge of her nose and Josie’s head, and seated herself at the pottery wheel. She had a quota to fill.
*****
August, 2001
Joey Marks needed money, and he wanted Deirdre to give it to him. Again. Hey, a few thousand dollars a few times a year was much better than the alternative—him and a baseball bat and her happy little family. Their agreement had worked nicely for him the last few years, and she was smart enough to make it work for her. And if her fancy boyfriend had a problem with walking in on him and his little Dee making an exchange, well, it wasn’t something that was going to bother him. Little bitch on the run for so many months, homeless and dirty like she deserved, and then she struck the fucking jackpot, hooking up with that old artist perv. Joey had raised her like his own, even after her Brit whore mother told him Deirdre wasn’t his.
She owed him, and one way or another, she would pay.
Noah railed on her. Why hadn’t she just gotten a restraining order against that rat bastard? Why hadn’t she told him? He shouted. She shouted back.
“Do you really think a fucking piece of paper matters to a guy like Joey Marks? He keeps a baseball bat in his car, Noah. It’s just some goddamned money.”
“I don’t give a fuck about the money, Deirdre,” he raged. “What I give a fuck about is that you didn’t tell me. It’s been two mother-fucking years! And all this time you’ve put yourself and your daughter in danger because you thought—what? What exactly was going through that thick skull of yours? Please, by all means. Enlighten me.”
“I was trying not to worry you, okay? Jesus Christ! I was just trying to do right by my fucking family, so don’t you take that fucking tone with me, Noah Winters.”
“Right by your family? Or right by your pride? What’s a little blackmail to tough-as-nails Deirdre? She lives on the edge, and she can handle anything, right?”
“Fuck you.”
Noah dug the heels of his palms into his eye sockets, trying to relieve the pressure there. It didn’t help. He punched the wall, but that didn’t help, either, though the air immediately changed.
Deirdre stared at him, pupils dilated and breath hitching. Besides her shaking hands, she stood absolutely still.
“I can’t be here right now,” she said, and picked up her bag from its place near the door.
“Aw, shit. Deirdre, don’t go. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have hit the wall. I didn’t mean to scare you baby, honest.” He went to her, brushed his hand over her shoulder and down to the hand that gripped the leather strap. Her fist clenched harder around it.
“Deirdre,” he tried again. “Don’t leave.”
She heard the plea in his voice and felt her chest constrict like a vise. The whole apartment was like a vise. She couldn’t breathe. He was blocking her path to the door, though she knew he didn’t mean to. He didn’t mean to loom over her, either. She tugged her hand away from Noah’s.
“I’ll come back. I will. But I can’t be here right now.” She headed to the nursery, gathering Elspet in the safety of her arms. Noah watched on, stricken. They argued all the time. They even enjoyed it. Didn’t she know that he would never hit her?
“I’ll come back!” Her voice rose as she tried not to cry. Noah remained silent across the room. “Noah. I’m coming back. I just need . . . to know that I could leave. But I won’t. I’ll be back in a couple hours, okay? I promise. In a couple hours. I love you, and I’ll be back.”
His breath whooshing out was one of relief. He believed her. If she said she’d be back, he would believe her.
“I love you, too.” But she was already out the door.
Deirdre knew she was hurting Noah, and she hated herself for it. But she needed to know that if something unspeakable ever happened, she would be able to pick up her bag and her daughter and take them someplace safe. Like a fire drill—she just needed to know she had a plan.
She belted Elspet into her car seat, crossed to the other side of the car, and got behind the wheel. She pointed her car south, because at the first stoplight, the left turn arrow turned green first. She continued that direction for the next two miles, carefully using her signals and driving exactly at the speed limit. She needed to know she was fully in control.
So when she came to an intersection as the light turned yellow, she pulled to a stop when she could easily have zipped through before the red.
Noah had really freaked her out. She had never seen him hit anything before. Somewhere deep inside, she knew that he would never raise a hand to her. She just needed some time to allow that knowledge to float to the surface, even though she knew she’d scared him. She would go home. She had told him she wouldn’t leave him again, after the trip to Nashville that wasn’t. And if she could think so logically about it, she was sure she could go home pretty soon. Maybe just one hour would be enough. The light turned green and Deirdre started across the intersection. Maybe she’d turn around at the next light, go home, and cuddle with Noah until they both felt okay again. That sounded nice. She had gotten into the car, hadn’t she? She’d proved what she needed to prove to herself. Now it was time to keep her promise to Noah.
She was nearly across the intersection when she saw the other car. An SUV, barrelling toward her from the right. And then there was only glass shattering. Then nothing.
*****
2005
There weren’t words to tell Thomas the rest, and he’d been there, anyway. When Deirdre had gotten to that point of her story, she just stopped. There was no point in continuing. He’d been at the hospital and at the funeral. He’d helped her move out of Noah’s apartment. Thomas had driven her to the doctor six weeks later when her vision started going. It was the airbag deploying, she was told. It had caused trauma to her eyes. If only she had been a bit taller, she probably would have been fine. She didn’t think so, but hadn’t said anything. He had helped her open her first gallery after she’d dropped out of college, chosen people who would see the art she was selling when the vestiges of her vision were gone.
He hadn’t been there when she had seen Noah a final time. She had just opened her gallery, and he had come to congratulate her. Or something.
“Well, it seems you’ve done well for yourself,” he said. She could see him sneer, just barely, and she could hear it well. She drank in the sight of him, trying not to melt to a puddle under his gaze. It had been so long. He had tried to make it work, after. She knew that. They both had. But he couldn’t bear to touch her, and she couldn’t blame him. So she had removed herself from his life, for a while, anyway. He needed to be angry at her, maybe even hate her. If she hadn’t gone for that drive— She understood.
So she said, “Yes, thank you.” They stood in silence.
Finally, “That’s all you have to say? ‘Yes, thank you’? It’s been three months, and that’s all you can say?”
It was.
“You ice-hearted bitch.” Something connected outside her diminishing field of vision. The back of his hand with her cheekbone. Deirdre scrambled away, knee-jerk terror warring with guilt. He came closer, hands toward her.
“I think you had better leave,” she’d said. And he had.
Another vase flopped over on the pottery wheel, making Deirdre curse her ineffectual eyes and clumsy hands. For such a three-dimensional medium, sculpture was still visual. You had to look at it to understand it. It wasn’t like in third grade when you put your hand in a paper bag and guessed whether the fruit inside was an apple or an orange. Sculpture wasn’t tactile or aural. Except maybe the Dali Universe museum in London. The music there had been part of the experience. What if…
Well, it was certainly something to think about. Perhaps Thomas was right. Perhaps she needed to look past her own blindness for a solution. Leon had grown up to have a decent eye. And he could drive. She called him.