The New Year holidays went on, and I was already impatient to get back to doing something.
During the day I babysat Brittany. In the evening either Derek or Theron would come. And, strangely enough, they never once crossed paths.
There was one thing that pleased me — Theron treated Derek's presence calmly. Without unnecessary drama or displays of power.
Sometimes he stayed the night on the couch. Often he disappeared, explaining it with family matters. Considering his position, it sounded logical. And plausible.
Gradually, because of Brittany's intrusiveness and her constant squabbles either with Theron or with Derek, I began to forget what had even happened this month. And this year as well.
Everything was becoming background noise.
Something already lived through.
Something that had been left behind.
I moved forward without looking back. As though I had already grown used to the chaos in my life.
On the thirtieth of December Theron lingered until late evening. When Brittany was already asleep, I joined him on the couch.
Some kind of New Year show was playing on the television.
Theron almost immediately made himself more comfortable and laid his head on my lap.
I gently ran my fingers into his velvet hair.
"I don't know if I'll be able to come to you tomorrow," Theron said quietly, almost in a whisper.
"It's all right. You don't have to. I'm fine. I won't run away," I supported his words.
"It isn't about obligation."
He lifted himself and pressed his nose into my neck, drawing in the scent of my skin.
"I want to."
Low. Muffled. His voice moved through my body slowly, heavily.
Inside, an uncontrollable desire was born for him to touch my neck with his lips. But he controlled himself perfectly and simply held my hands in his.
We sat and looked at each other in our familiar, comfortable silence. He slowly raised his hand, drew me closer, and kissed my forehead. Disappointment pierced my mind.
"I have to go."
Theron stood up, got dressed and left.
And I went on sitting on the couch, immersed in my new feelings, like thunder from a clear sky.
***
Brittany sat in her phone the whole day.
Then Derek dragged her out shopping for champagne and snacks.
I tidied the apartment a little and, I admit, did not take my eyes off my phone. Not a call, not a message from Theron.
This behavior of mine began to irritate me, and I sat down to read books.
"Mirey," Derek called to me when it was eleven on the clock and the table was, evidently, set. "Will you join us or keep reading?"
Brittany was already setting up a live broadcast from the main stage in New York, where many celebrities gather every year and the countdown runs.
I glanced at the table. Pizza. Cheese. Small crackers with spread and other little things. Why not a festive table.
"Thank you," I thanked Derek, who apparently understood that I was already overdosed on Brittany.
I really did not like long holidays.
Derek poured me a glass of sparkling wine and clinked with me.
"It's very obvious, Mirey," the corner of his mouth lifted.
"What exactly?" We sat at the table and simply watched the television Brittany had set.
"You're waiting for him, aren't you?" he asked calmly, taking a sip.
"Probably," I admitted. "I can't understand… too much remains illogical and wrong now for me. All this will calm down when he grows tired of it," I spoke as though justifying myself.
I still believed that sooner or later Theron would grow tired of playing this game, and he would leave. To a new one he would want to add to his collection.
"Will you be all right?" Derek asked questions to which I myself already had no answers.
"My greatest fear is already dead somewhere in a ditch," I smirked, understanding that a great weight had fallen from my shoulders. As though I had become free. "I'll survive if he trails after a new girl. Or even returns to Amy."
"I'm glad," Derek smiled at me sincerely.
I had not even known he could smile. That his smile was so light and kind.
My eyes did not want to tear themselves away from this rare, almost singular smile. It gave hope inside me. That he still shone within. That he still could. As could I. That we both would not go out.
We spoke no more, only answered Brittany's comments.
For a whole hour she reproached us that we were like at a funeral, and in nearly that hour swept away the entire table. And, of course, reproached us for stinginess.
Together we counted down the end of the year and finished the bottle of wine. Brittany too was already eyeing the wine, but that was immediately stopped.
Derek helped me tidy up, while Brittany with her new phone had already gone to bed.
"Thank you," I thanked him once more before he left.
"Don't thank me. I wouldn't come if I didn't want to," he stopped me and, waving his hand, went to his place.
I lingered in the living room for a minute, checked the phone — still empty.
Why am I waiting?
I turned off the light and went to sleep.
***
That disgusting, intrusive perfume that had irritated me since our first meeting burst into my consciousness. I opened my eyes and saw Theron sitting beside me.
"How sweet. You've broken into my house again," I whispered reproachfully so as not to wake Brittany.
He silently ran a cold hand over my cheek.
I sat up to look into his face. But my eyes were still stuck together, and I could not see him fully.
He did not smell of alcohol or other scents.
"I'm sorry," Theron whispered, as though he had done something terrible.
He drew my face to his and pressed his lips firmly to mine.
His cold and so soft lips. A tremor went through my whole body.
It seemed as though he had never kissed me before. As though with all the nightmare I had forgotten those nights as well, that unrestrained sex that had been between us. As though it had already not been with us.
His "I'm sorry" bound me, and I could not answer the kiss. His soft lips captured mine, and his hands gripped my face tighter. A moment — and he pulled away from me.
"Sleep," he began to lay me back down, while my heart leapt from his gentle kiss and doubts were born inside because of his "I'm sorry."
He calmly stood and left the room. I listened, but never heard the front door close.
Rising and taking a blanket with a pillow, I went out to the living room. He sat tiredly on the couch, his head thrown back.
I came up. Inside there was only one thing: I had missed him. In this I could admit to myself — I had missed him.
I took off his boots and unfastened what was probably an insanely expensive jacket. I had never seen such on him. He calmly looked at me and allowed himself to be undressed.
"You need to get proper sleep, not huddle on my couch," I began, covering him with the blanket and slipping the pillow under his head.
Theron smiled slightly. Now I could clearly see what remained in his eyes.
"Did you prepare a gift for me?" he asked, pulling me by the wrist.
"You have everything," I smirked.
"Give me a night," his tired smile irritated me. I was not used to seeing him like that. "One more night."
I leaned over him, and he again inhaled my skin.
What's with him? Why doesn't he just do what he wants, as before? Why is he so… gentle…
I lay down along the couch, and he lay on me from above, as usual, placing his head on my waist. The couch was long enough, for which I was glad, since in the morning all muscles would ache.
"Mirey," he whispered.
"What?" My hands slid into his hair. Slightly stiff. Had he styled it?
But in answer — silence. He simply held me tightly and breathed in my scent.
As though this were a tired and emptied Theron.
"I'll give you a subscription to sleeping with me," I smirked, massaging his head.
In answer only a small chuckle.
A minute, a second — and we both fell into sleep.
In the morning I woke and understood that Theron had carried me to the bed. Beyond the door Brittany's irritating voice was heard, the morning news, and the smell of fried eggs and some other food.
Wait. Someone is cooking food for me?
I jumped up and ran out into the living room. And simply froze at the sight.
Derek stood at the stove, which I had never once used. Theron read his phone on the couch, and Brittany lamented that Derek had fried her portion wrong.
"What the hell is going on here?" I swayed in the doorway.
"Coffee?" Derek asked calmly.
I looked at Derek, and my gaze shifted to Theron. He still sat in yesterday's shirt and trousers.
"Yes," I swallowed, coming up to Theron. "You stayed?"
"Sis, why are you such a bore? When will we ever gather in such company again? Of course he stayed," Brittany ran up and seized my arm. "Let's have breakfast, although Derek is a lousy cook."
"Everything of yours is burnt anyway," Derek threw in her direction.
"I am not made for cooking, I am made for love," she tossed her hair, showing how beautiful she was.
I again shifted my gaze to Theron. As though not hearing them, he went on reading the news feed.
"Can I have you for a minute?" I tapped Theron on the shoulder, and he immediately responded.
I headed to the bedroom, and he followed me.
"I'm still here, so don't do anything shameful," Brittany called after us when I slammed the door.
"You probably need a shower," I began rummaging in the dresser, taking out his black suit, in which I had left last time, already washed and ironed. "Here, I stole it from you last time."
The call interrupted me, and he, without delay, answered it. His expression changed. All the calm and relaxation seemed to vanish.
"Not now," his voice returned to the commanding version of a boss. "Right now you need to receive the guest, and I want to hear what he says."
"A guest?" I asked in confusion.
"Yes. Our beloved agent is coming up to you now," Theron adjusted my hair. "Just answer as usual. Indifferently."
He kissed my forehead, and we went to the living room.
Not even a minute passed before there was a knock on the door. I went up and opened.
There stood the FBI agent I had often already met, but whose name I had forgotten. Though I was sure he had introduced himself.
"You remember me, Mirey. I am Ron Davis, FBI agent," he raised his documents, but I did not peer — I believed him at his word. "Interesting company you have," he threw a surprised glance at Theron, standing near the bedroom door.
"Can I help you with something? Haven't we resolved all questions in the past?" I answered dryly.
My daily mask calmly stuck to my consciousness.
"I am here on the matter of Alex Teach," he threw a glance at Brittany.
He spoke of my stepfather. But I had never spoken his name aloud. He did not deserve it. Sadist. Rapist. Scum. And worse besides. But not a name. He simply did not deserve it.
"Well he croaked, so he croaked. What, what's the business?" Brittany interfered, swaggering past him and displaying her long beautiful hair.
If only she would turn eighteen sooner, and I would be rid of her. This was already unbearable.
"That pig lived longer than he deserved anyway," Brittany added, looking straight into the agent's eyes.
"Isn't it too harsh to speak so of a deceased father? You are Brittany Teach, aren't you?" Davis inquired.
"So you still take him for a human?" she flooded the room with exaggerated laughter.
Magnificent actress.
"That animal got what he deserved, though late."
"Why do you say that?" the agent asked quite calmly.
"He first turned our life into hell, and then I should say 'thank you, daddy'?" Brittany could not be stopped. Everything accumulated poured from her without halt. "I'm not even mentioning what he did to Mirey."
"Don't…" I immediately intervened, but the agent had already noticed.
"And what did he do?" he asked warily.
"He ruined all her life and mine. My sister worked without rest and could not even enter university, and now plows days and nights to pay for my university. And it's good she is legally savvy. If not for that, they would have hung the debts of my hateful daddy on her too," she deftly twisted out, understanding that I did not wish to speak to them of the beatings.
She had never been stupid. She had always only hidden behind the mask of a capricious girl, just as I — behind an icy mask. Only thus had we managed to live through all that nightmare. But we had not avoided scars.
"I will have a couple of questions for you, if you do not mind," the agent immediately began, as though by protocol.
"Ask here," I insisted at once. Alone he had no right to remain with her until I gave permission as guardian.
"Then without witnesses," he cast a look over Theron and Derek.
"Is this an interrogation or simply questions?" I clarified and caught a glimpse of the stern expression on Theron's face. "If simply questions, ask here. And if you need an interrogation, send a summons."
"Simply questions," the agent shrugged.
But I saw disappointment in his eyes — he understood I knew my rights.
"How long ago did you see your father?" the agent began.
"The last time four years ago, when he abandoned us and three days after his absence I was given to an orphanage," she recalled with disgust. "After that I neither saw nor heard. They said he borrowed money from cartels. And they even bothered my sister, but that is all I know. I, as a minor, was shielded from this information," she finished, shrugging.
"And you, Miss Mirey?" he sharply shifted his gaze to me, then to Theron.
"The same story. Nothing new. Only — I had to run from debt collectors and ask for protection. And in general he was not my father officially, so in fact I did not care. I do not even remember how and when it was."
"Good," he shook his head distrustfully. "It's just that a week before discovery he was seen in New York."
The agent was probing me and Theron. As though he already knew the answer.
"I know nothing about that," I answered just as indifferently.
"Here is my card," he held out a business card. "If you remember anything or need to tell, call, come."
He spoke as though he already knew I had met with him, but could not prove.
I escorted him out without any comments, but still took the card.
"Are they really still going to investigate how he died?" Brittany said indignantly, sitting down to breakfast.
Derek had been silent the whole time. He was as though not here at all, like furniture. He took his coffee and went to the couch, taking Theron's place.
I looked at Theron and understood: he was already considering something. It was visible from his expression.
I went up to him, but he seemed not to notice me.
"Do you think he already knows?" I whispered to him, drawing him from thought.
"If he had anything, he would have gotten me long ago. And you as well. So there is definitely nothing, only guesses," he smiled faintly at me. "I have to go. But running now is not the best idea — he will understand something is wrong. So I will take a shower and go."
"All right," that disappointed me the very slightest.
"But I will come for dinner, so tell your friend not to occupy the couch," he nodded toward Derek and smiled faintly.
"Yes," I answered evenly, and inside everything turned in an instant from his smile…
This is not good, Mirey… oh, very not good.