After one hitch Abigail's plan seems to be going smoothly. She gets through a session with Chad and even shows up in public to satisfy her uncle--who appears to be on her side.
Angel: Part 5
Abigail talks about her fiance.
When I lay safely in my bed that night, I consider
the memories that seem to bring me down. Without too much pain, I come to the
logical conclusion that it centers on someone Father had flown with that day.
Who?
I didn’t try to call Father when I saw the burning
plane on TV. I didn’t scream “Father!” before I collapsed in the middle of the
student center. According to Chad, the traumatic events of my father’s death
worsened my illness, preventing me from healing.
But I can think about Father and remember him
without falling apart. I loved my father, but it doesn’t make sense anymore
that his death caused my overpowering grief.
***
The heat in my
body seems intense. Every extremity aches and I feel surrounded by fog. I can
hear the murmur of voices next to my bed. They’ve talked like I’m dead for days
now. I think they expect me to be soon.
“The virus was
probably latent in her system. The trauma of losing her fiancé and father has
activated it in her brain.”
“Will she survive?”
I don’t hear the
answer, only Mother’s stifled sobs. When her hands grip my arm, they feel like
ice.
***
I sleep well, despite my troubling dreams. I think
about “The trauma of losing my fiancé and
father,” and can’t reconcile it in my mind. Culver didn’t propose until
months after I “recovered” from the encephalitis. My sessions with Chad seem to
confuse my fragile brain.
Chad meets me in Mother’s sitting room after
breakfast.
“Good morning, Chad,” I say. I can fool Mother and
Uncle Edgar easily. Chad seems much harder to deal with.
A faint smile crosses his lips. “Good morning,
Abbey.”
He settles into a comfortable chair. “What do you
want to talk about today? You seem more at peace with your father’s death since
we spoke. Should we discuss your engagement?”
I think for a moment that I see anger cross Chad’s
expression, but it disappears too quickly to tell. I scowl. “I suppose.”
Chad’s eyes dance at my reaction. “You prefer to
discuss your father more instead of the minor issue of your fiancé?”
I laugh at first. Hearing Chad joke seems to settle
me. Then my brain catches on the word fiancé.
I’m plunging downward. The plane burning. I can hear his voice. “I can’t get to my phone.
Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.” He won’t answer. He has to answer,
but he won’t.
I gasp and blink, surprised that I gained control
over the dark spiral. I look up and meet Chad’s eyes, his expression twisted
into pain.
“Chad.”
In a flash Chad jumps from his chair, kneeling next
to me. I feel the warmth of his image over my arms, almost like his fingers touch
my skin while he murmurs comforting, but unintelligible words.
“Chad,” I repeat, staring into his shimmering eyes.
Things start crashing into place and the dizziness starts to engulf me.
“I’m sorry, Abs, I’m sorry.” Chad’s recitation
reminds me of the sound of his voice on the phone. “I can’t get to my phone. Leave me a message and I’ll get back to you.”
For a moment when I look into Chad’s face, the
fragile, disconnected world I’d existed in for ten long months stabilizes.
More? :) Please?
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