Chapter 9: Chapter 9

JAMIE

The room was hushed, save for the gentle hum of the air conditioner and the occasional groan of the floorboards. A lone ray of sunlight snuck through the blinds, bathing Adam’s concentrated face in a warm glow as he watched me closely.

I was sprawled out on my yoga mat, my body contorted into an awkward pose, my right leg reaching out toward him.

“Jamie, extend your right leg toward me again,” Adam directed, gentle but firm.

I clenched my jaw and pushed myself, edging my leg closer to him. I could feel the tension in my muscles, a fiery sensation threatening to consume me.

“Jamie, I know it hurts, but you need to push past the pain,” Adam urged. “You’re stronger than this. One more time.”

His words, though straightforward, held a depth that echoed within me. It was as if he could see the uncertainty in my eyes and replace it with unwavering faith.

With a renewed sense of resolve, I stretched my leg out once more.

“Five,” Adam counted, a pleased smile dancing on his lips. “Well done, Jamie. You’re done for today. No more torture.”

His smirk was playful, and I found myself laughing in response.

“I appreciate that,” I responded, relieved to be done.

Adam gently lowered my leg back onto the mat, and I let out a sigh of relief.

“Are you okay down there?” he asked.

“I’m fine. It’s just a bit overwhelming at times,” I confessed, wiping my flushed and sweaty face.

“It’s a lot to handle, but you’re capable. Let me help you up,” Adam offered, his strong arms encircling me as he lifted me off the floor.

He guided me to my wheelchair, his touch both soothing and supportive.

“Thank you,” I whispered, tired but thankful.

“That’s why I’m here,” he responded, wheeling me toward the dining table and taking a seat opposite me.

“So, how are you feeling? You look like you could use a nap,” he chuckled.

“A nap… I’m not sure I have time for that. I have plans later.”

His eyebrow arched. “Oh really? Is that why you got your hair done?” he asked. “It looks good, by the way. Short hair suits you.”

I could feel my cheeks heating up. “Thank you. I just wanted a change. We’re having dinner at Mason’s dad’s house tonight. A lot of his family will be there, so I just wanted to look presentable.”

“Sounds like you have an exciting night ahead,” he said with a knowing smile.

“Yeah, I suppose so,” I replied, a small smile tugging at my lips.

I wasn’t exactly thrilled about the evening. Sure, I was eager to catch up with Harry and meet the rest of Mason’s family. From what I could recall, Harry was a gentle and kind man.

But the idea of pretending to be a blissful couple with Mason filled me with unease. Would the awkward silences be unbearable? Would I trip over my words, exposing the cracks in our facade?

I couldn’t shake off the feeling that I was setting myself up for disappointment. Maybe I was being overly negative. Perhaps the evening wouldn’t be as bad as I feared.

I tried to distract myself. “Do you have any plans for the weekend?” I asked Adam.

“Nothing much. Just me and a few beers. I don’t do much outside of work,” he replied, packing up his gym bag.

“What about friends?” I asked.

“I have a close-knit group of friends from high school. Most of them are married with kids now, so we don’t hang out as much. I’m fine with it. I understand,” he explained.

I nodded in understanding. “I get it. The life I had before the accident is pretty much gone, along with some friends and family. Everyone has moved on.”

“And you feel like you’re playing catch-up,” Adam observed. “I’ve never worked with anyone in your situation before. It must be hard not remembering your daughter. How are things with her?”

How are things with Penelope? The question lingered heavily in the air.

The truth was it was complicated. Mason took care of everything for her, and I felt useless. The mother I had envisioned myself to be was a distant memory.

I longed to cook her favorite meals, take her to school, tuck her in at night. But those simple pleasures were out of my reach. Mason handled it all.

Maybe I held it against him, even though I knew it wasn’t fair. He was shouldering a lot. I was certain he’d rather have me there, fully involved in our little girl’s life.

Referring to her as “our daughter” felt odd. It was like I was staking a claim on a part of her that wasn’t really mine.

“We’re doing okay,” I said, forcing a smile to mask the inner chaos. The subject of Mason and Penelope was a minefield I was hesitant to navigate.

“That’s great, Jamie,” Adam responded, his smile comforting. “I should head out. Need anything before I go?”

“I’m good. Mason should be back soon,” I assured him.

“See you tomorrow, same time?”

“Same time, same place,” I affirmed.

“I’ll show myself out. Have a good night,” he said.

I nodded, letting out a deep sigh. I’d try to have a good night, but the heaviness of my complex reality was always there.

No sooner had Adam left than a wave of fatigue hit me. I massaged my sore muscles, remnants of the day’s physiotherapy session. A painkiller seemed like the only answer.

With a sigh, I wheeled myself to the kitchen counter and downed the pills. The house was silent, the only noise being the ticking of the clock.

Mason had left a few hours earlier to drop Penelope off at my dad’s. He had mentioned he might swing by the office.

A thought struck me. With the house empty, it was the perfect chance to revisit that enigmatic file. I wheeled myself to Mason’s office, a sense of anticipation growing within me.

I remembered the folder tucked under a binder on his console table. There was something about the man in the photo that piqued my interest, a sense of familiarity I couldn’t quite pinpoint.

I shifted the binder, looking for the folder…but it was missing. A wave of disappointment hit me. Had Mason moved it?

Maybe he stashed it in his safe, a safe I didn’t know the combination to. A feeling of frustration and confusion settled in. What was he hiding?

As the hours ticked by, my anticipation morphed into worry. Mason was late. I had been sitting in the living room, all dolled up and wearing makeup for the first time in forever, waiting for him.

Maybe he got held up at work or simply forgot. Or perhaps, he didn’t want to go at all. After all, it was Penelope who had informed me about the dinner, not Mason.

The sound of the front door opening snapped me out of my thoughts. Relief washed over me as I realized Mason was finally home. Late, but home.

I heard the familiar sound of Mason’s footsteps on the kitchen tile as he made his way to the living room. He appeared, his shirt unbuttoned a few notches and his suit jacket draped over his arm. A wave of annoyance washed over me.

“You’re late,” I started, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’ve been waiting. We were supposed to be at your dad’s half an hour ago.”

“Something came up. I lost track of time,” he responded, devoid of emotion.

He turned toward the stairs, distant and cold. It was as if he didn’t want to be there.

The ride to Harry’s house was tense and quiet. I couldn’t figure out why he was acting so aloof. I hadn’t even shown anger at his lateness.

“I tried calling you earlier to see where you were, but you didn’t answer,” I said, turning to face him. “You usually pick up. I wasn’t sure if you were even coming.”

“My battery died,” he replied flatly. “I didn’t see your message until I got home.”

I didn’t buy his excuse. He had a phone in his office. He could have easily called to let me know he was running late, especially when he realized the time.

“Do you even want to go, Mason?” I asked, frustration creeping into my tone. “I get the feeling that you don’t. It’s okay if you don’t, I just want to know.”

He let out a sharp breath. “I’m not in the mood, Jamie. I’m tired, and I’m mad at myself for being late,” he said. He glanced at me, his eyes a mix of annoyance and something else I couldn’t quite decipher. “I don’t want to go to this dinner. You know I don’t like these kinds of things.”

“Actually, I don’t,” I shot back. “I don’t really know a thing about you, remember?”

A silence, heavy and awkward, descended between us. Maybe honesty wasn’t the best policy here. The tension was thick, and I couldn’t pinpoint the root of his irritation. Was it just because we were running late, or was there something else brewing?

“I just meant…,” I started, attempting to clear up my previous statement.

“I know what you meant,” he cut in, not letting me finish. “You don’t need to explain.” He steered the car into the driveway of his father’s house.

We were late, and everyone was already there. I despised being late, and I could only imagine the judgmental stares we were about to receive. Mason killed the engine and a strained silence filled the car.

“We don’t have to go in if you don’t want to,” I suggested. “I’m sure your father would understand.”

I had a hunch that Harry had already written us off as no-shows. Maybe this was a pattern with Mason. He’d mentioned before that he wasn’t a fan of these types of gatherings.

“We’re here now, we might as well go in,” he said, pushing open the car door.

As he fetched my wheelchair from the backseat, a lump formed in my throat. The idea of spending the entire evening trapped in that chair filled me with dread. I loathed the way people looked at me, those pitying glances that made me feel insignificant and helpless.

The pitying glances of Harry’s guests were tangible as I entered the house. They were all so warm and welcoming, but their sympathy was clear in every look, every word. I forced a smile and avoided eye contact, taking a sip of my water to dodge conversation.

Dinner was a tense affair. Mason and I sat side by side, the awkwardness between us hanging heavy in the air.

“Harry mentioned you’re doing physio,” Mason’s aunt, Barb, said. “How are you finding it? It must be tough, sweetheart.”

“It is tough,” I admitted. “I do physio most days with my therapist, Adam. It’s physically and emotionally exhausting, but I know it’s what I need to do to get out of this chair.”

“Don’t push yourself,” Mason chimed in. “It’s going to take time.”

“I know,” I said firmly. “But I’m eager to walk again, and I’ll work as hard as I can to make it happen. Adam said it might only be a matter of weeks.”

Mason scoffed at my optimism.

“That’s great, dear,” Harry said, trying to diffuse the tension.

“You should come visit us in Napa,” Barb suggested. “Sid and I would love to have you both. We could take care of Penelope while you two have some quality time together.” She smiled at Mason and me, her eyes sparkling.

Mason raised an eyebrow. “I don’t recall you being so meddling, Aunt Barbara,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips, though his tone was serious.

“Meddling? Never,” Barb retorted. “I’m just looking out for you both. You might thank me later.”

The idea of a trip to Napa was tempting, but the thought of spending extended time alone with Mason filled me with dread. Our relationship was already tense; I couldn’t imagine how it would be in a more intimate setting.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Mason replied, shooting me a glance.

I rolled my eyes internally. I would have a say in this, wouldn’t I? Not that I was particularly excited about the idea. Spending time alone together was awkward for both of us.

For the rest of the evening, I endured small talk and questions about my recovery. I forced a smile and answered politely, but I was eager to leave. The physical exertion of sitting in my wheelchair for extended periods was draining.

I excused myself and wheeled myself to the study, hoping for some solitude. As I approached, I heard voices. It was Mason and his father.

“Maybe it’s a good idea, son,” Harry was saying. “Uncomfortable as it may be, you two need some time alone together. Something might click for Jamie being back there.”

~No!~ I thought.

“No,” Mason replied firmly. “I’m not taking Barb up on her offer. Jamie’s not even walking yet. I’m not flying her to Napa. Getting her here tonight was hard enough.”

“I can help you,” Harry offered.

Mason’s tone was biting. “I don’t need assistance,” he retorted. “Jamie’s my charge. I made a vow to her mom.”

A peculiar discomfort began to creep over me. Mason let out a weary sigh. “I’m beat. I can’t stick around. I’ll drop Penelope off in the morning.”

“Everyone’s excited to see her,” Harry chimed in.

I heard the sound of footsteps nearing the door and hastily rolled my chair back, hoping to hide my presence. The door groaned open, and there stood Mason. His face was an enigma.

Was he upset that I’d caught wind of their discussion? Or was he anxious that I’d heard too much?

“I was, um, just about to look for you,” I stuttered. “I’m not feeling great. Can you drive me home?”

Harry stepped out from his office. His gentle eyes were brimming with worry.

“Let’s head out,” Mason said.

Harry bent down to plant a kiss on my forehead. “Thanks for joining us for dinner, darling. I hope you start feeling better soon.”

“Thank you,” I responded, a faint smile gracing my lips.

As Mason pushed my wheelchair toward the car, a thick silence descended upon us. I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of discussion awaited us back home.

Would he call me out for eavesdropping? Or would he act as if it never happened? He was quite the actor, after all.