Zenith Falling (17 page)

The morning brought with it a new pain that shot through Joelle.
Every inch of her body throbbed and ached. Her head hurt, her temples pounded, and her body moved as though arthritis controlled it. She gingerly sat up, pulling her legs out of the covers, and slid them over the edge of the bed. She groaned softly as she held a hand to the stabbing sensation in her side.

She glanced around at her surroundings. The bedroom wa
s luxurious, like nothing she had ever seen before, except maybe, in a magazine. But not in real life. She put a hand to her face, and palpated its puffiness, while cringing at the tenderness, and thought about what she’d look like today as the bruises turned darker, yellower, uglier and blended together over her face.

What would she do today? Where would she go?
The paralyzing thoughts made her nearly slide back into the bed. But no. There was no doing that, and there was no going back. Or forward, at least, until she figured out what to do right now.

She opened the door to the master bedroom
and heard voices coming from the kitchen. Her heart dipped. Damn, Nick was still here. He was too courteous, or too caring, to leave her this morning of all mornings without checking in on her first. Joelle limped towards the kitchen. Nick was sitting at the breakfast nook table, the morning newspaper spread around him. He wore jeans and a t-shirt, and hadn’t yet shaved. He looked good like that. Relaxed, casual, a kind of late morning sexy. Then she saw Erica coming over from the fridge, holding a carton of milk, in a lovely silk robe, with her gossamer hair streaming down over her shoulders. No morning bed hair for Erica, or puffy eyes. She was like a fresh daisy sitting down next to Nick. Their intimacy, and attractiveness as a couple, enjoying breakfast, made Joelle feel like a gawky, little kid, interloping on their soap-opera perfect life. She’d never been engaged in such a scene as this. Calm. Dignified. Or sat down to a breakfast of coffee, orange juice, cereal, and even English muffins. Joelle never sat down at a neat table to eat either; she always ate on the run.

Finally
, she urged her legs forward, feeling more intimidated of the scene she was witnessing between these two now, and the circumstances, than she’d been up until then.

“Joelle,” Erica said, noticing her immediately
and jumping up. “I didn’t think you’d be up so early. Come here. Sit. Do you like coffee?”

Joelle nodded dully, and felt like an ass. Erica was so nice. Perhaps the nicest wom
an she had ever met. And here she was, mooching off Erica’s boyfriend, interrupting their lives with her ugliness and obvious lack of stability. Nick’s gaze landed on her; following her as she sat down at the table. He studied everything about her. She couldn’t meet his eyes, not now in his bright, shiny kitchen on this beautiful, sunny morning; and especially not after the confidences she shared with him, cowering up to him last night like a beaten, stray dog. Erica set a cup down for Joelle. She poured the coffee, holding back her long hair with one hand. “There. Can I get you something to eat? There’re muffins. Cereal? Oatmeal? Yogurt?”

“Uh, yogurt
, I guess,” Joelle mumbled. Finding it hard not to respond to Erica’s genteel manners, and eagerness to be cheerful, helpful, and all around wonderful to her. “I can get it.”

“No. You sit. How are you today? Can I get you some more aspirin?”

“Yes. But you don’t have to wait on me.”

Erica came back with yogurt and a spoon. “Of course
, I’m going to wait on you. It’s nothing. The least I can do.”

Joelle
smiled up at Erica, wincing when the slight facial movement hurt her swollen, bruised lips and cheeks.

What planet was she from
? What kind of people did things like this, for people like her? She gingerly put a spoonful of yogurt to her mouth, avoiding her sore, split lip. All the while, Nick watched her.

His voice interrupted her concentration to not open her mouth too wide.
“You didn’t answer. How are you?”

She lifted her gaze. Although his tone was assertive, even commanding, his eyes were
filled with kindness and sympathy.

“How do I look like I feel?”

“Terrible. You look like you must feel terrible.”

“Nick! You don’t have to be so cruel. Don’t listen to him, Joelle; he’s just pissed off at what happened
to
you, not
at
you,” Erica said, rushing to keep Nick from making her feel any worse.

“No. It’s okay. It’s true. I do look and feel terrible.”

“And pissed off, tell me you feel pissed off at what happened to you,” Nick prodded.

She pressed her lips together. Why did he always have to push her so much?
“I don’t know what I feel.”

“Why not? Why won’t you admit this isn’t okay?
A relationship can’t get much more wrong than this, and behavior like Rob’s is uncorrectable and unforgivable. Why won’t you admit that and just accept it?”

“Nick. This can wait,” Erica said, staring at Nick, and wearing her mild disapproval in her eyes.

“Wait for what? Watch! She’s going to ask you for her clothes, and go right back there. Right back to Rob. I know her better than you do, Erica. I know exactly what she’s going to try and do.”

Nick w
as staring hard at her as he spoke, in his now familiar, but lethal tone. She should have continued to deny it. But she didn’t know what else to do, and she had nowhere else to go.

“I don’t think you shoul
d be pushing her so hard right now,” Erica continued.

“I think I should be, Erica,” Nick said, still staring at Joelle.

Joelle raised her eyes to Nick. “What can I do, Nick? I have nothing in the world on me. I don’t even have my ID. That life that you despise and criticize is all that I know.”

“That life is shit for you. What can you do? You can start by not ever going back there. You want your purse, your clothes, your childhood mementos? No problem! I’ll go pick up every damn one of them for you. But you, you can’t go near that place again. You have to stay away. You need to get your head on straight before you decide what to do next.”

“You can’t keep advising me what I should do.”

“You know what? I can. I sure as shit can urge you what to do.
I backed off once, twice, totally the last time. Not this time. You’re fragile right now. You’re the injured victim and can’t see this situation as clearly as I do, or as Erica does, which is exactly why you’re not going back there. You’re not seeing him yet.”

“What else can I do?”

“Stay here.”

“I can’t live with you
.”

“Why not? At least, no one will beat you up here.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it? It’s true though.”

She tightened her jaw. He was stubborn. But he could not dictate to her what she should do, and through gritted teeth, she answered, “I said I can’t live with you.”

He leaned back in his chair.
“Why not?”

“You know why,”
she whispered. She could not look him in the eye, or Erica, who was now listening closely.

He put his coffee cup down with a pronounced “thud!” and
shifted forward. “Tell me, Joelle, why is it you’ll obediently follow whatever your abusive husband says, when everything he’s ever done for you is crap. But will you listen to me? Even when you know I’m right? With regards to you, I usually am right. What are you so worried about? What your husband might say? Or think?”

“Among other things
.” She stood up, throwing her linen napkin on the table. Who used a linen napkin for a carton of yogurt? “I said I can’t live with you. I work for you, and I need my job more than anything else right now.”

Nick fell silent briefly before saying quietly, with his head tilted,
“Jesus, Joelle, you may consider your job safe. But you’re not going into the office until your face gets better. You’ll take some time off, figure things out, heal, and get stronger.”

“
Oh my God! You can’t tell me not to work.”

He simply raised his eyebrows at her.
“Yes, actually, I can. And if you won’t take care of yourself, then I’ll have to do it for you. Besides, you’ll scare all the clients away if you come in like that.”

“Nick!” Erica’s jaw was out
as she, too, stood up.

Nick glanced at Erica.
“Joelle can handle this. She can handle a lot more than she, or anyone else, gives herself credit for. What she can’t handle is her shiftless husband. So if I have to be a bastard to get her to kick him to the curb, then a bastard I will be.”

Erica glanced from Nick to Joelle, who were now glaring at each other. Erica finally sighed in resignation. “I agree totally with Nick. Yo
u do need a few days to rest.”

Joelle shut her eyes, pressing her fingers into the table, and leaning her weight onto it.
“I can’t take anymore charity from you.”

“Your
presence here does not create any problem. The only problem is what was done to you, and hearing you even consider going back to the very location where it was done! We… no,
I
can’t live with myself, imagining the odds of that happening again,” Erica finished quietly.

Joelle paused. She pondered Erica’s words, sensing her sincerity, and genuine caring. “So what am I going to do?”

“First of all, give yourself some time. Stay here and heal at your own pace. Need money? Look around you; it’s not an issue anymore, for once in your life. Accept it graciously, as the gift it’s intended to be, and one that Nick, and I wholeheartedly offer to you.”

“I gave you no choice; I slapped you in the face with my problems.”

Erica looked at Joelle and said softly, “No, you had no choice.”

“I have no clothes.”

“Well, we do have a thing called credit cards.”

“What have I become?
Pretty Woman
sharing the penthouse for a week?”

Nick
outright laughed, cutting the tension, and overall direness of the situation. “You need our help, so get over that first. If you want to be shocked, then be shocked at the barbarism you had to endure. Not because we’re helping you.”

Erica nodded. “I’ll pick up some things for you today. That shouldn’t be too hard. What size are you?”

“Short,” Joelle said, glancing at Nick. Did she really feel modest about discussing her clothing size in front of Nick? Her entire face was swollen, bruised and demolished: what did her lack of weight or curves matter?

Erica’s eyes ran up and down Joelle. “A petite two or so? You couldn’t be much more.”

Joelle shrugged. She always bought clothes
at least one size too big. Erica wouldn’t do that. When Erica got up, nodding, she seemed happy to have a new plan for the day, something to do that was totally unexpected.

“Okay
, good. I’ll go get you a few things.” She turned to Nick and said, “I’ll be back,” kissing him on the cheek before walking down the hall, and out the front door, still clad only in her robe. Joelle’s mouth hung open dumbfounded.

“Where is she going dressed like that?”

Nick glanced up at her and replied, “She lives two floors down.”

Joelle lowered her curious eyebrows. That was just weird. She felt a bubble in the back of her throat… of humor. A laugh escaped her mouth; and she was pleasantly surprised to
have anything resembling humor left in her. Nick’s serious face broke into a slow smile as soon as she smiled.

“That must come in handy.”

“Sometimes,” he answered. Then they stared at each other. A sudden tension seemed to envelop the bright room around them, now alone together, over breakfast. Erica’s gracious presence easily diffused any awkwardness. But now it returned, almost visibly.

“She’s amazing, you know. I can’t think of any girlfriend who would react the way she has to me. Most would despise me, and boot me out. She’s so gracious, kind, and wonderful.”

Nick paused from taking his next bite, seeming to consider Joelle’s statement. “Yes. She is. But I think you’re wrong. Most people would feel compassion for you, and put aside their own issues or problems. It’s not okay what happened to you, Joelle; and most women, I’m sure, would agree with that. Especially Erica. She’s spent her entire career trying to help women and she’s a brilliant doctor.”

Nick got up before she could answer and dumped his dishes carelessly into the sink. He left the room, and banged around in the utility room. When he returned, he had her clothes from last night, folded in a neat pile, with her underpants and bra on top. Erica must have done that. Erica: the epitome of perfection, gentility, cleanliness, goodness. What Joelle didn’t like
, however, was Nick handling her undergarments. She quickly got up and snatched them from him. Not that she worried Nick would even remotely think sexual thoughts about her, after seeing her limping, stiff body and swollen, bruised face.

He leaned back against the counter, watching her clutch the small pile of clean, still warm, floral-scented clothes.
Finally, he asked, “What do you need?”