Black Lies
Page 67
I watch his hands tighten, the first hint I’ve seen at anger. I curl into his chest. “I love you,” I whisper.
“I love you too, Lana. Thank you… for sticking with me through this.”
I grin. “Thanks for not giving up when I turned down your other proposals.”
He tugs at my hand, running his fingers over the bare digits. “The ring is at the office. Let’s get it today. I don’t want to go another night without seeing it on your finger.”
“Deal.” I untangle from his lap and stand. “Ready to see the doc?”
“Absolutely.”
Chapter 65
I’ve previously met Dr. Susan Renhart several times. Almost as tall as Brant, she greets us both with a tight smile, showing none of the bright grins she showers on the HYA children. I introduce the two of them, then Brant explains what he best remembers.
“I’ve been on these pills for almost twenty years,” he pushes the bottle over, her eyebrows rising at the name on the bottle, her hands opening it with a practiced efficiency and sprinkling the white pills along her brown palm.
“What were you told that they were?”
“A depressant of sorts, one that had a caffeine agent. Something to keep me productive while keeping me calm enough to avoid a blackout. Whenever I get stressed, I take one. I also take two a day, in the mornings.”
I listen with half an ear, interested in his words, but needing to call the attorney. I scroll down on my cell phone, to John Forsyth’s number, a man I haven’t spoken to in years, and press Send.
The doctor rolls the pills in her hand before keeping one and dumping the rest back. “When’s the last time you took one?”
“It’s been about two days. The morning before last. And… having not taken them, I may have had blackouts in the time during which I was at Jillian’s. I’m not sure.”
“Blackouts?” she frowns. “I thought the issue was DID.”
“It is.” He stops, glances at me. “I’m sorry. I’m so used to thinking of them as blackouts, that’s what I know them to be.”
She shrugs. Dismisses the thought. “Did you take any medication at Jillian’s?”
“Not willingly. But the doctor there injected me with something. Maybe twice, I’m not sure. I want to know what’s in my system now. And have documentation of that, should we need it.”
She nods, pulling items from her bag. “Let’s pull some blood and get a urine sample.”
“Layana,” the attorney’s voice, a booming bass of a sound, crackles through my cell, and I step away, into the hall.
“Hey John. I need your help.”
Team Jillian shows up before Dr. Renhart has finished, the guard shack calling the house to alert us of their presence. It takes less than four minutes for her brigade to leave, the three Escalades doing a quick roundabout through the cul-de-sac outside our gates. I guess the sight of three armed guards blocking our gate changed Jillian’s mind. I watch from an upstairs balcony, and try to understand the woman below me. A woman who seems staunch in her belief that she is in the right, justified. Even in her lies, her deceit. For what? The good of Brant? The good of BSX? Or the good of herself? I step away from the window and walk downstairs, Brant’s form by the door, his hand clasped by the doctor’s, goodbyes in full force.
“The results of the blood tests won’t be available until tomorrow. I’ll email you the findings as soon as they are processed. But I would guess, speaking to you about your experience… anything you were injected with will pass through your system in the next twenty-four hours.” She fishes a card from her pocket. “This is Dr. Henry Terra. He’s, as best I could tell from my connections, the foremost authority on DID. I would suggest you call him immediately, if not for your own psychological therapy, then to get his legal advice and support for whatever battle you end up fighting. I have to assume treatment of DID has progressed since you were a child.” She turns to me and reaches out, wrapping me into a firm hug. “Once you sort this out, I expect to see you at HYA.”
“You know me, I can’t stay away.” I grin at her, and there is a moment of sad connection, when I see the pity in her eyes and want to brush it away. Brant and I are fine. We are strong. I pulled back the roof of lies and we survived, are fighting, our anger focused on Jillian. We have love, the rest will get better or worse, and I would rather have worse than have any more lies. I hold the door and watch her leave, Brant’s arm wrapping around and pulling me close, his mouth soft against my neck as he bends down to kiss me.
It is horrible for me to think, to wish for, but in that one moment of peace, of unity, the two of us against the world? A part of me really wants Lee to show up, to take me against the wall and f**k my brains out. No thinking, no analysis, just raw need fulfilled by both. I roll in Brant’s arms. Try to press against him and light the fire of my body, but there is nothing there. Not in this moment when he is broken and I am exhausted and the white hat is so heavy on my head.
I would rather have worse than have any more lies. I just told myself that. I had loved Brant, had only gone after Lee for the purpose of keeping both halves of my man loyal, keeping him close. If he leaves, if the doctor has a cure, if he weeds out Lee and I am left with only Brant, that should be perfect, right?
Right?
I avoid the answers my heart pushes forward. The admittance, in my bones, that a part of me loves Lee. Needs him.
“I love you too, Lana. Thank you… for sticking with me through this.”
I grin. “Thanks for not giving up when I turned down your other proposals.”
He tugs at my hand, running his fingers over the bare digits. “The ring is at the office. Let’s get it today. I don’t want to go another night without seeing it on your finger.”
“Deal.” I untangle from his lap and stand. “Ready to see the doc?”
“Absolutely.”
Chapter 65
I’ve previously met Dr. Susan Renhart several times. Almost as tall as Brant, she greets us both with a tight smile, showing none of the bright grins she showers on the HYA children. I introduce the two of them, then Brant explains what he best remembers.
“I’ve been on these pills for almost twenty years,” he pushes the bottle over, her eyebrows rising at the name on the bottle, her hands opening it with a practiced efficiency and sprinkling the white pills along her brown palm.
“What were you told that they were?”
“A depressant of sorts, one that had a caffeine agent. Something to keep me productive while keeping me calm enough to avoid a blackout. Whenever I get stressed, I take one. I also take two a day, in the mornings.”
I listen with half an ear, interested in his words, but needing to call the attorney. I scroll down on my cell phone, to John Forsyth’s number, a man I haven’t spoken to in years, and press Send.
The doctor rolls the pills in her hand before keeping one and dumping the rest back. “When’s the last time you took one?”
“It’s been about two days. The morning before last. And… having not taken them, I may have had blackouts in the time during which I was at Jillian’s. I’m not sure.”
“Blackouts?” she frowns. “I thought the issue was DID.”
“It is.” He stops, glances at me. “I’m sorry. I’m so used to thinking of them as blackouts, that’s what I know them to be.”
She shrugs. Dismisses the thought. “Did you take any medication at Jillian’s?”
“Not willingly. But the doctor there injected me with something. Maybe twice, I’m not sure. I want to know what’s in my system now. And have documentation of that, should we need it.”
She nods, pulling items from her bag. “Let’s pull some blood and get a urine sample.”
“Layana,” the attorney’s voice, a booming bass of a sound, crackles through my cell, and I step away, into the hall.
“Hey John. I need your help.”
Team Jillian shows up before Dr. Renhart has finished, the guard shack calling the house to alert us of their presence. It takes less than four minutes for her brigade to leave, the three Escalades doing a quick roundabout through the cul-de-sac outside our gates. I guess the sight of three armed guards blocking our gate changed Jillian’s mind. I watch from an upstairs balcony, and try to understand the woman below me. A woman who seems staunch in her belief that she is in the right, justified. Even in her lies, her deceit. For what? The good of Brant? The good of BSX? Or the good of herself? I step away from the window and walk downstairs, Brant’s form by the door, his hand clasped by the doctor’s, goodbyes in full force.
“The results of the blood tests won’t be available until tomorrow. I’ll email you the findings as soon as they are processed. But I would guess, speaking to you about your experience… anything you were injected with will pass through your system in the next twenty-four hours.” She fishes a card from her pocket. “This is Dr. Henry Terra. He’s, as best I could tell from my connections, the foremost authority on DID. I would suggest you call him immediately, if not for your own psychological therapy, then to get his legal advice and support for whatever battle you end up fighting. I have to assume treatment of DID has progressed since you were a child.” She turns to me and reaches out, wrapping me into a firm hug. “Once you sort this out, I expect to see you at HYA.”
“You know me, I can’t stay away.” I grin at her, and there is a moment of sad connection, when I see the pity in her eyes and want to brush it away. Brant and I are fine. We are strong. I pulled back the roof of lies and we survived, are fighting, our anger focused on Jillian. We have love, the rest will get better or worse, and I would rather have worse than have any more lies. I hold the door and watch her leave, Brant’s arm wrapping around and pulling me close, his mouth soft against my neck as he bends down to kiss me.
It is horrible for me to think, to wish for, but in that one moment of peace, of unity, the two of us against the world? A part of me really wants Lee to show up, to take me against the wall and f**k my brains out. No thinking, no analysis, just raw need fulfilled by both. I roll in Brant’s arms. Try to press against him and light the fire of my body, but there is nothing there. Not in this moment when he is broken and I am exhausted and the white hat is so heavy on my head.
I would rather have worse than have any more lies. I just told myself that. I had loved Brant, had only gone after Lee for the purpose of keeping both halves of my man loyal, keeping him close. If he leaves, if the doctor has a cure, if he weeds out Lee and I am left with only Brant, that should be perfect, right?
Right?
I avoid the answers my heart pushes forward. The admittance, in my bones, that a part of me loves Lee. Needs him.
