Chapter 105 The Uninvited Guest
Fred slept in a shallow way, giving in to fatigue rather than getting any real rest.
Although he didn't intend to fall asleep, the leather armchair in the library had held him close and the soft sounds of the city outside had lulled him into a fitful sleep.
A dim icy blue light was reflected across the ceiling by the laptop which was left on the desk.
A sudden noise cut through the silence before dawn.
It came from downstairs in a single commanding knock, not the shy tap of a delivery but the firm rap of someone who was expecting a prompt response.
Fred's eyes popped open.
For a brief moment he couldn't tell what day it was. He blinked, his eyes stinging from the blue light.
He raised his arms above his head and as his tense muscles relaxed, a long low moan of protest came out of his chest.
His burned hands' dull throbbing was the first tangible sensation he noticed.
He looked at the desk where a single incomplete sentence about logistical projections was visible on the laptop screen which was still lit.
His body weighed down by unresolved sleep, he forced himself from the chair.
He moved to the doorway, his footsteps soft on the thick rug of the library. The pale gray light of the early morning was streaming in through the windows of the living room and filling the landing.
He looked at his watch and saw that it was barely past six o’clock.
“Who would be here now?” He asked
Hours had passed since Annabel's rhythmic painting had finally subsided and she was still upstairs.
Silently, he made his way down the main staircase. The apartment remained quiet and cool.
He noticed the front door as he got to the bottom step.
They unlatched the lock. He must have been beaten to it by Annabel. He moved more slowly as he made his way toward the short wall that divided the living area from the entryway padding across the hardwood floor.
Then he froze.
Standing just inside the open door was Annabel. Wearing a plain heavy gray robe, she appeared to have just woken up from a deep sleep with her hair in a wild dark tangle around her face.
And there was Carson on the threshold filling the frame with an entirely inappropriate casual confidence.
Fred's breath caught. Carson.
Fred felt a knot of ice form in his stomach, a combination of shock and unjustified rage.
Using an instinctive technique he had learned years ago—stay hidden, evaluate the threat—he flattened himself against the wall’s cold smooth plaster.
“Carson, what are you doing here?” Annabel asked.
In sharp contrast to the ferocity he had witnessed in her eyes the previous day, her voice was emotionless and flat.
Carson adjusted his weight, his smile never quite reaching his eyes because it was always too bright for the moment.
Wearing a bulky leather jacket, he casually slung a black duffel bag over one shoulder.
“I flew in last night,”he said. “Stayed at a hotel close to the airport. I had to speak with you.”
“What are you talking to me about?” She asked
Due to the heavy oak door serving as a physical barrier she didn't move to invite him inside.
“Almost everything,” Carson said to Annabel.
Fred was accustomed to Caron’s low, earnest tone—his serious voice which he always used when trying to handle a challenging social circumstance.
“Look, I realize that I made a mistake. I was a real jerk. My ability to think clearly has been impaired ever since I moved in with my mum.” He said
A tight burning feeling swept across Fred's chest.
His left hand clenched into a fist against his side causing him to wince a little as the motion tugged at the knuckle burn.
“Carson, I'm really not in the mood for this.” Anabelle said.
She seemed to be staring over Carson's shoulder at something. Carson stepped forward which made Annabel automatically take a half-step back.
“Annabel, I missed you. I've missed this too” he added.
“What did you miss?” she asked
“Us.” He said.
He wiped his weary face with a sigh.
“How we were before. You always understood what I was going to say before I did. I’m sorry.” He said
Fred grinded his teeth together.
Carson was always so forthright and recklessly honest about how he felt. Fred had always admired it and right now it was making him angry.
“I want to talk things out. I left the airport and drove right away. Please. Let me come in for a moment. We just need to talk.”Carson said
Annabel shook her head slowly.
“I think you've explained enough.” She said
“No, you don't understand.” Carson remarked.
In a gesture of heartfelt imploring apologies, he extended his hand toward her arm.
“I still love you. I need you. I sincerely apologize” he said.
That was it.
Fred lost the cordial, professional barrier he had been holding onto the understanding that Carson was his longtime friend and partner.
It was a kick to the gut to see Carson's hand approaching Annabel’s skin, a breach of the boundary Fred had been tormented over for the previous twenty-four hours.
Fred's skull felt as though the quiet apartment’s air was getting denser. He’d had enough. She didn't have to answer him.
Fred straightened up slowly gingerly from the wall.
He felt every muscle in his body aching to go out there, make his presence known and conclude the discussion with a few scathing businesslike words.
He was however constrained by his cool and the strict control that underpinned his life.
He was merely a shadow.
They were unaware of his presence. He retreated from the doorway with hardly a single rustle.
He moved in a slow, deliberate retreat toward the stairs, keeping his shoulders against the wall and using it as a guide.
Without a sound, his bare feet rose and fell silently on the hardwood floor. He stopped and listened as he got to the first step.
Carson's hushed voice called out from the doorway.
“Please, Annabel. Okay, I want a cup of coffee or water…just anything. I'm tired.” he said.
Fred did not wait for her response.
He started to ascend in silence, one cautious step at a time, a silent ascent of rage.
As he arrived at the landing, he continued walking down the hall to his bedroom door which was closed without turning around.
With a final quiet click of the latch, he slipped inside.
He listened to the silence while standing in the middle of the room, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.
Even though he had managed to get away without being noticed, he could still clearly remember Carson standing in his apartment and begging Annabel.
A lifetime
of frustration had been exchanged for a moment of weakness. He felt weak.
What could they be saying now? He caught himself still thinking.