The Father

Chapter 9

Radio silence.

I haven't gotten so much as a message from her for a week.

I feel like I'm withdrawing, like an addict who needs a fix.

Is she done with me? Was this her intention? To use me until she was done with me and just drop me like I was nothing?

We only fucked six times. She gave me blowjobs and I ate her pussy. It's not that serious. I tell myself this repeatedly in my anger and anguish that she hasn't tried to call me. I replay the events of our last time in my mind, looking for an issue, but can't seem to find one.

She said she'd call me, we had back and forth banter, we joked, we had dinner, we even slept together, cuddled, and had pillow talk.

This entire situation has been a problem, though, we're having a fucking affair. Or we were. Who knows now because she hasn't fucking called me or texted me. She has been on Facebook, though, sharing stupid shit and she even had the audacity to post a picture of her and Maxwell together, knowing I would see it. They went out of town, to Montauk, and spent three days there, apparently.

Seeing that made me unbelievably angry, so much so that I had to turn my phone off and walk away from it.

I've wanted to message her myself and ask what the issue is. Ask if she just wants to pretend like all of this never happened. But she said she felt safe with me. I told her I thought I was falling for her. She said the same. Was that just part of our illicit affair? And not anything more?

I tell myself I'm stupid for thinking I could really be falling for someone in such a short amount of time. That doesn't happen, things like that don't exist, and it pisses me off.

I'm brooding, annoyed, and easily irritable. And Trish and Lena have definitely started to take notice. I try to keep myself distanced from them as much as possible until I can get myself under control. I don't need Lena accusing me of anything and I don't want to lose my temper with Trish over her smart mouth and flippant attitude.

I decide to take the day to work at home so I can attempt to relax. Fifteen more murders to sift through, try to find anything we can use, even if I have no hope of it. As I mull over my papers and photographs there is a knock at my office door. I take my glasses off, which I prefer not to use, but have finally accepted that I need.

"Yes?"

The door opens to Lena.

"Max and Katherine are coming for dinner, okay?"

My stomach drops and aches and anger threatens to rise up inside of me.

"What time?"

"Soon. I'm about to pull the roast out of the oven. Maybe twenty minutes?"

"Was this planned already?"

She nods. I roll my eyes and scoff.

"You could have told me before now, Helena. I hate it when you spring things on me. I haven't even gotten dressed."

I motion at the sweatpants and t-shirt that I wear as I scold her. She seems somewhat surprised, but not at the same time. I've had this attitude all week.

"You've been so moody lately, I figured you'd just say no. We haven't seen Max in weeks. He misses us."

He wouldn't if he knew what I had been doing.

She's right about me saying no, I certainly would have, especially now. I've almost been worried that maybe Katherine told him and that's why I haven't heard from either of them. But that's one anxiety of mine that I can let go of. For now, at least. Surely if she'd have told him he would have said something or stormed over here to confront me.