The Bars Between Us

22. 'Manageable'

           

I was right about it taking a long time, and it didn't help that I was distracted with thinking about what happened with Nixon. I can't even call him or talk to him again, to tell him I'm sorry. He's had his three visits this month, two from me, and one from his lawyer.

I stretch my back, as Doug reads what he said back.

"Good job," he comments as he starts to scroll back to the top. "I can do the rest. I know you're worried about Roman, I saw how distracted you were, so you can leave early." My eyes go the clock at the mention of 'early', and see that it's nearing six. My definition of early would have been earlier, but I'm not complaining, especially after sitting down for over four hours. A letter can't take that long to write you must be thinking, but when Doug said letter earlier, he mislead me. It was more like a long winded report, addressed to someone at the top. I stand up, thanking him on my way to the door. I walk across the hall, to my office, unlocking it. A yawn escapes me as I walk to my cluttered desk. Rather than going straight home, I decide to just sit here for a while – I don't know whether I'm ready to see Roman and for him to order me around. I fall into the chair, and stare at the door. I start to chew my lip. I should have asked Nixon before I delved into his past. However, I don't know why he reacted so badly, surely he would have been pleased about a possible way out of here. I feel guilty and bad about going behind his back. All I want to do is apologize, and then after that I'll be able to forget it, and, if he wants it, to leave him alone. I glance at the clock, wondering whether he's in any classes or activities. I reach to turn my computer on, to look at the database, but stop before I can. This is getting obsessive and stalkerish. What was I going to do anyway, after I looked him up? Barge in and talk to him in front of everyone? Of course not! I should respect his boundaries and let him come to me when he's ready. I'm a married woman for god's sake, I shouldn't be pining after anyone else! I let my hand fall away from the on button, and reach down for my bag before exiting my office again. I lock the door behind me, before I make my way out of the hallway and the prison walls.

I move to insert my key in the lock, but it moves away from me before I can. I let out a startled sound when I look up and see Clayton before me. He pulls his head back in surprise as well, before letting out a laugh. I laugh with him, moving my keys from my right hand, which is hurting my wrist from me enclosing my hand around them, to my left. I move out of the way, so Clayton can come out of the doorway.

"Is Ro awake?"

"Yes, and he seems fine. It just looks like he has a virus, and it'll go in a couple of days," Clayton informs me. I sigh disappointedly. It probably means that Piper won't be able to come over. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing, I was just meant to have Piper over tomorrow," I tell him, with a wave of my hand.

"You still can, can't you?"

"I could, but Roman might not want it if he's feeling unwell." Clayton gives me a sympathetic smile.

"It would be a nice break, what's the harm in asking?" I chuckle at his use of words. If Roman was at full health, there might actually be physical harm in asking. "How's the wrist?" he asks changing the subject, motioning to my right arm.

"Manageable. It didn't help that I was typing for nealry four hours."

"Manageable as in I can manage with meds as I'm taking them and they make it feel better, or manageable as in I'm not taking meds because I feel I can bear the pain?" I blush realizing he'll know even if I lie.

"I forgot," I admit.

"DeeDee, if it's hurting, take something."

"Fine, I will," I promise.

"Good. I better go, have a good night," he says, moving down the steps. I return the sentiment, and watch as he walks to the parking lot beside the prison. I return to the still open door, and enter calling out to Roman that I'm home. His response has me groaning, dropping my bag, and preparing myself for the long evening.

"Finally! I need you to refill my glass."

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