Episode Twenty-Eight Back in the Tower
“And we were together every day after that. I met you every night after work at the trucking company and walked you to the coffee shop, where we had dinner together. Or sometimes I cooked for you and brought you back to my place. And I did my best in impress you. I wanted you to think I was outstanding husband material: the nicest, kindest, most loving man you ever met. We spent the whole weekend together. You liked my French toast and my scrambled eggs. And you were amazed that I know how to wield an iron!
I listened to you talk about your hopes and dreams for the future. We cuddled up and looked at magazines, pictures of clothes, jewelry, house stuff, and I asked you what you liked. And I listened, very carefully. And I told you that someday I would buy you all those things you liked. And you said you didn’t care about all that stuff, you just wanted to be with me, and maybe live by the seashore. I enjoyed your beautiful smile, I loved to listen to that adorable laugh. I…”
“Jaks, uh, let’s get back to you found me and watched me. Why not simply kill me instead of cheap-date me?” He giggled.
“Sam! I mean Princess, there was very little to do in Demby. No theater, no concerts, no night clubs, no cinema, no place to take a date. Dinner, coffee, and a new magazine, that wasn’t such a bad date. Sometimes I had to travel out of town to find a new magazine. I had to take the bus to Dayton to find the one we used to design our kitchen.”
“The kitchen. Our kitchen? No wonder I loved everything about it.”
“I told you that you planned it all, remember?”
“Back to… why not simply kill me?”
“The Galt High Council told me you were a nasty bitch of a woman, a foul-mouthed, screeching, spoiled rotten Princess brat, who cared for no one or nothing, only clothes and adornments, fine wine, and chocolate, treating your servants harshly.”
“That’s why they want me dead? Because they think I’m a mean spoiled rotten nasty girl?”
“No. The real reason, naturally, was to cause your father inconsolable grief and weaken him, so we could attack and kill him. But they TOLD me it was because you were a nasty person. But when I watched you, well, that’s not what I saw. You were quiet. You were kind to everyone. You were pleasant. Sweet. You called no attention to yourself. You were frugal. And your apartment…”
“You were inside my apartment? But my landlord didn’t allow men in my apartment! How did you get in? You broke in?”
“Yes, it was months before we got to know each other. One day, after you went to work, I, uh, made sure no one saw me and I carefully let myself into your tiny apartment. Not the residence of a spoiled rotten narcissistic little bitch. It was modest, neat, and clean. And very well organized. It was lovely. Not a women spoiled by years of servants. Nothing flashy or glitzy in your closet.”
“Wait. You also went through my closet?” she looked startled.
“Yes, and your drawers.”
She shook her head, wanting to scream, but not wanting to give her father a reason to step in and take over, and hurt him.
“And did you find what you were looking for when you went through all my personal belongings in my drawers?” She raised an eyebrow at him. The tiniest smile appeared on his face momentarily.