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.
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