Page 89 of Reckless Woman
Still, I won’t give up on us.
That compulsion is stronger than ever.
It’s been two weeks since she learned the truth about her operation…two weeks since she saw the book of her life switch to blurred lines and unreadable text.
Physically, she’s stronger. The tubes and wires have gone. Her wounds are healing. She completes her strengthening exercises without complaint, she paces the hospital hallways to rebuild her stamina, and she’s cut down on all of her pain medication to kill any growing seeds of addiction. Release days are mentioned in passing, but never fully explored.
Mentally though, she’sa goddamn mess.
She’s shut down.
She won’t talk to me.
She won’t even look at me.
I’m fuckingdrowningin her disinterest.
Days pass in much the same pattern. She wakes. She eats. She ignores me and stares at her iPad at some bullshit TV show that I can’t stand. The End. I’ve gotten so used to gazing at her back of her head, I’m starting to forget what contempt and hostility look like.
She doesn’t feel me anymore. I doubt she feels anything. She won’t even talk to Eve on the phone.
Outside of this hospital room, the world keeps turning with its usual unpredictability. Rick married his Russian bartender, Nina, in Venice last weekend. It turns out she wasn’t Morozov’s daughter after all. She was stolen by Sevastien Petrov to spite her biological father and given to Morozov as some kind of perverted present when she was a kid—the same biological father who happened to be Roman Peters’ deadPakhandaddy.
Naturally, Roman’s ecstatic at finding out his new brother-in-law is Rick, and he won’t stop bitching about it. Dante says Nina’s knocked up already, but that’s the kind of information I’ll be filtering from Anna for the foreseeable. In addition to his newfound fidelity, Rick has completed his metamorphosis from Manhattan coke dealer into New York politician. It’s not that surprising, if you think about it. Both jobs require the same back-room morals and fucked-up motives.
Vindicta has gone quiet since Morozov’s death, but a dormant enemy should never be underestimated. Dante still hasn’t returned his family to the island. He’s moved the whole organization to his old compound in Africa. His dead brother razed it to ground years ago, but the rebuilding is going well. The local authorities couldn’t give two shits about what’s going on as long as Dante keeps the baskets of cash flowing through their offices.
I’m standing by the window in Anna’s hospital room, hands in pockets, dying for a drink and a smoke as I watch the sun setting on another wasted day, when I hear her calling out my name.
I turn so fast, my neck aches.
“Anna?”
She’s sitting on the edge of the bed in soft gray sweatpants and sweatshirt, her beautiful face tired and pale, but set with determination.
“I want to go back to Colombia. I want to see Gabriela in Leticia.”
I had no idea what her first words would be to me after two weeks, but there was a longlist and those never made the cut.
“Why Colombia?”
Her face tightens when she realizes that I might be misconstruing her request.
“It’s not for those reasons,” she says tightly.
“Why not. It’s where we healed the first time.”
“Youneverhealed for me Joseph,” she says angrily. “Not once. As far as I’m concerned, I’m still waiting. I’llalwaysbe waiting.”
All the shit in the last two weeks explodes out of my mouth like bile. “You want to hear my life story, Anna?” I roar, kicking a chair across the room. “It’s a real fucking tragedy, so make yourself comfortable. We’ll be here all night.”
She turns her head away, her dull blonde hair falling across her face. She’s lost so much weight in the last two weeks she’s disappearing right in front of me.
“Please,” she whispers.
I take a couple of breaths as I drag my composure back. “I’ll see what I can arrange.”
I don’t know what prompted this request, but if it gets us out of this stagnate room and situation, I’ll shift heaven and earth to make it happen.