Inferno Anthology (252 page)

She moved on. Forgetting him wasn’t possible, but successfully compartmentalizing him was. Over the years, life’s challenges and routines filled her consciousness. Only sometimes in unconsciousness did he return.

“That isn’t necessary. We have both moved on with our lives.” Claire began to rise. “It was nice to see you.”

He touched her hand gently. “Please, Claire, I need to tell you.” She sat timidly. “Do you remember that I went to California?” She nodded. “At first, it was an internship, but then they offered me a job. I’m not sure you remember, but college was difficult for my parents to afford, and the offer was too good to pass. I wanted to go back and finish my degree, but there I was, twenty years old, being offered my dream job.”

Claire remembered the letter she received saying he wouldn’t be returning from California. It broke her heart. She wanted to join him, but he didn’t ask. “I’m glad it worked for you. Are you still living in California?”

“Yes, I am, and the company I went to work for interestingly is a subsidiary of Rawlings Industries.”

Claire’s heart started to race. If Tony knew, Simon would lose his job. She saw the darkness, she wanted to protect him. “Are you still there?”

“No.” She sighed with relief. “I was with them for over five years, but I left long before you met your husband. I read the article in
Vanity Fair.
” She smiled. “I have my own company now.”

“That’s great. I hope you’re happy.”

“With business, I am. I should thank Mr. Rawlings. The start I received from his company made a big impact. Today I create some of the games people play on their phones. I’m doing well.”

“I’m truly happy for you.” She glanced nervously back at Tony. “I do need to get back to Tony.”

“My mother has been keeping up on you, relaying information to me. She liked you a lot.”

“I liked your mom, too. Please, tell her I said hello and to not believe everything she reads.” Claire’s eyes saddened with memories.

“Before you go, I wanted to let you know, even now with my success, I regret not coming back for you.” Claire didn’t speak, she couldn’t. “I thought about it constantly, but the job required a lot of travel. I was in China when your parents died. If I had been stateside, I would have been there for you. I just had to tell you, I didn’t leave you because of anything you did or said. Claire, you have remained perfect in my memories. I wish things had been different.” She felt a rush of sadness at what may have been; nonetheless, Simon continued, “I even followed your career. I knew you were in Albany and then in Atlanta. I remembered you wanted a career. I thought maybe after you achieved success we could try again.” Claire looked at the table. This was making her uneasy. She needed to go back to Tony. “But I want you to know I’m happy for you, and I’m happy you’re happily married.”

The increasing feeling of anxiety made her stand. “Thank you, Simon. I wish you continued success. Please give my best to your family. I must get back to my husband.”

“Do you have your phone?” Claire’s expression became confused. Simon smiled.

“I’m making you sad, which wasn’t my intention. I wanted to show you my latest game. It’s fun, and I hope it’ll make you smile. Do you remember staying up all night playing video games?” She did, but it seemed like another person, in another life.

“I created this most recent game with someone from my past in mind. Kind of a tribute, I guess.”

“I don’t have my purse. It’s at the table.” She silently berated herself. He was being so open and honest, and she was lying about a phone!

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a smart phone, and started touching the screen. “Here it is. You can download it for a dollar ninety-nine.” Smiling, he added, “Which I believe is within your price range.” Claire looked onto the screen. The goal of the game seemed to be to find something, but in order to accomplish this goal, you had to rummage through clothes, old pieces of pizza, pizza boxes, soda pop cans, etc. She smiled, as he explained, “Each level has a new item to discover. It’s very popular with the college and post-college demographic. It’s made me millions.” She really smiled at him. He actually made that kind of money with games. “I’m glad I saw your smile. Claire, you’re beautiful, but I miss the brown hair.”

“Bye, Simon. Good luck to you.” She nodded. He looked like he wanted to hug her or shake hands, some type of contact, but she turned away. Immediately, she made eye contact with Tony. He’d been watching. She resumed her position beside her husband.

Acknowledging her return, he flashed his charming smile, nodded, and greeted her. “Mrs. Rawlings.”

When they stepped out onto the sidewalk, the Chicago lights sparkled in the clear September night air. Tony’s hand gently rested in the small of Claire’s back. The temperature was still warm, but she felt a shiver. Eric opened the door of the limousine, and Tony helped his wife into the car.

Lost in her thoughts, Claire watched as the lights of the city passed the windows. Her mind was back at college. The memories of the messy dorm room, the clutter, and now the game brought a warm feeling. She was happy for Simon. He succeeded in accomplishing his goals. She remembered his aspirations: not of wealth but happiness and family. She recalled he wanted to be able to help his parents. She hadn’t asked if he was married. She hadn’t even looked to see if he was wearing a wedding ring, but with all her soul she hoped he was.

“Mrs. Rawlings.” Tony was addressing Claire. She turned to face him. He was uncomfortably close. “What is your name?”

Bewildered she just looked at him. He reached for her chin and held it so they were looking at one another. “Your name—what is your name?”

Annoyed and alarmed, she replied, “Tony, what are you doing?”

He didn’t loosen his grip. “I’m asking you a question, one that you seem unable to answer.”

Mystified by his behavior, she answered his question, “My name is Claire, Claire Rawlings.”

Slowly and deliberately, he asked, “Explain to me,
Mrs. Rawlings
, how you can be sitting with me, your husband, wearing the rings I purchased, in the limousine paid for by my hard work, and thinking about another man.”

He still held her chin. “Tony, please let go of my face. You’re hurting me.”

As he released her chin, his hand slid behind her neck, tightly holding her head and pulling the hair hanging down her neck. He continued, “Do I need to repeat every question or do you think you may be able to answer at least one the first time?”

Flashing, her green eyes spoke alarm, and the stiffening of her neck spoke resolve. “Seeing Simon caught me off guard. I haven’t thought of or heard from him in eight years. Do you not think that deserves some reflection?”

His grip tightened. “No. I believe the past is just that. It’s done and now it’s time to concentrate on the present.” Her neck hurt. He had her head positioned so their eyes made contact. His shone black. Hers weren’t apologetic, but full of fury. She didn’t respond. He continued, “At present I believe you need to concentrate on showing me
my
wife is first and foremost concerned with pleasing her husband.”

He used his other hand to shut the window between them and Eric. Next, he unzipped the slacks of his tuxedo. Shocked and repulsed, Claire started to protest. She soon found speaking impossible. Holding her neck, he silently directed her head, resting his head on the seat, his fingers entwined in her hair. When Claire tried to push away, Tony seized her hand and twisted it back. He did not release the pressure and movement on her head until he was finished.

As they walked through the lobby of the
Trump Tower
, Claire did her best to appear composed. Tony placed his arm around her waist and tenderly whispered in her ear. “I have more ways you can demonstrate your devotion, Mrs. Rawlings. We’ll review when we reach our apartment.”

The last thirteen months dissolved into nothingness. She wasn’t Claire Rawlings—wife. She was Claire Nichols—whatever
he
wanted her to be.

Any idiot can face a crisis. It is day to day living that wears you out.

—Anton Chekhov

THE SILENCE WITHIN
the limousine intensified with each mile, as Tony and Claire rode from Bettendorf toward home. The silent auction unofficially raised over a half of a million dollars
net
. The cost of the event had been less than ten thousand dollars due to Claire’s clever procurement of donated services and goods. The noiselessness of the ride was a stark contrast to the convention center.

Before they left the conference hall, Courtney spoke ecstatically about Claire’s ability. “This turned out so well! I just can’t believe the final figures. Honey, together we are going to raise money for every organization west of the Mississippi.”

Although she felt uneasy regarding her future philanthropic activities, Claire hugged her friend and wore her smile. “Oh, goodness, we’ll have to see.”

“Well, enjoy this success for a little while, because I have plans!” Courtney’s enthusiasm was contagious. Claire smiled and nodded her head.

Mrs. Rawlings’ more recent hostess duties aided her efforts. She shrewdly mentioned the auction, both for donations and possible attendance, whenever possible. She found it interesting how Tony’s business associates were willing to participate in one or both when personally approached. The fact that they were in her home, eating her food, and receiving her attention didn’t hinder her efforts. The current president of the
Red Cross
of the Greater Quad Cities thanked Mrs. Rawlings and Mrs. Simmons profusely.

Many of Tony’s associates, from out of town, attended the event. Claire hadn’t realized when she invited them that this had an additional impact on the Quad Cities. These important people needed places to stay and food to eat while in Bettendorf. According to Courtney, the media estimated their event reaped over a quarter of a million dollars windfall to the Quad Cities. Claire hadn’t seen the coverage. She didn’t like television, and any other form of communication was still forbidden.

As a matter of fact, since the Chicago Symposium, Claire had lost many of her newfound freedoms. She still saw e-mails, but only after responses had been sent. No longer a
freedom,
they were merely a blatant illustration of what was now prohibited.

During the final preparations of the auction, it was undeniable that Claire and Courtney needed to communicate and see each other; however, contact and endeavors with others had dramatically decreased. Tony decided Claire needed
time
to decide what was really important to her.

The night in Chicago was reminiscent of her first encounters at the estate. Tony was excessively domineering, controlling, and demanding. Even the sadistic, cruel sexual tendencies, from before her accident, reappeared. Once back at the apartment, Claire tried to reason with him. “Please think about what you’re doing.” It was as if his black eyes couldn’t register her voice. She pleaded, “Tony, remember your promise. I’m your wife. Think about what you’re asking me to do.”

Unaffected, his demands continued, “You are my wife; however, I’m not asking.”

When she awoke the next morning, feeling the too familiar aches from a year before, she dreaded his presence. Lying silently, she listened for his breathing. Relieved, she heard the sound of his shower in the adjoining room. Slowly, she sat up and thought about her options. Up until seeing Simon, things were progressing well. Even in Italy when she broke his rule, he responded with kindness, not cruelty, yet on this morning as she listened to the running water, Claire debated leaving him, the apartment—everything.

She didn’t know how. Where could she possibly go where he couldn’t find her? She fell back against the soft pillows and allowed herself a few tears. Momentarily, she had difficulty filling her lungs with a sufficient amount of air and remembered her nightmares. This wasn’t a dream or a nightmare. It was her reality. Although she didn’t want to see or talk to him, she recognized the helplessness surging through her veins. Her only way forward was through the man in the next room. Slowly, she eased back the blankets, squared her shoulders, and walked toward the mirror. The steely determination propelling her feet didn’t come from courage, more from a sense of powerless necessity. The reflection before her had been worse. It’d been much worse. Yet seeing the red and blue markings made her stomach twist. She reached for her robe and covered the evidence.

Minutes later, Tony stepped into their bedroom. The man before her seemed completely ignorant of the previous night’s events. He casually kissed her cheek and said, “The shower’s all yours.” She just stared. Who is he? He grinned, “I would have stayed longer, if I’d known you were awake.”

Later that morning, he helped her prepare to leave Chicago and kindly discussed daily pleasantries.

The incident forced Claire to recognize that she’d deluded herself into believing the
other
Tony was gone. He wasn’t gone. In fact, he was incredibly close to the surface. That morning she had no idea with whom she was flying or even with whom she shared a home. Every night, she’d wait as her stomach twisted into knots, wondering who would walk through the doorway.