Helena puts her comb back in her purse and sighs. “I thought he’d never marry again. But I guess he found someone else who needed protecting. And who knows? Maybe this time, he might actually be able to protect you and find salvation.”
So, he’s the one who’s actually using me? He doesn’t love me? But he…
What? He wants you and has crazy sex with you? That’s lust, honey, not love. He wants you to be a famous singer? That’s admiration, support.
Not love.
I freeze, my chest and throat suddenly tight.
I was thinking that Randall loved me because of his strong desire to protect me. I thought he cared. But now, I realize he might just be protecting me for the sake of protecting me, just for his own selfish intent.
Randall doesn’t love me.
“You know I’m right, don’t you?”
I glare at Helena, then leave for real this time.
“Go on,” she calls after me. “Ask Randall if I’m right.”
I don’t really want to but I know I have to. I have to know the truth, no matter how much it may hurt.
I have to know if I’ve been a fool. Again.
***
“What’s wrong, Sabrina?” Randall asks as he changes his clothes beside the bed, realizing I’m not doing the same. “Are you still bothered by that conversation with Vince?”
Throughout the trip home, I’ve been silent, holding back tears. Now that we’re here in the bedroom, though, I can’t hold back any longer.
“That’s not all that’s bothering me,” I tell him.
“Then what else?” He approaches me, still unbuttoning his shirt.
I look at him. “Randall, is there anything you want to tell me?”
He looks confused. “Like what?”
“Something about Dinah.”
He shrugs. “What’s there to tell?”
“Funny. You said the same the last time. Whenever I ask about her, you say there’s nothing to tell. But there is, isn’t there?”
His hands fall to his sides. Now, he looks even more confused.
“What’s going on, Sabrina?” he asks.
“Why did you marry me, Randall?” I ask him.
“Because I couldn’t just let you put yourself in danger.”
In other words, because he wanted to protect me.
“And why is that?”
“Why?” His eyebrows go up. “What do you mean why? Anyone would want to keep others out of danger.”
“No.” I shake my head. “That’s not true, especially if it involves endangering oneself. In most people, the self-preservation instinct is strong but it seems your protective instinct is stronger.”
He places his hands on my arms. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say, Sabrina. Are you saying it’s wrong for me to protect you? Are you mad because I was the one who scared Vince away and—”
“Do you love me?” I blurt out the question, slowly lifting my eyes to meet his gaze.
“Sabrina…”
“Did you love Dinah? Or did you just feel sorry for her?”
He doesn’t answer.
“That’s why you took her in, right? Because you felt guilty that she lost her job and because you wanted to protect her. But you also wanted her so you got her pregnant and then you had to protect her again from the consequences of that so you married her. But you couldn’t protect her.”
“No,” he admits, his head bowed. “I couldn’t.”
“Now you want to protect me? Do you feel sorry for me, too?”
Again, no answer.
“You know, I asked David earlier what the two of you talked about the day he ran away. He said that you explained why you married me, that you said you were protecting me from someone and that was all.” I take a deep breath, keeping tears at bay. “That is all, isn’t it? This is all just about protecting me.”
“That’s not true. I…”
“Want me, too? Yes, I know that. You want to keep having sex with me and then that will give you more reasons to want to protect me, yes?”
He sighs as he squeezes my arms. “Sabrina…”
I step back, shrugging his hands away. “Do you love me, Randall? Because I love you.” Tears trickle down my cheeks. “I love you. I didn’t want to. I was afraid. But when you love someone, you can’t help it. I fell in love with you just like I fell in love with Vince. Once again, I’ve given my heart to someone who doesn’t really want it, to someone who will never give me his back.”
“I’m sorry, Sabrina.”
He steps forward, trying to put his arms around me, but I slap them away.
“I’m sorry, too, Randall. Because I don’t want your protection! Not if that’s all you can give. How can you protect me when you’ve already hurt me? And you know what else? I feel sorry for you if protecting is all you can do, because you can’t really protect someone. You can’t do anything at all.”
With those words, I leave the room, heading to one of the guest rooms where I lock myself in, throwing myself on the bed and clutching a pillow as I cry.
I know Randall isn’t the same as Vince. I know he’s kind and he didn’t mean to hurt me. But even kindness can hurt when what a person wants is love.
Love.
Why did I have to fall in love with him? And I know it is love because I didn’t feel this way when I found out Vince didn’t really love me. I was disappointed, angry, but not like this. Not this torn or this lost or this hurt.
And the worst part is I can’t do anything about the pain except cry myself to sleep.
***
I wake up to someone shaking me. At first, I think it’s a dream. Soon, Lucy’s face comes into focus.
Lucy’s pale, troubled face.
“What’s wrong, Lucy?” I ask as I sit up.
“Harry came back.”
I rub my eyes, which are still sore from crying.
“What do you mean?”
Doesn’t he always come back after bringing David to school?
“He’s hurt. He barely made it home.”
“What?” I feel jolted awake.
“He said they were attacked on their way to David’s school,” Lucy says.
“They?” I put a hand over my chest, which suddenly feels tight as I begin to understand what’s going on.
“Sabrina, they took David!”
Taken
Randall
“Fuck!”
I pick up one of the pots in the garden, hurling it at the fountain. It hits the side, the clay cracking against the marble, the soil spilling and the roots of the plant exposed.
I don’t care. I don’t fucking care.
I’d like to go to the gym, actually, and throw all the weights out the window. I want to go to the kitchen and break all the plates. I want to go to the art room and throw each sculpture down on the floor, over and over until they either get pulverized or the floor breaks. I want to beat my fists against a wall until they bleed. I want to hit my head against the pavement until my skull cracks.
I want to do all that but I know none of that will undo what happened this morning or bring David back to me this instant. Nothing will.
He’s been taken from me.
I sit on a marble bench, burying my face in my hands.
After that argument with Sabrina last night, I drank a little. When Mrs. Wilson came to tell me that David had been taken, I couldn’t fathom it at first. My mind was still muddled from the alcohol and the lack of sleep. But then I saw Harry and the sight of him covered with bruises and bleeding was just like a bucket of cold water poured over me.