Bequeathed

Chapter Eleven: The Makings of a Marriage

Claire spends another few weeks, mostly locked in her room. Her body feels as if it’s wasting away; her mind is plagued by thoughts of the man she has never seen. When she locks her door and goes to bed, she gets up at least twice, double and triple-checking the door. Forcefully trying the knob, searching for weaknesses, testing to see how loud a forced entry would be. If her stalker manages to make it through her front doors, her door will be her only barrier between her and him.

Her sheets smell of night sweat and tears. She hasn’t done laundry, and she hasn’t called the cleaning service this week. She doesn’t have the energy for the surveillance required when she invites cleaners into the house. But she needs to get out of bed. If she can’t live a life beyond her door, she can at least fake one behind her walls. She rolls out and strips the bed; pillowcases, sheets, pile at her feet. She leaves the mound of bed linen, slips into tights, keeps on her oversized t-shirt, and heads to the home gym. On her way there, she passes golf clubs at William’s door. She doesn’t stop to find out if he’s on his way out or in.

The dumbbell set has been relocated. The last time she was in this room, the rack of weights sat near the door. Now it sits underneath the window. A white towel hangs over the treadmill handle; another sits on the seat of the stationary bicycle. While she has been contracting upon herself, trying to confine herself in the safety of her room refuge, William has been living. He has established himself, made himself a part of this house. When he leaves, she will be lonely, scared, but she won’t allow him to leave traces of himself all over her house. Claire grabs up the towels and tosses them towards the door.

“I’m sorry about that.” William has caught the towels. “I can be a slob. If you don’t mind, I’ll call the cleaning service today. Get someone to spruce this place up.” William strolls into the room. “Not that it’s a mess. You have so much on your mind, you don’t need to add that to your plate.”

Has he ever been stalked? He has no clue about what’s racing through Claire’s mind. Claire walks over to the treadmill, powers it on; slowly, fast, faster. She increases the pace even further. Quickly she’s becoming winded. She decreases it a bit. It’s fast enough for her to maintain a steady run, but not fast enough to feel like excess exertion. William sits on the seat of the bicycle.

“It’s nice to see you out…” he says. “...doing the things you love.”

Claire keeps her eyes glued to the window. The taupe curtains have been pulled back, granting the midmorning sun access to the room. Claire closes her eyes when the glare becomes too much for her.

“You can’t let this person win. They are weak. You’re a strong woman. Don’t surrender your strength to him.”

Claire changes her mind. It wouldn’t be such a bad idea to exert herself. She increases the pace again so that she’s on an all-out run.

“I was thinking we could have dinner,” William says.

Claire hangs on to the handle, turns to glare at him.

William raises his hands defensively, dropping the towels on his lap. “I don’t mean out. I was thinking here…at home. We can make it a weekly thing…or daily. If you’re up for it. We’ll get take-out from some of your favorite places. That way he doesn’t get to completely take away everything.” William grabs for the towels sliding off his lap. He misses; they fall. He bends to take them up while saying, “We can do that for now, but eventually we’ll start going out again. You’ll start going out again. I’ll accompany you to ensure you feel safe.” William walks over to the treadmill. He places his hand on Claire’s. “You can’t live your entire life in this house. Aunt Bev left you all of this so that you can live a full life. You have to live, Princess.” This time when he calls her princess, it actually sounds endearing. He kisses her hand.

Claire powers down the treadmill slowly. She faces William, says nothing. She leaves him in the gym and returns to her room. She showers, puts new sheets on the bed, then buries herself under them. Claire spends the remainder of the day in her room, but when it’s time for dinner, she finds William’s room.

“Twice weekly,” Claire says, “and I get to choose the restaurant.”

William nods with a smile. “I’ll take it.” William walks over to her, closes the gap between them until there is only room for their breath. He kisses her on the forehead. She thinks to step back, but truly she doesn’t want to. Claire pulls him closer instead, wrapping her arms tightly around his torso, underneath his arms. William envelops her. She nuzzles his chest, gently moving her face against his chest - as if she’s suckling the warmth and security his presence provides.

“Tell me what you want, and I’ll go get it,” William says. “It’s probably not a good idea to have delivery guys coming and going.”

Claire nods, her face still glued to William’s chest.

“I won’t be long. I’ll call…we need to get you another phone. I need to know that you’re safe when I’m not here.”

“I don’t want another phone,” Claire says. “I don’t have anyone to call.”

“What about me?” William releases Claire slowly so that he can get a look at her face. “I have to go back to work soon. I have been absent. My family has been understanding, but I need to do my part.”

Claire has never thought to ask William about his job. “You don’t need to work,” says Claire. “You’re rich. And in a few months, you’ll be richer.”

“Not as rich as you.” William kisses her forehead again. “I’ll order on the way there. I’ll be quick.”

Claire watches William run to the front door, arm the security system; he blows her a kiss before locking the door behind him. Claire sits at the top of the steps with her eyes on the door. She starts when she hears keys working in the lock, relaxes when she realizes it must be William returning from the restaurant. She races down to meet him at the door. She launches at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. A bag with the Cho logo and another smaller paper bag swings in his hands.

After dinner, William slides a box across the table. “It’s completely unlocked. We can take it to the provider of your choice and get you a new number.”

Claire pulls her hand back quickly as if expecting the phone box to burn.

“You don’t have to do anything with it now,” William says, “but keep it.”

They finish their meal in silence. Claire returns to her room; William returns to his.

Claire tosses and turns in bed, fighting to find sleep. She relents, finds William’s room instead. He’s awake. His TV is on and he’s laughing. Claire knocks and enters before she’s invited in. “What’s on?” Claire asks.

William grabs for the remote, hurriedly changes the channel. It’s too late; Claire has already seen. “You watch reality TV?” she teases.

William shrugs. “Just so you know, I’m naked under her.”

Claire spins around; her body is oblique to the bed and William. She rotates a few more degrees. William shuffles. He’s off the bed and walking up to her. He pats her on the shoulder.

“Relax,” he says. Claire turns into him. Her eyes settle on his naked collar bone…lower…to his bare chest, pecks sculpted and peppered with fine hair. Lower…to his abdomen, the curved lines forming boundaries and outlining his muscles. Lower…to the gathering of slightly thicker hair at the base of his stomach, where the rest of his torso is concealed by the waistband of his black sweatpants.

“I thought you said you were naked,” Claire says.

William chuckles. “Are you disappointed?”

William takes Claire by the hand and leads her to the bench next to the bed. He removes the cushions and sits. He pats the seat next to him. Claire takes the offered seat. William faces her, pulling one leg up and laying it flat on the bench and on the end of the bed; he takes both of Claire’s hands while looking into her eyes. “You set the pace for this…for everything. I won’t lie. I do want you. But I have no demands. No expectations.”

Claire smiles, unable to think of anything else to do or say. They both sit with William’s revelation. William studies Claire’s face and Claire grows anxious underneath his gaze. How much is she willing to give him? If she gives of herself, even a little, will this become a real marriage? How can she have a real marriage with a man that she likes when she didn’t want to marry the man she loved? Loves. She still loves Rob. Claire crawls across the bed for the remote. “Drink throwing sounds pretty good to me.” She turns the tv on, returns it to the program William had been watching, waiting for him to join her on the bed. When he slides in next to her, she creeps up to his body and rests her head on his chest. Warm…inviting. He isn’t Rob, but he means something to her, something important.

***

In the weeks that follow, Claire and William continue their twice-weekly dinner date. William returns to work during their second week of dates. After a month, the dates become a nightly affair. Claire never took the phone from the table; neither did William. Each night it stares at her accusingly. She locks herself in the room daily - too terrified to be functional - and at night, the phone accuses her. Eventually, she allows William to take her to the store. Within a week of receiving the new number, the calls start again. She keeps the phone on silent, opting to pretend the stalking isn’t happening. When she picks up the phone to call William, she skips over the missed calls from her stalker.

***

They’re having dinner; Claire's phone starts to ring. She looks at William and quickly flips it over. Usually, she keeps the phone in her room when William is home, but she was entranced by her college friends’ pictures on social media. The group of them recently went on another vacation. An impromptu trip to Sicily. Envy bubbled inside Claire. She has enough money to live like them, to take spontaneous trips to any corner of the earth yet she has become a recluse. She wasn’t present enough in the moment to remember to keep her phone hidden from William.

William turns the phone over slowly. It’s still ringing. Or…it rang out and is ringing again.

“How long has this been going on?” William asks.

Claire shrugs. “It just started. A few days.”

“Claire!”

“A few weeks…maybe a month.”

William answers the phone. “Hello? Hello?” He puts the phone back on the table. He waits; Claire waits. Five, ten minutes pass, the phone doesn’t ring. They’re through with their, but neither of them leaves the table. When the phone rings again, William snatches it up and puts it on speaker. He says nothing. The person on the other end breathes into the line. He also says nothing. He and William play a waiting game.

“Your husband can’t save you from me.”

“Listen to me, you coward…” William swallows the rest of his words and his rage because the man on the other end has hung up. “We’re going to the police first thing in the morning.” William squeezes Claire’s hand. When they leave the table, William leads Claire up the stairs and to his bedroom. All night he holds her, allows her to weep and sleep on his chest.