Two

CHAPTER TWO

•David

I used to think that nothing could change the way we felt about each other. Even though when I went to jail, I wished for her to be happy. I did not mind if her happiness would cost me losing her. Somehow I thought it was I who made her most happy. I thought she would wait.

Helen waited alright. She waited for this moment when we would see again, because all these years she had been building firm resolve around her fences. 

We are supposed to have a meeting in the main house and I'm just sitting on the bed, looking through my files for where it went wrong. When you spend so much time in prison, people see you differently. It does not matter if you were guilty or not, what everyone knows is that you have lived a different life. You have lived amongst rapists, murderers, hit men and you have lived like them. You are an exconvict.

I don't blame anyone for seeing me differently. I am a different man because I have done things I would never mention to survive. I have framed people to get more food. I have hidden things in unmentionable places in my body. I have been served food that had moss growing on it. I have suffered for a crime I did not commit, so anyone could understand if I have anger in my heart.

When Julie talks to me, she is careful. She thinks I have a temper now. Lots of things changed about me,but I saved myself in prison by hiding myself inside myself. That doesn't make sense, but it's what I did. I became someone else, so people don't think all the rich guy knows is money and board rooms. I saved myself by pretending to be who I was not, while trying not to lose myself in the act.

The only thing that went wrong in my company is the fact that I trusted Martins to be everything. I thought he could handle it. He tried his best, I think and the decline, loss of contracts are not his fault, but maybe mine. Why would anyone want to do anything with me, a cold blooded murderer?

Maybe I could build it back up again, but I'm tired of the spotlight. The life I want now involves hiding away in this guest house with my new beards until I'm forgotten. This was not the life I wanted; I wanted to be more. I had huge dreams of building up my company to be a force to be reckoned with. I wipe my face and stare.

A knock sounds at the door, pulling me out of my reverie. I put the documents aside and rush to the kitchen which leads out to the back door.

"The back door, really?" I ask, stepping aside as Helen comes in.

"You have always loved attention, but you won't get it from here."

She breezes past me and dumbs the contents in her hands on a stool in the sitting room. "I got you some towels, fresh T-shirts and toiletries."

"Thank you. I was planning to shop today," I say, coming into the room.

She looks at me and pauses with her mouth widened slightly. "Go put on a shirt." She waves me off.

I laugh and walk away with the new knowledge that she is shy to look at my abs which I had toiled to build more. It's strange. My body was— is hers.

I return to the sitting room after putting on a shirt just because she asked. I would rather relish the flustered look on her face on seeing my bare upper body. 

"Is the shirt from your boyfriend?"

She folds her arms and frowns at me. "They're yours."

I pick the clothes one after the other. They don't look familiar, but they had to be mine. I used to love Burberry shirts.

"You should visit the old house for your things."

"I put it up for sale when I found out you left it."

She looks taken aback, but she quickly nods. "It was too large for me."

"It wasn't too big when we were there together," I say, teasingly but it doesn't amuse her, if anything it deepens her frown. 

"Let's talk about your job when I get back," she says, now hurrying to the door.

I lean on the wall and cross my legs. "Where are you going? A date?"

"Mind your business, David." Her response comes in a curt tone.

She opens the door and leaves. I walk to the window and watch her walk across the lawn to the main house. There are one hundred thousand million apologies in my mouth and in my heart to give Helen, but where do I begin? From the night I was arrested? From the three times her letters came, but I never wrote back? From the times the guard told me she was waiting, but I didn't show up?

I am supposed to leave her life and let her have this good thing with her books, new fame and a new man, but I don't know how not to belong in her life. I really don't know.

Noon comes and I head out to the store wearing a baseball hat that is more for disguise than fashion. It's a small town anyway. Soon, people would know I'm out. They'll also know Helen and I are no longer together. They'll put their noses in our business trying to sniff our foul.

The press might even come and disturb the peaceful, drama free life Helen had built in my absence. Once again, we would be in the papers over uncertainties like when we were dating.

Now that I think of it, Helen lied when she said she didn't know my business. She was once my personal assistant. She knew every business meeting I had. Maybe she could have had their contacts too.

Sometimes I want to understand her anger, but what I understand more is my distance. She made me want to be a better person, but I did nothing for her. Before prison, it was just my money. After prison, I still have money, but now she does too. I have nothing to offer her, but the new gift of my presence.

I grab just edibles and return home. It's going to be a hard time for me and I don't blame Helen for how she's treating me. It must have been a hard time for her too. She was forced to get used to so many things about me she didn't know before, like she didn't know in all my rage that I could murder. I didn't know this too.

To get busy I rearrange the setting of sofas in the sitting room, then I sit reading a book written by Helen which I have read before.

The familiar knock sounds in the evening- on the front door this time. I walk to the door and open it. Helen walks in in a white shirt and white pants. Her blonde hair is packed into a bun giving her face a smaller angular look. The red lipstick on her lips also stands out as she pouts, looking round the place.

I use my back to close the door and stand there, looking at her. She points at the cushions conveying a question in her eyes.

I shrug with my hands in my pants. "I needed something to do before I ran out of my mind."

She walks further in and gives herself a seat. I also take a seat on one cushion adjacent to her. She eyes the book I was reading which is on the arm of the chair, then she looks at me and inhales.

"You used to be my fan," she says.

"I still am," I reply, hoping it would bring a smile to her face.

"I see." She nods with a pout, seeming disinterested.

I follow her eyes as she scans the room like it's her first time being here. Every other thing is in its place. The coffee table, the little bookshelf, the console. It was a little space. I definitely could not rearrange all that.

"You know I tried to get a job for you today," she finally says.

"What sort of job?" I ask, leaning towards her.

"Mechanic, sales assistant, baby sitter…"

I start laughing. "You're joking?"

"No, I'm being serious. What kind of work do you expect to do? The world is not so fair to exconvicts especially fresh ones charged for murder."

In silence, I allow her statement to sink properly. I don't expect much from anyone, but if that was the way, they expect me to go back to jail or steal to survive when I don't have money. I always knew the society was this way, but it seemed more unfair now the discrimination and stigma was being dished to me.

"I found a place for you to start your rehabilitation program. Your parole officer called today."

"Thank you," I say. She looks at me briefly before she gets to her feet and moves toward the door. 

She stops in her tracks, but still backs me. "I don't run a disclosure and barring service check," she says. "You can work for me?"

"Work for you?" I query with a laugh.

 "I need a gardener."

I bow my head into my hands and laugh at her absurd proposal. "Even if I mow the lawn for you, you can't afford me."

"Then how can I pay you, big guy?"

"Just don't bring men around. Legally I'm still your husband."

She folds her arms and spins around to face me. "You want us to play it the husband way?"

"I'm your husband, but as payment for mowing the lawn, no men in the house."

Helen kisses her teeth while observing me. "You can start tomorrow. It's already grown."

She moves close to the door and I laugh and she spares me one more glance before she leaves.

Coming back to Helen could be a bad idea. I just thought I could build an atmosphere to apologise or make up for every hurt I caused her in the past four years. 

Some things are not just so easy. It's not like working a client from all angles. Well maybe it is. I just haven't figured out Helen's angle yet. It's definitely not as easy as going into a boardroom, hearing pitches and ending long hours of boredom with handshakes, smiles and sealed deals.

Sometimes I miss it. I miss the thrill, the temporary anxiousness before each meeting. I miss welding such power that my presence was felt before it was seen. I miss being Gage. Now I'm just David because Gage used to excite Helen. Helen used to love Gage.

If I work hard, I could let her go. I could forget her. We were married for a year without plans to procreate. She was freshly out of college with huge dreams to be an actor. She was twenty one then and I, twenty eight. 

We ignited everything in each other. Inlove and foolish, we thought we could have forever so we got married.

I have had time to think about it and it hit me that we were in a phase that could have passed. The day I was arrested, I left the house to get away from her after a silly fight.