What's Done in the Dark

TWO

What's done in the dark will come to light.

The words are the only clue to my imprisonment besides the chair and a bright light bulb hanging above it in the center of the ceiling. Not even the switch to the light is present.

"Okay, you're in control. You call the shots. I get it." I'm calm. I'm cool, collected.

Silence.

I knew better than to expect a response. After hours of sitting, pacing, staring at the walls and that damned rickety chair, my expectations for communication have dissipated.

"What's done in the dark, huh?" I stare at the only other thing in the room that warrants talking to...the chair. "All of this must be about what happened last year, right? Want me to spill it? Shame myself? If I do, will you let me out of here? Is that how it works?"

Of course, the chair doesn't reply or acknowledge my questions in any way. Of course, I don't expect it to. My questions were intended for the person in control of the door and my fate.

I throw my hands up and sigh in defeat. "Okay. I screwed up the kid's family. I ruined his Christmas." I gulp and force myself to say the words. "I ruined his life."

The chair is unmoved, unchanged, except now, my imagination has produced the doe-eyed, innocent kid. He sits there, staring at me. What was his name? Randy or Rudy, a name that reminded me of one of the Huxtables. He's seated, knees touching, ankles crossed, hands folded neatly in his lap. Though expressionless, I sense he's waiting for an explanation. Maybe it's his mother, the pained and bitter woman, who watches me from beyond the walls. Maybe she controls the door's mechanism.

"You probably can't imagine a person so in love with a man that they give up everything to be with him and keep him happy," I tell the little boy. "I was that person."

I drop my gaze, remembering. I give voice to the memory in the hopes that it won't sound as terrible out loud. "Seth came along right after a crazy breakup with my ex-boyfriend. He just strolled into The Krill, sat next to me at the counter, and flashed me a smile so bright and genuine I nearly melted off my seat. He made me forget I was there to get shit-faced and drown my pain. Like gravity, he pulled me in. And his pull was intense.

"He told me he was a pediatrician but had a lifelong dream to be a professional ballerina. I laughed, only because he was tall, dark, and handsome, and I couldn't see him in flesh-toned tights doing elegant pirouettes. That had been his attempt at a joke. I laughed so hard my stomach muscles ached. That quickly, he had fixed me.

"As much as I wanted to allow him into my heart and into my bed, I had to allow him into my head first, so I took my time before crossing any thresholds. I learned more about him, and the more I learned, the harder and faster I fell.

"I couldn't believe how perfect he was, how perfect everything seemed to be. And for a while I refused to accept that he was hiding something from me. I admit it, when I found the Christmas gifts and the family pictures hidden in the back of the closet and pieced together that I was staring at gifts for his son and wife—that he had been happily married for five years and had been lying to me and living a double life for nearly half that time—a part of me felt special. It's sick, isn't it? I just kept thinking how special I must've been for him to leave his wife and child behind... for me; to go as far as to lie about having a family in order to treat me. Me! Maybe my exes and my dad were missing out by leaving me. Maybe they didn't see in me what Seth saw in me. Maybe my love was worth breaking up a perfect, loving home.

"But then another part of me realized the pain that being in love with him had caused his son. The pain I had caused his family. I knew I was living a fairy-tale, and we all know fairy tales don't exist. It was my sick and twisted reality to believe that I was something special, something worth risking everything he'd known and loved for. It was all a mistake."

The bulb in the center of the ceiling flickers and the light dims, casting shadows in the corners of the room.

"Whoa. What's this?" I stand, back against the wall. My eyes are dry from lack of moisture and I force myself to blink. "What's happening? Are you listening? Can you hear me?"

The answer is as obvious as the feeling when I first entered the room; the creepy impression of being judged, scrutinized, and examined. It made me uncomfortable, knowing someone had listened to my outpouring, but the reassurance of not being alone outweighed my embarrassment.

My palms dampen and beads of sweat prickle my skin as the temperature in the silent room increases. I cough. Is that smoke? A fire?