The Burning of the Palace at Versailles (or, Butterfly) [REWRITING]

Chapter 25 - Sirens

Then there were the sirens, and then cold handcuffs were getting snapped onto her wrists. The baby's mother was hitting and scratching Melody and screaming with feral rage. Then Thomas was there at the jail, and he screamed at her as if she was the one who had done something wrong.

"You crazy, fucking psycho!" he yelled, slamming his hand against the metal bars.

"I didn't take that baby!" Melody screamed back to him.

"Yeah? Then why was she in your apartment?!"

Of course, that was the damning question, and the one that Melody didn't have a good answer to. The truth of the matter, no matter how much she didn't want to admit it, was that the baby had somehow gotten from Thomas's house to Melody's apartment. And that was reason enough for her to be arrested because that meant she took it.

But no matter what, Melody refused to say that it was because of Thomas. Truth be damned, Melody was happy to never see Thomas, that fucker, ever again. No matter how unhappy she was in life, she was well and overjoyed to never have to think of him again. But she also knew what Thomas could do. She remembered the day she told him about her issues. She remembered how scared she had been.

It was a warm summer night, and Thomas had been asking her out to dinner or movies for weeks. She would sometimes say yes, but she always stayed silent when he asked if she would be his girlfriend. Melody told him every time that it was her, not him. So he would ask what it was. Melody spent four days thinking about what she would tell Thomas. Her boss scolded her for falling behind on her work, since she spent fourteen hours a day thinking about Thomas and what she would say. That night, she asked Thomas to meet her at the docks, and they greeted each other as the sun was setting. Melody decided right then and there that Thomas's actions would determine what she did next. If he stared at the sunset to avoid looking at her or took his phone out of his pocket to take pictures out of the sun, she would stand up and leave without looking back once. But if he stayed and listened, she would consider a future with him in it.

"Hey," he said, smiling at him. His teeth were Hollywood-star perfect, and they were what made her look up at him the second time they ran into each other. His brown eyes were soft and welcoming. He was pretty, and Melody would be lying if her mind didn't stray to him every once in a while.

"Hi."

He gestured toward one of the benches on the dock, and she sat down. Thomas sat down about six inches away. Close, but not that close. He kept his eyes on her, despite the brilliant sunset. "So what did you want to talk about?"

Melody had written up a script of what she wanted to say. It was edited to perfection, and she had every intention of following it up until that moment. But staring into Thomas's eyes, she forgot every word of the whole speech.

"I don't know if we can be together," she started with and winced at the word choice.

He reeled back a bit, as if stung, so Melody continued speaking.

"I have bipolar disorder. I know that makes me sound like I'm crazy or whatever. But I'm not. I just have mood swings a lot and I need some time to calm down pretty often. I also drink a lot, but I'm working on it."

This last part was kind of a lie. When it came to "working" on alcoholism, most people imagined going to rehab or attending Alcoholics Anonymous or Sobriety Circle. Melody wasn't willing to do that, and she wasn't sure she ever would be. Her version of working on it was avoiding places where she could be tempted. She changed her daily commute so she wouldn't walk by a liquor store and she bought her groceries online where she couldn't accidentally step into the liquor section. And she talked to her therapist. Her therapist obviously suggested joining Sobriety Circle, but always reminded Melody that she could do it all at her own pace.