Manipulative Attraction

27. ⚛️ Sad Circumstances

During the time she'd spent with her father, Jeannie remained in control of her emotions. At least during the day.

She'd read to her father while Alex reclined in his favorite leather chair. A blanket up to his stomach and Fifi snoozing by his side.

They often went off topic with Alex telling stories of Jeannie's unwavering curiosity as a child. Jeannie had laughed until her stomach hurt remembering all the messes she'd made while conducting her scientific 'experiments.'

More like explosions, Alex had said without rancor.

The days were doable, filled with old stories and happy memories. But when she turned off the light to go to sleep, the lock around her heart opened, and ache crept in like a heavy mist. For herself, but mostly for her father.

On the night she'd come home, she hastily agreed to try to bring Thorne to the Istochnik, though she had no intention of doing so. It would be too painful on many levels. Demetri, convinced she would do her best, had then dismissed her with another fatherly pat and sent her on her way. Jeannie had rushed inside, eager to see her daddy. Tears of shock sprang to her eyes when they landed on Alex Jones.

His hair was in wisps. Bald patches that weren't genetic had appeared like alien crop circles on his scalp, and his neck was scrawnier than an underfed chicken's.

Alex Jones was getting worse.

Demetri had assured her that despite Jeannie's failure; Alex Jones would still receive the best medical care the Istochnik offered.

Gratefulness couldn't describe what she'd felt at her godfather's generosity, and for a moment, she'd forgotten her heartache.

Then Alex started coughing, a wheezing, reedy sound, and her father's plight soon weighed her down again. She knew the care her father received only prolonged the inevitable.

Her father was dying.

Jeannie had done all she could to make his remaining time comfortable. While Alex napped, she baked nutritious meals and calorie-rich treats, storing the meal-sized portions in the freezer for Alex to defrost and eat.

While they talked, Jeannie deflected questions from her father about Thorne. She didn't want to worry him. Instead, Jeannie asked to hear stories about her mother—of the old days before she was born.

Sensing her reluctance to speak of her troubles, Alex Jones had obliged. And for a few moments, Jeannie forgot about her troubles.

When it was time for her to leave, Jeannie said goodbye to her father on the porch. The pelting cold rain was effective at hiding Jeannie's tears.

The bus Jeannie rode on was nearly empty. Worry over her father's illness and regret about Thorne, manifested into tangible feelings that filled the empty seats. One by one, the ghostly passengers took a turn to sit beside her on the long journey home. When she arrived, just after midnight, the quiet in the dark hallway, hung like a heavy tarp from the walls. Only the air stirred as she made her way to her door.

As Jeannie put her key into the lock, the scrape of metal against metal—a chain sliding back—resounded in her ears. Jeannie's heart went into overdrive, beating so erratically it threatened to jump from her chest. Her eyes rolled in their sockets. Her hands turned clammy with sweat.

I can't see him. Not yet.

Frantically, she twisted her key and scrambled behind the door, shutting it as quietly as her trembling hands would allow.

Silence reigned once more.

Jeannie sat heavily on her couch, breathing deeply to calm herself and wondering at her neighbor's action.

It wasn't me he wanted to see; she reasoned. He was probably going out for the evening.

Or ushering someone from his apartment.

Jeannie nodded, resigned to no longer being in Thorne's life. It would be hard living next to him, but if she timed things right, she would never have to see him at the complex or at Uni. She could do it. After all, she had her father to think of.

Jeannie stood, grabbed her luggage, and headed to her room. There she swung the suitcase on her bed and began to unpack, shuffling from room to room in a zombie-like state as she put things back where they belonged.

She took a warm shower which went a long way to ease the stress in her muscles, but not the worry about her father or the ache in her heart.

After tying up her hair, she quickly got dressed. She crawled into her cold bed, falling into a fitful sleep. Dreams of her father, Demetri, and Thorne filled her head until the early hours.

It was easy for a soft noise to rouse her. Jeannie rubbed at her bleary eyes, crusted with the tears she had shed last night. Her pillowcase, she noted, was still damp.

I must've cried a river.

She turned her head to the window. The sun, just peeking over the horizon, helped to put things in perspective.

A new day. A new beginning.

She turned her mind away from her worries to think of the day ahead. Her meeting with Shon and Dr. Longborn wasn't until 11:30 AM. She had hours yet to go. How would she get through the waiting without a distraction?

Jeannie sat up, stretching her arms above her head as melancholy flooded through her. Duping Shon was bad enough, but Thorne? He was a different story. She cared too much for him to lead him astray. Besides, he already had someone else. Life wouldn't be easy with Thorne living next door. He would go back to parading his women in and out of his apartment while she'd have to endure it, slowly letting go until he meant nothing to her.

Would that day ever come?

With a heavy sigh, Jeannie eased her feet into her slippers and padded her way to enter the living room until the heel of her shoe caught under her foot. Jeannie bent down to straighten it, the left strap of her top, falling off her shoulder.

She startled when a familiar voice, raised in anger, spoke from the shadows, "What did you do?"