Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 97525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
I reach the top of the entrance landing, and it’s a stark wide platform, empty of anything but columns. Jillian steps backward, keeping distance between us, then turns and walks rapidly toward the lime green double front doors. As she approaches, the lamps on either side glow brighter, illuminating the path, and I follow her lead, as I always seem to do.
My breath fogs in the evening chill and I jog up the last few steps, anxious to get inside and out of the cold. She holds open the door, waving me in and offers me her cheek as I cross the threshold and into the brightly lit space.
Her cheek is ice cold as I kiss it, and I wonder how long she has been standing outside, waiting for me. “Jillian,” I say in greeting.
"Brant," she says with a resigned sigh, removing her jacket and holding out a hand for mine. “Let's go to the parlor."
The parlor is trademark Jillian—stiff, expensive, and functional. I sit on the edge of a white divan and watch her face as she settles into an upright chair. It is even tighter than normal, her face as pale as the furniture, and the dread in the pit of my stomach grows.
"Layana called me," she says. "She told me what she told you."
I watch as she smooths the front pleats of her charcoal slacks and wait for her to dismiss the idea. Surely, she will dismiss the idea.
"I never wanted you to date that woman, Brant." She sniffs.
Not the words I am expecting. "Is she telling the truth, Jillian?"
She carefully smooths her hands over the top of her hair and pats a few windswept pieces into place. Finally, she looks at me. "You wouldn't even believe me if I told you, Brant. She has you so twisted around her finger. Multiple personalities?" she scoffs. "It's her delusional attempt to explain an affair."
She stands and paces before me, her pointy-toed shoes clicking on the floor like a metronome. "You're the one who suspected her of cheating." She points a trembling finger at me. Trembling. Was it from anger or fear? "You know what's going on here, Brant. She's found someone else and doesn't want to lose you over it."
My relief at her dismissal warred with my opinion of Layana. Jillian was right, I had suspected her, but I also knew that something had to have triggered the affair, there had to be an explanation paired with the betrayal.
I match Jillian’s stance, rising to my feet. "So Layana invented an identity disorder to explain it? Do you have any idea how insane that sounds?" Something’s wrong. Jillian won't meet my eyes and her gaze is skittering all over the room. "She doesn't know," I continue. "About my blackouts. She has no other ground to stand on. She looked me in the eyes and told me something she thinks to be true. Said that it was something you told her."
I was starting to lose control. Breath was pushing out of my chest in short bursts as the pounding in my head increased. Rage, I identified. That is this emotion. It's a foreign emotion that I haven't felt in a long time and don't understand. I can feel my psyche shuddering, as I lose a layer of my control. This is inappropriate, especially with Jillian, and I blink, focusing on her, but can still hear the snarl in my voice as I step closer. “Don’t lie to me, Jillian.”
"Brant... you don't understand." She falters. "Your medicine stopped all that."
"All of what? The blackouts? Or my stepping into another persona altogether?"
She holds up her hands, and I stop, realizing how close I am to her. Her eyes are wide with fear. But of what? Of me? It's a ridiculous thought. But still, just to be safe, I force my fists to relax.
"I don't know anything about another persona. All I know is that you've been doing perfectly well. Your work has never been better, your focus more crisp, your creative insight more in tune."
"Fuck the work. I'm talking about my life, the person I am when I lay my head down to sleep."
"You don't mean that.” She turns toward the large black fireplace—its flame the only source of color and life in the room and moves closer to its warmth. "Your work is everything, Brant. You and I... we're changing the world."
"We're building computers, Jill." I follow her and grab her thin shoulder, pulling on it until she is facing me, her gaze jerking erratically around the room before settling on mine. "What's going on with me? Is she right?" I am begging her, my fingers biting into her soft sweater, and in her eyes, there’s a swarm of indecision that gives her deception away.
Fury boils through me at the tell, ripping apart the veins of my composure, and I grip her other shoulder with my free hand. I shake her, and I can feel the rattle of her small bones—the bones of a woman I thought I knew. "Tell me!" I scream, the sound echoing around the tall room. "Is there someone else inside of me? Tell me!"