Next Wednesday, next time I speak to her, I’m going to tell her that we’re done. It’s time to cut contact, for good.
Raymond nodded, almost approvingly. I felt calm, sure of the way forward. It was a novel sensation.
There’s something else I need to do too. I need to find out everything that happened to me, to us, back then.
I remember some of the details, but now I need to know all of it.I cleared my throat.
“So, will you help me, Raymond, help me find out what happened, the fire?” I said, not looking at him, my words barely audible.
“Please?” Asking for help was anathema to me. I’d told Maria that. “And how’s that been working out for you so far?” she’d said.
I didn’t appreciate her somewhat pointed tone, but she was quite right. That didn’t, however, mean that it was easy.
“Of course, Eleanor,” he said. “Anything. Whenever you’re ready. Whatever you need.”
He took my hands in his and squeezed them gently. “Thank you,” I said, quiet, relieved. Grateful.
“I think it’s amazing, what you’re doing, Eleanor,” he said, looking at me.
This is what I felt: the warm weight of his hands on me; the genuineness in his smile;
the gentle heat of something opening, the way some flowers spread out in the morning at the sight of the sun.
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