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It’s only when I’m standing naked in front of him that it hits me:I’m standing naked in front of him.
But he just points to the shower. “Go on. I’ll get your clothes ready.”
I shuffle in, too numb to argue. The water singes away the grit and grief of yesterday. I inhale the steam, letting it cleanse me from the inside out.
By the time I step out of the shower, I feel slightly more human.
Arsen is waiting for me with a fresh towel. He dabs me dry and helps me into a black bra and underwear. Then he ushers me back into the bedroom, where a black dress is draped over the bed.
“There are other options if you want to look at them. You don’t have to wear this one.”
“Now, you give me choices?” I wheeze out a bitter laugh.
Arsen holds up the dress. “Yes or no?”
“I don’t care.”
He unzips the back and I step into it. When it’s zipped, he turns me towards the floor-length mirror.
I look because I suppose I should, but I couldn’t care less about my reflection. Distantly, I see the dark circles like bruises under my eyes, my splotchy complexion. None of it matters.
I nod. “Let’s go.”
Arsen keeps a hand on my lower back as we wind through the house. He pushes a little harder as we pass my room, and it only takes one look through the cracked door to remember why.
Yesterday washes over me in a rush of memories I don’t want, but can’t forget.
I look down at my arms. For the first time all morning, I see the scrapes there. The slashes and bandaged cuts. The proof of what I did.
I dig my heels in and stop us in our tracks to look through the ruined door.
Most of my handiwork has been cleared away. The floor is cleared of glass and crystal and most of the furniture is gone.
“I destroyed everything.”
“It’s okay,” Arsen assures me. “It doesn’t matter.”
“I was out of control. I was—” I twist around to face him. “You didn’t stop me.”
“I can replace everything you broke. You needed it.” His eyes drift down my body, coming to a halt on a thick bandage wound around my elbow. “I only cared that you were hurting yourself.” Something passes over his face. He softens and takes a step towards me.
But as he nears, everything in me recoils. Whatever he’s going to say, I’m not ready for it. Can’t hear it. Not now.
Before he can say anything, a door opens behind me.
Polina emerges from the nursery carrying Nina. She’s in a white dress with tiny black bows sewn around the hem.
I want to reach out and hold her, but the wreckage of the bedroom flashes in my mind. Suddenly I feel like a monster, too violent to be anywhere near a baby so pure. I curl my fingers into fists, my nails biting into my palms.
Nina reaches past me for Arsen instead, chubby fingers snatching at his shirt. He picks her up and presses his lips to her forehead.
It’s unfair how natural fatherhood looks on him. Unfair how easily he can melt back into Nina’s life. How easily she’s accepted him.
I trail behind them, walking just out of sync. In a matter of days, I’ve become the outsider. There’s no space where I fit.
Maybe nothing will fit right ever again.
11
