The Chosen

Now Paul sobbed outright. It was so pathetic to see him cry; it was also very satisfying. His words hitched out of his throat like a ratchet: “I’m begging you, Vera, please forgive me. Please don’t go...I love you, Vera.”

Vera had her hand on the doorknob; again, she paused. I love you, he’d just said. How many other men had said that to her in her life, with any degree of genuineness? None, she knew.

Her pause at the door wavered…

Don’t fall for it, Vera, that other voice crept back into her head.

“I love you, Vera.”

Don’t be a sucker!

No, no, she wouldn’t be. She wouldn’t let him do this to her. Hadn’t he done enough already?

“Your love is like the rest of you, Paul. It’s fake. It’s a lie. It’s pure grade-A shit.”

Then she walked out and very quietly closed the door behind her.

««—»»

She cruised downtown in the Lamborghini, sorting her thoughts. At first she felt very confused; she ran two red lights on Church Circle and nearly drove the wrong way down Main Street. Get hold of yourself, you airhead! She doubted that Feldspar would be pleased were she to bring the ’ghini back to The Inn with a bashed-in front end. She parked at the City Dock, buttoned up her coat, and got out to walk in the cold.

Full winter made the city look flattened and drab. Most of the boat slips were vacant; the few that weren’t berthed tarp-covered bulks. Her heels ticked on the cement as she wandered about the city’s deserted nub. Frigid wind clawed at her like a molester’s frantic hands.

Was she having second thoughts? How could she, after what she’d seen that night? They put drugs in his beer, she remembered. He could at least manufacture a better lie than that! Suddenly it didn’t matter that he regretted what he’d done; it didn’t even matter that he claimed to still love her. She knew she could never see him again, never even consider him. Vera had always tried never to hold a person’s past against him (wasn’t Donna, a former alcoholic, a perfect example?), but this was sorely different. Drugs, bondage, group sex? She’d be out of her mind…

You did the right thing, Vera. You’d never be able to trust him again.

Yes, she felt sure of that, and all at once she felt a lot better. Donna had been right all along: once she confronted him, once she told him off for good, she’d feel like a new person. All her stresses and uncertainties fled from her, right there on the cold, cobblestoned incline of Main Street.

She felt cleansed, exorcised. The drab city seemed brighter now, and clean, as if she’d just stepped into a different, better world.

Now I can really get on with my life!

««—»»

Before she returned to the parking lot, she stepped into the Main Street Crown, to browse. She hadn’t read a book in months, save for that ludicrous tome about haunted mansions. A good romance would be nice, something hot. She picked several titles off the rack, and smiled when she turned and noticed the occult/new age section right behind her. The Complete Compendium of Demons, the title of the big glossy-black hardcover jumped out at her. By Richard Long! she noted, the same guy who wrote the haunted mansion book! Vera couldn’t resist. I simply must buy this for Donna, she decided. She’ll definitely get a kick out of it.

After she bought the books, she