Captivation

31: Volatile

Volatile (adjective): liable to change rapidly and unpredictably, especially for the worse.

I don’t leave my room the next day. I don’t want to see Henry, I don’t want to have to look at him, or have him look at me, I don’t want anything that comes with knowing him.

I can’t believe he told me he loved me only to tell me that he couldn’t possibly allow himself to do such a thing. Am I that much of a mistake? I lay in my bed and stare at the ceiling.

There is a knock at my door.

“I have the plague.” I say. The door opens anyway and it’s Jamison.

“Hello.” He says while walking into my room without asking.

“What?” I ask him.

“Henry’s been extremely volatile today…” Jamison tells me.

“So?” I ask.

“He’s usually pretty mild…” Jamison observes.

“People have bad days.” I tell him.

“So you would have no idea why he’s so angry?” He asks.

“No, and even if I did know I would bet that he’s angry and it’s his own fault.” I turn over in my bed, trying to signal that the conversation is over.

“Right, of course.” Jamison agrees with me, but it almost sounds patronizing. “Well, if you want to know, Henry told me what he said to you last night, so you don’t have to lie.”

Now I sit up. “Who does he think he is?” I ask Jamison, my voice raised, I’m not yelling, but my tone has taken on a more authoritative and aggressive pitch. “Running around and professing his love only to say that I’m not worth dropping his scumbag reputation?!” And now I’m screaming, sounding much more aggressive, and I’m sure that everyone outside can hear me. I don’t care.

“You have to understand that the mask he wears is his only security.” Jamison tells me.

I stand up, “Well he didn’t seem to care about masks when he ripped the one I was wearing off the first day I met him.” I walk toward the door.

“Woah, Madelyn, wait a minute,” Jamison tries to stop me from walking out the door but I brush past him. In a way I’m glad that I fell asleep in regular clothes last night so I don’t have to worry about getting dressed.

I open the door and I see everyone falter, and then go back to work. They were listening while pretending not to. All except Henry, he stands perfectly still, looking at me.

“Screw you!” I scream at him.

And then Henry does what he always does when I begin screaming, he lets me take everything out on him, not trying to offer excuses, or fight back.

“I hate you!” I yell. “You have ruined my life!” I grab a potato out of a sack and throw it overboard. “I wish I never met you, I wish I never came on this ship, I wish that I never heard your name!” I pause, unsure of what to do next in my rage. “You make me so angry!”

“Done?” Henry asks, but not in a sarcastic belittling tone, just in a matter of fact wanting to know kind of way.

“No!” I shriek, and I hate how uneven my voice sounds. However, I am quiet after that, and I look down at my hands, which are shaking. I sniffle, and I tell myself that this anger will not dissipate into tears. “I hate you.” I tell him again.

“I could never blame you.” He says softly.

I stand looking at him, and I can tell that he knows I want to cry. I hate that he knows that. I try to steady my breathing, and stop my heart from beating out of my chest. I try to control my trembling hands.