The Seven Pieces of a Feuilleton

Chapter 28

The second hand of the ornate grandfather clock ticked in succession with the spatters of rain pounding against the ninth-floor window of the building that had forced Brenda into an unwanted revisit of her past.

It wasn't enough for her to just open up about her kidnapping, or the loss of her child. No, they hadn't even reached that part yet at Brenda's request. To discuss either, they'd have to discuss Stuart, and to discuss Stuart, they'd have to discuss nineteen ninety and fucking three.

But first, to talk about her second breakup with Dylan, they would have to dive into what had brought on the breakup in the first place, which would send them all the way back to their first weekend in Baja, Brenda thought.

So, to avoid that, she had instead wasted her first few sessions waxing poetic about her childhood and ensuring that Mackenzie McMahon, who couldn't have been but more than a few years older than Dylan and was unfortunately much prettier than Brenda found comfortable, knew that Brenda had come from a truly happy family that the doctor would not be able to twist into something more.

"And that's the first time Papa Bill took me out on a horse," Brenda concluded with extra flair.

"And that's how you escape?" Mackenzie asked, writing in her notepad. "Riding?"

"Usually," said Brenda. "Can't do it now." She pointed to her cast. "I've only done it once in Europe, and that was for a scene years back."

"Did you miss riding?"

"I did," Brenda nodded. "Tremendously. But I couldn't bring myself to do it without him." She hooked her arm through Dylan's.

"You also ride?" asked Mackenzie McMahon, Ph.D.

"Not as well as Brenda with her 4-H jumps, but yeah, I enjoy it," Dylan said. "There's just something about hangin' out with horses that makes you realize life doesn't have to be so bad if it births fascinating creatures like those. You ever watch a horse eat out of your hand?"

"I've not."

"I recommend it."

"Noted." Mackenzie smiled, displaying her prominent gap. "How else do you tend to escape, Brenda?"

"Dancing, fishing, travel, surfing, sailing. I've really gotten into Dylan's bike lately."

"Yeah, she has," Dylan grinned, linking their hands.

"I'm guessing with the cast and your gradually healing back, you can't do too many of your hobbies."

"You'd be right," Brenda said. "I can't even work right now. My physical therapist said if I return to work before my body's ready, I could have a setback and Dylan's insistent that I avoid that."

"Damn right I am," said Dylan.

"But I'm a person who actually really likes to work, and I love everything about my job, even the really early hours and even later nights. Not working drains me more than working."

"She slips into this thing," Dylan said.

Brenda looked at him, and then bit her lower lip. "Yeah. I'm an actress, through and through. Always have been. There's this thing that happens when I'm trying really hard to not face something. We first noticed it when my aunt Sheila died, of cancer. She was so young. We were so close."

It had, at times, felt like Sheila Beevis was the only one who understood her niece. Whilst Brenda's family had always encouraged her dreams, it was Sheila who found little ways to help them come true. She had once erected a stage for the Walsh backyard, which five-year-old Brenda used to put on her first production and turn Brandon into the neighborhood jester.