Dolly (Part three-Max Mitchell series)

SEVEN

"Well, he's come all this way...I suppose I should let him in."
Wendy looked horrified.
"Are you sure, Max?"
"Yes. Go get him, please."

Why in god's name does he feel it necessary to show his face around here?

I dragged my hands through my nearly dreadlocked hair in an attempt to untangle it, and decided it was no use. Instead, I piled it up on top of my head and wrangled it with a hair tie. I sat up in bed, happily able to sit cross legged without having pain...the medication might have had something to do with that, though. In that moment, I was incredibly thankful Tom had brought me my own sleep clothes from home, so I wasn't dressed in that awful, flimsy hospital gown.

A moment later, Wendy appeared at the door, and stepped aside to let him in.
"Is there anything I can get for you?" She asked, and gave me a pointedly irritated look.
"I'm good, Wendy. Thank you." I replied.
She gave Robert a healthy dose of stink eye, and stepped out of the room.

"Hi Max."
"Robert." I nodded at him, not smiling. His presence took up the room, as always. Him and his "cool guy" debonair style...I used to swoon over it, and now it made me quite irritated.
"Look, I know you're not happy to see me."
"That's an understatement." I crossed my arms over my chest.
"I get it, really. I am in town for a meeting, and I wasn't going to bother you...but I heard about what happened, and I felt like I needed to come. I just had to come here and apologize, face to face. I am so incredibly sorry for hurting you."
"Thank you for your apology. You've really got good timing...or were you waiting for Tom and my family to leave before making your appearance?"
He shook his head.
"I'd have come here whether Tom was here or not. He knows just as well as I do, how badly I messed up."
"Look. I cannot keep rehashing the details about.....about whatever it was." I waved my hands around, in his general direction. "I trusted you, Robert....when really I should have trusted my gut. I knew you were still married, but I proceeded anyway. I had hoped I could believe all the things you said to me, but that was a mistake." my eyes started to burn.

Don't let him get to you Max.

"You're right. Max, I'm not arguing any of the things you've said. You're an incredible human being, and I'm happy to have gotten to know you. If there's ever a place in your heart to forgive me, I hope we can be friends someday."

Then the tears came pouring out, so I covered my face with my hands.
Dammit Max.

He crossed the room and sat down in the chair that Tom usually occupied. When he sat, he picked up my hand, and kissed the back of it. I tried my hardest not to recoil from his touch.
"Don't cry. You've got every right to be angry at me, but don't cry...please."
I looked at him, and his brown eyes went glassy with tears.
Maybe he is sorry for hurting me. Could I forgive him?
"I'm crying because I'm angry."
He nodded, and simply said, "I know." and stood up from the chair. He cupped his hand under my chin and tilted my face to his.
"Tom is an incredibly lucky man. I wish you all the best, Max. Take care." and he walked to the door.
"Good bye, Robert."

After a few minutes and some muffled conversation, Wendy came through the door, visibly flustered with Tom and my family in her wake. All five of them looked about as stunned as I'm sure I had been fifteen minutes prior. To avert any inquisition, I held up a hand and simply said, "I don't want to talk about it."

***

"You wait here."

"I thought maybe I'd get up and run around the block." I said, sarcastically. I was sitting in a wheelchair, near the hospital doors. Tom gave me a smirk and turned to flag down the car we had called. Just across the street, I noticed a couple photographers, and I groaned out of irritation, while pulling the hood of my sweatshirt over my face.

"Ready?"

"Take me home, Sugar."

***

When I'd purchased my house, and contemplated adding an elevator for the studio, it seemed a little frivolous and over the top. Upon returning home that day, I'd never been more grateful for it.

"What would you like to do, darling? Wendy's off for the day, and your parents are out getting groceries. Tab has been here, getting ready for you to come home."

"I feel like I need to lay down."

"So be it. I have a surprise for you anyway." He said, as he pushed the L4 button on the lift.

I stepped out of the elevator into my room, and it was as if nothing awful had ever occurred there. The last thing I remembered about that room was that it looked like something out of a horror film. Transformed, it was like something from a design magazine. Wendy had told me that Tom was "taking care of it" but that was a gross understatement. I padded across the pristine wood floor, and noticed that there wasn't a mark on it. My favorite cushy rug had been cleaned (or maybe replaced) and there was a brand new bed in the place of my old one.

It was as if Tom had taken his personal style and melded it with my own. My bed was once a cocoon of white, billowy softness. Now, it was all that plush comfort, mixed with a touch of sleek, rich navy blue accents. The curtains were the same type of white, sheer panels, but this time had a faint navy pinstripe running through them.

Something new on the wall above my bed had caught my eye. Tom had purchased and hung a large painting above my bed. He told me it was by one of his favorite Australian painters, whose works were largely inspired by music. He said it was meant to be hanging right there.

"Tom, this is gorgeous...you've outdone yourself."

"You don't mind that I've added a little extra, do you?"

"Not at all. I love it even more now." I said, as I turned and sat down on the bed. When I sat, I noticed a framed photograph of Tom and I on the nightstand. It was a picture of the two of us dancing at the Grammy after party. I was wearing that adorable pink dress, and he had on that three piece suit that he was born to wear. I picked up the frame and admired it for a moment.

"Tom. Where did you get this?" I said, in a quiet voice.

"I have my ways. That's my favorite picture of the two of us."

"It is?"

"Of course. It's photographic evidence of the moment I fell in love with you."