R. Griffin - Seamless

“Do you need my attorney’s number?” She started walking to where Millie stood speaking with the cop.

“Stella?” Harris called, stopping her.

“Yes.”

His eyes softened. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, then give me, Millie and Cooper a ride home. It’s the least you can do for our fucking troubles.” The night, the week, the years all began pressing on her as she stood there; she needed to escape. All of her defenses, all of her fake smiles, they couldn’t help her now.

“Where’s your car?” he asked, putting his pen in his pocket.

“Cooper and I walked; he needed some exercise time,” she said, looking at Cooper, still comfortable as could be on the floor of Patrick’s room with his new bone.

“Sure, but you know I’m going to need for you to come to the Department tomorrow to get the rest of your statement.”

“Fine. I just want to get out of here. I want a shower.” Stella was shaking and desperately trying to hide it. She walked to Millie’s room and pulled on one of Patrick’s hoodies. It was huge and smelled like him; she shoved her hands in the pockets to hide her trembling hands. Her lip was threatening to shake and her body racked with anxiety, fear, and utter devastation. She sobbed loudly and then covered her head with both her sleeved hands.

Agent Harris put his hand on Stella’s back and led her out of the house, navigating around officers and the coroner. I’m about to lose it. She passed Jamie’s body and dry heaved again; her stomach cramped and seized with nothing left to vomit. Millie was quiet as she followed Stella and Agent Harris down the block to his car. Cooper sat in the back with Stella and Millie rode in the front of the dark sedan. There was no attempt at conversation and every once in a while, Stella would sob into her hands. Millie was staring straight ahead, either in shock or eerily calm.

“Thanks for the ride.” Stella was barely able to articulate words as he pulled up in front of the house. “You have my number, but officially go through my attorney.”

“Stella, honestly, I’m really sorry.”

She nodded, numb. Oh, please bring on the numb. She stood there dazedly, watching his lights disappearing into the night.

“El. Come on, let’s get inside,” Millie coaxed softly.

Stella’s feet began moving toward the door, then she realized she left her purse. “Fuck. I left everything; my keys…” her voice broke.

“I got your purse.” Millie thought enough to grab a bag for herself and Stella’s purse before they left. She handed Stella the keys and they walked into the quiet house. It was quite a change from the bustling bodies and blue lights they’d just left at Millie’s.

Once inside, all three of them stood in the den for a full minute, not knowing what to do, not looking at each other. Cooper eventually walked into the kitchen to get water. Stella sighed and looked at Millie.

“I’m sorry, Mil.” Her voice was low and rough, fighting to keep emotion out of it.

Millie took a few steps and closed the gap between them, standing a few inches from Stella and grabbing her hands. “Don’t you ever be fucking sorry for that psycho bastard.”

“I didn’t want you to have to deal with any of this. I just can’t seem to free myself of the crazy. Why?”

Millie shook her head full of pity. “I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure you’re done having to deal with that crazy.”

“I’m going to get in the shower and wash my ex-fiancé off my face.” She laughed hysterically for a few seconds. “Who the fuck has ever had to say those words?”

“You’ll be okay, El,” Millie comforted.

“I don’t think so, Mil. Not this time.” They started up the stairs, Cooper following them closely. “The sheets are clean. Make yourself at home.”

“El, I love you,” Millie said as she walked in the guest room and closed the door.

Stella slowly undressed and stood in the bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror. Shock kept the feelings and emotions at bay; she had cried, but it was that detached crying that came with life-changing events. She turned the shower on as hot as it could get and closed the glass door behind her. Stella stood in the shower silently, letting all the blood, wine, and pieces of Jamie wash down the drain. She felt pieces of herself break off and flow away with the blood; the hope she’d had the last few weeks dropped into the drain. The wholeness she’d felt a few weeks ago, filled with the love she felt for George, disappeared along with the blood, the water washing it out into the sewer.

Getting out of the shower, she grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself, then wandered around the room and bathroom, packing a small bag. She threw jeans, shirts, underwear and bathing suits in her bag, making sure she grabbed her Wonder Woman shoes from Key West. She opened her medicine cabinet, hoping she’d just misplaced the remainder of her stomach medicine. The pill bottle in the cabinet was empty. Fuck. She dressed quickly and put Patrick’s hoodie back on; it comforted her for some reason. She shoved her feet in her running shoes and motioned for Cooper to go downstairs.

Looking in at Millie, she shed one more silent tear. Stella quietly wrote a note hoping that Millie wouldn’t worry too much when she woke up alone. She tiptoed in the room and put it on the bed next to her friend. Her head was buzzing with panic; she couldn’t be here when the media started clambering for pictures of her as a broken, devastated mess. She needed to leave. Now.

Stella padded down the stairs with her bag and Cooper’s things, put everything in the car, and walked, almost zombie-like, back inside. She stopped and leaned onto the bar, bracing herself for what she was about to do. Easing her ring off her finger, her eyes caught on her tattoo. Only you. Stella gave the ring one more glance before she laid it on a piece of paper that basically said, “I love you, that’s why I can’t stay.”

Cooper ran all around her, making sure she didn’t leave him. She petted his head as she locked up the house and opened the passenger door for him. “See, Coop, I’m not leaving you.” Her voice was low and full of sobs she was trying to hold back.

Stella sank into the seat of her car and cried. This was it. This had broken her for good. She wasn’t fit to be around George. She wasn’t fit to be around anyone—she’d almost gotten Millie hurt by association. She didn’t even know how to be normal any more. She knew she wouldn’t be able to do her job. Jamie was dead and it was her fault. It was his fault, too, of course, but to have the death of someone literally on her was something she just wasn’t prepared for and she didn’t think it was something she could ever come back from. Stella came to grips with the fact that she was losing everything, just like she always knew she would.

She opened the garage door and squeezed her eyes closed, attempting to gather resolve, then reversed out of the driveway. She drove automatically until she finally reached I-95. Taking the ramp onto the highway, she released a breath she’d been holding. George. Her mind was having a hard time reconciling what she was doing. Her conscience was telling her it was the wrong thing to do, that all George had ever done was love her, fissures and all, but she just couldn’t stay.

She drove for four hours until she’d just reached North Carolina. It was a little after three am when she spotted an Econo Lodge sign and took the exit, pulling the car into the parking lot off the side of the office. She walked in and asked if there were vacancies. The older gentleman behind the desk eyed her warily.

“Yep,” he told her, “be $69.99 plus tax for the night.”

Stella pulled out money from her purse, handed it to the man, and waited for her key. She had to go back to her car and drive around to the back side of the motel where her room was located. “Come on, Coop.”

Stella looked around, feeling unsafe, and then forced herself to relax. No one knew she was here. Hell, she’d just decided to stop at this place ten minutes ago, and she had Cooper. He’d protect her. They entered the room and she didn’t even take in the smell of cigarettes or the dirty towel hanging from the counter in the bathroom; she simply collapsed on top of the bed, a bed she typically would be mortified to even touch. Cooper jumped up next to her and put his head on her belly. They slept.

As Millie disconnected the phone, George just stood in his hotel room and looked at the phone in disbelief. He could never protect her. I’m going to lose her again. He got online and started trying to get flights out of Iowa, where Senator Ashby had again returned to campaign. He couldn’t find a flight online so he called the airline. Stella was currently unconscious and being examined at Patrick’s house. Millie had said she’d keep him updated. He finally got through and lined up an 8:00 am flight and started packing.

Restless, he called Kara, frustrated when it went straight to voicemail and he had to leave her a message. Hopefully she’d be able to pick him up from Dulles while Finn was in school.

George paced. He couldn’t sleep. He would’ve normally had a drink, but he was worried he wouldn’t wake up for his early flight. He’d called his boss and let him know he was running back to DC for a day or two. He paced some more. Most of all, he tried to convince himself it would be okay; she would be okay, they would be okay. He had a nagging worry in his mind that it wouldn’t be okay and that the best thing that could happen to them, Jamie gone, would be their undoing.