Chapter 4

The fact that Cindy felt like a best friend was obvious. She knew very intimate details about Claire's life. And, when they got home, Cindy knew where everything was inside. Of course she'd recently been in the house, getting Claire some clothes, which meant she had a key. Her purse, watch and shoes were the only things that had been salvaged after the accident.

The house didn't look like she made tons of money. Obviously, her husband worked too, but they lived pretty close to the bone, by the looks of it. It was a nice house, but nothing fancy. And it was in a nice neighborhood, but she wouldn't have called it the high rent district.

As it turned out, Cindy also had no inhibitions about helping Claire get into that hot bath. It was clear that being around Claire naked didn't bother Cindy at all. The water was, in fact, hot. She made lots of noises of minor complaint, until her body was covered, and then she relaxed. Cindy ignored it all, and just asked how she could help.

Once Claire's head was leaning back, and her eyes were closed, Cindy put the lid down on the toilet and sat down there.

"John must have been the last one to use this," she said.

"Hmmm?"

"The seat was up."

"Men," snorted Claire.

"It's fascinating you can remember some things, and not others," said Cindy.

"I'm expecting you to tell me you loaned me money, and would like to be repaid," said Claire.

Cindy laughed. Then she was silent for so long that Claire opened her eyes.

"Do you remember what we were talking about at lunch ... just before you got hurt?" asked the woman.

"No."

"Oh."

"Was it important?"

"Actually ... yes ... I think so."

"Refresh my memory, then," said Claire.

"You said you had cheated on your husband."

Claire's eyes opened wider and she tensed, but then relaxed again.

"Somehow I don't feel like the kind of woman who cheats on her husband," said Claire.

"You're not. Actually, after you said that, you yelled that you had used your new dildo and were thinking about another man while you did it. Then you dashed off, hit that light pole, and lurched into traffic."

The concept of "dildo" was one of those holes in her memory the doctor had talked about.

"I got that upset about using a dildo? It doesn't feel like that should be considered as cheating."

"To you, that would have been cheating. I mean to the Claire I knew."

"Then the Claire you knew got her panties in a wad pretty easily," said Claire. "That's called having a fantasy. Happens all the time."

"That's not how you ... old Claire ... would have looked at it. She was a straight arrow."

"An uptight bitch, it sounds like," said Claire. It was strange, talking about this woman she didn't know, and realizing she was actually talking about herself.

"Not even," said Cindy. "You're a wonderful, caring, sensitive woman. You just had a strict upbringing, that's all."

"Wait," said Claire, lifting a hand out of the water. "You said I thought of this other guy while I was using my new dildo. Do I look like the kind of woman who has to use a dildo to get satisfaction?"

"Why Claire, do you finally agree with me that you're a foxy lady?"

"Yeah, yeah, not from what I can see. But, I'm not talking about my face. I know a little about men, and men wouldn't care what my face looked like. They'd go after this body and just turn the lights off if I was ugly."

"Goodness!" breathed Cindy. "You've definitely changed."

"How so?"

"Claire wouldn't have said she knew anything about men. And she'd never have said anything like that turning the lights off part."

"So, sue me. I got hit by a car."

"You're ... harder. Tougher."

"That could explain the dildo," said Claire. "I'm a ball buster. Men tend to shy away from that kind of woman."

"That's just it. You weren't a ball buster at all. Not even close. The only reason you got the dildo was because John wouldn't pay any attention to you and you were going crazy. Yesterday was the first time you'd ever even used it!"

"And you know this how?"

"That's what we were talking about at lunch," said Cindy, simply.

Claire was silent for a while. She waved her hands around under the water to circulate it, moving the water that had cooled against her skin away, and letting the hotter water come closer.

"What does John do?" she asked.

"He's a supervisor at the IKEA store across town," said Cindy. "Why?"

"How long have we been married?"

"You just celebrated your seventh anniversary three months ago. Why?"

"No kids?"

"No. Why?"

"You answer one more of my questions, and then I'll answer all of yours. How long have I worked at ... wherever I work?"

"Martin? You've been there three years."

"Okay, I lied. One more question."

"Shoot." Apparently the promise to answer all her questions was enough to give Cindy patience.

"Where did I work before I started for Martin?"

"You were at some government agency. Martin head hunted you and lured you away. Now, it's my turn. What does all this have to do with your dildo, and you freaking out for using it?"

"Think about it. He and I are twenty-one. I assume he's the same age as me. We're probably in college, and we fall in love and get married. I go to work for the government right out of school, making modest money. He's the man of the family and everything is happiness incarnate. Then, a few years later I go to work for Martin and suddenly, I'm making money hand over fist. Now, all of a sudden, being the man of the house doesn't mean much. He's not supporting me, I'm supporting him. But I'm not spending it on this place, not if it's the kind of money you think it is, so that means I'm socking it all away so that, when I turn forty, I can go wherever I want, for as long as I want. I haven't told him I'm going to leave him home when I do that, or we wouldn't still be together. But he has to be worried about it.

"Now, me out-earning him has emasculated him. He can't perform. But I know divorce would queer the deal with my security clearance. The government doesn't like divorces. So I'm stuck in a bad marriage, but my upbringing is of the sort where, when I made my vows, I meant them. And he knows that."

She stopped and thought.

"I bet I volunteer for everything under the sun."

"Not that I know of," said Cindy.

"You know me pretty well. What do I do in my spare time?"

"Ahhh," said Cindy. "You run."

"That's it? I just run?"

"You run miles and miles and miles. You run marathons. And you're pretty good, too. I think you were on your track team in high school and college."

"Where'd I go to college?"

"LSU."

"Then maybe I am good," said Claire. She blinked. "I wonder how I know that?"

"I wonder lots of things about what you remember and don't," said Cindy.

"Thank you, by the way," said Claire.

"You're welcome," said Cindy, automatically. "What for?"

"For being a good friend. When I woke up, I thought you were a bimbo. You're not. Not at all."

"No problem," said Cindy, waving her hands. "Lots of women think I'm a bimbo. I let them. It keeps them off guard."

"And why do you want them to be off guard?" Claire tried to arch an eyebrow and felt the bandages on her face foil the attempt.

"That way they'll work harder trying to keep me from stealing their husbands, than trying to undermine me and steal my job."

"Are you a husband stealer?" Claire tried to smile. "Do I think you're trying to steal mine?"

"Good Lord no!" laughed Cindy. "I'm very happily married. You know that. Well, you did. And I was trying to help you. I'm the one who suggested you try using a dildo."

"You wench!" said Claire. "Corrupting me like that!"

"You needed corrupting, or you were going to explode and do something crazy."

"Like what? Murder? Mayhem?"

"No, nothing that dramatic," said Cindy, smiling. "Believe it or not, you aren't a very dramatic person. That's why I was so astonished when you screamed and ran away crying, only to bump into a light pole and lurch into traffic."

"So what were you afraid I was going to do?"

"I was afraid you were going to get drunk at a party and yell at him in public," said Cindy.

"Horrors!" gasped Claire.

"We don't live very exciting lives," said Cindy.

"I guess not. So who is this guy I was fantasizing about while I took matters in hand?"

"That's just it. I don't know. When you said you had cheated on John I thought you were having an affair. And I had just asked you what you said to John whenever you wanted to get away to meet your boyfriend, when you blurted out that you didn't have one ... you just thought about this guy while you used your dildo." She blinked. "Actually, you sort of screamed it."

"This was on the street ... in front of a lot of people?"

"Uh huh."

"And you were surprised I took a dive into traffic?"

"Help me get these bandages off," said Claire, plucking ineffectually at the gauze swathing her head.

"The doctor said not to take them off. You're supposed to go in and get them changed in two days."

"Help me get them off," said Claire. "I feel like I'm being slowly smothered."

"I don't even think I was supposed to let you take that bath," complained Cindy.

"I needed the bath. I feel much better. And I'll feel much better when I get these fucking bandages off. Now, will you help me, or do I have to do it by myself?"

"As long as you don't tell anybody I helped you," said Claire.

"They won't get it from me. I'm torture proof. The government says so. They gave me a top secret clearance," said Claire.

"Don't joke around about that," said Cindy.

Claire sat still as Cindy began to unwind what seemed like yards of gauze. She was sitting at a vanity desk ... her vanity desk ... and she watched as her features were slowly revealed.

In a manner of speaking.

It had only been eight or ten hours, but the bruises were already well developed. She looked like she'd been in a major prize fight. A bare knuckled one.

As she leaned forward, a thought came to her.

"What time is it?"

Cindy checked her watch.

"Ten-thirty."

"Where do you suppose my husband is? Does he work nights?"

"No!" yipped Cindy. "I completely forgot about John."

"So have I," said Claire. "But I have a note from the doctor that says I get to forget things. How about your husband?"

"Danny? I called him. He said to spend as much time with you as I needed to, until I was convinced you'd be okay."

"You need to be convinced I'm okay?"

"I'm your best friend. He knew I'd never be able to get any rest until I knew you were going to be okay."

"I'm going to be okay, Cindy."

"I know."

"You can go home to Danny," said Claire. "Don't you have to go to work tomorrow? What day is it, anyway?"

"I do. It's Wednesday. But Mr. Zimmerman said he'll expect a full report tomorrow, and if I'm a little late, I'll just tell him I was checking on you so I could give him the latest."

"Tell him I'm on the mend," said Claire. "Go on home."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because John isn't here."

"I get the feeling I don't care too much about that," said Claire.

"What if you get dizzy, or fall down or something?"

"Okay. You put me to bed and then you can go home, okay?"

"Deal."

Ten minutes later Claire was in bed. She'd decided it wasn't worth the effort of locating pajamas, and just went to bed naked.