#pixel rust chapter 13

“Westley? Westley, are you home?”

No answer.

Madeleine frowns. She waits for a minute before working up the courage to knock again, but instead her hand drifts toward the doorknob. It twists fluidly beneath her grasp, and Westley’s apartment door swings open before her.

“Hello?” Madeleine calls out as she pokes her head inside. “West? West, are you here? May I... May I come in?”

Madeleine pouts. In her vision of how tonight would play out, she’d always imagined finding Westley at home, waiting downstairs by the elevator perhaps or maybe standing by the front door with a cigarette in his hand. He would see her walking toward him, their eyes connecting from across the room, and in that moment he would just know. He would just know that she still loves him, and he would remember that deep down he still loves her too.

“I guess I can just... wait,” Maddie sighs as she glances around his deserted apartment. She can feel the boredom beginning to creep in, scratching at her like hives beneath her skin.

“West won’t mind if I look around a bit while I’m here,” she decides with a hungry little nod. “I mean, it’s not like I don’t already know everything about him anyway. What harm could it do?”

Waiting around the corner from his apartment building, Westley lights a cigarette. He lied to Carmen. He doesn’t have a date tonight or anything else that would prevent him from going out with her and Marcel. But he doesn’t want his friend to know that, so he pretended to leave when she did, planning to return home in a few minutes when he’s sure that the coast is clear.

A moment later, however, West feels his resolve to spend the evening alone vanish as his eyes settle on the unmistakable figure of his ex striding down the street towards his place.

What the hell is she doing here? he wonders, trying to recall the anger and pain that has plagued him for the past month, but as Madeleine saunters into his building, her stride as confident and poised as ever, Westley can’t help but admire her gumption. He begins to follow her, wanting to satisfy his curiosity and perhaps even give her a piece of his mind, but he immediately stops himself, frozen with indecision. From the moment that they met, Maddie has held his heart in her hands, bewitching him mind, body and soul, and he fears that even now he remains under her spell.

No, he thinks with a pang of disappointment. Whatever she wants, it’s not my problem anymore. She is not my problem anymore.

The streets of downtown Bridgeport bustle with people tonight.

Couples, Westley observes with a scowl.

In hindsight, he realizes that he should have expected as much. It’s a beautiful Friday night, warm and breezy and delightfully temperate for summertime in the city, but as he walks home alone to an empty apartment and yet another TV dinner he can’t help but feel consumed by spite toward every happy, love struck pair who dares cross his path. In his most brutally honest moments, West knows that these feelings reek of bitterness, that his anger is misplaced and that dwelling on these thoughts will only serve to prolong his misery, but with the prospect of another long solitary weekend looming on the horizon he decides to indulge his depression and wallow in jealousy, whether it’s rational or not.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Rebecca demands, throwing aside her magazine as she swiftly moves between her stepdaughter and the front door.

“Who? Me? Why- Why- Why do you think I’m going somewhere?” Madeleine stammers.

The older woman purses her lips together in obvious irritation. “That dumb blonde act may work on your father, Maddie dear, but honesty is the best policy when you’re dealing with me. Besides, I know you’re not dressed up like that just to sit around the house. So out with it, young lady. What are you up to?”

Madeleine slumps forward, defeated. “He’s back in Bridgeport, Becky. My friend Gia works at the museum where he offices and told me that she saw him today. It’s the first time he’s shown up there in over a month.”

“So?”

“So I want to talk to him! Explain myself to him.” Tell him that I still love him, she thinks desperately to herself.

Rebecca shakes her head, and as if sensing Madeleine’s unspoken words she sighs and says, “Fine. Go. I’ll cover for you when your dad gets home. But please, don’t make me regret this.”

An astonished smile sweeps across Maddie’s face. “Thank you!” she squeals, and quickly hugging her stepmother she turns and races out of the house.

“But why do you even care?” Arabella demands. “That woman obviously doesn’t want you involved with her or her baby, and if she plans on passing the kid off as this other man’s child then that’s all the better for you.”

“I don’t trust him, Bella. Nor do I trust Madeleine. She’s a liar, a thief, a cheater, and an addict. She’s not fit to be a mother, and I don’t want her raising my daughter.”

“If the press were to learn that you knocked up a married woman half your age, it would ruin you, Theo. It would ruin the whole family! We have a reputation to maintain in this city, you more than any of us, and gossip of this caliber would stain the Davenport name black with shame.”

“You think I don’t know that?!” he snaps. “I just need to see that she’s safe. Safe and happy and loved. If I could talk to Madeleine and maybe hold our baby, even just one time, I’m sure I could forget all about her. About both of them.”

As the day of the funeral drags on and on, Lila Grace and her cousin Hazel grow tired and restless, and so after the burial Theodore and Arabella take the girls back to his place, leaving Theo’s two elder sisters to handle the reception in their stead. Once the children have a snack, they disappear into the yard to play together, and Theodore motions for his sister-in-law to take a walk with him.

“I need your advice on something,” he explains, his eyes rigid with grim intensity.

Bella nods and follows him to a bench at the far end of the garden. “What’s the matter?” she frowns. “You’ve seemed distant and distracted since the services this morning. Are you upset about your father?”

“No,” he replies. “It’s not that. I- I- I met someone.”

“You met someone?” Arabella scowls. “At the funeral?”

"Yes,” he nods.

“...Who?”

“My daughter,” Theodore sighs, hanging his head in embarrassment. “Madeleine’s husband brought her. Soon to be ex-husband, from what I could gather. It’s just... I’m worried about her, Bella. And the baby too. Something feels off. Really, really off.”

“Dad! Dad! DAD! Look, Dad! A baby! And she’s smiling at me!”