Free 2 The Dante Connection by Estelle Ryan

exposure, I now faced the challenge once again to interact. If I didn’t have my experience as a child pretending to socially fit in and my extensive training in psychology to fall back on, the feeling I had now would have been severe enough to trigger an episode. I reached for the right thing to say to Vinnie.
    “You’ve picked up weight.”
    “Oh, Jen-girl, I missed you.” Vinnie laughed and slapped his stomach. “I put on more muscle, not fat. Being stuck in this apartment with Colin was boring. I had a lot of time to work out.”
    “Oh.” What else could I say to that?
    Vinnie looked around the apartment. “What do you think? Cool, huh?”
    The moment I saw Vinnie’s chin raise and his chest puff out, understanding descended upon me. “You decorated this place.”
    “You don’t have to sound so surprised.”
    I was still trying to find my way through all the emotions of these two men being back in my life. Stepping back into social interaction was not as easy as it had been for me as a child. As I had grown older, I had become less tolerant of inane social niceties. But there was no denying its importance in this situation. All the indications of remorse and the desire to make amends were in Vinnie’s demeanour. I reached for my training and years of observing people. I didn’t fake a smile, but I modulated my tone.
    “Everything makes more sense now, Vinnie. You moved in here with Colin when he was still physically weak. That leads me to conclude that you had to move his furniture into this apartment.” I knew I was on the right track. Their faces told me. “He was too weak to really care what went where and you thought copying the layout of my apartment would be an easy solution. Especially since you had more important things to worry about. Once the furniture was placed, Colin grew used to it. So, when he was strong enough, he didn’t move anything.”
    “You told her, dude?” Vinnie looked at Colin with widened eyes.
    “I only told her that we moved in here six weeks ago. The rest she all deduced.”
    “Pretty and smart, just like I remember.”
    We stood in silence for a few seconds. Then I realised they were still waiting for my verdict on the apartment.
    “The apartment looks artfully decorated,” I said quickly, more interested in the reason I was here. “Where is Francine?”
    “Here I am.”
    We turned to the kitchen area. Francine was wearing black yoga pants and a matching body-hugging T-shirt. Her hair was washed and styled, diamond earrings dangling, gold watch on her one wrist and a diamond bracelet on the other. Her face was bare of make-up, yet multicoloured. And terribly swollen.
    I took a step towards her. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
    “I probably should, but then I would feel like I was sick or dying or something. And it’s not sexy.” She pulled her shoulders back, winced and walked towards us with a determined limp. She carefully lowered herself on the large dark blue sofa. “Since my usual clothes and shoes are too painful to wear, I have to make up for it with the diamonds. And there is no way I’m lying in bed wearing these fabulous diamonds.”
    As illogical as it was, I knew that many women used make-up and accessories the same way soldiers of old used war paints. It was a form of readiness for battle, whether it was fighting to the death or dealing with traffic, children and corporate pressure. In my everyday life, accessories were only necessary if they were useful.
    “Let’s sit down.” Colin’s suggestion brought me out of my musings. I took a seat next to Francine. Colin and Vinnie settled on the two wingback chairs facing the sofa. They started talking about Francine’s injuries, the men insisting she stay in bed, Francine arguing that she was well enough to be walking around. It was irrelevant and boring.
    A thought came to me. “Francine, shouldn’t you let your family know that you’ve been injured?”
    Fleeting expressions pulled at her