Chapter 2 THE ANSWER.

CHAPTER 2: THE ANSWER.

They finally docked and the doctor who awaited their arrival, based on the urgency expressed by Clarice, attended to Michael.

Seeing the depth of the wound, he had to stitch it up and gave him some painkillers and prescription drugs.

The doctor also recommended to Clarice to make sure Michael got adequate rest and was fed foods rich with iron nutrients, fruits, and vegetables, to help him regain the blood loss.

When he was done, he got his stuff and left.

Michael had noticed that while the doctor attended to him, Clarice and Dan seemed to be discussing quite seriously, and occasionally threw glances at him. He didn't make a big deal out of it.

Having escorted the doctor off the boat, Clarice and Dan returned to where Michael was.

"So, are you feeling better?" Clarice enquired, sitting beside him.

"Yeah. I feel a bit more relieved, thank you."

Clarice nodded her head slightly. Dan's phone buzzed, drawing his attention to it.

"The cab just arrived. Why don't you both head home and get some rest, while I take care of things here, hmm?" Dan suggested.

"Sure," Clarice answered. She got on her feet and helped Michael up, and they exited the boat.

The cab driver opened the door as they approached his vehicle. They got in and he began his commute.

While in transit, Michael leaned his head sideways, avoiding placing the back of his head, where the injury was against the headrest of the car seat. He looked out the window and saw different signposts.

"Miami."

"What'd you say?" Clarice asked.

"Miami. I keep seeing that name everywhere. Is that where we are?" Michael responded. He had muttered the word without realizing it.

"Yes," Clarice replied.

While they drove, Michael drifted off to sleep. After a while, he jerked out of sleep. Clarice tapped him on the lap.

"We're home," she declared.

They lived in a gated community in a highbrow area of Miami.

A slight headache ran across Michael's head, causing him to squint his eyes, bearing the pain. When he opened his eyes, he saw the cab driver already opened the door for him, and he gently alighted from the car.

Clarice quickly paid the driver his fare as she held Michael by the elbow, and supported him up the concrete stairs that led to the front porch of their house.

The cab driver got into his vehicle and drove off.

Michael couldn't care less that the house looked amazing. At that moment, his well-being was all that mattered. He needed some food and adequate rest, as per the doctor's request.

As they got in, Clarice led her husband to the bedroom and took him to the shower. As she began undressing him, Michael stopped her.

"Let me take care of this by myself," he requested.

"Sure," she shrugged, looking a bit disappointed. He knew she was his wife, but he felt uncomfortable getting naked before her. The idea of them being married hadn't fully registered in his head yet.

"I'll go fix you something," Clarice said, excusing herself.

Michael had a long hot shower, not letting water touch his head. When he was done, he put on a white robe he saw hanging in the bathroom, with his name branded on it.

He then went into the bedroom and lay on the bed.

Shortly after, Clarice returned with some food and he ate the quantity his appetite could allow at that moment.

"Thank you," he appreciated her. She nodded and got up, heading out.

"Clarice?" Michael called. She halted, turning towards him.

"You've not answered the question I asked you."

Clarice gulped, hesitating a bit.

"Get some rest, honey," she replied, cracking up a smile. Then she walked out of the room.

Michael laid back down on the bed, placing the pillow under his neck, giving the back of his head some elevation.

Clarice's incessant avoidance of the topic began making him think he was guilty of being terrible towards her.

______________

A week passed and Michael got better. The doctor had visited them at home two more times, checking up on Michael. With every visit, the doctor gave the wound a fresh dressing, seeing how it healed quite impressively quickly.

Michael's head didn't hurt as much as it did before.

On this day, while he was resting in his bedroom, he heard some noise coming from downstairs. He got up and gently walked out to see what was going on.

From the loft, he saw an elderly man and woman with Clarice in the living room. Dan was also seated amongst them. The man spoke with so much rage. But Michael didn't know exactly what he was angry about.

As Michael slowly walked down the stairs, the man caught sight of Michael. He seemed to be even more angered at the sight of Michael.

"You malicious scumbag! How dare you lay a finger on my daughter?" he snarled, getting up, as he walked threateningly towards Michael.

Michael didn't know how to react to what he heard. But that was the confirmation of what he suspected.

"Since the fall didn't kill you, I'll just finish you off myself!"

Clarice's father pounced on Michael, grabbing him by the neck.

Michael maintained a towering height of over six feet and two inches tall, in comparison to Clarice's father who was just five foot and seven inches tall.

The forceful grab reawakened the subsiding pain in Michael's head.

"Whoa, easy now Mr Donald," Dan quickly held his hands, breaking off his grip on Michael.

Michael bent down, biting down on his teeth, closing his eyes as he endured the surge of pain he felt. He could hear loud voices, but they seemed distant.

As the pain subsided, he opened his eyes and saw that Dan was holding Mr Donald back from coming at him. Clarice stood beside the woman who came with her father. She looked sorry and fragile.

After a while, Dan was able to calm Mr Donald down. But he stood, still huffing.

"Clarice now is the best time to answer the question I asked you. Please," Michael requested calmly.

Clarice looked at the woman she stood beside and turned towards Michael.

"Yes, Michael. Yes, you have been terrible to me. Despite all the love, care, and sacrifices, you treat me like trash. You abuse me physically and emotionally. I don't know what I ever did to deserve all that."

Tears welled up in Michael's eyes and ran down his cheeks. He didn't know why he cried, but he found himself feeling awful. But about what exactly, he wondered. He couldn't recall anything that he was being accused of.

He wondered if the amnesia was a blessing in disguise or a cause.

"I needed to wait until you got a little bit better before doing this. But I can't wait anymore."

Saying that, she brought out a paper from her bag, and walked over to Michael, handing him the paper.

Looking at the paper, his heart broke. He was served a divorce.