Every time he put it on he felt that he was making a statement: I am a new man, my own man, and fuck what old women with grudges thought.
Marie liked the way his hair was cut though, so he’d leave that. He didn’t know how long they’d be here, but he’d find someone down in town to do it for him. It wasn’t that difficult, although the woman that usually cut it made a huge production out of what should be a ten minute trim. They had to make you feel like you got your money’s worth, he supposed.
He scanned along the perimeter, knowing that Anton would still keep an eye out in the kitchen. They would hear any vehicles that tried to make their way up to the house, but someone on foot could sneak up. Matteo doubted anyone would be out in this cold, not unless they wore Arctic clothing of some kind to keep from getting frostbite, and that had the added benefit of keeping the wearer warm for hours.
Maybe they should go to Alaska until this was over, he thought. He wanted to take Marie to Europe next summer, so hopefully, this would all be over by then. But maybe, for now, Alaska might be more remote, safer for Marie. He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t even sure if she could handle more flights.
She didn’t seem to realize it, but he knew when she was tired; she got this pinched looked at the corner of her eyes, her lips went flat, and she rarely spoke. She’d been easily tired lately, and even now, he knew that she was probably having a nap on the couch after their epic snowball fight.
She’d be up in the night, wandering around, looking for signs that the bear had broken through the fence again, as she said when he asked. But he knew she wasn’t able to get comfortable, that something was bothering her when she was in bed. She’d thrash around and make sudden movements, even when she was deeply asleep.
He went back to his computer and decided to look for other reasons she might be experiencing these problems. The first thing he found was stress. Everything was blamed on stress nowadays, something he found to be dismissive. He kept reading and found a new term - essential tremor. The site told him that essential tremors happened with movement, while tremors with Parkinson’s were usually present at rest.
Well, that didn’t help. He’d noticed it when she was relaxed and sitting down, and when she was reaching for something. It could be something like that, though, and while it did need to be evaluated, he wondered if perhaps she was correct and this was more of a nerve damage problem. She didn’t have that pill-rolling motion that was described as a Parkinson’s tremor. Maybe this wasn’t such bad news.
It wasn’t a discussion for today, he decided, and went back to staring at his computer. There were a lot of emails from Trina, but he’d ignored them all. He’d sent her a voice message when they left, because she hadn’t answered her phone, saying that they were leaving to keep Marie safe and that he’d contact her when they could. He decided it was safe with the VPN and emailed his cousin.
She replied promptly, full of relief and wanting to join them. She knew she couldn’t but wished she could. Matteo would never tell her where they were anyway. He trusted Trina, but not anyone that might be snooping in her files.
He sent another email, telling his cousin to be patient and not say anything to anyone, not even their family. He’d spread it around that he’d taken his wife to South America, but had told others that they were going to China for a trip he’d always wanted to take. Yet others heard that they’d gone to Russia.
He wasn’t an expert at this hiding out thing, but he knew that if he told everyone something different that nobody would know, for sure, where to look. He couldn’t stay in the office anymore after the last email and went out to join his wife, but as he suspected, she was asleep. He went into the kitchen instead and found Anton cutting up vegetables. He had beef simmering in a pot, and the smell was heavenly.
“Smells good,” he told the other man and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.
“It’ll take a few hours, but it will be worth it.” Anton looked up at him with a smile, before his gaze went back to the knife cutting at vegetables expertly.
“Cool.” Matteo wasn’t used to being still for so long and wanted to go outside but the snow had started back up, yet again. “I’m going stir-crazy, are you?”
“A little, but I’m more used to being still for long periods of time than you are.” Anton moved the carrots off the cutting board, rinsed it off, then started to chop peeled potatoes. “How is she doing?”
The question was asked in a polite tone, but Matteo knew it was momentous for the man to even ask. So, he went with honesty. “She’s alright, but she’s having some kind of tremor and trouble sleeping.”
“Hardly surprising after the last year of her life, well, her entire life from what you’ve said,” Anton spoke quietly. He didn’t want to be overheard, not because he was judging her but because he was respecting her privacy. He didn’t want her to think he was gossiping.
“I’ve considered that, whether it’s all just stress, maybe some PTSD even, but she’s worried because of her mother’s history.”
“I can’t blame her,” Anton said as he moved the potatoes away and started to cut up celery and then tomatoes. “That doesn’t sound like a pleasant illness at all.”
“No, and we’re still keeping her a prisoner, aren’t we? She can go outside now, she’s not locked up in a tower, but she’s still locked away here.”
“Do you want to go home? Or somewhere else, maybe?” Anton began to add vegetables to the pot and stirred each new addition in slowly.
“No, I think we’re fine here.” Matteo scrubbed at his face again and sighed heavily. “I think I’ll have to take her to a doctor in town when it stops snowing though.”
“Just to ease her mind?” Anton asked after he put the lid back on the pot.
“Yes, and mine. And to an extent, yours even. We’re all worried about her.”
“Sounds like a good idea. Won’t that register her in a system, though?” Anton pointed this out with a cringe, and Matteo understood why. What a thing to remind his boss of when he was worried about his wife.
“It probably would. Damn. We might have to take that chance. I think she’s starting to get freaked out about it.”
“We’ll get her down there, then.” Anton came to sit at the table, a cup of coffee in hand. “To ease your mind too.”
“Maybe it’s for the best. She needs to know. Worrying will only make it worse.”
“You’re right.” Anton sighed and his face schooled into understanding.
“I think I’ll have a nap myself. I’ll be upstairs if she wakes up.” Matteo stood up from the table but turned back to his employee and friend. “Thanks for everything, Anton.”
“My pleasure, boss.” Anton nodded and got up to check the pot as the lid began to vibrate on top of it.
Matteo went in to check on Marie before he went up to bed and saw that she was still asleep. Her dark hair fanned out behind her in a long, silky wave down her back - one of the things about her that he loved. She could cut it if she wanted to, but he knew she’d only ever have it trimmed, because she knew he liked it.
She was as generous with him as she could be, and for her, that meant she gave him every part of herself that she could. Her face was relaxed and peaceful, so he decided to leave her alone and went up to their bedroom. He slipped into a pair of pajamas and then into the bed. He found something to watch on television that looked boring enough to fall asleep to, and didn’t fight the weight of his eyes.