by Matayo, Amy
I think of my dad.
I think of my baby.
I think of my co-workers.
I think of my—
Right then and there, I stop thinking and just listen to the sound of my heartbeat.
There comes a time in life when the human heart will test its limits. When the beat is so forceful, the speed is so swift, and the pain is so sharp, that one finally relinquishes the false belief that survival is inevitable. The body can shatter quickly. The spirit can shatter even faster. We’re all fragile, we just don’t know it until circumstances put us at the edge of our breaking point. Maybe this happens once in a lifetime. Maybe a dozen. It’s different for everyone, and no pattern is the same. The only thing for certain is that the heart will release an ache that is both beautiful and crushing, soothing and terrifying, hopeful and final. The ache will grow before it lessens, but one thing is certain—-once the heart has been pushed to the limits, the ache never completely goes away.
For me, this has happened twice in my life.
The first time with my baby, a part of my life I never talk about.
The second time, now.
Both times involving a man I’d been with only once.
The similarities end there.
I can’t decide whether to roll out from under Teddy and do my job, or curl myself inside in the confines of his body. I wrestle with the decision for one…two seconds and decide to stay put. Bullets are still flying, people are still screaming outside this door, and if Teddy wants to shelter me from the danger, then I want to let him. It’s been a long time, too long, since I’ve allowed anyone to take care of me. I became a security guard for that very reason, so no one would ever need to. No one will know I failed my job, because something tells me he won’t blow my secret.
“Are you okay?” Teddy whispers as he raises up a fraction of an inch, elbows on either side of my head. I feel his heartbeat keeping time with mine, pounding with a thud thud thud that’s as painful as it is fast. When I crack open my eyelids, he’s looking right at me, scanning my face for signs of injury. I glance away before he can see that all my wounds are internal.
“I’m alright, but I’m scared. What if he bursts in here? What if he discovers we’ve been hiding in here the whole time? What if we don’t make it, and where, in God’s name, are the police?” My voice is pinched, tight. A hundred more questions are perched on my lips, but Teddy silences them with a soft shhh.
“That’s a lot of what ifs, but there’s no sense borrowing trouble. We’ve managed to make it this far, I have no reason to believe we won’t make it to the end. Something’s happening out there. I don’t think these bullets are coming from just one gun. I think maybe the police finally have him.”
“I think you might be right.” I cling to that hope; maybe the police finally got the upper hand. Maybe we’re only a few minutes from being rescued.
“We’ll be okay.”
I think he’s saying the words for his own benefit as well as mine. He shifts to the side, his hip on the ground beside me, but he keeps his body angled over mine. I’m okay as long as he doesn’t move too far. Another gunshot, followed by another. Teddy’s head ducks into my neck, and the kid groans, but at least we’re all still alive. I fist Teddy’s shirt and try to keep breathing.
“Talk to me, Teddy,” I hiccup into his chest. “Tell me something that will take my mind off this.”
His breath suspends, but his grip on my waist tightens. I know what hesitation feels like; I’ve lived under its shadow longer than I’ve lived outside it. Someone shouts from the other room. I hope it’s the police; something tells me it is.
“I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to get on a stage after this.” He speaks in hurried words, for the first time louder than a whisper. “I’ve been thinking about it the whole time we’ve been in here. How am I supposed to keep going like nothing happened? As though it’s just business as usual? I’m scheduled to be in Chicago tomorrow night. And I’m just expected to sing up there in front of all those people?”
I don’t know why a cold shiver travels down my spine, but it does. If we walk out of this room tonight, I’ll know to be more alert, how to hide, how to be better prepared and on guard for my next job. But Teddy…he’ll still be in the spotlight. A moving target singing solo in front of thousands of strangers. If someone wanted to finish the job, theoretically, they could. His life doesn’t accommodate chances to hide. I was lucky to grab him this time.
“Keep singing, Teddy. Don’t let this guy affect you that badly, okay?” Says the girl who quit living her own life over a decade ago.
“I’m not sure I can do it.”
I breathe into his neck, my hands gripping his back. The sensation of warm air on skin grounds me a little as bullets fly outside the door.
“I know you can. Just one thing at a time. First, we have to get out of this room.”
“Please don’t tell anyone I said that. Reporters would have a field day at my expense.” I feel his lip brush my neck. “Keep this between you and me, okay?” His voice is louder, rising with the noise outside.
“This entire night is between you and me. I won’t tell. Take a few days off if you need to. Reschedule some shows. No one would blame you. You’re human, Teddy. And you’ve just been—you’re still going through—hell. Don’t let anyone make you feel bad if you need some time away, okay?” I’m trying to get the words out in case I can’t ever speak again. It’s everything I wish someone had said to me.
“Time off is not something I get much of nowadays.” His thumb traces a figure eight at my waist. Noise is everywhere, but for now, our little space is sheltered.
“You’re the boss, though. Take it anyway if you need it. Other people can wait.”
He huffs. “No one who works for me has ever told me to take time off. It’s all go go go in this business.”
“Then maybe you need to hire different people. It isn’t your job to entertain everyone all the time. Maybe you ought to think about entertaining yourself for a bit.”
Bold words, but I mean them. Who’s taking care of Teddy? And who would discourage a few days off after an ordeal like this? I’d like to find the person who might try and give him a piece of my mind. No one should rule your life other than yourself and God. Not deadbeat teenage boyfriends or judgmental church-goers, neither of which matter anymore. Why am I just now seeing this?
“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself first,” I say. I’m no longer sure if I’m speaking to Teddy or to my sixteen-year-old self.
He doesn’t have time to answer. Something crashes against the door. Teddy buries his head as my panic level rises. It’s hard to focus on the here, on the now when the future seems so thoroughly bleak. My fingers dig into his back, his forehead presses into mine.
“Your turn. Tell me something good,” he says.
I don’t have anything good to share, but I want to tell him the words I’ve never told anyone else. I want to tell him about all the pent-up feelings I’ve carried around in my bruised and battered heart all these years. It’s such a shame to die with your private sins...with the realization that in a short span of a life, no one ever really knew you at all.
“I had a baby when I was sixteen. I didn’t want her at first, but in the end, I did. She was stillborn, and I’ve always thought it was God’s way of punishing me. She would be nine now…”
That’s it. My secret leaked out before I could stop it, but that’s as much as I can say. Out of habit or stubbornness or simply the same familiar sadness that has always driven me forward, I turn my head to the side. Shame has a way of pulling you under, even if you try to look it in the eye a time or two.
I can’t see him, but I can feel his compassion like he’s pouring it over me.
“I’m sorry, Jane. He doesn’t punish people like that, but thank you for telling me.”
Maybe Teddy’s right. Maybe He doesn’t.
“Can you—”
“I won’t tell a soul.”
&n
bsp; The words hold between us for several seconds.
Then men shout. Objects break. Bullets explode. The world spins outside, but in our little corner, Teddy touches his lips to mine as we listen and block out and try to forget everything together.
None of it makes sense, but all of it does.
I’ve heard about acquaintances kissing each other during what might be the last moments of their lives. I’ve always thought the idea was crazy. Impulsive. Foolish.
I still do.
And I don’t.
I kiss him back and pray I’ll somehow survive this.
* * *
Teddy
I kissed her even though I shouldn’t have.
It only lasted a second before she turned away, but it was long enough.
I won’t forget it.
Maybe not ever.
I hold onto her even though letting go is going to hurt.
All hell is breaking loose around us.
Deep down...so is my heart.
I bury my head in her shoulder and pray that both stop soon.
Chapter Eleven
Jane
It happens so fast I’m not sure if it’s real or an illusion. The quiet never returns. The seclusion is a thing of the past. When a fusion of noise hits your ears at full volume after hours and hours of whispered silence, it’s especially cruel.
A relief. But still cruel in the rude delivery.
The sound of Jane’s walkie blasts though the closet.
“Jane, stay there. They got him. I’ll be there to get you both in a few.” It’s Andy again. She presses the button to respond.
“Okay, but we’re under the walkway. Not the main stage.”
Silence greets us. So much silence. Followed by an “Oh, dear God.”
Jane sets the walkie down. There isn’t much to say to that.
Next comes ripping.
Tearing.
Crying.
So much crying.
People start running.
Footsteps pass by the door.
I slide out from underneath Teddy and lunge for my gun, shoving Teddy behind me just in case this isn’t over. Between us, there’s so much relief I can touch it, smell it, taste it like a sheet of rusty metal at the back of my throat. Teddy links his hand in mine, and as much as I want out, I know I’ll miss this one thing the most.
The overhead light flickers on, a shock to the system and the eyes. One hand flies to my eyes, shielding them from what feels like a hundred razorblades pricking at my vision. Darkness does not like to be so rudely interrupted.
“Son of a—” Teddy says out loud before stopping himself. I suck in a breath at hearing his full voice for the first time in here, partly because I’m still afraid we’ll get caught, but mostly because it’s so perfectly husky and rich. I have nothing to worry about; it’s time to be found. It’s the reaction my heart just had that could be the real issue. Teddy is bent at the waist, pinching his forehead with a thumb and finger. “A little warning might have been nice.”
“No kidding. I feel like someone is stabbing my eyes.”
I blink rapidly at the kid lying in a heap in the corner where we left him, both hands folded across his stomach. He looks better than I thought he might, his chest still rises and falls in steady intervals. Teddy lets go of my hand long enough to check the boy’s pulse. Satisfied, he reaches for my hand again and finally looks up.
His eyes go wide when they lock on mine, and everything stills. I frown in a question, then grow self-conscious when I remember this is the first time he’s seeing me. I squirm under his scrutiny, uncomfortable with his direct appraising gaze.
Jane, hold your head up.
Jane, stand up straight.
Jane, don’t you want people to think you’re pretty?
Jane, why can’t you act like a proper lady just once?
The disappointment is there like a friend I’ve known forever.
* * *
Teddy
I can’t move.
Can’t breathe.
The shock of the light, the shock of the room, the shock of seeing her like this is too much.
Chaos reigns on the other side of this door, the only thing currently outranking the chaos inside my head and heart.
I had a thousand visions of Jane during our time in this room, but none of them matched reality.
She’s tall, nearly as tall as me.
She’s beautiful.
Achingly, heartbreakingly so.
A green-eyed, heroic blonde bombshell vision I won’t ever forget.
In only a handful of minutes, I’ll have to.
I swallow my reaction. My hammering pulse. My feelings…and speak.
“You ready for this?”
She gives a little shake of her head, and my hand involuntarily squeezes around hers. Mine. Hers. For one more second, we own each other. Until we don’t.
“I guess we have to be,” she says.
No truer words were ever spoken.
* * *
Jane
Andy opens the door, a policeman on his heels.
“You guys okay?” Andy asks. The policeman walks around us and into the room.
I nod once, twice. Still clutching Teddy’s hand, planning to never let go.
“We are, but he needs help.” I indicate the kid still lying on the floor, still blessedly asleep. I checked his breathing a few seconds ago to make sure it still existed. It did, thank God. A paramedic is called and enters the room before we take a step. It’s all so clinical, professional. Every team has a protocol and every person is following it. Except me. I’m just trying to stay upright.
After years of hiding in here, we slowly, cautiously, allow ourselves to be led back the way we came.
Within two heartbeats, I wish to God we hadn’t.
Nothing could prepare me for this. I've been sucker-punched, taken down at the knees, force-fed poison, and I can’t spit it out.
I remember a gleaming floor and the lingering smell of disinfectant. I remember the scent of beer and the smiling face of a teenage boy. I remember newly purchased t-shirts and tiny waving glow sticks.
The arena looks nothing like the place I remember from seven hours ago.
The catwalk stage is bent on one side; misshapen cups of soda are scattered everywhere. Discarded pieces of clothing are lying all over—jackets, ties, a random pair of socks, a woman’s hair tie. Glass drapes the floor in a thick dusting of uncut diamonds—sparkling jewels that gash, tear, wound, leave scars. Blood stains the floors in swirls and smears. His blood. Her blood. In the five seconds, we’ve stood here, I’ve counted three bodies.
I want to vomit.
I’m going to vomit.
I lunge for an empty popcorn bucket, and Teddy holds my hair back while I release everything I haven’t eaten in the past twelve hours. The plan was to grab dinner after the show. The show’s over now, but the thought of food repulses me. Somehow I manage to empty my stomach of its meager contents. When I’m finished, I stand and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. I’m certain the horror on my face matches the dismay I see on Teddy’s.
The gunman was after Teddy specifically.
This was his concert.
This was his night.
People paid for a chance to see him.
It cost them more than money.
This isn’t fair. Life isn’t fair. None of us did anything to deserve this kind of cruelty.
Teddy reaches for me, hooks his arm around my neck, and brings my face to his chest.
“Don’t look, Jane. Keep your head down.”
“I have to look at it. I have to make sure they’re okay, that you’re okay.”
The sob that catches in his throat nearly unravels me, but this isn’t the time for weakness. I make eye contact with a few battered people staring in our direction; most tending to wounds both visible and invisible on themselves, on their neighbors, on their loved ones. Pain is everywhere. Fear is everywhere. Sadness is everywher
e.
Police are everywhere. One of them points to us. Andy stands next to him.
“You both need to sit there and wait until we come back.”
It’s an order. He means business. They’re taking precautions with Teddy and won’t allow disobedience. I don’t have the strength to protest anyway.
Exhausted and overwhelmed with grief and unbelief, I drop into a chair, one hand firmly locked around my gun and the other still clutching Teddy’s hand. My eyes leak in rivers, my stomach growls with hunger, but I’m numb in every other way that matters. I’ve trained for this, but in all my months of preparing to be a bodyguard, the reality doesn’t come close. How can someone point and shoot so callously at people? Everyone here is someone’s child, and would blend in with the huddle on a daily walk down the street. The loss of life and innocence is staggering.
Teddy reaches for my hand and brings it to his face. My hand is cold, his lips are not. “Are you going to be okay?”
I won’t. I never will be again. But sometimes the mouth speaks lies even while the mind gets busy burying the truth. So I nod. Just once. Once doesn’t seem quite as fake as three.
“I’ll be okay. Will you? That’s the important part.”
I feel his hesitation in the slow way he exhales. “My life is no more important than anyone else’s. But yes, eventually. Probably.”
I know we’re both lying. If someone presented us with a lie detector test, our result would be a series of jagged lines and accelerated pulses and flashing red lights.
But we sit side-by-side, waiting for our turn to speak while I still clutch my gun, something I’ll continue to do until I’m certain this ordeal is over. I’ll answer all the questions, I’ll submit to all the probing, I’ll agree to the calls for counseling, I’ll continue on to the next job as though this one never happened.
But the truth…
The real way I’m feeling…
I’ll keep most of that to myself.
* * *
Teddy
Two hours later, I’m as unprepared for the night air outside as I was for the lights in the closet. It’s jarring and surreal, like freedom after the shackles are off. I don’t know what to do with the sensation. I don’t know what happens now. A police officer escorted us backstage so I could grab my phone and change my shirt. I checked my messages to see nearly a hundred texts from friends and family, and I’ve downed a beer I swiped from the green room. I offered one to Jane, but she turned it down. I’m once again clutching her hand even though my own bodyguards are with me now, and I’m almost certain it’s time to let go of her. I don’t, not yet. Some habits take time to break, even the new ones.
