Surviving the Merge

by C P Harris

  “I’d like to take you on a date.” He leaned down to place a kiss over both my eyelids.

  “Oh really?”

  “Yes, I would.”

  “I’d love that. What do you have in mind?”

  “The first portion of the date is a surprise, but for act two, I was thinking….”

  Blake whispered his idea into my ear, and my eyes widened. “That’s a brilliant idea.”

  “I’ve been known to have one a time or two.” His smile wicked.

  Blake spent the night in Chadwick, and the next morning after our run, he claimed half my studio to do calisthenics while I worked through a routine I’d organized for the kids. A tad difficult to do with him sweating bare-chested a few feet from me. From the look on his face every time I completed a split, he struggled with his own challenges of working out in such close proximity to me.

  Julie called to ask if we could move our Monday session to that afternoon. She was trying to clear her calendar so she could attend a last-minute seminar. With more than enough time in between my class and our date, we agreed, and I still had more than enough time to work individually with a student. I was surprised the request came from Pete. He always nailed everything perfectly, especially his arabesque, which was what he claimed he needed my help with.

  “That’s amazing, Pete!” He perfected a combination on his first try. “You’re much further along than I was at your age. I feel like I have nothing left to teach you.”

  Pete’s smile fell, and I could kick myself for not thinking that statement through first.

  “Are you ready to get rid of me, Mr. Justin?”

  I could visibly see him retreating back into his shell, so I hurried to correct the situation. “No, Pete. That was just my stupid way of giving you a compliment. The truth is, I need you here. The whole group does.”

  “You do?” He was skeptical.

  “Come over here and sit with me for a second.” We dropped to the mats and faced one another. “I’m going to make you a promise, okay?” I waited until I had his answer before moving on.

  “Ah, okay…” he said.

  “I promise to always be honest with you, to always support you, and to always help in any way that I can in fulfilling your dreams.” I ducked my head to meet his eyes. “In return, I need you to promise me something. When you walk through those doors downstairs, you leave all the negative things anyone has ever said to you or about you outside. All the self-hate that you have for yourself, any blame you’re carrying around for things that are not your fault, your anger, resentment, and whatever else. You leave that all outside.

  “Because in here”—I opened my arms to encompass the whole building—“you’re free of all of it. This is your refuge. This is where you get to be who you are, where you are accepted for who you are. So leave your load at the door. And pretty soon, it won’t matter what anyone says because the love you feel when you’re in this place will follow you everywhere,” I said.

  Pete blinked repeatedly, struggling to hold it together.

  “You don’t have to hide from me, Pete.” Standing I towed a now-crying Pete up and into my arms. We stood like that for several minutes while he let it all out.

  Stepping away from the embrace, Pete swiped at his puffy eyes, offering me a wet smile. “Thanks for...believing... in me.”

  “Always, Pete. Always.”

  Chapter Twenty

  I needed to wear a suit. That’s as far as Blake’s hint about our date went. I opted for a moss-green two-piece that he’d never seen on me before. Pushing through the revolving doors of the commercial high-rise that Julie’s office resided in, I latched eyes with Blake, and his widened more than a bit. I’d hit my mark.

  “Wow. Green looks good on you, too. Why didn’t I ever think of that?” he asked in a low voice.

  “No more gray?” I asked, drawing him down by his nape for a kiss. Our display disturbing the peace of the businessman and women entering and exiting the lobby.

  Keeping his hands on my hips, he confirmed, “No more gray.”

  Giggling like two schoolgirls, we headed for the elevators, getting on hand in hand.

  “Is it just me, or does it feel different, now that we’re no longer married? We are no longer married, right?” I asked.

  “The judgement was entered into the court record today. And you’re right. It feels like we’re courting. Like we’re starting over.”

  “It does,” I agreed.

  We were greeted in the waiting area by Julie herself. We passed Sarah’s empty desk as Julie ushered us into her office. “It didn’t seem fair to make Sarah come in on her day off purely because I decided to move my schedule around last minute. I’m playing assistant and doctor today. Please have a seat—and a cookie.” She pushed a tin containing her homemade treats toward us, and Blake and I scarfed a few down like the children that we were—to Julie’s obvious delight.

  “Well, Justin, today is a rare sunny day, so at least I don’t have to worry about losing you to that dreadful window.”

  Blake and I laughed when she shuddered on the word “dreadful.”

  “You gentlemen look rather dapper. Let’s get started so you can continue with your plans.”

  Grabbing her notepad and glasses from her desk, she settled into the tan wingback chair across from us.

  “Let me ask you something, Blake.”

  Blake nodded, and I sat up taller, her down-to-business tone stirring my concern.

  “Have either you or Damon ever tried to act out attributes of the other?”

  “Yes, we have.”

  She paused to make a note. “Tell me, how did it feel?”

  “We never succeeded. It would cause an instant switch. The stress of it works as a trigger.”

  “I see.” More notes. “In those instances, did it feel like something in you was forcefully trying to push you out? Or like you yourself were trying to hide, seek shelter, to protect yourself from what you feared in that moment?”

  Blake gave her a puzzled look. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure I understand what the difference is in those two scenarios.”

  Removing her glasses and crossing her legs, she said, “I have an analogy for you. We have two kids on bikes for the first time without training wheels. Both children know the dangers that come with riding without the trainers, but child number one is excited to try, so he’s willing to take the risk. Yet, before he gets his foot off the ground, Poppa number one snatches him up, not willing to take the chance of seeing him fall. He’s there to protect him before anything bad happens.

  “The second boy is not excited to try at all. He looks back at his father, begging him to intervene the way the other dad did. But Poppa number two is only there to pick him up if he falls.”

  I flicked a look at Blake. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure this one out.

  “Tell me, Blake, which poppa are you?” She tilted forward, glaring deep into Blake’s eyes, hoping to get through to Damon, “And which child are you?”

  “I’m... not sure. I don’t think either of us have ever looked at it from that perspective.”

  Slipping her glasses back on, she said, “Oh, that’s quite all right. That’s what I’m here for, dear.”

  We left the office with our most important assignment to date. She wanted both Blake and Damon to attempt to do something that normally the other would be responsible for and to try and stave off the shift for as long as possible. I was to time it. We were to continue doing this with the goal of the increments increasing each time before a shift took place. We also had to journal everything: how they felt right before, during, and after. Also taking notes of anything else of importance.

  “Are you okay? You’ve been quiet since leaving Julie’s office,” I said.

  Blake reached over to squeeze my knee as he drove us to our next destination. “I’m wondering if all this time I’ve been overprotecting him.”

  “No, we are not going to start the blame game. This whole si
tuation is too complex for it to ever be that simple. You’re here because he needed you. Now, tell me where you’re taking me.” That seemed to do the trick, if his smile was any indication.

  “Always so impatient. We’re almost there. Actually...” He came to a stop on the side of the road. “Let me blindfold you.”

  Shortly after being blindfolded, I heard the pitter-patter of rain, and then the car came to a stop. “Is it raining?”

  Blake’s door opened and closed, and then he was there, helping me out on my side. Another door opened and closed, and then the car engine faded into the distance. I assumed it was a valet.

  “Why am I not getting wet if it’s raining?”

  Turning me by the shoulders, Blake removed the blindfold. Rain poured down on the secluded four-story building in front of me. A peek further up confirmed that the sky remained blue and sunny. I brought my sights back to the building in front of me. “How is this possible? What is this?”

  “It’s a Japanese restaurant and boutique hotel. One of our investors recently opened it. If you look closely, that structure on top of the roof works as a sort of an expelling conduit, which is how they are able to make it appear to be raining on top of the building. And if you look down there”—he pointed to the drains along the outer edges of the restaurant—“this is where the water gathers and then funnels back up through the channel to the roof.”

  The beauty on the outside paled to the inside. A city on water. The tables sat in individual canoes, canoes that sat on water. Each canoe had an umbrella mechanism on top of it because it rained inside as well. The walls were riddled with ivy, and water clovers were being pushed and pummeled by a light rain. The soothing sounds of the rainforest reached my ears as we were ushered by our hostess—dressed as a geisha—to our table.

  Raised marble lily pads served as the means to getting around the water without having to walk through it. Stepping into the canoe, we folded onto the large, silk pillows in front of the votive candle lit table. We were left with menus and small cups of sake.

  “Blake, this is amazing.” My voice held wonder as I examined every inch of my surroundings.

  “I figured since the rain didn’t come to you, I’d bring you to the rain.”

  “I like this.” I reached for his hand. “I like this.”

  “I like it too, my love.”

  We ate, drank, talked, and got lost in each other. Rediscovering one another. There were moments when I could see a shadow pass over his eyes, gone so fast I was left wondering if I’d imagined it every time.

  Until Blake said, “I can feel him.”

  I gripped the edge of the table. “Talk to me, please.” Blake shook his head, and I exhaled in frustration, throwing my napkin onto the table. It didn’t feel good to be on the other side of the silent treatment.

  “Hey, look at me. There will be time for that later,” he said.

  “You’re right. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” Watching me, he said, “We love you.”

  Although it hadn’t been that long since I’d last set foot in Elite, a lot had happened since. I no longer took pleasure in being there. I’m getting too old for this shit.

  After the DJ introduced me, I hit the stage. I normally didn’t wear my hair down when I performed because it got in the way, but Damon loved my hair untamed, so tonight, I made an exception.

  The angle of the spotlight hindered my view of the audience, so I focused on the dance instead. My body would let me know when he arrived. It always did.

  In only a few short minutes, sweat trickled down my body, and my hair stuck to my face and shoulders. In need of some relief, I climbed to the top of the pole and free-fell headfirst, just to have my hair off me. As I touched down, a rolling sensation flared in my belly, my quarry had entered the building. I didn’t bother to look for him. I finished up the song and went straight to my room.

  He was right on my heels when the door slammed, locking us in. This felt eerily familiar, I couldn’t believe it had come to going backwards for us.

  “The ink isn’t even dry on the papers, yet, and this is what you do?” he yelled.

  Damon liked to hover over me; he enjoyed seeing me on edge. And what better way than to use his size against me?

  “Don’t be deliberately obtuse, Damon. I’m here to draw you out, and you know it.”

  He paced the room; I took several steps back and allowed him the time he needed to get his thoughts together. I wouldn’t push him.

  He tightened and released his fists as he made his circuit. Drawing attention to his bulging arms, his rounded shoulders, and wide chest. A tidal wave of tension rippled through his body. His tight black t-shirt did little to hide it.

  It was wrong to be turned on in that moment, and it would be pretty hard to hide wearing only a flesh-colored thong; I did my best to cool the boil that began to percolate through my veins.

  “You make a decision to move out without my knowledge—without my approval. Then you went to Chadwick and started a whole new life, with new friends and new admirers.

  “You ask for a divorce, and now we are divorced. All these changes, and I have no say in them whatsoever.”

  He hadn’t stopped to look at me. Hard to tell if he was even talking to me or simply working out the facts—his version of the facts—aloud. Listening to him speak enabled me to see how things appeared from his limited perspective. How do I get him to see that I’m still here? That I’m not going anywhere.

  Finally, he came to a halt at the other end of the room, as if he didn’t trust himself to come any closer to me. With his hands held out at his sides, he asked, “Why, Just? Why would you do this?”

  A sensible question. But a sensible person Damon did not make. Pure unfiltered rage rolled off him in waves. It burned through his eyes like lava. I didn’t trust “sensible” Damon. Especially not when his eye twitched.

  “Damon, you have to agree that you are not the most logical person to talk to—”

  “I allowed you to keep the apartment, did I not? You said it was important, so I let you, correct?”

  What an arrogant asshole. But I knew when to pick my battles, and I could almost see the steam coming out of his ears. It concerned me more than the twitch. I gritted my teeth and squeezed out, “Correct.”

  “That wasn’t enough for you—”

  “Damon—”

  “You’ve left me!” he wailed. Spittle flew, his nostrils flared, and the vein in his neck swelled under the strain.

  I had to beat back the urge to cover my ears from the intensity of it. The sound ferocious and crude and contained an ancient quality that one could call a battle-cry. His scream was filled with equal parts pain and fury.

  His flesh turned red hot, flushed with fever, and he heaved with panic. It left me cold and trembling. How do I stop this? I implored myself. What is this?

  “I’m still here, Damon. I’m not leaving.” I held a hand to my heart, begging him to believe me.

  “Everyone leaves me. No one stays,” Damon said, his voice vacant and hollow. He walked the perimeter of the room again, head down and breathless. I was no longer there.

  I rested my head against the wall, shutting my eyes for the briefest of moments. I inhaled a sharp breath and flinched when I heard a loud bang. Damon had punched a hole through the wall.

  “Damon, stop! Please.”

  “She took him from me!” He struck the wall again. “Benji was mine!”

  I held my breath. Whatever this was, he needed it. I remained removed and allowed him to have it.

  “That bitch,” he forced out.

  Blood poured down his hand unchecked, and all I could do was stand by and watch as he tore the room apart, piece by piece.

  When he finally lost steam, the bed frame was a pile of splintered wood, springs breached through holes in the mattress, feathers from pillows littered every inch of the floor, and the mirrored headboard had been shattered. I was afraid to investigate the cause of the water leakin
g from under the bathroom door. There were a few more holes in the wall, and there was blood on every surface.

  He approached me on shaky legs, as if only now remembering my presence. “I’m so... tired,” he said.

  “I know, baby.” I ran my hand through his sweat-slicked hair. His eyes began to shudder, signaling a switch. “Damon, stay with me.” I lightly slapped his cheeks.

  “I... I... can’t... the... the anger. It’s turning… into something else. I can’t.”

  Damon was seeking his shelter. He was looking for ‘poppa’ to save him.

  “Where is he?” he questioned, moaning and holding the sides of his head. His eyes started to roll back, and he fell weakly into me.

  I took us to the floor. “Damon. Damon, talk to me.” I touched his neck and released a sigh when I felt a steady pulse, but his skin burned. I laid him down as best I could and retrieved the first aid kit from under the bathroom sink. After tending to his wounds and cleaning him up, I rested his head in my lap and silently cried for him. For the boy he used to be and at times still was. I cried for Benji and even for the one person who should have done better by them both but didn’t. I cried for them all.

  Sometime later, Damon stirred in my arms. Looking at me, he sighed and said, “Let’s get out of here.”

  I found my bag within the mess and quickly changed before leading him out, peering into the room from the hall, I said my goodbyes to this part of my past. That night would be our last time in that place.

  We went out the rear exit to draw less attention to ourselves and drove my car to the condo. Blake took a car service to Elite, predicting that Damon and I would want to ride back together. Under better terms, I’m sure. The roads were pitch black, and the only sound keeping us company was the swooshing of the windshield wipers. I stole a few glances over at Damon every few minutes, and each time, he was staring unseeingly out the passenger side window.

  Driving into the garage, I threw the car in park and announced that we were home. When that didn’t get a reaction, I reached to unbuckle his belt.

  “Don’t touch me,” he barked.