by K. Marie
“But, wouldn’t the police have already investigated the job aspect?” I asked.
John worked for a computer firm as a computer programmer and IT expert. A large part of the firm’s clientele is financial institutions and large corporations.
“Far as I know, the police are looking into that lead more closely,” dad confirmed.
“God, this is so surreal…I can’t believe it’s actually happening. John is the least likely person for this to happen to, he doesn’t lead anything resembling a risky or dangerous lifestyle,” I said with worry.
None of it made any sense. John was just a normal person leading a normal life.
After dad and me finally hang-up, I’m left with a whole lot of unanswered questions, as well as a sense of foreboding swirling in the pit of my stomach.
“This is some crazy shit, Camry; it was so creepy seeing John’s face flash across the screen on the local news,” Marie said through the phone, a short while later.
It’s the third time we’d spoken on the subject, since John’s disappearance a little over three weeks ago. I had already told her about the police coming to question me, and though I trusted her implicitly, I hadn’t told her everything.
“I mean, John, of all people? He’s one of the most boring people on the planet; who could want to hurt him?” Marie continued.
“Marie!” I exclaimed in objection. It was hard to believe she’d once been one of John’s staunch supporters.
“What? It’s true. What could John have possibly done to make someone want to hurt him, broken their computer?” she asked sardonically.
I smiled despite myself. Marie said exactly what I’d been thinking. “Dad thinks perhaps it has something to do with his job,” I told her, repeating dad’s theory.
Though admittedly, the idea sounded far fetch and like something out of a bad Lifetime movie. But it was plausible, I guess.
“Anything’s possible, but nope, I’m not buying it. My theory is, John finally cracked after your breakup and went underground,” Marie announced rather absurdly.
“I doubt that,” I said with a dismissive snort.
Though, what I was really thinking is, John clearly hadn’t moved on. His numerous emails and letters is proof of that. However, John having somehow gone off the deep end over our breakup was laughable.
“I’m telling you, I always knew there was something off about that man, he seemed too damn generic,” Marie insisted.
“Says the woman who kept promoting John, while shaming me for my struggle with fidelity,” I remarked dryly.
“That had everything to do with you, not John. Your eyes were full of stars, and Garland had heartbreak written all over him,” Marie defended.
I heaved a silent sigh, knowing that that had also been the beginning of this current mess.
“Whatever his faults, John and I had a relationship for two years. Because we’re no longer together, doesn’t mean I don’t care what’s happened to him,” I told her.
My worry had been gnawing, but also my guilt. I felt as though I should somehow be doing something. I now knew the helpless feeling that countless people must experience when a loved one went missing. Only, I was guilty of not having done anything about it.
“Of course, you care, Camry, you’re not heartless. All I’m saying is, perhaps John had a reason for wanting to disappear,” Marie offered.
Perhaps she’s right, and I wanted to believe that she was, but I’m somewhat doubtful.
Fifty
G A R L A N D
It’s peculiar, but I never tired of watching her sleep. And since I rarely slept for long myself, it had become somewhat of a pastime as I laid awake in the dark hours.
Camry always looked so angelic and peaceful, her face at rest and worry-free. Her conscience likely unburdened. I still sometimes marveled over her being here; in my home, my bed, lying next to me. I knew that she shouldn’t be.
I never thought I would ever love again, believed myself incapable, thought my heart permanently empty. But, Camry was like a spilled liquid that seeped into all of my carefully sealed cracks. She’d breached my protective barrier, spreading herself across whatever small part of my soul still remained. Yeah, it sounded like a load of corny bullshit, but there was no other way of comprehending it.
I believe I love her more than I did my first wife.
Though with Camry, it was a different kind of love, an all-consuming love, an almost obsessive love. But, along with that obsessive love, also came an obsessive fear. A fear of losing her.
A psychiatrist would no doubt have a field day with that one. However, it went beyond my fear of her being harmed, or of something happening to her. Camry had quickly become my ray of light in an otherwise dark existence. After all these years, I’d forgotten what it felt like to have a glimmer of hope, to truly have something to look forward to. That’s what I experienced that first night with her; what I’ve experienced every day since then.
That old cliché about money not making you happy was quite true. Because I’d amassed a fortune over the years, yet, couldn’t say that I experienced a true moment of happiness in almost nine years, before meeting Camry. What’s the point of having more money than I could ever spend, and no one worthwhile to share it with? The money that I spent on women over the years meant absolutely nothing to me; it merely served as a means to an end. It bought me uncomplicated sex. Though admittedly, things hadn’t always gone as uncomplicated as I’d have liked.
I smiled at the woman lying next to me, thinking it ironic that she barely touched my money; her money. It was almost comical just how much of it she hadn’t spent. Imagine that, a woman with an unlimited line of credit who rarely used it. Camry was certainly an odd one. She abhorred shopping; didn’t seem to give a shit about material things in general. Except for shoes, of course. I’d noticed her predilection for designer shoes, in which she ordered almost exclusively online.
I reached out to brush the wayward strands of hair from her face, reflecting that that asshole McKellan had been right about one thing, Camry was too good for me. She’d married a damaged man. A man who’d known he should never have touched her, and definitely shouldn’t have made her a permanent part of his life. But, I proved a selfish bastard. I wanted Camry; wanted to own her mind, body and soul. And she gave me her heart freely; not because of who I am or what I have. But then, she didn’t truly know who I was, did she?
Camry could never know the real me, a man with a dark past, who sometimes did dark shit without conscience. I didn’t profess to be a good man, but I believed there to be a small part of my soul that might still be redeemable. That part belonged completely to her. Camry said she didn’t care about my past sins; that she would always love me no matter what. I wasn’t so certain. If Camry knew some of the sins I’d committed, she’d probably run far away from me.
Leaning in closer to her, I pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, her cheek, her lips. As usual, she didn’t stir.
I smiled affectionately, once again awed by her ability to sleep so soundly. Careful not to wake her, I got out of bed and walked over to the double doors, quietly pulling one open and walking out onto the balcony. As I did most nights.
Staring out into the night, I absorbed its silence; the stillness periodically broken by the sound of an ocean wave in the distance.
This is where I came to be alone with my thoughts, where I came to remember, and to pay penance. The nightmares had diminished over the years, but the memories still remained. Those were harder to escape. Like Camry, I used to sleep soundly and without a care in the world, but that all changed.
Nine years ago, I was a normal young man with above average ambitions. I’d been hell-bent on proving to my father I was my own man. But I made mistakes. I was both arrogant and cocky—had underestimated my enemy, and my world came crashing down.
I broke that day, literally felt my soul shatter, and became a different kind of man. I no longer recognized myself, the almost twenty-seven-y
ear-old me, it seemed a lifetime ago now. That young man was now a faint memory.
However, the man that emerged in his place was something else. The likes of which, even my less than scrupulous father could not abide. I never regretted any of my actions, never experienced a single moment of remorse over them. But, it served to put a strain on the father and son relationship over time; was part of the reason I settled in the U.S.
Even a country as large as Russia seemed too small for the both of us.
Yet, my father’s reach was still long. To his credit, he respected my wishes and had kept his distance; refrained from interfering over the years. Still, here I was, a wealthy, successful, and influential man in my own right, still being dictated to by his father. He’d sent Dmitry; that note sent through the ex-spy contained only three things; a date, time, and a location. He sent Milovich to warn me, but also to remind me. I may no longer be in Russia, but I still had its full power behind me.
C A M R Y
I awakened drenched in sweat, heart hammering as if I’d just run an 800-meter race. Lifting onto an elbow—my eyes scanned the darkened room wildly, unfocused gaze still seeing the images in my head.
It was only a dream. I told myself, struggling to get a grip.
A protective hand flew automatically to my stomach, its roundness instantly reassuring, as I struggled to catch my breath. I looked over to see Garland was no longer in bed with me; a glance at the green glow of the bedside clock told me it was 3:17 a.m.
Dropping my head back onto the pillow, I sighed with relief, the adrenaline still coursing through my body, the effects of the dream still lingering. Only, the dream had actually been more of a nightmare. As dreams often were, mine had been fragmented and weird; disjointed even.
I was in some unknown place, running down a darkened alley, being pursued by a menacing figure dressed in all black. By the size and build, I could tell it was a man. However, whenever I chanced a look over my shoulder, I could never get a good look at his face. I ran as fast as I could, holding my pregnant belly. But, when I finally reached the end of a brown brick building, I rounded the corner and ran smack into John.
He grabbed my arm to steady me—holding on tightly, as he urgently yelled something that I couldn’t quite understand. In a panic, I searched frantically behind me for the dark figure—while alternating between yelling that I was being chased; and asking John where he’d been.
But, it was of no use. John wasn’t listening; his words drowned out mine.
With a growing terror, I darted another look over my shoulder; yanking at my arm with more urgency. But John held on tight. Struggling against his hold; I’d been focused on trying to get loose, when John’s words finally became clear.
“I told you Vidov was dangerous, Camry, they’re going to kill you like they did his first wife. You should have stayed with me, but now you’re going to die.”
I wrenched my arm away forcefully then, finally freeing myself from his hold. Then, with one last frightened look over my shoulder, I managed to push past John and continued running. When I looked back again, he’d magically disappeared, but the dark figure was closing in.
This time, I could see the man held a shiny black gun in his right hand.
Not paying attention to where I was running; I stumbled, started to fall forward, and shot my arms out in front of me in an effort to break my fall. Thankfully, I jerked awake before I could hit the ground belly first.
Breathing another sigh of relief, I pressed a comforting hand to my stomach, as I lay wondering why I’ve had the same dream twice this week. Though, deep down, I knew why. The dream was a result of those damn letters. Because, try as I might, I hadn’t been successful in completely dismissing them. Not that I actually believed John, but, I admit his words had ignited a curiosity I couldn’t squelch.
It was weird to see him in my dream, and to know that he’s missing. It left me feeling weirdly bereft. I was worried, wondered where he was; if he’d disappeared willingly. But now wide awake, I also wondered where my husband had disappeared to as well.
Twisting my neck to look behind me, I noticed one of the French doors to the balcony slightly ajar. Mystery solved.
It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve awakened to find Garland on the balcony, staring out into the night. The balcony looked out onto the back of the property, and the ocean beyond. It was a beautiful sight to behold at both sunrise and sunset, but there was nothing interesting to see during the witching hour.
Rolling onto my side, I scooted to the edge of the bed and pushed myself up onto an elbow, struggling into a sitting position. The task had become increasingly challenging in my late pregnancy.
Getting to my feet, I padded over to the doors and quietly pulled one open. I spot Garland leaning with his forearms rested on the stone baluster of the balcony. He was staring out into the darkness as usual, wearing only a pair of black silk pajama bottoms.
I must not be as light on my feet as I thought, because he glanced a look over his shoulder as soon as I took a step onto the cool stone tiles.
“Did I wake you?” he asked, straightening from his position.
“No. I didn’t mean to break your solitude; I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” I told him.
I often wondered what he saw when he stared out into the night, what particular demons kept him awake at night.
“I’m fine,” he assured, pulling me into his arms and tucking my head underneath his chin.
“It’s not so easy to do that anymore without my belly getting in the way, huh?” I said with a smile he couldn’t see.
Our bodies didn’t fit so perfectly flush anymore.
“I feel-” I started, then paused to let my voice crack for dramatic effect. “I feel as though there’s something coming between us,” I cried theatrically, throwing in a little sniffle for good measure.
I felt Garland’s chest rumble as he chuckled, then pulled back to look down at me.
I tried holding my sad-eyed puss-in-boots expression; but failed miserably as I started to giggle. “Hey! You can’t laugh. I could’ve been genuinely distressed!”
“You’re a terrible actress, Camry,” he told me with a fond smile.
Holding onto me, Garland switched our positions; with me now looking out over the vast darkness beyond, and him standing behind me. I relaxed into his warm body, as his hands came around to rest on my stomach. I love when we connected this way, I felt like he’d been experiencing every step of this pregnancy with me.
Well, not every step. He hadn’t experienced the nausea, fatigue, weight gain, or swollen feet.
“You are unbelievable. You must be the only man on the planet who gets turned-on by beached whales,” I said in disbelief; feeling his hard cock pressed against my ass.
“Oh, come on, you judge yourself too harshly. From the back, I can’t tell you’re pregnant at all,” Garland teased, grinding against me to convey his meaning.
“That’s terrible!” I gasped, unable to contain my own laughter. I was eight weeks from delivery, I’d put on four more pounds, and didn’t feel the least bit sexy. Sex was the furthest thing from my mind.
“Doesn’t it creep you out to know that your baby knows what we’re doing?” I asked, leaning my head back to look up at him with an impish grin.
“Three’s a crowd, but I won’t complain if he doesn’t,” Garland responded with a wink.
The man was incorrigible. “I don’t know what you’re going to do when you have to wait the requisite six weeks, after the baby is born,” I told him with glee.
“We’ll find other interesting things to do, using our mouths…tongues…hands,” Garland whispered next to my ear, before kissing it.
Wow. I think I just felt a contraction, and not in my abdomen. “You’re going to put me into labor, you fiend,” I complained half-heartedly.
Contrary to how un-sexy I felt, whenever my husband worked his magic on my body, it enthusiastically responded.
“Dr. Schill
er said we could go all the way to the finish line, remember?” he reminded me, sounding all smug.
“Yeah, but she had no idea how much of a nympho you are—just how much you’d be making my vagina contract in orgasm,” I said on a snort.
Garland laughed. “I love making your vagina contract in orgasm; it’s one of my most favorite things to do,” he said, undeterred.
As his hands slid from my stomach to my breasts, I gave up on my feeble protest and smiled; melting into him and preparing to enjoy the ride. The fun part was always in getting there.
“Come on, let me lullaby us to sleep,” he said, clasping my hand and leading me back inside.
And he didn’t mean by singing either.
Fifty-One
G A R L A N D
Something was wrong. Whenever Camry grew silent, when she got that pensive look on her face, I knew there was something important brewing in that intelligent head of hers. I’m almost certain I know what that is.
“What’s on your mind, sweetheart? You’ve barely spoken all evening,” I told her.
We were headed to a political fundraiser in honor of Miami-Dade County’s Mayor; who as politicians went, wasn’t the worst of the swamp. Emilio Mederos, might not be completely free of capitalist influence, but he’s a principled crusader I didn’t mind putting my money behind.
“I’m okay, just a little tired, I guess,” Camry said, giving me a half-smile that I didn’t believe for a second.
“I told you we didn’t have to attend if you weren’t up to it,” I reminded her.
“No way was I letting you miss an important gig because your pregnant wife is lazy, and you wouldn’t have gone without me,” she scoffed.
“My pregnant wife isn’t lazy, she’s seven weeks from giving birth,” I corrected, amused by her self-description. “Besides, I’ve failed miserably in my duty to keep you off your feet, it’s no wonder you’re tired,” I added.
