Drowning in the East River

by Kimberly Pierce

  David shook his head. "No. It's not it at all. That's the thing."

  Jacqueline studied him with a scrutinizing eye as she combed her out-of-control hair.

  "My wif- Jessica, my mother, my father..." David said. He grabbed his tie and quickly began to adjust it around his neck, tying it into a quick knot. "It feels like everyone who I have ever been close to can't seem to stay alive."

  "That isn't your fault," Jacqueline replied. She turned to look at him. She paused for a moment as she slid her locket back around her neck. "You can't blame yourself for any of that."

  "The only thing everything has in common is me." David turned around, and met her eye contact. He tapped out his cigarette in the ash tray she kept on the bedside table. "And I think the worst thing is, I can feel myself turning into my father."

  All the years of fighting with his drunken, broken, shell of a father had convinced him of one thing, he certainly wasn't going to turn into the aging alcoholic he had been forced to watch destroy himself. He wasn't going to be the one to put his son or daughter through all of that pain.

  "You did what you had to do."

  "I just wanted to protect him," David said. He sat back down on the bed. He continued slowly, his words coming with surprising clarity despite the haze he had been floating in. "I didn't want him to go through everything I had too."

  "That sounds courageous to me," she replied. Her voice was smooth and contemplative. She paused for a moment, letting her words hang over them in the stillness of the room before she spoke again. "Being willing to put yourself through everything you have so your son can have a good life..."

  "Isn't it selfish?" David asked, raising an eyebrow.

  "I don't believe so," Jacqueline replied. She paused once again, he could see her looking off at one of the many pictures which hung on the walls. She chuckled softly as she continued, shifting her glance back to him. "You don't strike me as the kind of man who would take the easy way out."

  David shook his head.

  "After all," she said. "You're still here. You're still alive."

  "I won't lie," David said, pushing his hair back out of his eyes. "Ending things did cross my mind. It was back when I was really wallowing, but..."

  "But... You didn't." She stopped speaking just long enough to light herself another cigarette. She took a long drag as she quickly ran through her thoughts in her head. She stared at him as she continued. Her eyes were gentle, but prying. "You could have easily taken a swan dive off the

  Brooklyn Bridge, but something stopped you..."

  "My son," David replied. "I didn't want him to...loose both parents." His voice stammered slightly, searching for the right words.

  "You want to go back to him then?" Jacqueline asked.

  David stammered as he contemplated an answer. “I-- I do. I don't know how long all of this will take, but I need to redeem myself. I'm just not sure what has to happen for me to do that."

  "I know it's not my place," Jacqueline began. Her eyes took in every inch of him, positively dripping with seduction. Her voice dropped a breath octave as she continued. “If there is ever anything I can do to help you figure that out…."

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Jacqueline reached down and swallowed David's hand in her's. They were standing in front of an old factory on Merchant Street, during the week the building functioned as a grain silo.

  David remembered seeing the large freight elevator as he walked down this street on his arrival in Dublin a few weeks before. It seemed so out of place on the long block of row houses.

  "I'm hoping you'll like everyone," Jacqueline said, looping her arm through his in a subtle gesture of support. It felt almost protective. As he looked over at her, David could see her eyes scanning the sidewalk in front of them as they moved towards the front door.

  "I'm sure I will," David said, licking his dry lips once again. They were quickly getting chapped from the cold and unrelenting wind. The bitter air had the smell of approaching snow blowing in from over the North Sea. The sun hung high in the sky, but it's dull light provided no warmth.

  "How long have you known these guys?" David asked, holding the narrow door into the building open for Jacqueline to enter. He coughed as his nasal cavity was hit squarely by the musty smell and pulsating heat of the hard working radiator. As he stepped inside, he tried to shake the cold out of his aching joints.

  "A long time," Jacqueline replied, unbuttoning her coat. As she spoke, her eyes searched the room. "I think you'll like Aidan. He's a good mate. Probably one of the few I'd trust if things get tight."

  David had been enjoying the last few weeks more than he had for the previous six months. With time away from the ship, David found himself living with Jacqueline, and they had spent much of their time having sex and simply talking.

  Their bond had encouraged Jacqueline to bring him into the inner sanctum of her life. The group of men had been by her side since her husband was killed. In entering that factory, she was introducing him to the real her.

  They entered a long, windowless cavern on the third floor of the building. The walls were sparsely decorated with propaganda posters. They maneuvered through mountains of grain and oats which were piled almost floor to ceiling in the store room. Towards the far end, a simple sitting room had been set-up. People were sprawled on simple furniture, a low cloud of smoke hovered in the air.

  A group of five people were huddled together in the sitting area, fully immersed in a quiet conversation. David tucked his hands in his pockets as they walked up. He exhaled steadily, hoping to hide the nervousness he could feel building in his body language.

  As he stepped further into the room, he could see a collage of maps tacked up on the far wall. From where he stood, he could just make out a crude sketch of the complicated maze of streets in downtown Dublin. He could see locations circled in deep red crayon, notes were hastily scrawled in Irish. Strings connected the various maps.

  Jacqueline braced her hand on the small of his back, pulling his attention back to her. She paused for a moment and raised her chin up to his ear, whispering gently, "They'll love you. You'll do fine."

  The moment was enough to announce their presence to the rest of the group. "Look at what they cat dragged in!" One of the men announced boisterously, pushing himself up to his feet.

  A gangly man stepped out from group, a big smile on his face. He brushed a strand of his curly, dark brown hair out of his lined green eyes and wrapped a familiar arm around Jacqueline's waist. They exchanged a familiar embrace as he spoke. "We were beginning to think they got to you. You've been lying pretty low." He paused for a moment before turning to David, offering his hand.

  "Aidan." Aidan Delaney looked to be a few years older than David. He had a soft face, his cheeks covered with a two day beard.

  "David Freeman," David said, starting to feel at ease in the friendly environment. "Good to meet you."

  "I've had the Cairo Gang on me for weeks." Jacqueline replied, stopping to take a drag of her own cigarette. Her voice was calm, a hint of sarcasm thinly veiled in her tone. She dislodged her wide brimmed, lilac hat from her head and draped it over a hatrack. Letting her cigarette dangle between her lips, she quickly tucked a stray strand of hair back up into her bun. She smiled as she continued, "I had to ensure I was playing the pained widow card. They don't seem to believe that I'm just living the quiet life of abstinent reflection."

  Aidan turned, sizing David up like competition. "And how do you two know each other?" He had deep set green eyes which scanned David top to bottom. For the first time, the light caught a deep scar which cut across his face, just under his eye. He raised a curious eyebrow as a slow smile spread across his face.

  "Consider him a new recruit," Jacqueline said, pulling David up next to her. She wrapped her arm around his waist, making it more than clear that he was to be considered part of the inner sanctum. "David's been keeping me company while I've been laying low."

  "Abstinent reflection?" Aid
an asked.

  "You could say that," David replied. A subtle smile spread across his face, uncontrollable in the thick atmosphere of the room. He glanced over at Jacqueline, who was fully engaged in a quiet conversation with the only other woman in the room.

  “You're American," the other girl said, looking up from where she was curled up on a ratty sofa. She stabbed out her cigarette in an ash tray as she stood up and crossed toward him, offering her hand as well. “Alice Feeney.”

  "New York."

  Jacqueline sat down in one of the chairs. She looked over at him, a flashing him an intimate smile. "I've been spending some time with Mr. Freeman, and I feel like he'd be a valuable member of our group."

  David's eyes quickly shot around the room, not entirely sure where to look. He shifted in his chair, glancing over at Jacqueline. A sense of relief washed over him as she reached over from her chair and grabbed his hand inside hers, giving him fingers a snug squeeze.

  "Who tattoos?" David asked, seeing a tattoo wand and ink set up in the corner of the room.

  "Me," Aidan replied. His eyebrow raised in subtle surprise. "Interested?"

  "I am," David said, digging in his pockets. He pulled out the paper he was looking for and handed it to Aidan. "Would you be able do that?"

  The design was a symbol Jessica had carved on the inside of her door, back when she had lived with her family. She had said that it was a symbol for strength from her home county. He had kept the rough sketch she had drawn for him before he went overseas. The scrap of paper had began to yellow with age, and there was a permanent crease down the middle where it folded in his billfold.

  "I wish you didn't have to go," Jessica wiped at her nose with her handkerchief and looked up into his eyes. She cracked a small smile as she bit back a sniffle. "You know, desertion is always an option."

  "Not for me," David replied. He chuckled softly, breaking eye contact with Jessica. Another moment of staring into her eyes was liable to break him. Around them, the dock was sleepy in the early morning. A few sailors drifted through the fog which rolled off the East River in thick, misty bursts. He wound his arms around her waist and gently corralled her body into his as he shifted his eyes back onto her. "You know you wouldn't want me to do that."

  "I know," Jessica said. She sucked in a deep breath, and busied herself playing with the lapel of his drab, olive green uniform. She started over, attempting to collect herself. "I know... I just... I don't want to loose you."

  "You won't," David replied, toying with the black ringlets of hair framing her face under her hat. “I promise, Jess…”.

  Jessica cut him off sharply, "Don't say that!"

  "What's wrong?"

  "Don't promise," Jessica said, forcing a smile across her face. He could see her fighting back the emotion welling in her eyes. "Just come home."

  "I will," David said, enveloping her in a hug. "I will, Jess."

  After a moment, she stood up from the hug. "I have something..." she broke eye contact, digging through her clutch. She pulled a folded piece of paper out of the tiny bag. She bit her lip as she continued. "Promise you won't laugh."

  "What is it?" David asked.

  "Something I want you to have," Jessica said, handing him the piece of paper in her hand. "It's just something small. It's not very good...".

  David busied himself unfolding the thick paper, thankful for an excuse to keep his quivering hands busy. "What is it?"

  "It means strength," Jessica said as he looked at the green and gold symbol she had carefully drawn with shaky hands. "It was carved on some ruins where father grew up. I've always thought it was powerful. I want you to keep it with you..."

  "Always," David said, kissing her gently

  Aidan smiled as he studied the piece of paper. "I think that's possible. Take off your shirt and have a seat."

  David sat down on one of the simple wooden chairs, resting his chin against the rough wooden back support. He draped his shirt in front of him.

  "Where do you want it?" Aidan asked, sitting down next to him. The wand was clutched tightly between his fingers as he looked over David's bare back. He took a deep breath and downed a shot glass of brandy, steadying his fingers.

  David pointed to the back of his shoulder blade.

  "Hope you're okay with needles," Aidan said with a soft chuckle.

  David leaned forward and closed his eyes as he felt the stinging pain of the experienced tattoo artist setting to work. He focused on breathing deeply, inhaling the smoky air deep into his lungs.

  "Are you all right?" Jacqueline asked, he could hear her set her glass down next to her and lean forward. Even with his eyes closed, he could see her dark eyes studying him.

  "Fine," David replied. He tried to exhale quietly to hide any semblance of pain in his voice. He wanted to look tough. He looked up and took a quick puff of his cigarette.

  "How have things been, Jacks?" Aidan asked, breaking the tired silence of the room as he continued working. Every few seconds, he shot a quick glance in her direction as he continued his work. "Since I haven't seen you in almost two months."

  David looked over in time to see her crack a small smile.

  "I've been rethinking everything," Jacqueline said. She sat forward in her seat, wringing her fingers excitedly in front of her. "I believe we need to rework the structure and message behind the movement." She reached into her bag and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She paused long enough to light one before she continued with verve. "I'm not entirely sure we are getting our point across with the way we're handling things. We need to dictate the story we want to tell. Right now, we're content with letting them set our path."

  David did his best to focus on her words, really listening to what Jacqueline said seemed to help numb out the pain.

  "You're the first one to tear down what the other groups do," Aidan said, playing devil's advocate.

  He looked over at her, his eyes shining. His expression was playful, and their body language said they verbally sparred with each other often. Watching their interactions for even a few minutes, David could see the obvious sexual tension between them boiling beneath the surface. Aidan continued. "Wasn't it you who said that we can't overpower them, we have to beat them at their own game?"

  "Trying to be better then them hasn't been furthering shit," Jacqueline replied, her tone almost coldly logical in response. "We have people trying to negotiate while they..."

  "Are murdering children in the street," David jumped in. He looked up from where he was cradling his head on the back of the chair. He hadn't learned the girl's name, but her blood still stained his fingernails. Two weeks of washing his hands hadn't been enough to clean the evidence from his nails.

  "Exactly," Jacqueline said, after a beat of silence. She was looking across at David, seemingly surprised at the sudden and blunt nature of his comment. "David was on the High Street during the massacre."

  "My apologies," Aidan said, shifting his glance back down towards David. He shook his hand as a pained expression flashed over his face.

  "No need," David said.

  He brushed a strand of hair back from his eyes and tucked his hands in front of him and out of sight under his chin. "I'm still alive. There are a lot of people who aren't so lucky."

  "He tried to help Eileen Moran." Jacqueline said, her voice dropping a sympathetic octave. David could see her fingers nervously playing with a cross hanging around her neck as she continued.

  "It wasn't good enough," David said, his tone simple and to the point. He squeezed his eyes closed, forcing the image of the dying girl from his head. His eyes snapped open as he refocused on the crowd around him. He repressed a shiver which shot through his muscles. "The wound was just too serious."

  "I heard how you stayed with her," Aidan said, his voice sympathetic. He stopped for a moment, pulling back the tattoo wand to look down at David. The slightest hint of emotion built in his voice as he continued, "I live around the corner from her family. I know they're gratefu
l."

  "She was dying in front of me," David said, stopping abruptly. His eyes flashed, starkly clear in the hazy mood of the room. He glanced back over his shoulder at the tattoo. His voice was cutting as he continued, "I didn't want to let her die in the middle of the street. I couldn't let that happen.”

  "All this scar tissue," Aidan said, still working on his back. He stopped and looked up, raising an interested eyebrow as he continued. "You in the war?"

  "France. They always say your life is supposed to flash before your eyes," David said. He looked to his right, making eye contact with Jacqueline. He rubbed his temples gently, trying to massage away a throbbing headache. "I don't remember anything like that happening. I heard the call, took three steps up and over the trench, and then...nothing. Everything went black."