My Vicious Demise (Demise #2)

by Shana Vanterpool

  I was comfortable with mess. James and I were messy already. Mess, sex, desire, and control. I was swimming in my own naughtiness. James and I ate pancakes dripping with syrup and butter in obviously uncomfortable silence.

  I couldn’t stand it any longer and got up to grab the notebook that was still on the countertop.

  Can we talk?

  He stared at my request hard. Finally he took the pencil and delivered his response.

  As long as it doesn’t end with any or all of our body parts in or around our mouths at all.

  He was afraid of me. This I understood. Carefully, I extracted the pencil from his hand. I wouldn’t want to touch the damn man.

  I think I can refrain from putting my mouth and hands anywhere near your body.

  I rolled my eyes.

  Then we can talk.

  I decided to start off easy. I didn’t have a particular direction for this conversation. I only knew that it needed to happen.

  I’m sorry for pushing you. You can either talk around me or you can’t. But if you choose to do so I would be honored. Can I ask why you don’t?

  James took his time answering. He ate his pancakes reluctantly, staring at the notebook as though it were going to jump up and force the answer out of him.

  I sound like a monster.

  His answer saddened me.

  How do you know?

  Ask anyone who’s heard me.

  He smiled condescendingly. After a second of staring at my face, he scribbled down an additional answer.

  Other than Raina or Kent.

  Why can you talk in front of Raina? I’m not her, but we’re not incredibly different.

  He wrote, his script heavy and sharp,

  Because, I’m not afraid of her reaction.

  I frowned. Why did my reaction differ from hers?

  Do you think I’m that much of a bitch?

  He did. He thought that. Otherwise he’d talk to me the way he talked to Raina.

  Personally, I don’t think your deafness is an excuse to be a presumptive asshole.

  James yanked the pencil from my hand.

  Next question, Becca.

  Just know this. You can talk in front of me. I won’t run away screaming. I promise.

  I cracked a smile and nudged him with my foot under the table. Secretly I might have wanted to hear his voice even more now that I knew he didn’t trust me with it. Trusting Rain made sense. But if James trusted Kent over me then there was a problem. What about me made him so incredibly uneasy?

  His smile was small.

  That’s what you’re saying now.

  My breakfast was finished, but I needed the opportunity to figure out how to tread carefully, so I pushed around the remnants of my syrup on my plate, creating a snake shape. Talking to James was nerve-racking. I didn’t know what would bother him and what was safe.

  Where did you go last night?

  Away from you.

  Clearly. Are you purposely ignoring what we did?

  He looked down at his empty plate and nodded.

  Why?

  I slid the notebook under his face. Once I’d established he read it, I wrote one more reply.

  Would you rather I forget it as well?

  Another nod.

  It dawned on me that perhaps I really did push him too far this time. The panic in his eyes when he bolted off the couch was obviously real, but so were all the other times we left each other during emotionally charged situations. A sense of dread that I did not understand moved over me. James wasn’t kidding. This wasn’t a game to him any longer. I was the only one still playing. I’d known what I needed to do from the moment we locked eyes, but I also knew I did things that were bad for me more often than I chose the better option. There was hardly any escape in the better option.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and did what I always did. I took a deep breath and accepted what I did not like with the promise of forgetting it later.

  What blow job, right?

  He peeked at me and then his shoulders slouched. Carefully taking the pencil, he crossed out my sentence and wrote a new one above it, copying my cursive.

  It was unforgettable. But so are a lot of other events in my life and I’ve forced myself to forget them.

  And then he wrote:

  I could use a friend too, Becca.

  Did I get turned down by the first man ever in my history? Did James know that made him even sexier? Did James know it wasn’t my fault anymore? It was his, those eyes, and the look in them when he came undone in my mouth. James was responsible for his own damn demise now.

  Then you have one. Be prepared. My friends have been known to weep with their love for me.

  James’s lips quirked.

  I don’t doubt you’ve brought a few to tears.

  He must think I was a dominatrix. I’d gone that route, but I didn’t employ those techniques in my everyday life. Somehow walking around with a whip wearing all leather gave people the wrong idea.

  I’m really not that bad. I promise.

  His face softened.

  I know. I was kidding. I’m not really good at it.

  Try it. Tell me a joke.

  He paused, and then smiled a little. Then he drew an arrow pointing at me and sat back, grinning full on for the first time.

  My thoughts faded to background mush. My eyesight dulled to only include his smile. I felt like I was trapped in a bubble, fading out of existence. His teeth were the color of fresh, untainted white paint. His sculpted lips stretched over them and his eyes shined, ripping my soul out of me with claws and blades. It might have been the most earth-shattering smile I’ve ever seen. Even that one time when Rain was little and fell down and I rushed to pick her up. She cried, bawling into my shoulder as I rocked her. I told her a joke and she looked up at me through her tears, grinning like an angel. Even that wasn’t as profound as this smile. I knew in that moment I was in serious trouble. James was replacing Raina’s memories with his own. That was dangerous on a level I wasn’t willing to risk.

  I had to shake this man.

  Luckily for him his joke was funny. I smiled back and hoped he couldn’t see that he was burrowing under my skin like a parasite.

  Haha James. I would have wet myself but it wasn’t worth risking my panties over.

  The strength of his grin faded, but he still maintained most of his smile.

  You mean you actually wear panties?

  Lacey black G-strings. Does that count?

  The remainder of his smile faded and he narrowed his eyes at me.

  Are you wearing a pair right now?

  I shook my head yes. Truthfully I wasn’t wearing panties at all, but I doubted that would benefit this conversation.

  “Becca,” he mouthed, clearly warning me.

  Sorry.

  This time I did laugh.

  I’ll stop. How are your pancakes?

  Good. Thank you.

  He made the sign for thank you again, pressing his fingers flat to his lips and extending his hand toward me after he mouthed his reply.

  Can you teach me some signs?

  Like what?

  His mouth was turned down.

  I didn’t let his displeasure get in my way.

  How do you say: you are my friend?

  I smiled shyly and then hoped he didn’t realize how insanely uncomfortable that was for me to ask. This was his world. I didn’t normally want to include myself in others’ lives, because my own was eventful enough, but I found the idea of being included in James’s life unsettlingly appealing.

  He smiled delicately. He pointed at me and them at himself and then interlocked his index fingers together.

  I mirrored his actions. “Correct?” He nodded. I picked up the pencil and asked something else.

  How do you say my name? How does that work?

  I’ll spell it out. Watch my hands.

  He made one movement and then mouthed, “B.” He followed that four more times, mouthing, “E.C.C.
A.” Try it.

  After four tries, I had it down. I signed my name with a triumphant grin and then asked him to teach me his. I made the motions slowly, saying each letter out loud so I wouldn’t forget one. “J-A-M-E-S.”

  Is there an alphabet?

  Yes. But signing isn’t always about the alphabet. Signing with letters can take too long.

  That made sense. I feared the end of this conversation. We were finally getting along without ripping our clothes off or pushing the other away. Breakfast had been over for quite some time and I didn’t want to push him. But I would. Of course I would.

  How do you say good morning?

  He frowned, thinking about it. He held up two fingers, tapped the first one to indicate he was going to explain one way first. He made a sign that almost looked like thank you, but he touched his other hand and then followed that movement by bringing his left over his bicep and lifting his right hand. James tapped his second finger and then simply brought his right hand down on his left, making a much simpler sign. He raised his eyebrows at me with an amused look, and then he got up.

  I stared in confusion as he settled behind me. He grabbed both my hands in his and then brought my right hand to my mouth and reenacted the same sign he just demonstrated, finishing by bringing my left arm on top. When he’d finished, he leaned over and caught my gaze.

  “Got it?” he mouthed.

  “No,” I lied. “Show me again.”

  He moved behind me once more, and holding me gently in his large hands, he showed me how to sign good morning. My heart hammered in my chest and I just wanted to turn around and feel his arms around me. After the second attempt I gave in and signed it back perfectly, although I preferred the simpler way.

  He gave me a thumbs-up and a proud smile, and then he put his palms together, making a circular motion. “Wash dishes,” he mouthed.

  That small, proud smile made me want to earn another one. “Together?” I asked, knowing it would look like a harmless question to him. Really, I was pleading with him.

  He made a fist. I recognized it as the letter S and then he shook his fist. “Yes,” he mouthed, giving me another lesson.

  The word yes was easy enough to remember.

  Too bad everything else wasn’t.

  Chapter Ten

  James

  If I focused, narrowed my eyesight to one line and took my thoughts as they came, I could almost forget the part of me who wanted to lift Becca onto the counter and bury myself between her legs.

  The image was incessant and intoxicating. I handed her a wet plate and she dried it with the kitchen towel, touching my hand in the process. What was it about this girl that made me want to relinquish my manhood and common sense? And be completely satisfied with what was left? Because though I wanted it, I also had to admit to myself that a woman like Becca O’Connor wouldn’t leave an easy pleasant memory behind. Her memory would be vicious.

  I had enough vicious memories without adding more.

  When the dishes were done I took the towel from her and dried my hands, trying not to catch her gaze. It was safer that way. Once I did she imprisoned me, trapping me in her web. A woman like her had many webs, and I had a feeling I’d survive none of them. At least I wouldn’t be the same man when she dropped my carcass onto the ground. Although was that such a terrible thing? The man I was now was barely alive. I wondered how depressed I was for the idea of being eviscerated to bring me peace.

  She grabbed my arm to get my attention. “What are you doing today?”

  I was a capable man when I needed to be. Sure, I had plenty of inadequacies, but right now I forced myself to employ the part of my brain that craved common sense. I had to shake this girl. “Nothing,” I mouthed. “Spring break.”

  Her eyes brightened. “Any plans?”

  I shook my head. Of course not.

  “We could hang out, but I have to be at work at five.” Her eyes flashed to my hickey and then returned to my face. She looked impassive, but there was a dark light in her gaze. “Or you could stop by after my shift. I get off at one. I’ll buy you a beer?” Her expression looked hesitant, as if she couldn’t believe she asked me that any more than I could believe it.

  To save us both the impending trouble of that scenario I shook my head. My thoughts were still full of her and the horror of her wanting me to talk. The less time we spent together the better. I placed the towel back on the stove handle. Breakfast was over. There was no excuse for us to be in the same room together. Before I started looking for excuses I thanked her once more and left her there.

  I locked my bedroom door and stared at my room, avoiding the fact that my ceiling had more life in it than I had in me. I tripped over clothes and beer bottles on my way to the couch. I drank myself to sleep last night, pounding beer after beer as I attempted to convince myself it was better to let something go before it destroyed me than to prove myself right. I’d succeeded. Or at least I thought I did. I wasn’t exactly sure how looking at the TV was winning anything. I turned the captions off and stared, practicing watching body language while interpreting what they were saying by studying their lips. After an hour I wanted another six-pack.

  To occupy myself I gathered a load of laundry and my detergent. Becca was in the middle of playing Halo when I traveled past the living room. I paused and stared, watching her shoot someone’s head off from an impressive distance. She said something into the mouthpiece and I watched her laugh, wanting, not for the first time, to hear it. I can’t remember hearing laughter even when I could. My mother never laughed and I don’t think I did either. Laughter wasn’t a part of our lifestyle. Abuse and indifference were.

  Becca didn’t acknowledge me on my way out.

  The laundry room was empty save for a woman in the corner reading a novel with a half-naked man on the cover. She looked immersed. I deposited my dirty laundry into a free washing machine and then took a seat next to her, taking my phone out. People had a tendency to take clothes out to free up an unsupervised washer. I’d sit here until they were done. The reader set her book down and went to exchange her clothes, smiling pleasantly before she returned to her seat. She looked at me again, almost doing a double-take. Her smile deepened and she winked before returning to her novel. I frowned at my phone, and then realized what she was winking at.

  Damn Becca.

  She may as well have tattooed Becca’s Bitch on my forehead when she gave me this hickey.

  To make matters worse a text message vibrated in my hands. I stared at the sender’s name for a long time before I answered it.

  Tess: Can we talk?

  What did Tess want to talk about? Everything was obvious to me. I was a pathetic monster and she was going to forget I existed. I accepted it. She should too. I put my phone into my pocket, but after another minute it vibrated again.

  Tess: Please James? I miss you.

  She missed me? I stared at the ground, picking apart the designs in the dirty floor. Did she miss me or did she miss the James she thought she knew? The one who could have been deaf but looked normal? The socially acceptable deaf version and not the real handicapped one we now knew I was?

  My fingers slid over my keyboard as I wondered what to say to her. I thought we were done. She was going to fade into the distance and I was going to let her.

  James: I’m deaf. There’s nothing either of us can do about it. If you can’t deal with that then it’s your own damn problem. I can’t be someone else to make you feel better.

  I hit send before I could erase it. This was the truth. This was me. As unpleasant as that was she had to accept it the same way I did. I wasn’t sure I had, but I knew eventually I would.

  Tess: I don’t want you to be someone else. I like you the way you are.

  As much as I wanted to believe her I could still see her expression when I talked. She had to understand I wasn’t a cute pet project. I had feelings and my life was impacted by her indifference. It reminded me too much of someone else, someone with wide gree
n eyes…

  James: Say it. You are deaf, James. You’ll never hear my voice.

  Tess: Stop.

  James: It’s the truth. I have no idea what you sound like and I can’t. No matter how hard I want to.

  Tess: You are deaf. I accept that. I’m staying here for spring break. Are you going anywhere?

  What was I doing? Tess, Becca, and the girl I hooked up with last night—these women didn’t want me. Why was I still bothering? Because I wanted to be wanted. We all do. I just wanted to feel it once in my life. Just one time. So I gave in like the pathetic bastard I was.

  James: I’m doing something right now, but I can come over when I’m done?