This Guy Kills Me

by Anlyn Hansell

  “How long have you been out here?”

  “Just a couple of minutes. Could we go inside for just a second? It’s really kind of cold out here.” She nodded her head toward the door to the garage as her arms hugged her torso.

  “No. Let’s just go back to the house.”

  “Joe? Please, it’ll only take a second.”

  “Say it now.”

  “I can’t. My toes are numb. Please?” she pleaded as his hold disappeared and a whoosh of breath could be heard.

  “Fine. Go in,” he ordered after opening the door and flicking on the light.

  “Talk,” he commanded after shutting the door. The concrete on the floor of the garage was hardly any warmer than the concrete outside, she noticed as she switched feet.

  “All right. First of all, I want to apologize. I think I weirded you out tonight. I didn’t mean to do that, but do you at least believe me now?”

  He didn’t respond.

  “You have to believe me, there’s no way I would’ve known that. Can’t you just -”

  “I’m weirded out,” he cut her off softly.

  “Sorry.”

  “So I hear. Can we go back in now?” his tone changed to a bland dismissal.

  “No! I have a couple of questions.”

  “So do I. What the hell did you and Betty talk about tonight?”

  “Stuff, mainly her. She asked me to read her and I did,” she offered quickly before focusing her attention on his eyes. “I asked her who was cut out of the pictures in the living room and she told me to ask you.”

  Almost immediately, she felt a tremor through her body that had nothing to do with the cold. His face was receding and disappearing, replaced by a room; a nice room with a few people milling about.

  A nice room with a large splay of red flowers next to a closed casket.

  He was angry. There weren’t nearly enough people in the room. Someone was missing. Someone that should be there, but wasn’t. Anger seemed to morph into guilt. If he had been here, he wouldn’t be in this room right now, with far too few people honoring an honorable man.

  “You’re in a funeral home. There’re only a few people there. Your mom is sitting on the side of the room next to Betty. She should be crying, but she’s not. You feel so bad right now. You can’t believe that no one showed up. Mar…Martin…Mark…Mar…cus. Marcus. That’s your dad. That’s your dad in the coffin. And the lid’s closed,” she stated as the vision became blurred then disappeared entirely leaving her staring at his face. His gaze was cast downward.

  “He didn’t kill himself,” she stated on shaky whisper.

  His eyes flicked up toward hers. “How do you know that?” he gasped out.

  “You told me.”

  “I never told you that.”

  “I don’t mean you told me. I mean that while I was standing in that room and looking around, I kept thinking, ‘He didn’t kill himself’ – but that was you. I was you. You were thinking that.”

  “I need to sit down,” he stated quietly after a moment’s hesitation.

  “Sure.”

  “You know it was in the papers, I suppose you could have read that,” he stated more to himself than her as he sat on the stool.

  “I thought we were over that. I thought I convinced you. Why can’t you just open your mind and realize that I’m not full of shit?”

  “Because this is completely unbelievable to a rational mind, that’s why. Just give me a chance to absorb this. It’s creepy. You’re creepy. The whole situation is surreal and I’m having a little difficulty here,” he stated as his eyes concentrated on her feet.

  “You’re never going to look at me again, are you?” she asked in a soft tone. He said she was creepy. For some reason, that hurt more than she would let on.

  “Jane? It’s hard not to look at you. I’m just…you’re just... I can’t have this conversation right now.” He blew out a frustrated sigh before running his hand through his hair.

  What did that mean? Was that a compliment or an insult? She shifted from foot to foot, scrunching her numb toes. She ignored her feet and concentrated on him instead; she might never have this opportunity again.

  “How long ago did it happen? I had this feeling that you thought you could have stopped it if you were here, but you weren’t. What does that mean?”

  “Jane -” he started before she interrupted him.

  “No! Maybe I can help. Maybe I can use this creepy ability of mine to help you. Did you ever think of that?”

  “I don’t know what to think right now.”

  “How long ago, Joe?”

  She watched as his eyes darted around; clearly he was debating what to reveal. His eyes finally settled on hers before flitting away to a spot beyond her shoulder.

  “Nine years,” he uttered softly.

  “Where were you?”

  “Iraq, on my second tour of duty.”

  “So, what happened?”

  He took a deep breath and concentrated on a spot in front of her feet.

  “All I know is that he was investigating a drug ring. He was in Narcotics at the time, some of the money marked as evidence was found in our old garage. I guess there were some other issues with the investigation – the paperwork was screwed up, witness accounts missing. Internal Affairs got involved. It was really ugly. He called me when this was all going down. He said he thought he was set up. We couldn’t talk long, I was in the middle of a mission and we lost contact for days. When I finally made it back to base, I got the news. My mom called to tell me he committed suicide the day before.” His eyes snapped to hers.

  “He was an honorable man, Jane. He was a good cop. There’s no way he did it. Mom thinks he shamed the family, she won’t even talk about him or allow any kind of picture in the house,” he stated as his brow furrowed. “He doesn’t deserve this. He didn’t do it. I know he didn’t. I just have to prove it. For him…for her.”

  “That’s very noble -” she stated as she took a slight step forward before stopping herself.

  “Noble? I don’t know about that. Maybe I’m being selfish,” he commented wryly. “I don’t know how much longer she can hang on. She’s already had a portion of her liver cut out and the rest is failing. She’s type AB negative and we can’t find a donor. I want her to know the truth before she…you know.”

  “That’s not selfish,” Jane stated softly.

  “I just don’t want to see her in pain any more. I want her to be OK. Other than Betty, she’s all I have left.”

  “What about the other boy? The one in the pictures with you?” Maybe she was overstepping her bounds, but he seemed so open for a change. His expression changed from wistful to guarded in a split second.

  “That’s another story,” was all he offered before standing. “Come on, you’re freezing, your teeth are chattering. Let’s go.”

  “I can’t feel my toes,” she blurted absently.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t walk outside without shoes. Just a thought,” he added with a sarcastic twinge to his voice as he stepped toward her and quickly scooped her up before she could step back or protest in any way. Not that she would have. He held her tightly to his torso as he concentrated on opening the door, turning the lock on the knob and flicking off the lights.

  “I expect that you keep this conversation to yourself,” he felt the need to state. “And I also expect you to keep your eyes off my mom. I don’t want you blurting anything to her; she’s already stressed enough, Ok?” he ordered as he shut the door behind them.

  She nodded her head before resting it on his shoulder.

  “Was that a ‘yes’?” he asked as he walked across the backyard.

  “Mmm hmm,” she murmured.

  “Good. I think we’ll leave tomorrow. I have some… things going on right now,” he remarked as he stooped to grab the door handle at the back of the house. Her arms immediately circled his shoulders causing the briefest moment of awkwardness as their faces came into close contact. He immediat
ely straightened and turned his face forward dismissing her easily, it seemed, as she continued to stare at his profile.

  He must have closed the door with his foot. She heard the soft click as he stepped up into the kitchen, his arms still wrapped tightly around her back and under her knees. He could have put her down, but he didn’t. In fact, he walked all the way to the spare bedroom and laid her on the soft mattress while she continued to stare at his features basked in the soft blue light from the moon. He was tucking her legs beneath the down comforter, pulling it up to her chin as she lay immobile; fascinated by the way the light cast his features in the most complimentary way.

  “I’m glad you finally believe me,” she whispered lightly.

  “Yeah, well, I’m processing that. I’m still a little freaked out,” he whispered back. The bed shifted as he sat next to her.

  “Do you understand now why I don’t want to live anymore? I mean, I bring nothing but misery to people. I’m like a cruel joke to mankind,” her whispered admission sounded pained to her own ears, but it was true.

  He didn’t respond. He did, however, reach out and trace her cheek with his finger lightly. That small contact left her nerves crackling throughout from her face to her core, down to her numb toes before he abruptly pulled his hand away.

  “Sometimes I feel the same way. Good night, Jane,” he stated gently before standing.

  “Good night, Joe.”

  He stood for a moment, it almost appeared as if he wanted to say something else, but he didn’t. Maybe he was debating on whether to lie next to her. The bed was big enough, maybe not as huge as the beds in the hotel rooms, but…

  “Is everything Ok?” a female voice asked from the doorway.

  Jane watched as Joe’s eyes widened slightly before he blinked and sort of shook his head for a moment.

  “Yeah…ahh, Ok, sure. Jane? Good night.” He turned and acknowledged the nurse with a slight nod as he walked toward the door.

  “She sleep walks. Can I talk to you for a second?” he added as he neared the door.

  Jane could hear a soft “sure” from the nurse before the door closed and she was left with her own company.

  Her hand immediately reached up and touched the very spot he trailed his finger down.

  The skin was still tingling.

  Chapter 9

  Muffled voices could be heard beyond the closed bedroom door as her eyes popped open and adjusted to the sunlit room. It was impossible to make out the conversation, but something must have been funny as laughter rang out causing a small smile to spread on her face.

  Stretching, she turned her face to the alarm clock on the nightstand and opened her eyes wide. 10:06 glared back at her, causing her to sit up immediately and sweep the hair from her face.

  He believes me.

  Just that thought alone was enough motivation to swing her legs to the side of the bed and stand up. Smoothing her hair, she wandered across the room and noticed the door wasn’t fully closed, as if someone had opened it again after he closed it the night before. She took tentative steps into the hallway and the voices were so much clearer at that point. Karen, Joe, definitely Betty. Her feet carried her near the door before another male voice rang out. A low, booming voice; an unfamiliar voice that she had not heard previously. Her body immediately froze but it was too late. She had already taken a step into their line of vision. A loud creak heralded her presence.

  “Good morning, Jane!” Karen smiled broadly, her skin looked somewhat better today, color-wise and her hair and makeup were done quite nicely. She looked so much happier and vibrant than their first encounter.

  Betty was seated at the far end of the table with a mug of coffee in front of her. The nurse she met yesterday sat next to her with a matching mug.

  A rather large man was seated next to Karen. He was what one would describe as distinguished looking, definitely in his sixties or maybe early seventies with a full head of thick silver and white hair. His brown eyes caught and held Jane’s as she attempted to look around the room. She gave him a slight smile, relaxing when nothing came to mind, fortunately.

  “You missed our run.”

  Her eyes shifted when she heard the bland comment thrown her way from Joe. He was dressed in a T-Shirt and sweat pants, leaning on the small kitchen island with a mug of something in his hands. Could have been coffee, might be raw eggs, knowing Joe…

  “Bummer,” she muttered dryly before her eyes swept back to the table. Or rather, the large box of what appeared to be sticky buns in the middle of the table.

  “Here, have a seat, can I get you a cup of coffee?” Karen immediately attempted to push away from the table before the nurse stopped her.

  “I’ll get it, here, take my seat,” the pretty nurse pushed back before Jane halted her.

  “No! No, I can get it, please just sit,” Jane stated before taking another step into the room. Hopefully she didn’t look like too much of a disaster, she thought as Joe placed his mug on the island and led her to the coffee pot.

  “No weird stuff, Ok?” he felt the need to whisper in her ear after handing her a mug. Luckily a bank of cabinets hung from the ceiling separating the kitchen from the dining area.

  “Ok,” she whispered back.

  “I told Betty to keep the psychic thing to herself,” he statedina low voice, causing a small shiver to run from her ear down her neck for some unknown reason.

  “Fine,” she whispered in response as she tilted the coffee pot.

  “What are you two talking about?” Betty’s voice rang out.

  “None of your business, Betty,” he stated but his eyes were still locked on Jane. Without thinking, he swept a stray tendril of hair to the side of her face, tucking it behind her ear.

  It was all she could do to hold on to the mug.

  “Come on,” his hand dropped immediately and he turned to wander back around the island, seating himself on one of the stools and pulling one out for Jane next to him.

  “This is Scott. Scott this is Jane. Scott’s a friend of the family.” He indicated the older man seated at the table.

  “Nice to meet you, Jane.” He passed an almost knowing look between Jane and Joe before taking a sip of coffee.

  “We were just talking about Joe going to the reunion tonight,” Betty supplied before shoving a piece of sticky bun in her mouth.

  “Drop it,” Joe practically growled.

  “I will not drop it,” she responded with a full mouth. “This is the plan. We get girlie dolled up, you show up, be all like, ‘check me out, bitches’ and then you can leave. It wouldn’t hurt if maybe you could put an ass-whoopin’ on Tony Silvano while you’re at it. Is that too much to ask?” She looked around the table for some support. Apparently Scott was not in agreement. He was shaking his head.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. And why are you talking like a teenager?”

  “Senior Center, don’t ask,” Karen supplied before turning her attention to Joe.

  “I think you should do it. Your therapist says you need closure, honey.”

  “Mom!” Joe let out an exasperated plea. “Would you just…no one needs to know that, doesn’t anyone in this family have any couth? Geez!” he sighed before rolling his eyes skyward.

  “Listen to him. He doesn’t want to do it.” Scott shrugged.

  “Besides, don’t you have to RSVP for that? Trust me, I did not RSVP.” Joe turned his attention from Karen to Betty.

  “Oh, we took the liberty of responding to the invite.” Karen and Betty shared a conspiratorial look after Karen’s admission.

  “What do you think, Jane?” Betty pointed her piece of sticky bun toward her.

  “Me? I don’t know…I guess…it’s none of my business? Can I have a sticky bun?” she added quickly.

  “No.”

  “Sure.”

  Joe and Betty answered at the same time.

  Jane popped off her stool only to be hauled back by both arms from behind.

  “I’l
l make you something,” he rasped into her ear as he settled her back up against him.

  “I’d rather have a sticky bun,” she commented, staring at the box in the middle of the table.

  “Let her have the sticky bun, you food Nazi. Come here, girlie,” Betty encouraged with a sly smile on her face.

  She took a tentative step forward only to be hauled back up against him once more.

  “Jane…?”

  “Joe…?” She began to peel his fingers from her upper arm before he turned her toward him. “I’ll take you out to breakfast, we’re leaving anyway,” he stated before Karen interrupted him.

  “No! You said you’d stay two days, Joe. Two days,” she admonished.

  “I have some things to take care of,” he replied, still looking at Jane.

  “Like what? Oh Joe, I hardly ever get to see you anymore. I don’t have much time left, how can you be so cruel?”

  His eyes registered the pain he was feeling inside. In an instant, they went from determined to soft. “All right,” he uttered quietly.

  “Good. And you’ll go to the reunion.”

  “Oh, god,” he whispered on a frustrated breath.

  *****

  “So maybe you can out that asshole, like right in the middle of the reunion. He’s such a slime; I’ll bet he has all kinds of dirty little secrets. You’ll do that, huh?” Betty called out from the other side of the door. They were alone in the small changing room at the back of a posh boutique in Troy later that day.

  Jane turned and twisted to peruse herself from different angles. The soft purplish blue color of the short sheath dress worked well with her skin tone and the cut accentuated what few curves she actually had.

  “No. Are you kidding? Joe would kill me.” No really Betty, he probably would…

  “No he wouldn’t. He’s sweet on you,” she stated with certainty. The words caused Jane’s eyes to widen as she stared at herself in the mirror.