by Portia Moore
I didn’t.
I had no feelings about it. They were all I knew, all that I remembered. No one else was important, the past wasn’t important and just like whatever happened before it, I buried deep down in no man's land.
“Killed. She was murdered?” I ask, my voice a ghost of itself. Every emotion in me seems to be on pause. I’d thought that my heart would speed up, that my breath would catch but I feel nothing.
Numb.
“She was shot,” he says simply.
“By Clay Rice,” I infer, putting the pieces together.
“That’s what Cal believes,” he replies.
“Was he ever convicted? Did he go to jail?”
“There wasn’t enough evidence.”
“So what happened to him?”
“After the charges were dropped he disappeared,” he explains and reaches into his brief case and pulls out a flash drive.
“This is all the information that I have about the case, information about both of your parents.” He is holding it out for me to take. My eyes stare at the little black drive that holds a key to my past, to a world I never knew about, or wanted to know for that matter.
“I don’t want it,” I tell him sternly.
“Do you think it’s wise for you not to have it?” he asks smugly.
“Tell me whatever I need to know.” I’m sure nothing is in there that he wouldn’t want me to know anyway. I don’t trust the Crestfields as far as I can throw them.
“Well Christopher,” he says, a little annoyed. “You should know that Cal is pretty set on killing Clay Rice, and he’s coming dangerously close to doing it,”
“What?” I ask, not able to hide my anger or surprise.
“I have done my absolute best at trying to prevent that from happening. However, since Cal has not been working for me, I’m unaware who his contacts are and the fact that he told me to go fuck myself during his last excursion, it will be more difficult than it has in the past to keep him from doing so.”
This is a bad dream. This is all a bad dream. He wants to kill someone. He wants to add murderer to the list with asshole and jerk off?
He can’t do this.
“I can’t let this happen. I won’t let this happen…” I let out a long grunt.
“What is wrong with him? Does he not care about going to jail, or ruining his life?” I ask in disbelief.
“He doesn’t think that he’ll get caught of course, Christopher.”
“Right because he doesn’t think. He just acts!”
“Do you not think that someone who has committed murder deserves to face some means of punishment?” he asks quizzically.
“It’s not my job to punish people. He’s not the judge and the jury. He doesn’t even know if this guy killed her.”
“That’s what he remembers, Chris.” I look up at him, confused.
“Remembers. He remembers?” I ask.
“He remembers quite a lot apparently.”
“I have to stop him. He can’t do this,” I say quietly.
“I need your help,” I say, forcing the words up from my throat, it tastes bitter to even say them aloud.
“With my help comes inconvenience, as you may know.”
“I don’t care about the inconvenience. If he does this, I won’t be able to deal with it. If he’s able to make this happen...” I say honestly.
“I can have someone tail you.”
“Follow me?”
“Just in case.”
“He’s resourceful, I think you need to tell Lauren what’s going on.”
With all that has happened, and all she has worried about, I don’t want to put that type of stress on her. Telling her that he…that I’m intent on killing someone—my biological father. That’s not something she needs to know.
“I’d rather this stay between us. She has enough to deal with.”
“Your choice, my friend.”
“My people are very discreet. It will be like they’re not even there.”
“It has to be. I don’t want her to think we’re being followed. I want things to be as normal as possible.”
“Thank you Dexter,” I tell him, before reaching for the door.
“There may be another way, where you don’t have to live like this,” he says casually.
“What other way?”
“It would come with some risks…”
Cal
April 16th 2011
Same dream almost every night, one I wish I could get away from. The woman’s pale white skin contrasts against the pool of red blood surrounding her, soaking her clothes and mine. The little boy, who cried for hours before someone found him. I used to wake up in a cold sweat, my heart pounding as adrenaline coursed through me. But now I’ve grown immune to it, at least that’s what I’ve tried to convince myself. I tell myself I’m not affected, that this dream isn’t as terrifying as it used to be. But how can I forget the woman and child when I’m still tormented by my own cries and panic nearly suffocates me?
Something has changed. I look at the woman lying beside me, and everything is better. So why do I feel worse? Before her I never wanted kids or a family, to be so close to someone that their loss would feel worse than this recurring dream. I love her, and love interferes with my only cure. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to love anyone but myself. The only feeling I ever wanted was revenge. Revenge and pleasure—nothing more, nothing less. For me they are one and the same, an obsession that became an addiction. But this—her arms wrapped around me and her breath on my skin—feels like peace. Peace and vengeance don’t work well together, having one sacrifices the other.
She’ll graduate soon, going onto the next chapter in her life. I feel like the chapter is about to be closed on me. She’s not sure what she wants to do after school. She talks about getting a job, but she’s hated every place she’s interviewed for. She’s about to jump into the cycle I loathe—work for pennies, buy a house you really never liked, and just get older and more miserable as each year passes. She should travel, see the world and draw it on that sketch pad of hers. I want her to see the places I was able to see once I broke free. Paris, Rome, the Alps, I’ve been around the world and back. She deserves the same; she deserves everything she wants. The problem is she wants me, and I want her more than anything I have ever wanted. But she doesn’t really know what having me means. I went to the jeweler Dexter uses, and bought one of the most expensive rings they had. But I haven’t given it to her, what's stopping me is the fact that I love her, and I know her. I know that she wants marriage, but not the kind that I can give her. She wants children, she wants someone that she can grow old with. A normal guy, and normal’s just not me.
Then why do you have the ring?
“Good morning,” she says, running her hand through my hair, her eyes barely open.
“You still have two hours to sleep.”
“What’s wrong?” she asks, cupping my face.
“Nothing,” I tell her playfully before rolling on top of her. She laughs.
“It looks like your mind is somewhere else,” she says looking at me earnestly.
“Just thinking about how I want to take you to Europe,” I tell her and she rolls her eyes playfully.
“Yeah right.” She doesn’t believe me, but when I tilt my head and look her into her hypnotizing eyes they widen.
“Are you serious?” she asks, and I feel her excitement growing by the second.
“Your graduation present,” I tell her and she pushes me off her.
“I-I can’t go to Europe with you,” she says, and I have to hide how much her words sting. They’re stern and like a kick in the nuts. I try to think of something to say to brush it off.
“You’d rather have fun here hanging out at Navy Pier?” I joke, nudging her in the side. She sighs and looks back at me, her eyes big and sad.
“Sometimes I wonder if this is all real,” she says quietly.
“What do you mean?” I ask,
getting up and sitting next to her.
“I know I’ve already told you this but, you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before.”
“I’m one of a kind,” I wink at her and a small smile appears on her face.
“You are, and that’s what’s so scary about this. What do I do after you, how do I get over Cal Scott?” she says, looking me right in the eye and a wave of sadness passes through me. Get over me. What is she talking about? Is she breaking up with me? Fuck! Am I being dumped?
“What are you talking about Lauren?” I feel my voice becoming tense, anger starting to course through every part of my body. She gets out of bed and starts putting on her clothing.
This could be your easy break. If you love her you’d let her go.
“We’re in two different worlds Cal. I live in the real world and you live in the perfect world…for you,” she says looking away from me.
“I feel like my stay’s only temporary. Things are so great and I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop. When you’ll wake up and realize that you’re suffocated, or this isn’t what you want…that I’m not what you want,” she says and I hear her voice choke up. I get off the bed and pull her towards me.
“Hey. You’re the greatest thing that has ever happened to me,” I tell her, her eyes still downcast.
“I’m not the prize. You are,” I tell her, cupping her face in my hands. I hate that there’s tears in her eyes. This is the first time I've ever seen her cry up close, but I think of all the tears she’ll shed if I don’t let her go.
What am I doing?
“I graduate next week Cal. I’m going to get a real job and really be an adult. I have to start figuring things out.”
I feel myself getting mad, disappointment taking over and I can’t let it boil over, not in front of her. I stand up and walk to the other side of the room.
This could be for the best. She deserves more than this.
“There are things I want, but I don’t know if we both want the same things,” she says sullenly.
This is your chance. If you love her you’ll let her go. Take the ring back to the store and set her free.
“I don’t know if what I want is going to be good enough, or exciting enough for you.”
She wants normal and you sure as hell can’t give her that.
“What do you want Cal?” she asks.
“To be happy,” I say with a chuckle.
“Me too,” she says quietly. She grabs her little overnight bag she brings whenever she comes. I’m tired of her bringing that shitty bag. It reminds me that she’s only here temporarily. She walks past me and heads to the bathroom. I head out of the room and go downstairs. In the kitchen I pull out my medication vial from behind the cups in the cabinet and look at the little yellow pills in them. Helen’s voice echoes in my head.
There’s no guarantee that this will work, Cal.
This isn’t even considered trial stage yet.
There are a lot of risks for you to consider.
“Sometimes the reward is worth the risk,” I tell myself before popping my second one for the day in my mouth and washing it down with water.
A half hour later she’s down stairs, fully dressed and with her bag on her shoulder.
“I’m going to get out of here,” she says, grabbing all her hair and putting it at the top of her head. I get off the couch and walk in front of her. Her eyes avoid mine. I put my hands on her waist and pull her towards me.
“You’re coming to Europe with me,” I tell her simply and she rolls her eyes.
“How many times do we have to talk about you asking and not telling,” she says, a small smirk on her lips. She says she wants me to ask her whenever I do something, but I know she likes it when I tell her what to do.
“This is an exception, you told me no, so now I’m telling you that you’re coming with me to Europe, because you work hard and deserve it and I want to have you on every beach I step foot on,” I whisper in her ear. She giggles and sighs.
“No, no, no,” she says, stepping away from me.
“You’re not going to convince me like that,” she says playfully.
“Then I’ll convince you another way,” I tell her, picking her up and carrying her over to the couch.
“You’re hot,” she says in between pants.
“I’m always in heat,” I tell her with a wink.
“I think only male mamal’s are in heat,” she giggles. She’s such a nerd. Her face scrunches up.
“No your skin is really hot,” she says, in a panic. I put her down and she puts her hand on my head.
“Do you have a thermometer? You feel really warm,” she says worriedly.
“No I’m fine,” I wave her off. I don’t feel hot, but when I put my hand on my head I do feel hot, I think.
“I’m good Lauren. You need to get to your class right?” I remind her.
“It can wait. I’ll go the store and get you a thermometer,” she says, simultaneously grabbing a bottle of water out the fridge.
“Don’t do that. I can go, you think about what we were about to negotiate,” I tell her and she frowns, thrusting the water at me.
“If I drink this and promise to go get a thermometer will you go to class?”
“What if something’s wrong and I leave, and you die while I’m in school,” she says dramatically.
“You’re not getting rid of me that easy,” I tell her squeezing her on the butt before pulling her towards the door. She stands there in protest.
“I’m going to go throw on some clothes and I’ll head to the drug store and if I even feel a little bit abnormal, I’ll call you on the way to the ER, okay?” I tell her and she looks slightly appeased.
“You promise? Because if you don’t I’m headed back here,” she warns me.
“Cross my heart and hope to die,” I tell her and that gets her to give me a little smile.
“Don’t say that,” she pouts and I kiss her, but she pulls away with a worried expression.
“If you stay any longer the clothes are coming off, since it’s hot and all,” I tease her reaching for the button on her pants, and she swats me away.
“Okay. Don’t forget,” she says heading out the door.
“See you gorgeous,” I tell her as I watch her walk down the hall to the elevator. Once she’s inside, I close my door, grab my cellphone, and dial Helen’s number.
“You didn’t mention one of the side effects being over heating!”
Chapter 12
Lauren
It’s been almost a day since I’ve seen Chris, really seen him. I think, with everything that has happened over the past few days, we’re avoiding one another. Things have changed so much, things were never simple or easy even, between Chris and me. But now it’s like the tension and awkwardness between us has multiplied. We at least had easy moments, sweet moments and one intense one, which he doesn’t remember, and it’s best for me to not even think about it. So many things are weighing on my mind. It’s been hard to sleep, hard for me to even think. This whole thing with Lisa, and then Mr. Crestfield threatening or blackmailing me, I’m not sure which, or who can I talk to about it? I can’t talk to anyone about it and the one person I feel like may be able to help me is Cal and, well, there isn’t even a point in thinking what a conundrum that is.
How did things get so messy? Why are things so terrible? Why can’t they just get better for once?
“Hey,” his voice wakes me from my trance. I’m not even sure if it’s real or imagined until he steps inside my room and shuts the door behind him. The sad part in all of this is, with as much as I have to be worried and stressed out about things, the sight of him and the sound of his voice my whole body tingle. I feel myself flush, my hormones obviously did not get the memo that there will be no relief in any of those ways. In fact I’ve been forbidden to, like a child.
“Caylen’s sleeping,” I say absentmindedly.
“Yeah, I see her,” he sort of chuckles. Of course he
see her, he’s not blind.
“I wanted us to talk,” he says, sitting on the far side of the bed. I nod, banishing the thoughts of the last time we were both on a bed together.
“Things have been weird since Cal came back,” he says apprehensively.
“Yeah they have,” I admit with a laugh.
“I haven’t been avoiding you,” he says quietly.
It seems exactly like that.
“I wouldn’t blame you so much if you have,” I tell him, because in all honesty I’ve been avoiding him. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around all the information I’ve received today, creating more questions and hardly any answers.
“I put in for leave at work today.”
I want to tell him he shouldn’t have, that he loves his job and should keep it, but I’m sure with all that has happened he has good reasons.
“I’m sorry. I know you liked your job.”
“They said I can come back whenever I’m ready,” he says, giving me a small smile. “I’m thinking of trying to get back into my music,” he continues. As a smile begins to spread across his face, his eyes practically light up.
“That’s great! You should. You’re really good Chris,” I say, sharing his enthusiasm.
“I’m okay,” he shrugs.
“You’re a little better than okay. You can sing a girl right out of her clothes.” The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them. I expect awkwardness to float in but it doesn’t, he just smiles wider and laughs and I do too.
“Maybe a shirt, not sure about the whole outfit,” he jokes and I’m so thankful. Thankful, that at least right now, things have gone back to how they were before everything changed. Well, that’s relative since everything is constantly changing with us, a freakin' swinging pendulum.
“I’m sorry about Jenna yesterday,” he blurts out. It’s funny, so much has happened that Jenna’s little outburst is the least of my worries. Then I’m reminded that I’m not sure what their status is. Before everything happened I knew things were rocky, and after we slept together I was sure things would be ending, but since Chris has no recollection of that happening…my headache is getting worse now.
