Punishment Magic

Chapter 4

We pulled up outside his building about half an hour later. We were both still in our pajamas so we stuck out like sore thumbs as we crossed the fancy lobby.
Luckily it was empty. The only sound was the soles of Craig’s slippers on the marble. Mine were silent. How fitting.
After a short ride in the elevator and a walk to the very end of the hall we were at his apartment. He unlocked it, yawning loudly.
I scrunched up my nose at the sass that was hidden behind the yawn. He just smiled as he opened the door e door and let me inside.
The apartment was small and messier than I expected. It contrasted greatly with the shared parts of the building, which were crisp and pristine.
He had simple furniture crowded with cans and wrappers. His TV was still on like he’d been watching it before he left.
I didn’t give him enough time to feel embarrassed. I quickly walked through the living room to the adjoining kitchenette and opened the fridge.
“You’re hungry?” he asked.
I shrugged as I crouched down to examine its contents. I was only peckish, the real reason for my scavenging was just for something to do. Part of me wanted to prove to him that I was already at home, so he didn’t try to play hostess.
I found a package of cheese slices and grabbed it, shutting the door behind me. I pulled out an orange square and held it out to him but he shook his head.
I stuck the cheese in my mouth and pulled myself up on the counter.
He just laughed at me and pressed the button on the coffee maker.
Confused I pointed to him and then rested my cheek on my praying hands.
“Nah, I’m too wound up. Are you tired?”
I felt pretty awake as well. But my alertness was mostly due to the lump of anxiety that had settled in my stomach. I felt like I would never sleep again with the image of the dead girl in my brain.
I hopped off the counter and turned back to the fridge to return the cheese packet. But as I was sliding it back into its drawer I spotted something and smiled.
When I stood up Craig turned to look at me and said one word.
“No.”
I puckered my bottom lip and hugged the bottle of whiskey to my chest.
“Don’t give me the birdy perch lip, I’m not babysitting a drunk Madeline.”
It was weird to hear my Americanized name, but I did my best not to let the moment of confusion show.
I held his eye contact as I slowly unscrewed the lid.
He just groaned and said, “Whatever, I’m not holding your hair for you when you puke.”
My mischievous smile widened as I hoisted the heavy glass bottle to my lips and took a swig. It stung in the way alcohol will, but it didn’t give me the heebeegeebees like the stuff from my teen years. I didn’t recognize the brand, but I guessed it was pricy.
Gregs rolled his eyes and went to clear a spot on the couch for himself. The springs buckled under his slight frame as he sat, but he didn’t pay any mind. I pulled myself back up onto the counter and crossed my legs.
I watched him flip through TV stations as I sipped from the bottle, holds jg it with both hands like a toddler.
Part of me hoped he would just turn the screen off. Everything that came out of it always sort of raked on my nerves a bit. All the actors were loud, the music went in and out, and about half the time it was just someone screaming at me to buy things. I just couldn’t see the appeal.
My savior came in the form of a beeping coffeemaker. At the toon he shut off the TV and came back over to the kitchen.
For some reason he seemed uncomfortable with my being there, but I couldn’t put my finger on the cause. He’d invited me, but only seemed to regret it when I was through the door.
“Would you like some?” he asked with his hand lingering over a cabinet full of mugs.
I nodded and smiled dopily at him, feigning drunkenness I’m hopes that he would let his guard down a bit.
No such luck.
He filled up two mugs and slid one over to me. It was a faded pink color, something he got from a breast cancer awareness walk.
He had to walk past me to get to the fridge, but he made such a wide arch around me that I was tempted to give my armpits a sniff, just to make sure I didn’t smell hazardous.
He pulled out a jug of vanilla bean creamer and I smiled. I’d been the victim of his vanilla bean coffee breath many a time, and sat in his car, where the smell clung to the leather.
When he caught sight of my grin he asked, “Do you have a problem with vanilla bean coffee creamer?”
I wanted to shake my head but I was too shocked by the level of hostility in his voice. I’d never seen him the slightest bit mad, and I had no idea why it was coming out now.
Apparently I didn’t answer fast enough so he threw the jug back in the fridge and slammed the door. I jumped, nearly dropping the bottle on the floor. He put one hand over his face and stood completely still for a minute, taking long deep breaths.
I was close to leaving, not wanting to ruin the only friendship I had left without even meaning to. Although I had no idea how I would get back home, I didn’t even know exactly where I was. I rarely ventured into downtown Anchorage, and hadn’t once attempted it on my own.
“I’m sorry,” he cut off my train of thought, “I’m just stressed.”
I just shrugged and took another swig from the bottle to distract myself. But about halfway through the swig I felt a large hand wrap around the bottle and pull it away. I managed to keep the dripping to a minimum, even with the look of protest I gave him.
He put a hand up to keep me from lashing at him, and took a drink himself before handing it back.
“We’ve both had a rough night.”
I raised a brow.
“I don’t want to talk about it, it’s not important.”
My brow didn’t falter.
“I’m not going to talk about it.”
I let my face drop and instead held the bottle out to him in condolence. Really I just wanted him to lighten up a bit.
Luckily he took it from me and took a few massive gulps that practically had me cringing.
He held it back out to me, wiping his mouth on the grey sleeve of his thermal.
I took another gulp, but I could already feel my brain getting pretty fuzzy. It had been a while since I’d drank much of anything and any resistance I’d once had was pretty null at that point.
After I woke up stranded in my new house, far from Tatum and with no voice and a butchered memory, I leaned into the alcohol hard for a while. But I’d ended up getting cut off  and since I had no idea how to get to any store on my own I had no choice but to honor the forced sobriety.
For fear of getting sloppy drunk I relinquished the bottle and sat it down on the counter. But it didn’t stay there long. Craig swallowed down a few more gulps, and when he looked back at me his eyes were glassy.
I smirked.
“Don’t look at me like that.” He warned, but luckily his voice had finally softened.
A few more drinks later and we were sitting on his living room floor while he made me watch reality TV show reruns. He would fast forward to the parts where they were screaming at each other about hair products or cabinet space and then laugh at my expressions.
It was interspersed with him scolding me for trying to smoke inside, but eventually he let me do it as long as I sat next to the window while I did it.
He’d grabbed me a notepad to write on. I had to stop myself from accidentally saying something to him out loud. The impulse was still there, intensified by the alcohol. But even through the haze I knew the consequences, the cord around my neck would tighten the second that first word left my lips, crushing my throat and snapping my neck. That was enough to keep anyone quiet.
The other thing alcohol did to me was make me brazen. So I wrote the question I always asked when I was feeling high and mighty, because sober me knew the answer.
I handed him the legal pad with – why am I here?
“In my apartment?” he asked, but I knew he was just deflecting the questions real meaning.
I shit him a glare.
“I’ve told you before, but I guess I’ll tell you again,” he slurred, “I don’t know. I’m just the driver for a rich deaf girl.” He poked me in the shoulder jeeringly when he said the last part.
I rolled my eyes.
“It was just luck that you were so pretty.”
Now it was my turn to shove him on the shoulder.
He just laughed, “You’re lucky you are, since you’re so much of a pain in the ass.”
I pounced on him, half heartedly trying to strangle him. But he fought me off easily, being roughly twice my size and all.
We went on like that for a bit, after a while I could see Craig’s energy begin to fade. He handed me the remote and crawled onto the couch, pulling the blanket off the back and wrapping it around himself.
“You can sleep in my bed whenever you get tired.” He yawned.
I crawled up to the side of the couch and pouted.
“I’m tired.” He insisted with a smile.
But I was still wired, and drunk, so I was content with annoying him into spending time with me. I crossed my arms and deepened my pout.
He laughed and pressed one of the couch pillows against his face, “Don’t look at me like that.”
I began poking him on the shoulder and he swatted me away playfully, but I continued, moving my assault to his ribs and chest.
He began squirming and laughing harder. But he was able to cut me off by grabbing me firmly by the wrists. He wasn’t a particularly large man, but he was stronger than me by a long shot.
I huffed and sat back on my legs.
Tentatively, he released me, “Are you done?”
I nodded, but still maintained my pitiful expression.
He flipped onto his side to stare me in the eyes, trying and failing to look me menacing.
I thought he was going to say something, but instead he reached out, resting his hand gently against the side of my neck and cheek. His fingers were long enough to run through my newly sheered hair. I could see the look in his eyes shift. They became soft and hooded as they stared back at me.
In my drunken state I felt myself leaning into his palm. It was warm and soft, moving against me gently as he traced lines through my hair and the back of my neck. I felt goosebumps rise on my arms. The gently feeling of his hand and the warm buzz of the alcohol in my veins was enough to keep me planted in place. I probably could have staid there forever.
But as we sat there in silence I felt my brain slide back into focus, taking in what was really happening. I recognized the look he was giving me, although I had to pull the similar memory from a deep place in my mind. I rarely went there if I could help it.
But as the image of that other man in that other city surfaced in my mind I felt my blood go cold. I needed to get out of there.
Now.