3rd July 2016:
The house was still, in the near distance came the sound of low TV mumbles. My heels clicked clacked on the wooden floor and I stood in the threshold of the living room, and reached to untie my heels and then dropped them to the floor. Isiah was watching a late night news show, and drinking in his sweatpants. He rubbed his eyes, yawned and then turned to me. "You're back."
"I'm back." I moved forward, and sat down next to him, and then took his glass, "I take it this isn't water? Vodka? You don't drink vodka."
"It's a difficult sort of night," he took his glass back and I crossed my legs and faced him, waiting. He lowered the volume, sighed and then sighed again. "Are you in trouble? I was awake the other night and I overheard you talking on the phone. You sounded angry. You've been antsy lately and I'm wondering what it is or who you're running from, hiding from. You can tell me."
"It was ... nothing," I unfolded my legs and set my feet on the floor, getting ready to escape his question and say I was tired, exhausted and going to bed. "I should–"
"I can't help you if you keep everything to yourself. Whatever it is, I'm here for you. Whenever you're ready. OK?" He set the glass down, leaned back. "Come here. Let's talk about a lighter subject. How was your date?"
I hated lying to him, he didn't deserve it but I couldn't get him involved in my mess, in my old world. He wouldn't belong. Right now he was part of a perfect other life and the faintest overlap would spill blood on everything he was a part of, stain it crimson and it would rot and decay. I rested my head on his shoulder and rubbed the soles of my feet. "It was terrible. Jake ran out of gas, so we had to stop by a gas station, then we were stuck in traffic for an hour. When we got to the fare we spent most of the time in queues and then a woman puked on Jake when we were going down a ride, her vomit splattered back on him. I helped him clean up and the mood was spoiled. He was very shy the whole time we were together but when he walked me to the door, he kissed me. It was...his lips were dry. I felt like I was kissing sandpaper."
He laughed, "Poor kid. So I'm guessing there won't be a second date?"
"Nope. This will be the last time I'll ever be guilt into dating one of grandma's friend's grandson. Can I ask you something?"
"Yes."
"Why haven't you called Olivia back yet? You like her and she likes you a lot. She's pretty and smart. It's been a week since the last time you hung out."
He faltered, gaze falling. "I don't like commitment. She's a beautiful woman but I'm just not interested. It's as simple as that."
"Is it because she's a Gemini?"
His lip curved up. "You know I don't believe in astrology."
"Or is it because you feel guilty? You spent so much time away while studying. My Mum got killed. Granddad died. We left. Grandma was alone pretty much all the time. Now you feel obligated to be bound to your family. Whatever they need, wherever it is, you'll go. Who do you live for? It's time to put yourself first. This is your life. Call Olivia back."
He didn't expect that. "I... you're observant. I'll call her back. Will that make you happy?"
"It'll make both of us happy." I kissed his cheek. "I'm going to take a shower and then I'm going to sleep for eternity. Night."
"Goodnight," he called, phone in his hand, light illuminating his face.
***
4th July 2016:
"Six days."
"What?"
"You have six days, sweetheart. Say your goodbyes, water your plants and get home."
"You're coming off as desperate, Mr. King. But I'll amuse you, what happens when the time runs out? Will it be the end of 2012 all over again? A zombie apocalypse? What happens?"
"You're very funny."
"You didn't laugh, I guess I should work on my jokes."
He was quiet on the other end of the phone and then: "Keep your phone on. I'll call again tomorrow."
***
5th July 2016:
"That life is in the past. It's yesterday. It's in the rear view mirror and I have washed my hands and dried them in the same second. You're tiring me with your demands to return to a life that has reached its expiration date. For God sake, Cole, I go to church on Sundays with my grandmother and I don't even believe in the concept of a god. Do me this favour. Show kindness for once in your life and leave. Me. Alone."
"I miss you."
I...didn't expect that. And the silence on his end told me he regretted putting his foot in his mouth. It was a moment of regret. Accidental. I sighed and moved around my jaw, furrowing my brow and trying to think of a response. I didn't need him. I was doing great without him in my life and I was happy. For once I was happy and I could smile for the first time in almost a year without it falling in the next couple of seconds. I wasn't getting drunk and having dirty sex in the kitchen and hating myself afterwards. Because it should've made me feel empowered, I was in control of my body and sex was a form of expression and it was the wrong time, the wrong place with the...wrong person.
"Cole," I began tentatively, and then pushed a hand through my hair, dragging my fingers to the very end. It was tangled and needed a thorough brush through. "I ... just don't care. I'm sorry. Well, I'm not sorry. Stop calling. Delete my number. Move on." I pressed the end call button and then tossed my phone to the side.
***
6th July 2016:
There was no phone call today.
***
7th July 2016:
"Did you see the picture I sent?"
"You son of a bitch."
"I kept it for insurance. Just in case you ever decided to go rogue or wag your tongue to the wrong people. Or say, run away. It's currently tucked away in a tool box. Find it and it's yours. You can destroy the evidence. Put an end to this and no one will ever find out you killed that man."
"It was self-defence–"
"What makes you think a jury will believe that? It's been months. The innocents don't run, and they don't hide away. You see, the guilt eats away at them, it gives them nightmares, they leave clues whether they know it or not, because they want to be caught. It's a waiting game. Their thoughts are paranoid and their actions are suspicious. They need to be punished for the sake of their own sanity. You are guilty and you will be charged with aiding and abetting a fugitive and at the very least you'll be charged with accessory to murder. You helped your father get away. That's criminal. He is a murderer." Cole laughed shortly and then continued on spitefully. "Like father, like daughter. Wouldn't you agree?"
"You dickless cunt," I rubbed my face in aggravation and paced the floor of my bedroom, making sure to keep my voice low. My chest was jam-packed with rage and ready to explode and splatter my guts over my white bedsheets. "You murder for a living and suddenly you're a self-righteous, god-fearing, law-abiding––"
"You ever gonna finish?"
"FUCKER!" I accidentally yelled, and then took a quick breath, calming down. "Alright. So go to the cops with the gun. I bet I can make a deal with them for immunity or a shorter sentence. Jess' case is on trial. All I have to do is whisper to a little piggy in blue about you and how you drugged her and kidnapped her because her father is in debt to you. Or how about that American? What was his name? Oh. Paul. The rapist. You dismembered his penis and then you sent him off to a buyer to be killed. And I'm sure the SOCA would be very interested in Millie's café."
"You won't say a word otherwise I will have to slit your throat and then I'll work my way through your friends. I would threaten your family but I'll leave that for a special occasion." His voice was harsh. "Find the tool box and you find your gun."
"Try again."
"What?"
"I'm not coming back and going on a wild goose chase. You scare your men into conforming and telling tales is a death wish. You almost got me there for a second but you're not a rat. You'd rather tear off your own tongue than blab. What other tricks have you got up your sleeve, Cole?"
"You're very confident, sweetheart."
"I have to be, cherry pie. Now is that all? Can I hang up on you now or do you need to threaten me some more?"
"We'll talk tomorrow."
"Of course we will. Goodnight, Cole."
***
8th July 2016:
"Is this a new number?"
"You keep blocking me."
"Do you realise how utterly obsessed and pathetic you sound? It's unhealthy. You need to find a new hobby. How about knitting? It's relaxing."
"I give up."
"You–what brought this on?"
"I thought you'd be pleased."
"You're a determined man, Cole. Excuse me if I'm slightly suspicious. So you called to tell me that? Is that all? Are we done? I'll hang up now. It wasn't nice knowing you. Goodbye."
"Wait," he sighed wearily, "can we talk?"
"OK."
"OK?" he repeated, surprised.
"Yeah, OK. What, do you want me to swear at you and cut the call? Spit it out, for God sake."
"Was it really that bad – living with me?"
I paused, and then made an irritated noise in the back of my throat. "I was going to lie and protect your precious feelings but no, I'm not going to do that. I'm not going to be nice and cuddle you and pat you on the fucking head after everything you've done. I hated every moment of it. It was hell. I'd sit in the same room day in and day out while you disappeared and I would think about how I could slice your throat while you were sleeping. I was losing my mind in that house and I wanted answers and you would ignore me and snap at me to go to bed like I was a child, a nuisance. You couldn't kill me because of my father and his notoriety so you kept me locked up like I was one of your dogs. I hate you for it. It sticks in my mind at night and I toss and turn and I try to forget and I can't because you remind me of my father. You're just like him, controlling and manipulative and I really, really hate you for it."
"What if I were to say I was sorry? I shouldn't have–"
"If you were truly sorry and you wanted to make it up to me, you'd leave me alone. Please. I'm begging you. I don't want to go back there. I was miserable, I had nobody. Everyone in town knew me and they'd stare at me like I was the one who murdered the two families. It was..." I shook my head. "I have a family here. I've made a life. I like it, I love it. Why can't you accept that?"
"Ask for something else. Anything else. But I'm not letting you stay there, you're coming home."
"Jesus, fuck!"
"Shay, language!" Grandma reprimanded from the kitchen.
"Sorry!" I shouted, and lowered my voice. "I want the truth. What do you want from me?"
"I think you know."
"Are you – good god, why would I ask you if I knew? I'm not a fan of playing games. Can I have a straight answer?"
He had the audacity to get angry, "I will after you answer mine truthfully. Are you seeing someone?"
"Am I – What the – are you spying on me?"
"Answer the damn question."
"Huh."
"What was that?"
"I was scoffing. Did you just scoff back at me?"
The little bitch hung up on me.
***
9th July 2016:
"Irvin," I answered with a smile, "I thought you forgot about me."
His voice was frantic, shouting and blathering, panicking. He was on the road, I could tell by the sounds of horns beeping and his curses at other drivers to get out of the way and the blare of an ambulance. I couldn't understand what he was saying and I interrupted to tell him to calm down, "Say it again."
"Daniel hung himself in his bedroom, I got a weird text and I went over and – fuck, fuck. I knew something was wrong. Goddamnit!" he bellowed furiously and then his voice broke. "If I was a minute late...oh, god. He's in the ambulance, on the way to the hospital. I'm scared, I'm ...I don't know what to do, Shay. If I lose him, too–"
"You won't, Irvin. He's going to be fine," I hated myself for promising what I couldn't deliver. "I'm coming. Alright?"
***