Swap Out(14)
Sometimes, there’s peace in desperation. A clarity of thought. Sometimes, you can see all the right turns and wrong turns, and they are one and the same. The good is the bad. Sin and redemption share the same face, and it’s the one of the woman crossing in front of me, sitting slowly as if the movements ache.
She takes the chair cornered to the couch, and my fist unfurls as my arm lengthens, hand extended towards her. She hesitates, then places her palm in mine and the corner of my lips pulls up as I close my fingers around her smaller ones.
“The first time you left after we were together, I was ready to sign my soul over to the devil if it meant you’d come back.”
Her mouth twists and she leans forward, not letting go of my hand but covering her face with her other. “You realize that’s exactly what you did, right?”
“Nah,” I drawl, squeezing her hand. “The devil’s not that generous.”
Her shoulders shake, and my left foot drops to the floor as I sit forward, covering our hands with my other palm.
“You don’t want this, Luca,” she whispers, and I shrug.
“You don’t know me that well. You have no idea what I want.”
She looks up at me, then rolls her eyes before she wipes at them. “I don’t know you, huh?”
“Nope,” I say and shake my head. “Did you know once upon a time, I was in a cult?”
“You were what?” she exclaims, and I wink at her.
“Don’t know everything, do you?”
She huffs, but a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.
“Zoe, all I’m asking is you consider letting me be whatever you need. Do whatever you need me to do.”
“What I need,” she says, then blows out a breath, “is for you to let me do this.”
“If you never even considered the alternative, then why even tell me? If I had no say in the outcome, and you had already made up your mind, then what good did it do to bring me in on the…” I fumble for a work, finally settling on, “Situation?”
She bites her lip, then takes another breath. “When I tell you why, you will realize the person I am. That what I said in the kitchen was nothing but the truth.”
I tighten my hold on her hands, looking her squarely in the eyes. “No matter what you say, you will never get me to believe that. But you can do your best.”
She swallows, and I prepare myself.
It’s all an act, a desperate attempt to infuriate me into not caring.
“I told you,” she starts, her voice controlled, “because I am going to have to live with the consequences of my actions. I will always know what I did, the position you put me in and the choices you forced me to make. And if I have to live with that, then you will too.”
I exhale, then bring our hands up and uncover hers, pressing a long kiss to the back of her hand. Then I move, kneeling down in front of her, and she gasps.
I look up at her, taking in her eyes and everything about her, then cup her cheeks in my hands.
“Someday, someone is going to love you. He is going to make you his whole world, and there will be nothing you will be able to say or do to push him away.” I smile sadly. “God help that man, because you’re going to drag him through hell.”
She closes her eyes as the first tears slip out, and I ignore them.
“As for the life of our child…” I shake my head. “That guilt rests on you. And you alone.”
My touch disappears from her skin, and I stand, looking down on her.
“Goodbye, Zoe.”
I leave without another word, and she doesn’t stop me.
And for the first time since they’ve healed, I can feel each of the six shots that are scarring my back begin to bleed. I can see the non-existent dripping of blood, cascading down my spine and painting my legs. But it’s not the five that were embedded in my body before being dug out that will keep me awake tonight. It’s the one that went through me, carving through the meat of my shoulder and finding an unintended target.
Tonight, I’ll be haunted by the face of the person I failed to save.
CHAPTER 4: FALSE REALITIES
I finish my beer and drop it into my trashcan, the one currently overflowing with bottles. There’s an appropriate time for everything.
Stumbling, I head to my refrigerator and open it, scowling when I see that was the last one. I drank the rest of the case already? Fuck it, I’ll switch to whiskey. I don’t care. I usually try not to drink it because it always ends bad, bad, bad. Like three dislocated fingers and a sore jaw, my keys magically appearing in my ice tray and a tire missing from my car along with multiple holes in my memory bad. But I don’t want to know what’s real right now.