by James, Ella
I gulp down some cold air. Walk around the building’s back corner. I think she’ll find it here. There’s an empty pot with just dirt. I set it in there. If he finds it—the doctor—it’s not like it tells him anything. It shouldn’t put her at risk.
I suck in some more cold air. Stuff my hands deep into my jeans pockets.
My eyes sting. I squeeze them shut. Christ.
Is he good to her? He looked older—maybe fifties—and I couldn’t tell if he was a dick. As far as dicks go, I guess maybe he’s not into using his, because…she was a virgin. I know that for sure.
I think of all those times she said things like “no strings attached,” and tell myself she knew this all along. She knew he was coming back and I was going. She’s okay with it.
I can’t think much on how I was a fling for her. Because that was basically it. Finley’s got the biggest heart on earth, so a fling for her is worth more than a lot of people’s marriages. Thinking that makes me think of how she ran to him. My throat closes off.
I pant in white puffs.
Fuck.
I gotta go now.
I’ve got my eyes half shut, and I’m striding toward the clinic part of the building when I hear yelling.
That’s a man’s voice.
What the fuck?
I move closer to the clinic’s white-washed, cinderblock wall. The voice is low and hard—not yelling now, but kind of clipped and…yeah, that’s definitely angry. I listen, but I can’t tell what he’s saying. Then he’s quiet. I can’t move as adrenaline floods my system.
What the fuck was that?
Say more.
Give me a sign if I should stay.
The ever-present Tristan wind whips over the roof. I pace back to the house door. Nothing. Fucking hell.
I sit on the stoop and run my hand back through my hair. I need some kind of fucking sign. That she’s all good with this guy. Even thinking of that—of her with that old fucker—gives my chest this burning feeling.
I get the letter and the syringe out of the pot. Walk toward the clinic door. Maybe I’ll knock. It’s probably a bad idea, but I don’t know…I’ve got a weird feeling. I clear the stairs with one big step and stand there with my eyes shut. Please.
Maybe I’m going crazy: I just want it to be bad for her, so I can swoop in.
I try the knob. It works. The fuck? The door is open at 5:35 a.m.? That’s sort of weird, right?
I can step inside and…if they’re in there—if he’s in there—I’ll…what?
If it’s him, not her, I’ll ask for Benadryl. If it’s both of them…I don’t know. Why would it be both of them, though? Motherfucker was just yelling at her in the house part of the building. I don’t dare to think of what I’ll do if I walk in and it’s just Finley. But if no one’s in there, I’ll walk over to the door that divides house from clinic, and I’ll listen just a little more.
I rub my eyes and try the door again. I don’t know what I’m thinking. That I’m in some kind of Bond movie? I push it open slowly, though. Real quiet, like 007. Inside the main room, it’s dark and silent. They’re not here.
I blow a quiet breath out. Step inside. And stand there. To my left is the little waiting area where she took my blood pressure just after we got back from the burrow. To the right, a long, pale blue curtain that divides the area with the beds from the big space in front of me, which has the cabinets and a receptionist desk.
If I go around the curtain to my right and pass the area with beds, I can walk into that little hall and listen at the door of the residence.
I keep my footsteps quiet on the pale linoleum as I make my way around the curtain. That’s when I hear it—a grunting sound. It stops me in my tracks and makes my body start to tremble. I know from the first sound…but I keep quiet, listening. I hear the grunt again, and the sound of a zipper. Oh, fuck—NO. The curtain to my right feels like it’s tilting.
I hear Finley’s whimper. No. No, no, no. But she’s whimpering—this sort of groaned whimper that turns into a high-pitched whimper as I hear springs creak. He makes a low sound in his throat, and my head starts to float on top of my shoulders.
She whimpers. He grunts. She whimpers, and that’s when, slowly, through the haze, I realize Finley doesn’t whimper like that.
Does she?
No, she doesn’t.
Finley is a screamer. If she’s not screaming, she’s gasping, groaning…whispering. She whimpers more, and something thick and hot and prickling starts to crawl up my neck. I can’t move…and then I have to. I can’t keep myself from stepping to the curtain’s end and walking quietly around it.
Each bed has its own curtain, and the one around the bed where we were last night is pulled shut. She whimpers again, and her voice cracks. I pulse white hot as the whimper turns to a small cry. Finley starts to cry, and he says, “Oh, I think you shouldn’t worry. You’ll enjoy this.”
I’m so hot, so frozen, so filled up with horror. I don’t know how I get my legs to move me across the space of the floor to that curtain, but I reach out and snatch it back, and there they are.
She’s on her back without a shirt on, and he’s over her. For a terrifying, black hole second, I can only see the back of him, his asscrack and his legs, and I think he’s inside her. Then I step closer, and I see Finley’s underwear. Oh Jesus. Fucking Christ. My pulse gallops. My knees tremble with relief—and then he’s up and coming at me.
“What do you think you’re doing here?”
My eyes magnet to Finley, and I realize that her arms are down in front of her, cinched in a belt. Her pretty face is red and tear-streaked. On her left cheek, there’s an awful bruise.
I don’t know what happens, how it starts or anything, except we’re on the floor, and I’m on top of him. I’m whaling on his face, and I can feel his bone, the sticky thickness of his blood as I try to rip his head off his body. He keeps trying to talk, and I’m laughing, and I’m busting through his face because he hurt her and you don’t hurt Finley! It might be okay to hurt me but you never hurt her—
“NEVER. HURT. HER. Do you fucking hear me? Never—” smash him— “ever—” fuck you— “EVER hurt her or I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU.”
Every time his head snaps back, I feel another shot of satisfaction. Someone’s screaming, but it’s dim and far away. Then someone grabs me from behind. Someone’s arm is locked around my throat. Someone’s on my back. I fight them like an animal until the fucker’s on the floor. It’s Freddy.
“Fuck.”
He’s bleeding from his forehead, and one of his eyes is swollen shut. I look at the doctor. There’s a pool of blood around him. Finley’s huddled by the bed, sobbing. I rush toward her, wanting to get that belt off. Someone shrieks, and her friend Anna steps in front of me. She waves her arms as pain blooms in my head.
Sixteen
Finley
The sea at dusk. I squint my leaking eyes, and that’s what Anna’s blue tin roof looks like. I can’t wrench my gaze away from it. I’m lying on my back on Anna’s marriage bed, but if I stare up at the roof for long enough, I can pretend we’re in a boat out on these deep blue waters. It’s twilight, and we’re holding each other. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Declan. I’m so sorry.”
I don’t know I’m speaking till she whispers, “It’s not your fault. He went mad, Finley.”
I blink at the ceiling.
Where is he? I’ll find out when Freddy’s back. As Mrs. White and Holly worked on Doctor, Freddy and Father Russo dragged Declan off. I saw him upright outside, but Anna and Mrs. Acton didn’t let me near him. Mayor Acton stayed behind while Anna and Mrs. Acton brought Kayti and I here.
Mrs. Acton took me into the bathroom and asked me what happened. I wanted to tell her, but I could only weep. She handed me tissues. I wiped my face and blew my nose, and after, Anna brought me to the bed she shares with Freddy.
“Did you want the belt?” she whispers now.
I stare at my smearing ocean.
&n
bsp; “Was Doctor angry with you? I could see his skull bone, Finley,” she whispers. “It’s miraculous that he was speaking when we left.”
I know I could brave the ocean now. I know I could.
“Finley…speak to me. I didn’t mean to be unkind last night. I was— I suppose it was my own emotions. I felt…hurt, I suppose. That you hadn’t confided. Finley…was he hurting you this morning? Doctor? You never speak of what you…of your life with him. The intimate life,” she whispers.
I heard Mrs. Acton murmuring to Anna that the ship’s waiting for Declan. If no one comes with word of him soon, I’ll be forced to squeeze out Anna’s bathroom window. I’ll get to him. My Declan would never leave without me.
“Is he unkind to you…is Doctor? You can tell me. Finley,” Anna whispers, “did he know? Perhaps from Father Russo? He’s a nosy pillock…”
Kayti’s cries draw Anna out into the hallway. Then it’s Mrs. Acton with me. She sits gingerly on the bed’s edge, smoothing her green skirt.
“Anna said your wrists were bound. Who tied them that way, my dear? Was it Doctor…or was it Mr. Carnegie?”
Her eyes flare as mine meet them. Then they gentle. “Tell me what prompted the ordeal, dearie. What happened?”
I roll on my side, away from her.
I need Declan!
I mustn’t weep. I mustn’t weep.
I turn back toward her.
“Marriage could keep me in my post. I could offer you some company. We would never have to consummate it. I’m too old for you, Fin. I know that.”
It wasn’t a love match. I can’t find my voice to say the words.
“Finley…did he hurt you? Doctor? You can tell me if he did.” The bed creaks as she leans toward me. “You can talk to me.”
“He’s a good man on the inside.”
“Your father doesn’t mean to be this way.”
“At times, a man can’t help his temper.”
“These are our secrets to keep. You understand now, darling? Who are we to ask the others to concern themselves with our wellbeing…just because your father drinks a bit. We get on well enough here, don’t we?”
“Finley, you’re so good.”
“You cannot truly believe I never meant to consummate it. When I get back from Cape Town, I’ll take what’s mine. You are my wife. And you’ll enjoy it!”
“Yearning is when you want something, my darling…especially something you can’t have.”
“So, when you want something forbidden?”
“Yes, my dearest. It’s a bit like forbidden.”
“There’s no time for further correspondence. Hear me through the stars.”
“Stay here, Finley! Do not move!”
A tear drips down my cheek, and Mrs. Acton scoots closer, to hug me. “You can tell me what happened. We want to see to you. So let me ask again, dearie. Did Doctor mean you harm?” Her hand comes up to my face, hovering. I flinch, and her green eyes widen. “Did he strike you?”
“Who are we to ask the others to concern themselves with our wellbeing…”
“If you can spread your legs for someone weak of spirit, someone lazy like him—someone who’s not your husband, WHOM THE LORD HAS JOINED YOU TO!—then you can keep quiet as I take what’s rightfully mine! In exchange for caring for you, I’m deserving of my marital rights.”
“Who are we to ask the others to concern themselves with our wellbeing…”
I stare into Mrs. Acton’s eyes. I’m overcome with powerful inertia. Profound apathy.
“I know myself. I’m loyal.”
“Was it Doctor…or was it Mr. Carnegie?”
I inhale. The air in my lungs feels too large.
“Was it Doctor…or was it Mr. Carnegie?”
I try to tell her with my eyes, for my mouth resists moving. But Mrs. Acton cannot read my mind. Her face is searching.
Who has Declan? I want Declan!
“It was Doctor.” Whispered words. Wobbly words. When they come from my throat, sickness follows, so I have to rush into the bathroom.
“Finley, you’re so good. I love you.”
I wash my face, taking my time. The water’s cold. It stings my eyes and fingertips.
Perhaps I’ll stay the night here. I’m so tired now. Declan wouldn’t leave without me.
As I step woodenly into the bedroom, I hear voices in the hallway. I hear Father Russo. Before I can make out what’s being said, the bedroom’s door opens, and Anna walks in. She holds Kayti, but this time it’s Anna weeping. Kayti blinks at me as Anna says, “They know.”
How odd that, at first, I don’t know what. Anna reads my face and mind.
“Father Russo arrived after Mayor. He told Mayor and Mrs. Acton you were having an affair.”
My knees buckle. I grab the bed’s post.
I croak, “And?”
“Mrs. Acton told them—she said Doctor hurt you. But…” She shakes her head. Her calm face speaks damnation. “Father means to take you. He says he’ll sort this out in a God-like manner.”
I’m shaking my head as she speaks. No. No, no, no. No.
“I’m well, sir. How are you?”
“I would be better if I understood why you ceased attending weekday masses.”
“No.” I grip the bed. “I don’t trust Father Russo!”
“Well, why ever not?”
“He’s friends with Doctor!”
“Finley, he’s our priest. The Lord anoints all priests.”
I dash into the bathroom. As Anna comes to stand in the doorway behind me, I push the window open.
“Please!” It’s the only word I can get out as I hoist myself into the frigid air. As I drop to the ground, I’m stunned to see it’s dusk. Perhaps I fell asleep. What if the ship’s gone?
“I’m going to my house!” That’s what I call Mum’s house. It still stands, and Anna knows I sometimes visit it.
I take off down Middle Lane in that direction but cut back the other way, running so fast and hard that the twilight spins around me and gold stars bloom in my eyes. I run as I hear a car crank in the distance. Sobs wrench from my chest—sob-gasp, sob-gasp.
I’m not going to Mum’s, I’m racing to reach Declan. I can reach him if I’m fast enough. He’ll be at Gammy’s; I know he will. He’ll still be at Gammy’s.
I burst through the door gasping, and there is Baby, happy to see me, but I don’t pause.
“Where is he? DECLAN!” I run through the house, but I see nothing of him. “DECLAN! Declan, please! Declan! Please, please!” I run out the back door to check the ocean for the ship. That’s when I hear the crunch of tires on gravel.
Declan! Please, oh please!
I peek around the house’s side, and I see Doctor’s white Land Rover.
* * *
Declan
As soon as I realize the priest is playing intermediary between that piece of shit doctor and the people who have Finley, I go crazy inside. That fucking priest knew about Finley and me last night. I could see it in his eyes—and he wanted me to know he knew. There’s something about the man—something beyond your basic dick religious official. He’s probably buddies with the doctor.
Pretty quickly after getting his ass kicked, the goddamn doctor’s running his mouth, claiming Finley told him she’d been seeing me. I don’t really see the point in saying “no,” so I admit we sort of had a fling and then go full-on Homer, acting like I don’t see what the big deal is, but also saying sorry. The mayor eats it right up, still acting a little deferent to my Carnegie status and the fact that I’m “Homer.”
When I talk to Mayor Acton, Freddy, and the priest, I focus on what I saw when I walked into the clinic—“to get some Benadryl.” How that sick fuck was holding her down, and Finley was crying. I point out I didn’t break in or come seeking her out. (Oops, I’m lying). I just walked in, heard something that didn’t seem right, and walked around the curtain to find the doctor holding her down, rubbing his dick against her underwear while Finley cried with h
er arms tied. I tell them I didn’t lose my shit until I saw the bruises on her face.
“I’ve got a thing for men who hurt women—and you should, too. You want one of your women with a guy like that?” I ask the mayor. “Finley’s sweet. She probably doesn’t stand a chance around that motherfucker.”
He bristles at my language, but he seems to think about it.
I tell Freddy, “That’s your wife’s friend, man. You want her getting knocked around? You gotta keep that guy away from her.”
This whole act is last-ditch insurance in case they haul me off without me getting to see Finley. I guess I’m prescient, because in the end, that’s what they do. When I can hear the doctor talking bullshit to the priest inside the clinic—meaning he’s alive and undamaged enough to speak—the mayor tells me it’s time for me to take a hike.
“We’ve radioed the Celia, and they’ve agreed to wait for you.”
Yeah, because I booked a seat on the ship. The mayor clearly doesn’t know that.
“Freddy here will take you to your place of residence and show you to the dock.”
“What about Finley? I want to hear that you’re doing everything you can to keep her safe. Sounds like that jackass she’s married to is treating her badly. I don’t want to hear about that happening again.”
I give the mayor my best you-don’t-want-to-piss-me-off-or-I’ll-stop-sending-money look, and he nods.
“I’ll see to her. Ensure she’s healthy and safe.”
“I’m going to want an update on that sometime.”
Freddy takes me to the cottage, where I pack up and slide my passport into my pocket. He and I head to Mark Glass’s place, where Freddy tells Mark I’m leaving sooner than planned. Family emergency. I guess they want to keep things discreet for Finley and the doctor.