Dancing With Devils

by Scott Webster

  “You should do it, without a doubt!”

  “I won’t lie, Michael, I’m terrified because as much as I love her, my love for the job is there too. My lust for justice. My desire to strangle Arthur pushed her away. I was putting unis on watch to make sure she was safe when the prick was sending me selfies from outside our house and her work.”

  Michael laughed. “The balls on that guy! Maybe I should have shot him in the head, eh?”

  “Maybe you should have. Those two old people might be alive…”

  Michael looked into his now empty glass, with a slightly guilty look.

  “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that, mate. I meant that I wouldn’t be running up the walls dealing with a mad man.”

  “No, I know. I don’t know why I felt the urge to shoot that knife. I thought about saving you first.”

  “That’s not to say I don’t appreciate it.”

  “I wonder if Buck would still be here if not for me encouraging him to read the letter to me. Maybe he’d have kept his wits about him. I’d have kept mine and he’d–”

  “It’s not worth thinking about. You couldn’t have known. If there’s such a thing as fate, it’s all pre-determined. It’s all aligned. It happened for a reason. We are here now, in this moment.”

  I rambled in my drunken, loud voice and cited some nonsense about the stars aligning and that we would end up being partners and hunt Arthur down together. We had a bit of a manly embrace and truly became united in our anxious, depressive selves; renewed and re-energised.

  Kirsty gave us some final whiskies for the road, which we sank before merrily stumbling out the door. We went our separate ways and the walk home was blurry, dark, and mildly forgotten. I’d stopped to vomit in a bush and vaguely recalled having to run my house key up my arm and finger to line it up with the keyhole, unable to find it on the first few attempts.

  For once though, I actually managed to sleep. Alcohol had helped will me into a peaceful slumber, though I’d like to think that some of it was because I had offloaded my inner thoughts and feelings. It’s true what they say. It’s good to talk.

  I awoke the next morning to my favourite, hated radio DJ and not even he could get me down; as today, I was going to see my wife. Although separated, we hadn’t officially divorced.

  A wave of excitement, fear, and anxiousness hit me like a freight train. Or was the freight train the hangover? I hadn’t decided. Like a child at Christmas, my excitement made me bound out of bed and get ready. I had my ‘three s’s: a shit, a shave, and a shower; before getting some of my nicer clothes out and ironing them. Arianna wasn’t even coming to the flat, but I made a point of tidying up. That way, if she asked if the place was in a good state of repair, I was at least telling the truth.

  What would I say to her?

  What would she say to me?

  I set off fairly early to make it to her before lunchtime. The drive was long, due to traffic build-up, but the sound of the same tape lodged in my Camaro stereo was enough to make it worthwhile. Thankfully, it was my day off and I intended to keep it a day off. I told myself I wasn’t going to think about the case today, all of my time and energy was going into her, as it should have always done.

  Arianna had resorted to staying with her sister since she left; taking control of a spare room and using her free time to look after her nieces and nephews, two boys and two girls. They were nice enough kids, well-mannered which felt like a rarity in this day and age.

  I smirked at the thought of them trying to act up in front of her anyway. It was a very suburban neighbourhood, much like Doveport and…

  I slapped myself in the face for going back to the crime scene. I was just around the corner and seconds away from seeing the love of my life. I mentally counted in my head like I did the day I left my room to check on my parents, and then put my foot on the accelerator and moved off.

  I parked up against the house and she’d obviously been waiting for me, and whether that was a good sign or not, I’m not sure. I turned the key of the ignition, bringing the guttural sound of the engine to a swift silence. I pulled myself out of the driver’s seat and closed the door, looking up at the door. She was standing there with a faint smile on her face.

  “It’s good to see you, Sebastian.”

  “You too, darling,” I weakly responded, almost choked up.

  “How was the drive?”

  “Fine, I guess.”

  We were engaging in mindless small talk and walked up to each other, keeping a distance. God how I wanted to hold her and repeat the scenario from the evening we made love about four months before. Her beautiful eyes, saddened by the past looked at me longingly, lovingly. As if an invisible wall was between us, we were frozen in place, speechless. My desire to kiss her was so strong but the fear of rejection was too great. I needed her, I loved her, and I felt powerless without her.

  Being with her was the best thing a man could ever want. She kept me sane, she kept me grounded, and made me feel invincible the whole time I was with her. I looked at her, with a tear forming in my eye. I felt extremely emotional, but it was driven by what I felt just being with her. I could sense the hurt in her. Her body language told me everything too. She was sheepishly playing with the sleeves of a mustard-coloured cardigan that complemented her complexion.

  That’s when we awkwardly motioned to each other for a hug. I held her so tight, taking in her sweet perfume and the smell of her hair. I pulled back slightly to kiss her on the forehead and gently told her that I missed her.

  “I’ve missed you too, Sebastian. Thank you for coming.”

  I went back in to embrace her, and she did the same. I felt a strange sense of calm, like none of the last year or so had happened, excluding our dalliance. It felt that the world around me was finally normal again.

  “Come in. Let’s not do this by the side of the road.”

  I followed her into the house, and she closed the door behind me.

  “So, where are your sister and the kids?”

  “They are away for the next week. They’ve gone to see Margaret and Alan.”

  I looked on confused, not really sure who she was referring to.

  “Seth’s parents.”

  We made some more mindless small talk about the kids, how she was finding things with her sister and then, over some tea, started to talk about what this was really all about.

  “You are probably wondering why I needed to see you, Sebastian.”

  My heart immediately sank, assuming the worst. She was going to ask for the divorce. She was ready to be done with me. Or was she? The way we hugged before and said we missed each other, wasn’t how people acted if they had reached the end of the road, surely?

  She told me about how she had gone into therapy and started to address how she really felt. She said that when she left, she appreciated it was sudden and hated the fact that her last words to me in person were as scathing as telling me I was destined to be alone. She apologised, profusely, though I didn’t need to hear it. I knew she spoke from a place of anger, hurt, and disappointment, and that I was fully in control of how I could have helped her with that.

  “I’m sorry, too, gorgeous. I could have been a better husband. No, I can be a better husband.”

  Her smile made my heart skip a beat. The little dimple she gets when she smiles is one of my favourite things about her. She truly is beautiful, and I’ll never know what I did to get so lucky to find her.

  “Do you remember how we met, Sebastian?”

  “I’ll never forget. The double date?”

  “No, not that. Though you’re right, that’s when we first met properly. But I actually saw you once before then. You turned up at a barbecue, Marcie Cunningham’s?”

  “That, I don’t remember.”

  “We were never introduced. I was leaving as you were coming in, I watched you drive up in your Camaro and assumed you would be some arrogant classic car collector. Some egotistical tool that felt he was God’s gift. You walk
ed in the door and as you did, I turned my back to start saying my goodbyes to Marcie. That’s when Gareth collapsed.”

  “That I do remember, everyone thought he’d had a few too many when it wasn’t the case.”

  “I’ll never forget how you dropped everything and went over to help him as everyone looked on. I was so ashamed in myself, and everyone else for not reacting. They only did when you told them it was serious. You didn’t see me because you were doing everything you needed to in order to make sure he was okay. You waited with him in the recovery position until the paramedics came and then left with him, made sure he was still okay, telling everyone to have a good time and you’d see them later. I was meant to be going elsewhere that night; I meant to catch a train. I waited and watched you. I never caught that train, Sebastian.”

  “Where were you meant to be going?”

  “Here. I was supposed to be coming here. My sister had set me up with a job and offered me a room to start a new life. I’d split up with Christopher about five months before and didn’t see much of a future. I missed the train and something in my mind told me I had to see you again. I was totally wrong about you. My perception of you being this arrogant big shot was so wrong. You were kind, caring, and compassionate. Not to mention handsome.”

  I smiled at the compliments. “You’ve never told me that before, darling.”

  “I didn’t need to. That double date we were on, I was so nervous that day. I knew who you were and had the biggest crush on you after seeing how selfless you were. I was star struck when we spoke across that dinner table, and you made me feel so comfortable. That’s one of the things I miss, Sebastian. In therapy, I’ve been talking a lot about it. My life could have been so different if I left that barbecue five minutes earlier that day. If I hadn’t seen you. If I hadn’t been so transfixed on this handsome man helping that innocent, collapsed man. I could have been on a train and ended up here and gone a completely different way in life. I’ve thought so long and hard about it, and whether this last year would have been worth it. I’m hurt, Sebastian, so hurt. But also, quite proud. I know that whatever kept you lost in your head was the same reason you helped Gareth that day. You’ve been doing things in your own selfless way and you’ve indirectly pushed me out by doing so. That’s what hurts.”

  “Darling.”

  “I need to say something, and it’s not going to be easy to hear Sebastian.”

  My heart sank. I felt every painful beat. Thud, thud, thud. Speak Arianna. The silence is killing me.

  “I still love you. But I can’t be with you, at least I don’t think so.”

  She was fighting back tears and the world was swallowing me whole. I was veiled in black, haunted by images of helplessness.

  “I can’t put myself in a position where I am second to your job. You do so much good and I am so proud of you, but I can’t ever be in a position where your thoughts are hidden from me.”

  “Can I try to explain?”

  She nodded, as though waiting for me.

  “I know I am difficult emotionally. I see myself as a black hole of sorts. I can be fine one day, then the next; I’m wallowing in my own self-pity. I may appear strong and headstrong on the outside, but inside is a daily battle. I am selfless. I do everything I can for anyone who deserves it because I hate the idea of someone feeling like I do. I hate the thought of someone being so far gone they are beyond help. That’s where you were perfect for me. You and that perfect heart, that perfect smile.”

  She smiled through tears.

  “I have never stopped loving you. On the run up to you leaving, I was scared. Terrified. I’d bore witness to the most harrowing sights. I faced evil. I watched a young boy with his insides disembowelled by his own father.”

  Her face changed, as though trying to picture it.

  “I saw a poor boy, maimed by his own flesh and blood, and thought about me as a kid. How I wished that fate upon myself sometimes. When I was a kid, there was this nurse, or caretaker if you will, at the orphanage I grew up in. Her name was Mallory. She was the only good thing I had in my childhood there. She kept me safe; she protected me and was like a mother to me. When I thought I had no one, she turned up. Like an angel, she always looked out for me. She kept my watch safe when I was frightened it would be taken away from me. The only link to my past, my real parents; she guarded with her life. Then, fast forward a few decades, you come along. Whatever vision I had of Mallory being an angel was shattered. You, gorgeous, were my true angel. I felt connected to you, entwined. I guess that in some twisted logic, by seeing that boy brutalised, who I should mention, had the same name as me, I felt as though I was facing my own past. Something in me snapped when I started to hunt Arthur. It took me to a dark place. I was hell bent on finding him and I suppose, myself in the process. The only person I couldn’t tell was you.”

  “Why not?”

  “I was worried that you’d leave. If I told you how that beast had gotten under my skin, and how I sort of matched it up to how I felt as a kid, you’d have called me crazy. I couldn’t and wouldn’t let your opinion of me change over something so trivial, which was at the time, so big to me. What I looked at when I was at that crime scene, I felt it. Coming home to you was my safe place, and by keeping you in the dark, you weren’t tainted by its poison.”

  “That doesn’t sound so stupid.”

  “What I couldn’t tell you was that Arthur, the man that killed this innocent boy, knew I was getting close. He was taunting me. He would send letters. He would take pictures of you at work. He would take pictures of him outside our house.”

  She looked on stunned and practically shouted, “Why wouldn’t you tell me that?”

  “I kept you in the dark to protect you. I didn’t want you to get spooked and come here, then be vulnerable. I didn’t know how serious the threats were, or if they were even threats at all. That’s why some of the lads from the station would watch over you when I couldn’t.”

  “They weren’t exactly subtle, Sebastian. That’s one of the reasons I started to step away. I felt as though you were watching me because you didn’t trust me or something.”

  “God, no. I trust you implicitly. I know how stupid I was not telling you. I know I could have trusted you. I felt as though I had it in hand, that I had everything under control. I didn’t want to be hunting Arthur and then, all of a sudden, not be able to protect you. Our home wouldn’t have been the safe haven I needed it to be. You wouldn’t have been you, beautiful and unblemished. I’m sorry for pushing you away, Arianna. I am so fucking sorry that words cannot express just how sorry I am.”

  “If you’d have told me, we would have been stronger together.”

  She was crying again. “I told my therapist I thought you had changed. That I thought you assumed I was cheating, or worse. This whole time, you were shouldering this burden and you couldn’t tell me. I wish I…”

  I waited for a response that never came. I could only hug her. She fought back deeper tears and I felt powerless. I was an idiot keeping her in the dark. If I had been honest from the beginning, things might have been different. I might not have pushed her away. The twisted irony is that by trying to keep her safe and protect her, I orchestrated the complete opposite of what I wanted. I felt incredibly injudicious. I held her and let her beat out some words of pain; she weakly punched me on the chest out of despair.

  I had to tell her, I had to try and make it right. Any hope of keeping her in my life or losing her forever; now was the time to man up.

  “Darling. I appreciate it’s as if I breached your trust by not telling you. I promise you that you were never in danger. I would have protected you, and if you can’t be with me and want me out of your life, I’ll understand. Just know I will always be here for you. I love you, Arianna. I’ll never stop.”

  She interrupted my emotional monologue and kissed me deeply. Through pain and tears, we shared the most powerful kiss, a combination of souls and hearts. This was the woman that I loved
in her most pure, most vulnerable form, and she was completely safe in my arms.

  “I love you too, Sebastian. Thank you for telling me that. It helps.”

  “Where do we go from here?”

  She led me by the hand, upstairs to her bedroom. I took the flattering mustard yellow cardigan off her to reveal that she was fairly underdressed underneath. She was wearing rather enticing lingerie, black and white, wrapped around her beautiful upper body. The dimly lit bedroom, pretty void of sunlight kept an air of eroticism in the air, augmenting her caramel-like skin, and I kissed her as she unbuttoned my shirt.

  “I always loved seeing you in a shirt, Sebastian.”

  She kissed me and our tongues explored as if we were two experimenting teenagers. In an entirely unsexy way, we clambered to take our trousers off and I was rewarded with the scene of matching lingerie. She always was classy like that. She’d sooner go without than to wear a mismatch.

  I lay her down gently on the bed, ran my lips and hands all over her body, and felt the energy in the room. I started to slip off her lingerie then fumbled around excitedly to become fully naked. I kissed her in her most intimate of places to be rewarded with soft moans and hands running through my hair in a very sensual form of encouragement. As I worked my way back up her body, we looked at each other, deep in the eyes, as we started to make love.

  It was the most amazing, most passionate lovemaking.

  We fumbled for hours and talked deeply and emotionally in a sweaty embrace.

  “I love you.” I placed a soft kiss to her forehead.

  “I love you too. I have to tell you something… I promise it is good news, what say we do it over dinner tomorrow?”

  I nodded enthusiastically. Any chance to see her was a welcomed invitation.

  We emerged from the bedroom, retreated to get some coffee, and after more loving embracing, and honest conversation; she politely asked me to leave. She told me that what we just shared was special and gave her a lot to think about, and she wanted to think about the possibility of coming back home. No doubt that’s what she wanted to share over dinner, the logistics of moving back in.