by Maggie Twain
I still want Haley to have my baby, more than anything else in this world, but whereas before I might have been able to go through with it owing to our feelings not being quite so intense, now that I, and maybe even we, both feel this way, it’s no longer the right thing to do, to go through with this insane fucking science experiment.
A car roars past, splashing a large pool of water that just narrowly misses drenching me. Not that I can get wetter than I already am, jackass.
I’d foolishly gone to the movies, forlornly hoping I might yet jerk my head out of this disorder, but all I’ve succeeded in doing is convince myself I can’t be helped, that I can’t be cured. Just as Tanner says, I’m a freak of nature and deserve to be single and lonely my entire life, never to have kids, to pass on my genes.
And as for the fortune, right now, I could not give less of a shit.
It’s getting light now, morning, a little after eight. Last night, I’d told Carey to be at the hospital but I’d been way too optimistic, assuming my desire and lust for Haley would carry me through, enable me to overcome my fears.
But I was wrong about that.
I’m a complete lost cause.
And no child deserves to be half freak.
My mouth twists as I pull out my cell. I have battery enough for one quick call but there’s only one person I need to speak with and neither do I wish to make small talk. I tap the screen and hear it ringing.
“Mister Astor, good morning,” comes the Swiss accent, “I trust you’re excited about today’s procedure?”
“Doctor,” my voice is a grunt, “I’m calling it off. You may collect your things and leave.”
There’s a pause. “But…”
“Don’t worry, you’ll still be paid…”
“No, that’s not what I was…”
“I can’t go through with it. I’m sorry. Goodbye.”
I end the call.
It’s middle of the afternoon when I’m staggering back over the bridge. All night and all day I’ve been out, wandering, mostly aimlessly, though I’ve been thinking lots too. Heck, I’ve done nothing but think. What else was there to do?
The toughest and most painful decision I’d already made, that of calling off the IVF. Next, I had to ponder my future, a future without my beloved Carrington Country Club, because there’s no doubt now that I’ve lost it all, my dreams, my entire life. Last but by no means least, there’s Haley, my beautiful Haley, though truth be told I’m not sure I possess the strength to do what needs to be done with regards the girl I love, indeed, I’m not even sure what the right thing is. I love her, I need her, I can’t be without her and yet neither can I inflict myself upon her. Despite all the thinking I’ve done, I still don’t know what to do.
As I cut across my golf course, I’m beyond disheveled, my rain-soaked clothes having dried by my body heat only to dampen once again from my sweat. I’m filthy, hungry and exhausted, and yet there’s still something important I need to take care of.
I don’t want Haley to see me like this, so I’m mindful to head straight to my suite and my shower. The moment I enter, Carey jumps up from the couch.
“Deck, where the fuck have you been?” He stomps straight over, almost forgetting himself and his lack of face covering. He catches himself just in time and throws up his hands from a safe distance. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you all fucking morning.”
I give him a wide berth, aiming for my bathroom. “Battery died, you know how it is.”
“What?” He shrieks. “Considering what happened today, I might think you’d have a little more urgency here.” There’s something in his voice, something alarming. I know Carey more than anyone and he’s rarely as agitated as this.
I stop and turn around. “What’s happened?”
He’s looking at me like I’m crazy. “What do you think fucking happened? You canceled the most important thing to you in the whole fucking world, to her too, and now…”
“Wait,” I hold up a finger, the graveness of the situation, possibly, finally beginning to register in my exhausted mind, “where’s Haley? She’s here, right?” I take an unconscious step back toward the way I entered.
He shakes his head with vigor. “No, she’s not here! That’s why I’ve been trying to get hold of you.” His urgent tone alone has stunned me into silence. He’d better be quick with the details. “After the clinic … I mean, she was completely beside herself, couldn’t sit down, couldn’t stand still, couldn’t be calmed or soothed.”
“Carey,” I shout, “will you just tell me the fuck where she is!”
His face flares red. “She took off with her belongings. I tried to stop her but…”
I don’t even wait for him to finish before I’m crashing through the door and charging down the corridor, ten seconds later arriving at her suite and barging through the door. A breath of air escapes me because the only thing that remains of Haley is her sweet peachy scent. I notice Carey lingering in the threshold. “She took off on her own? Have you asked Erin where she is?”
“She has no idea about anything. Decker,” his tone is now soft, concerned, “I’m worried about her. She’s not in a fit state of mind.”
I step closer to him, closer than I’ve stepped to anyone in a long time, and it’s enough to cause his eyes to bulge in surprise. “Why didn’t you try harder to stop her? Or at least make sure she got where she wanted to get safe. At least then I’d know where she is.” Fuck! There’s a bridge between here and her college and that realization causes a horrifying chill to shoot up through my spine. She wouldn’t do anything that stupid, would she? But then, I had just called off the IVF. Who knows?
Carey holds up his hands defensively. “I offered and she accepted, Decks, but she snuck out some other exit whilst I was waiting in the lobby. It was the groundsman who told me he saw her scaling the wall on the north side.” There’s a pause before he speaks again. “I’m, um, I’m worried she’s going to do something stupid.”
My hands find their way into my hair and then my fist crashes against the wall. “I swear, if anything happens to her…” My cell! I rush back to my office and plug it in, praying she’s left a message. When finally it lights up there are a dozen messages at least, but they’re all from Carey. No, wait, there’s one from an unknown number. My hands are shaking when I tap the screen to open the message.
It’s from my bank, confirming that a hundred thousand dollars has been returned to my account. This is not good. No matter the outcome with everything else, I wanted Haley to have that money.
I try calling her but it goes straight through to messages.
The cell slips from my grasp. “What have I done?”
“Perhaps we can find her,” Carey begins, “it can’t be too hard, we know where she studies.”
“Just so long as she hasn’t left college altogether.” She has no money, after all, but Carey’s right, there are a few leads. “Give me the keys.”
He gives me a funny look instead. “Decks, hadn’t you better…”
“She’s my woman, I’ll find her myself.” In a moment like this, even the germs Carey has left crawling over the steering wheel are insignificant. “The keys, damnit,” I have to say more forcefully. Driving a car will be the easy bit, I might also have to get close to people, and God help me then.
He hands them over like they’re a Fabergé egg but nothing bad happens to me when I take them, I’ve not descended into a fit of palpitations and as for sweating, well, I was sweating profusely already and by this time, it’s doubtful I could look or smell any worse no matter how hard I tried. Carey’s face softens. “I guess then … I’ll wait here for news.”
I nod, grab my phone and charger and then I’m dashing out the building, firing up the Bentley and screeching out the club grounds, shunting aside the groundsman’s wheelbarrow as I do. I shudder as I’m crossing the bridge but there are no cops around, no news crews or police tape indicating some horrific event had just transpired. At least tha
t’s something.
For obvious reasons I’m not used to driving, unless it’s one of my golf buggies, and when I arrive at the house I recently rented for Haley, I accidentally wrap the front end of the car around a fire hydrant. I’m jumping out without even bothering to survey the damage and almost as quickly, my knuckles are striking at the door, not letting up until the thing swings open.
“What?” Comes the curt response.
I scan beyond the man. “Is she here?”
“Who, Karla?” He’s a big guy, the no-bullshit type, with a beard and the thick muscles of a powerlifter.
“Haley! Where is she.”
“His eyes glaze over as they glance beyond my shoulder.”
“Dude, is that your car?”
“Listen, I don’t give a fuck about the car, alright? I need to speak with Haley.”
He shakes his head. “She moved in and then moved out again the day after, even had someone else collect all her shit.” He shrugs. “Had me really worried it was me and that I was coming on too strong with the welcome lasagne. At least, that’s what Karla said.”
“Never mind,” I turn to leave, there are people gathering around my vehicle now, “but if you see Haley, tell her to call Decker immediately.”
“Oh,” he smirks, “I won’t forget you.”
“See that you don’t,” I call as I’m bounding back into the street and clambering back inside my car.
I ignore all the stupid camera phones as I attempt to pull away, throwing a tonne of smoke into the air from the hood as I do. I think the front end is raised a few inches from the ground because I’m unable to get any purchase on the road and now there’s that awful, choking stench of burning rubber adding to the rest. I change into first and shunt forwards, then quickly reverse again and there’s a wallop when the deformed front end thumps the road. I’m roaring down the street without looking back, grazing my tires against a long length of curbing slab, and the next thing I know I’m driving at a slant because I’ve burst one or both rubbers on the driver’s side.
Roads, as it turns out, are bumpy when you have no air between them and your rims, and every revolution is a jolt. The truth is though that by now I’m in far too much of a state to notice as I blunder straight through Harvard University, checking left and right for any signs of a deranged girl carrying baggage. I screech to a stop outside the School of Arts and Sciences on Quincy Street, my own old stomping ground, and open the door straight into a red maple tree. When I attempt to slam the thing shut, it won’t, so I leave it as is before making a beeline for the building, though not before acknowledging with a nod my old prof who happens to be standing close.
I scour the building from top to bottom and of course, hardly anybody’s wearing a mask. Now I know how Indiana Jones felt in Raiders of the Lost Ark when he fell into that pit of snakes but having no choice, I force myself to go from theater to theater, classroom to classroom and office to office, making more than a small fool out of myself as I demand to know if Haley Olsen should happen to be here.
Time and time again, I receive the same reply in the negative and time and time again I feel the hopelessness and dread begin to overtake me. Students recoil at the sight and, no doubt, the smell of me, but I don't care because I absolutely must find my woman.
The first thing I notice when I storm out the building is that it’s getting dark now, oh, and my car’s been vandalized. In the moment, it’s hard to give much of a shit about that, the graffing, the engraving, or the outright stealing. Both wing mirrors have been taken and, strangely, most of the interior paneling. I half expect the thing won’t even start but when I turn the ignition, it fires up as usual, and then I’m clanking away off-campus with my cell pinned to an ear.
“Carey,” I pant, “can you go through your usual channels and find out which bar she used to work at?” I wipe at my forehead and flick the beads of sweat away. “I really don’t fancy searching every bar and club in Boston.” Although I will if I have to.
“Sure, Deck, I’ll get back to you when I have it.”
All I can do now is cruise the streets of Boston, although I pay extra attention to the people at every bus stop. I get strange looks from nearly everybody, including at least one cop, but luckily he’s too busy dealing with an apprehended mugger than in going after a dilapidated luxury car.
It’s now nine in the evening and I haven’t eaten in over a day. I won’t be helping anybody if I pass out from fatigue, so I head through a nearby drive-through for burgers and soda. I’m just finishing when I get the call from Carey.
“Yeah?” Please tell me you have a location.
“Alright, Decks, listen up. Until the other week, your girl used to work at a place called Jives, some sleazy student dive over on Hancock Street. Now…”
“Gotta go…”
“Wait! Hey, stay where you are. I’ll come down now in the other car. If you go in there by yourself then you ain’t ever coming out again.”
I’m already moving as I fumble about in the glove box for the masks but the entire contents, along with the disinfectant wipes and sprays, have been looted. “Fuck!”
“Hey, I can hear the engine. Stay where you are, I’ll be fifteen minutes.”
“Sorry, buddy, not today.” I end the call and slam my foot down on the gas.
Chapter Nine
Haley
“It’s good to have you back, Hailstorm,” Gavin claps me on the shoulder, “and what a day to return, right?” This is in sarcastic reference to the band we have tonight, Grizzly again, which means Phil the lecherous bassist is also in the house.
Behind the bar, Mac’s giving the whole band an evil scowl as they carry out their soundcheck. Earlier, I had to listen to her tale of being seduced in the back of the band’s van whilst the other members were sitting in the front before being turfed out at a gas station and told to catch her own ride back.
I’d have told her that maybe next time she ought to get to know a man better before allowing herself to be seduced anywhere, never mind in the back of a van filled with speakers, drum sets and other people, but something made me hold back. What do I know anyway? Getting to know a certain someone first didn’t exactly work out either. At least not for me.
Maybe I ought to have taken tonight off, I’m still in agony over what happened, but necessity won out because once again, I’m beyond broke. Thankfully, Gavin has agreed to give me this month’s pay in advance and Mac’s allowing me to crash on her couch until I’m able to find somewhere more permanent, which will likely have to be someone’s basement. I try not to think about Decker, the abandoned IVF, or anything else about the last hazy yet wonderful two weeks.
Did it really happen or was it all a dream?
When it’s all said and done, I’m still working nights in a mosh pit with an ever present threat of ruin looming over me. It’s almost like I can live with all that, I’m used to it, after all, but experiencing a broken heart is something new to me completely and I’m not sure I have the strength to endure that on top of everything else.
It still feels like there’s unfinished business between Decker and I, the abandoned treatment aside, we never got to explore each other fully, not by a long shot. Not only did we never get to hold our baby but neither did we get to play a simple round of golf on his course, go for a run together on adjacent treadmills or have a golf buggy race, only this time with obstacles whilst armed with water pistols. Worst of all, we never got to … sigh, it hurts to even think about it, about that, about never undressing each other and feeling our flesh crush together. Fuck, I never even got to do so much as hold his hand.
Sometimes the world can be so unkind.
What I can’t quite get past, however, is the way that in the end, Decker was so unkind to me, that he could not bring himself to tell me in person that he was calling the whole thing off. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to understand that. Or that we never got to say goodbye.
The lead vocals, a guy called Fork Beard a
nd who the name Grizzly is probably in honor of, steps up to the microphone. “Test…t…t…t…test…1, 2, 3, almost ready to roll.”
It’s approaching nine in the evening and the place is beginning to fill. Social distancing restrictions have been further eased, which means we’re able to admit more people to the venue and from what I’m witnessing, masks are now all but a thing of the past. That familiar stench of mosh pit, beer, sweat, stinging body odor and unwashed student mingles to concoct a unique whiff that’s unique to Jives. To top it all off, at some point whilst I was away living it up in a luxurious country club, the air conditioning broke down and nobody’s yet thought to have it fixed. I wish I could say you get used to the atmosphere in this place but that would be a lie and tonight it’s as though I’ve taken a job in some medieval abattoir on the equator. When it’s done, no doubt I’ll require at least three showers to cleanse myself.
Phil approaches, bypassing the line, and hovers at the entrance to the bar. His long brown hair is let loose to flow over the back of his leather jacket and I can only wonder how he’s not stifling in that thing, or if he even knows there’s steam coming off his neck. “Four Molsons, my girl.”
I nod without making eye contact, though I definitely notice him licking his lips when I reach forwards to grab the faucet handle.
He grunts, “you can grab my stick anytime.”
I suppress the shudder, being numb to the world right now helps too, but I’m thankful the beers are on the house and I don’t need to string this interaction out any longer by having to ask for money. “That’s Four Molsons. Good luck tonight.” I turn away but feel a slippery hand on my arm.
“I was just wondering if you caught our new release in the iTunes charts?”
I shrug. “I’ve been really busy recently.”
“Number 25 and rising.”
That’s actually kind of impressive, but I just don’t care. “That’s great. Congratulations.”