Like You (Perfectly Flawed #1)

by Dunning, Rachel

  I take it Konrad is the Batman behind me. I hear his body drop.

  "Means you owe me twenty Euros, Eminem," the guy continues.

  "Bet was that Konrad get not single shot on Axle. He got several, including with bat," Emeryk—ahem, Eminem—says.

  "He start with cheap shot. It no count. Bet was that he get no shot—"

  Fat Fuck Emeryk gets pissed and points the gun at the dude giving him shit. "You shut da fuck up, Yugoslav pussy! I call shots here!"

  Yugoslav? I guess that's why they're using the universal language of English to communicate. Emeryk is Polish.

  "I not fucking Yugoslav. I Croatian! Yugoslavia not exist anymore, you Polish pussy!"

  Pussy must be a big word in these Eastern Bloc countries.

  "I not pussy. You pussy!"

  Like I said...

  I decide not to linger for the chat.

  I run!

  I'm out the door! I hear Emeryk swearing!

  My thinking was correct. He wouldn't dare fire that gun after me. This ain't the states. The military-style police force here would be on him faster than flies to, well, himself.

  I'm taking the stairs three and four at a time and I hear dozens of footsteps stomping down behind me! I might be a good street fighter, but four guys on my own is just a little too much. Especially when one of them has a gun!

  My insides sting like they're being fucked by a nest of oversexed hornets. Men are shouting above me. I make it onto the sidewalk of the four lane street. Cars barrel past me. I look left and right and decide my only chance is to make it out into an area with lots of people.

  I start running for the shopping street!

  The Eastern Bloc Family makes it downstairs and shouts toward me. I look back. The gun has been put away. As I thought, scared of the Robocops...

  They converse with each other. It only crosses my mind now that running from Emeryk was the most intelligent thing I could've done, even though at the time the move had been instinctual. The dude probably last ran when McDonalds had a sale.

  I stop running. Every breath is liquid fire.

  Emeryk throws me the bird and cries, "You fuckin pussy!"

  Again with the pussy...

  He laughs like one of those psychos you see in the movies who's lost all his marbles and chews on Valium as if it were bubble gum. He's really enjoying this. Then he pays the other dudes some money. None of the others are laughing. Mr. Croatian even argues with him!

  Ahhh, I see what happened. These were mercenaries. It looks like he actually had to pay someone to come and beat up on me the fucker has so little friends!

  My stomach hurts too much for me to laugh about it. But in my mind, I am laughing. Oh, I'm freaking guffawing about that shit!

  Then his henchmen turn back. And they leave.

  He throws me the bird again, then walks away in the other direction.

  Real tough guy.

  That's all he wanted. To give me a good beating and put me in my place. And then leave. I realize that if I'd stayed in my apartment the beating would have been a lot worse. The gun was merely to keep me in line, to stop me from fighting back—or from running.

  I drop to my knees. I look at the pavement and see a drop of blood.

  I lose all strength in my body. My chest is cold with the night air.

  I feel it tighten.

  I sway forward.

  I fall.

  My head hits the concrete and the sounds of cars and trams and people shouting swirls around me like singing fireflies.

  Then it's black.

  CHAPTER 32

  -1-

  G.

  Nov. 16, 2013 — Saturday, later

  I text Axle to ask if he's still coming by or if work has held him up. He doesn't reply.

  I'm done. I have my portfolio. There's nothing more I can do now.

  I consider going out into the streets and taking some more shots, maybe even going by the Red Light District. But I remember Axle's warning to me to never go there alone at night. It doesn't take a genius to know that's good advice.

  Some of it is unavoidable, however. Like on your way to the train station, which I'll be doing in the morning.

  I open the main gallery door, making sure the Closed sign is still visible in case people think we're open. I sit on the steps and let the chill wake me up while I stare out into the busy Saturday night street.

  I pull out my phone again and look at the time. Eight-thirty.

  In the distance is the main Frankfurt bridge and I stare at it aimlessly.

  I heft my phone.

  "Where are you, Axle?" I say at it.

  I close the door and go inside. I really have nothing to do without him here. I consider calling Karolin again but I should probably get some rest.

  I'll eat in the morning.

  I go up the stairs and get ready for an early night.

  I lie there and wait, staring at my phone.

  I call him once and it just rings. Then it goes to voice mail.

  I put the phone down.

  Another twenty minutes go by and I'm getting restless. I just want to make sure he's OK.

  I call again. Rings. Voice mail. "Yo, Ax, Gen—Genevieve—here. Just checking all is OK. I don't mind that you stood me up. Just...just making sure you're fine. Of course you are. Anyway. Forget it. Bye!"

  I sit up and wrap my arms around my knees. Sway back and forth.

  Another twenty minutes pass.

  Should I call him again?

  I call Frankie.

  "Hey, Frankie! Gen here. Have you...um...heard from Axle?"

  It's very noisy at the pub. "Gen, I can't hear you and it's a madhouse in here. Can you call back later?"

  I shout so he can hear me. "I'll be quick—"

  "Gen, I can't hear you. Can you—?"

  "Is Axle with you!?"

  "Gen?"

  "Axle, Frankie. Is Axle with you?"

  "Gen, call me back in ten."

  "No! Frankie!"

  "Hold on." He goes outside. "Gen, what is it?"

  "Frankie, I'm so sorry, I know you're busy. Is Axle with you?"

  "No, he's not."

  "It's just that he said he was going up on a roof today and he said he'd join me for a burger tonight and..." I trail off, knowing exactly how this must sound. The poor girl that the bad boy stood up.

  The old "You said you'd call me" line.

  "Frankie, never mind. I'm sorry."

  "That fucking punk. Gen, it's how he is, love. Look, it doesn't mean he's with someone— Urgh. Asshole!"

  My eyes prickle. "Thanks, Frankie. I'm sorry to bother you."

  "Look, I'll go past his place after my shift and make sure everything's OK. But it's Saturday night, love. Pub's open until four in the morning."

  "No, no, it's fine."

  I want to ask if Axle's ever spoken to him—in that way—about me. A desperate question, I realize.

  "OK, then. So you're going to Berlin tomorrow?"

  "Yeah."

  "Well, have a good trip."

  "Thanks. And sorry to bother you, Frankie."

  I click the phone off.

  I lie back and look at the ceiling.

  Actually, I'm not sad. And even though I start crying, I'm not crying for him.

  I'm tearing up for my life.

  Before Axle, I'd closed it all up. I'd cry when I'd held it in for so long that it had to come out. Now I'm crying because it feels...good. It feels cathartic in a way.

  I try not to read too much into him not answering. Maybe he passed out on the couch from a hard day's work. If I knew where he lived I'd go there. I make a mental note to at least find out where he lives next time I see him!

  I put my ear to my pillow and stare at my phone. I check that the alarm is correct: Three A.M.

  I'm too tired to pack now. I'll pack when I wake up.

  Slowly the display of the phone begins to fade. Its nineties-style green screen disappears off into a haze and looks like fog roll
ing over clouds.

  My sleep is restless.

  I'm at a lake...

  -2-

  Fog surrounds a wooden house at a lake or a bayou. I can't tell. There are green willows all around it. The wood of the house, and of the pier that juts out from it, is diseased. An army of termites gnaws away at it.

  A man appears above the pier.

  He's holding an ax. From the ax drips blood. His clothes are tattered, ragged.

  And smudged with red.

  A baby cries inside. It screams and howls and wails.

  I come out the house holding the bloody baby.

  "You killed her!" I shout at the man with the ax. "You fucking killed her!"

  The baby is crying still and I rock it.

  "I didn't kill her. She just needs to be fed. So feed her, you bitch, or I'll kill you!"

  I put the baby to my breast but her skin starts going blue. No, she's dead. She's dead. He killed her. She's dead!

  "She's not dead!" the crazy ax-man says.

  The man is at the edge of the pier, close to the water. I want to rush at him and throw him in it.

  I want to kill him!

  "Mason, I think she's dead. She's dead, honey. Don't you see?"

  "She's not dead! She's alive!"

  He charges at me with the ax!

  -3-

  Nov. 17, 2013 — Sunday, Three A.M.

  I wake with a gasp!

  I quickly survey the room and, after determining that the shadows are just shadows, I lie back and breathe. My hair is drenched. The alarm on the phone is still going. I turn it off.

  Axle still hasn't texted.

  And now I'm worried. Because that's not like him. I might not have made the best decisions in the past but I know in my heart this isn't him. Even if he's only sleeping, I'm too damn afraid to leave it to chance.

  I call Frankie again. After some more noise and figuring out what's being said, I get Axle's address. I throw some things in my travel bag and check that I have my portfolio.

  Then I double-check I have the portfolio.

  Finally, I check again that the portfolio is absolutely and definitely in my bag!

  I should have made two of it just to be safe... But it's too late now.

  Before leaving I hear the scratching at the kitchen door. "Sorry, kitty. But I have to check on another friend tonight."

  I close the front door. I walk two paces and feel bad about the cat. "Christ, Gen!"

  I go back in and open the door for the cat. It rushes in!

  I run around after it. When I can't catch it I put cream outside for it.

  It doesn't follow. "What's wrong?"

  I peek outside the door. There's a dead bird outside. "Oh, I see you've eaten..."

  The cat sits in the middle of the kitchen, licking its paw and wiping it face.

  "You know, I think I'm gonna call you Facebook because you trick me into letting you into my private space and then you make it impossible for me to get rid of you."

  The cat looks at me.

  Eventually I coax the thing to follow and when it's outside I slam the door in its face! "Last time I help you before I have to catch a train."

  I grab my bag again and leave.

  I go to Axle's apartment.

  -4-

  Axle's door is unlocked.

  There's a huge crack on the ground as if...a bat...hit it.

  A bat...

  I gasp.

  There are spatters of blood on the floor.

  His phone is lying by the blood.

  A bat...

  Emily.

  Axle!

  I lose all strength in my legs. I fall to my knees.

  CHAPTER 33

  -1-

  G.

  Nov. 17, 2013 — Sunday, Four-thirty A.M.

  Axle's hooked up to machines but the doctor says he's stable. He had some internal bleeding and went into shock which is what caused him to go unconscious. They picked him up on the street after someone saw him collapse. They're confident he'll come out of it soon enough. The bump and cut on his head is not as bad as it looks, the doc assures me.

  I find out that Frankie wasn't reached because it turns out Axle hasn't updated his next-of-kin on his health assurance since before Zoey died.

  Zoey is listed as the next-of-kin.

  When the doc asks Frankie about this, Frankie tells him she was his sister. And that she's dead. The doc goes silent for a second then tells Frankie he should get Axle to update it as soon as he can. Frankie nods.

  Frankie talks to me in the hallway. "I'm sorry, Gen, I should have believed you when you called."

  I shake my head and try and tell him it's OK but the words don't come out.

  I'm suddenly a total wreck and Frankie's shirt is drenched because I start crying into it.

  I know I'm crying for a whole mixture of things. I know Axle will be OK.

  But my mind is going nuts on me and telling me What if? and You should have and Why didn't you!?

  It's telling me this is Emily and my crazy husband shooting himself and it's telling me I never got to my know my parents and it's telling me I'm all alone.

  And it's telling me that someone who's twenty-two doesn't deserve such a life.

  I ask the doc if I can go inside and talk to Axle, but he says I can't. Family only. And visiting hours only.

  I beg him.

  He doesn't budge. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I cannot break regulations."

  Finally, when the doc disappears, I try sneak in. He catches me, gives me a reproachful look, and tells me again that he "cannot break regulations."

  German rigidness.

  Frankie brings me some coffee from a machine. "It's awful, but it's all they have," he says.

  We go outside and sit at a bench facing the river.

  "How you holding up?" he says.

  "Peaches." I'm looking at my coffee and feel Frankie's eyes on me. "What is it?" I ask finally.

  "Sorry, I got caught in a flashback. My sister used to say that."

  "I see." I only started saying it after I heard Axle using it.

  "What time's your train?"

  I'm staring at the plastic cup and hardly hear him because I'm so far into my own thoughts. The occasional car throttles by to break the silence, but otherwise it's dead as night right now. "Uhm..." I clear my throat. "It was supposed to be at five-fifty-five."

  "Well, I'll give you a ride."

  I think what I would have given up to spend one minute with Emily.

  One minute with someone that I love.

  Everything. I would've given everything up.

  "I'm not... I'm not going."

  "What?"

  My lip trembles.

  "Gen, Axle told me about this. He told me how important it is for you. You have to go—"

  "I'm not. I want to be here when he wakes up."

  Frankie goes silent.

  "It's not for him," I say, "it's for me. I don't care what he feels for me, I know what I feel for him. I want to be here."

  He sighs. "I know what he feels for you. I didn't want to admit it. And when you called me tonight—last night—I was convinced that what I'd seen in him had been a lie. But it wasn't.

  "I cleaned his apartment out with him on Thursday, you know that? Fuck me, that was a job and a half. He threw away things of my sister that he'd held onto for years. He kept saying, 'It's time to move on, Frankie.'

  "You know he's thinking of finishing his university degree, don't you? Do you know it was Zoey who got him started on that?

  "Look, the man is in love with you! I mean, real fucking love. When you called me last night I was too stupid to admit that, after five years, it actually happened again.

  "He won't admit it though. He'll take it slow with you. He probably won't tell you he loves you for another ten years. Because he's afraid.

  "The man you see in there, the bruises, the cuts—that's not him. Yeah, he was always a tough guy. But that's not really who he is. He's smart. He's got
something in him.

  "Zoey had been the only one to bring it out in him.

  "And now you."

  He stops. Waits.

  "How do you know it's me?"

  Frankie stands. He talks passionately with his hands down at me. "Because the only other fucking girl that he ever had such a great time drinking it up with—" He chokes. "Sorry. Sorry." He wipes his eye. He looks away. "Axle would want you to go and follow your dream, Gen. You'll crush him if you don't do it. Zoey had dreams as well. She was studying with him. I can't tell you how many times he told me that the hardest thing about losing her was not his own pain, but the fact he wanted to see her make all her dreams come true.

  "He'll want the same for you. He'll want you to go to Berlin.

  "Look, Gen, he's fucking stable, girl. He's not gonna bloody-well die on you. I'll tell him you were here. Hell, I'll tell that fucking bastard to face his fears and tell you how he really feels if I must! But don't screw this up. You'll kill him."

  "He loaned me his ring, you know that?"

  "Loaned? How do you loan a ring?"

  "He told me to keep it for him. He told me he was moving on, and that I should hold onto it for him."

  Frankie shakes his head. "Fuck me, babe. If that ain't love..."

  I stand.

  Because I have a train to catch!

  -2-

  * LOADED LETTER *

  Dear Axle,

  I'll forgive you only this once for standing me up. If you do it again, I'll cut your balls off.

  If you're wondering why I'm not here, blame your best friend. It's his fault.

  Here's the loaded part:

  What hurts me most about what happened to me is not being able to ever have spoken to her. To never have told her that I love her.

  I want you to know that I'm scared as hell of being with you. My heart's on my sleeve. I'm falling for you. And the fear is unlike any other I've ever felt before.

  Because I can't lose another important person in my life. I don't mean losing because of "breaking up." I mean, losing, like, if something were to ever happen to you...

  Even when people break up they can still stay friends. And we're at least that, right?

  Well, to me you've become so much more.