Her eyes narrowed. “Very funny. Were you seeing her before I told you about Nicole?”
“Shelley, I said it’s none of your business.”
Her eyes flashed with surprise, and her resolve slipped just a little. The smile on his face grew wider.
It’s almost funny.
“You had her here, in our house, in our bed?”
He couldn’t believe it. She and Nicole snuck around behind his back for who knew how long and she was pissed at him. It wasn’t because he’d been with another woman. It went deeper than that. Much deeper. She was angry because he was neither miserable nor pining for her.
It’s not almost funny at all. It’s pretty goddamn hysterical. She expected me to find me crying in the corner like a kid whose favorite toy fell apart.
“No offense, but you left this house. And since it was a gift to me from my grandmother, it’s my house, not yours. You left the marriage first, remember? You have no right to ask me anything about who I see or don’t see.”
Damn, that felt good.
Shelley glared at him, but the index finger on her right hand rubbed back and forth across her thumbnail. She only did that when nervous or afraid. She hid it well, but the little gesture gave it away. Nervous or afraid of him? No, Jason didn’t think so. The unexpected response? Most likely. She gathered her emotions back up, and the Shelley he knew best came back.
“So you fuck some little chicky and think it makes you more of a man?”
She always had a way with words, but this was a new low. Something had touched a nerve. No, not something, someone.
His smile stretched out even farther. “Maybe.”
She winced, a quick, tiny chip in the façade. He wanted her to be hurt by his words. All the times she ridiculed the things he expressed an interest in because she didn’t think them worthy. All the things she said and didn’t say. Every last look in her eye. He enjoyed the wince. He enjoyed the tiny break in her artificial sense of self.
“Well,” she said. “I only came by to pick up some things I left in the basement.”
Jason took a sip of coffee. “Did you get them already?”
“Yes, while you were in the shower.”
“Fine.” He held out his hand. “The key, please.”
Spots of color bloomed on her cheeks, but she dropped the keys on the table and left without another word, leaving behind silence and the stink of her perfume.
Brian had said she had his balls in a sling, but not anymore. His balls were firmly in his own hands now, and it felt better than good.
It felt fucking grand.
9
He called Mitch when he got to the office, but the call went straight to voice mail. As the hours passed with no reply he convinced himself Shelley’s appearance had chased her away and when she called him back that night, he hesitated, almost afraid to answer.
“I’m sorry,” he said, before she had a chance to speak. “I had no idea she would stop by like that. I completely forgot she still had a key.”
“That was your ex, right?”
“Yes, it was. I promise, it won’t happen again. I took the key back.”
Mitch sighed and his grip on the phone loosened.
“A little warning would have been nice. She scared the crap out of me when she came in,” she said. “And the worst part? She said nothing. She came in and stood there with her hands on her hips and just stared at me.”
Jason couldn’t help it. He laughed. “She did the same thing to me when I came downstairs.”
“I tried to say hello, but it didn’t work out so well. I wanted to come up and warn you she was there, but I wasn’t sure. I figured the best thing to do was leave. She reminds me a lot of my ex, unfortunately. They have the same glare. And that perfume she was wearing? Let me tell you, it stinks.”
“I know. Believe me, I know. I can still smell it in the kitchen even with the window open.”
A comfortable silence hung in the air, then they both spoke.
“I thought—”
“Do you like—”
“You go first,” Jason said.
“Okay. This might sound weird, but do you like carousels?”
“I did when I was a kid. I don’t think I’ve been on one since then. Why?”
“You know they have one at the Inner Harbor, right?”
“Yes?”
“Sometimes I go there and ride it. I know it’s a little weird, but it would be nice to have some company the next time. If you’re free, I was thinking maybe Saturday night. It’s supposed to be warm. We could ride the carousel and sit on a bench and people watch,” she said in a soft voice. “Maybe pick up some French fries.”
“Only if you like them with vinegar. Lots of vinegar.”
“Of course. How else could you possibly eat French fries? So, it’s a date then?”
Jason smiled so wide his face hurt. “Definitely.”
“How about if I pick you up around seven-thirty? I did ask you so I should drive.”
“Okay. Seven-thirty it is. But the fries are on me.”
“Deal.”
French fries, people watching, and a carousel ride. It would be an interesting date. The more he got to know Mitch, the more he liked her, even if she did believe in ghosts.
10
The tattoo started to peel the next morning. As he spread the ointment on his skin, thin flakes sloughed off, and the colors appeared even more vibrant and defined. He would not have believed a human hand capable of such precision if he hadn’t seen it himself.
Jason liked the tattoo a lot more than he thought he would, but even more than the ink itself, he liked the way it made him feel. Before his trip to Sailor’s shop, he never would have gotten the last word in with Shelley or asked someone like Mitch out on a date. And now? Everything and anything at all was possible.
He flexed his muscle and grinned at his reflection in the mirror. The griffin’s eyes caught and held the light, shimmering as if in agreement with his thoughts.
11
Jason, Brian and a few other guys from work were meeting at nine for what Shelley always called a beer and bullshit night, and on that, she was right. They drank, griped about work and Brian flirted with any woman who had the misfortune to sit nearby. Inevitably, someone would drink too much, and they’d send him home in a cab.
Brian had asked for Sailor’s contact information. Since the number didn’t show up on his phone, Jason figured he would just give him the card, but when he looked in his wallet, it was nowhere to be found.
He checked the trashcans in both the bedroom and the bathroom. No luck. The pockets of every pair of pants he’d worn since he got the tattoo were next. No luck there, either. When he went downstairs, he looked behind the sofa cushions and found plenty of crumbs and spare change, but no card. He checked the kitchen table, the kitchen counter, even the top of the microwave. Nothing.
He remembered putting the card in his wallet, but he didn’t remember taking it out. After he went through the contents of his wallet again, discovering an old picture of Shelley and an even older insurance card, both of which went into the trash, he gave up. No card.
His best guess? The card must have been on the kitchen table when Shelley came over for her things, and she tossed it out. He imagined the expression on Shelley’s face, wrinkled nose and all, when she picked it up, and the glint in her eyes when she decided it was unimportant to her, therefore unimportant to him. She probably smiled when she dropped it in the kitchen trashcan, then sprayed a little more perfume. ”Here, have a little stink to remember me by.”
After that, he threw it away when he took out the trash. Simple. He’d give Brian the address, and if he really wanted one of Sailor’s tattoos, he could stop by and talk to him there.
12
Mitch picked him up as planned on Saturday night, but she was quiet on the drive to the Inner Harbor. Jason didn’t want to pry so he held his tongue. Once they parked, bought fries and sat down on an empty bench
she opened up.
“I’m sorry, I’ve had a rough day. My ex-boyfriend called me today,” she said. “His mom has lung cancer and it’s bad. They’ve given her six months at most.” She spoke the last few words in little more than a whisper, almost swallowed up by the noise of a half-dozen teenagers shouting nonsense to each other as they walked by. Beyond the wide brick walkway tracing the harbor's edge, sunlight danced on the water. Crowds of tourists and locals moved in and out of the two pavilions that held restaurants and retail shops. In between the two pavilions, more people had gathered to watch a street performer juggling a set of bowling pins while riding on a unicycle, and the sounds of laughter and clapping drifted through the air.
Jason reached over and squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry.”
“I think I’m going to go and visit her in a few weeks. Adam, my ex, is an ass, but she was always nice to me, so I feel like I should. I haven’t talked to her in a really long time. She lives in Colorado now, but when she used to live here, we talked a lot. After I broke up with Adam, it just got weird because he’d pump her for information about me and use her to relay messages to me, so I stopped calling. Eventually, she stopped calling me, too.” Mitch rested her head on his shoulder. “And now she’s dying, and I feel like shit.”
Jason kissed the top of her head. She’d switched back to the coconut shampoo. An older couple walked by holding hands, and the woman looked over with a smile.
“It’s the cancer part that makes it so tough, though. Adam’s mom smoked two packs a day, so it’s not a big surprise that she has lung cancer, but my brother died of cancer,” Mitch said.
“I’m sorry.”
She remained silent for several minutes, then her words came out in a rush. “Zack was only twenty-two. He had an aggressive form of lymphoma and at first the chemo seemed to work, but after a while…” She shook her head. “It was horrible. He was so sick from all the medicine in the beginning, then when they stopped the treatments because they realized they weren’t working, he was in so much pain.
“I thought I’d forgotten about all of that, but when I talked to Adam today it all came rushing back—the way Zack looked, the way he smelled, like chemicals and rot, the way he used to smile in spite of it all, in spite of everything. I almost cancelled our date, then I remembered something he told me near the end. He said he had the easy part of it. Dying, he meant. It would be harder for us, but he made me promise I wouldn’t let his death take over my life.” Mitch took one of the paper napkins and twisted it in her hands. “And then he was just gone.”
She crumpled the napkin in one fist and shifted on the bench so she faced him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She opened her mouth to speak, then shook her head, leaned into his arms and kissed him. When the kiss broke, she smiled. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being here. For listening. I know it isn’t exactly great date conversation.”
He linked his fingers with hers. “I don’t mind at all. I’m sorry your brother died, but I’m not sorry you told me about him.”
She ran the fingers of her free hand through his hair. “Zack would have liked you. And he would’ve loved your tattoo. He had a thing for griffins. That’s why I got my tattoo. Remember the painting in my living room? Zack painted it when he was eighteen.”
“Eighteen?”
“Eighteen. He was an amazing artist. Gifted, really. I think he would’ve been famous.” She smiled, but tears glistened in her eyes again. “Come on, enough of my doom and gloom. Let’s eat the fries and go ride the carousel.”
13
The carousel was either very old or a very good replica. The horses were all brightly colored, and the underside of the canopy looked like the night sky in a fairy tale. Painted stars formed imaginary constellations, and the moon had craters shaded in the suggestion of eyes and a smile.
Jason and Mitch waited in line behind a large group of noisy children. The kids tossed kindergarten insults back and forth—“poopy breath,” ”stinky” and ”no, you’re the fart-mouth.” Mitch hid a smile behind her hand, but they both laughed out loud when one little girl with pigtails and serious eyes said, ”Boys are stinkier than girls because they have penises in their pants.”
The man operating the ride pulled back a chain and let them enter, glaring at the children as they rushed past him in a whirl of sticky hands and open mouths. When Mitch stepped through, the glare vanished, and his gaze moved up and down and back again until he caught them both watching, then he shrugged one shoulder and grinned, revealing chipped, yellow teeth.
Tinny music, sad, yet vaguely eerie, played from unseen speakers. The tune reminded him of a song he heard…somewhere. Jason thought it a rule—all amusement rides, even one as innocuous as a carousel, had to be a little frightening. Something to make the kids squirm and shriek.
He doubted any of the kids would notice the horses’ eyes. At first glance they were happy, smiling, safe eyes, but a closer look revealed a sort of abject terror, as if they knew they could run and run and run but, caught in an endless prison of up and down and around and around, they would never truly be free.
Jason and Mitch linked hands as the carousel began to spin, and the children’s laughter rose and fell like the horses. Mitch smiled and held his hand tight, the light in her eyes warm and childlike. Parents stood on the grass beyond the ride, clapping their hands, waving and taking pictures.
Then Jason’s eyes met familiar green. Sailor stood, with a straw hat tipped back on his head, at the edge of the crowd, a few feet away from everyone else. Jason raised a hand in greeting, but the carousel moved and Sailor fell out of view. The tinny music played on, the same mournful notes over and over.
On the next pass, Sailor had moved closer to the carousel yet still removed from the crowd. One little girl stared up at him, and a sneer appeared on Sailor’s face when he looked down. The little girl’s mother whipped her head around and stared at Sailor without saying a word, then took the child’s hand and drew her several feet away.
Jason leaned over and whispered in Mitch’s ear, but she shook her head as the music, the children’s laughter, and the squeak of the machinery swallowed up his words. He raised his voice higher. “Do you see the guy out there with the hat?”
The carousel made another pass, and for a moment, Jason thought Sailor had left, then he spotted the hat. Sailor had moved again, back another foot or so. The carousel continued around, and she leaned in closer.
“No, I don't. Who is it?”
“He’s standing to the right of everyone else. That’s the guy that did my tattoo.”
They circled around again, and Sailor tipped his head in a slow nod.
“I don’t see him,” Mitch said. “I thought I saw a hat, but I’m not sure.”
Jason’s left arm grew warm and his fingertips tingled. The music echoed off the platform and the canopy, with one note slightly off-key, barely noticeable unless you really listened, but once Jason heard it, he couldn’t not hear it. It conjured up images of abandoned buildings with dust in the corners, damp basements, spider webs and old boxes. The heat in his arm pulled in, pushed out, then vanished. The carousel took one more spin, and Jason shook his fingers; the tingle drifted away like the voices in the crowd.
“I think I saw him,” Mitch said after they circled around again.
“When the ride stops, I’ll introduce you. Wait until you hear his voice.”
Mitch laughed. “Okay.”
The carousel started to slow its pace, and all the children groaned in protest. Sailor turned his back to the carousel and stepped farther away from the crowd; his odd gait made the hat bob like a buoy in the ocean.
“So what’s up with his voice?”
“He sounds like a heavy smoker. It’s all gravelly and rough, but he talks like a teacher and he’s got a weird walk, too. You’ll see. I nicknamed him Sailor the first time I met him.”
When the carousel slid to a shuddering halt, their horse
s faced away from the crowd. Jason tried to look over his shoulder, but the edge of the crowd fell beyond his line of sight. It took a few minutes to dodge the children and leave the carousel. The music with the single odd note played on, and Jason wanted to be away from the noise.
Mitch grabbed his hand in surprise when a young boy with a smear of dirt on his forehead ran in front of them, almost knocking them over. They walked hand in hand toward the grassy patch. This far away, the music sounded even more unpleasant, and the disembodied notes hung in the night air like stale perfume.
Sailor’s hat bobbed behind the crowd and Jason frowned. “Damn.” He tried to walk faster, but a group of kids ran circles in front of them, halting their progress. Jason looked over the crowd but didn’t see the hat anywhere. Impossible. Sailor couldn’t have gotten that far away, not the way he walked. Jason looked again, farther out just in case. A tiny flash of pale, maybe a straw hat, maybe someone’s hair, but too far away to be Sailor.
“What’s wrong?” Mitch asked.
“I think he left. I know he saw me on the carousel. He stood there the whole time. I don’t know why he didn’t wait,” he said, and pressed a light kiss on her lips.
When they walked far enough away from the carousel to leave the music behind, she laughed.
“What?”
“You’re still looking for him, aren’t you?”
“Maybe a little.”
Why wouldn’t he wait? He watched us on the carousel. He could have waited a few more minutes. Didn’t he want to see how the tattoo looked?
“Maybe he didn’t want to disturb our date or maybe he had someplace else to go. If you really want to see him again, you can just go to his shop, right?” She squeezed his hand. “Is it really that important?”
“No, not really.”
And it wasn’t. It wasn’t important at all.
14
John S. Iblis walked along the harbor’s edge, humming under his breath. The crowds had dispersed, but he did not mind the solitude. In the water, a few fish swam in erratic circles, then disappeared like ghosts into the murky gloom.
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