“Oh god, I’m sorry! I had no idea.” Jack sat down on the bed next to her, switching from passion to empathy with a speed that amazed her.
“The short version is this,” Miriam said. My dad died of a heart attack when I was eleven, and my mom left when I was sixteen.”
“Left? What do you mean, left?”
“I mean…” Miriam hated that it was still raw enough to make her angry and sad, even now. “I mean, she just disappeared one day. Left me a couple thousand bucks on the kitchen table and vanished. I don’t know where she went, or who with. Back to Iraq, maybe? I don’t know. I never looked for her.”
Jack was silent for a long time, stunned. “I…I don’t know how to respond to that. That’s–god, that’s shitty. So you’re, like, alone? Completely?”
“Yeah, basically. I’ve got an aunt on my mom’s side in Dearborn, but she doesn’t want to see me.”
“You’re her family, how can she not want to see you?” Jack was completely at a loss, as if facing a question he’d never even considered before.
“I don’t know. When Mom first left, Aunt Fatima gave me some money, let me crash on her couch the night after the house got repo’d. Then…she just stopped answering the door, and I haven’t bothered with her since.”
“Your house got repo’d? So, where’d you live? On the streets?”
“God, Jack. I didn’t want to get into all this, not now. I really did bring you in here to…with other intentions…but I might as well give you the quick and dirty rundown of the mess that has been my life. Daddy died when I was eleven. Daddy…he was the one who loved me. Mom was married to him when she was barely sixteen I think. It was an arranged marriage, all that old world stuff. She never wanted him, never wanted me, and she showed it. Daddy adored me. Took me everywhere. I would sit behind him in the liquor store–yes, he owned a liquor store, shut up–and he would let me have candy, and soda, and we would listen to music and he let me ask as many questions as I wanted. Then I started school and I would go with him to the store after school. Every day. That’s where I did my homework, where I watched TV, on the little black and white portable. Then he died, and it was just me and Mom, and she…I swear she hated me. Never talked to me, unless she had to. Spent most of her time with her sister, or just out, I don’t know where. I raised myself. Did my homework, made my dinners, did my laundry, my dishes. I’ve been taking care of myself since I was eleven, basically. And then, one day, I came home from school and she was gone. I knew it when I walked in the door, you know? Have you ever just known something? The house was different. Felt different. She was always gone, so I was used to coming home to an empty house, but it just…felt different, somehow. Like the silence was heavy, telling me she was gone.” Jack was quiet, listening intently. She expected pity from him, was prepared to hate him for it, but she saw none.
“I was able to stay in the house for six months,” Miriam continued, “until it got repo’d. The lights and water and all that shut off about a week before the bank took it. I had a few things, but nothing I could take with me besides clothes and a few movies and my iPod. My friend Yanira convinced her dad to let me stay with them, and Yanira’s dad, god bless him, got me my first job, waiting tables at Kerby’s Coney Island. I stayed with them for about a month, and by then I had enough money saved to buy a used car, and I lived in that. Then I got an apartment. And let me tell you, that first night in my own place, earned with my own money…that was special.”
“You don’t have to tell me all this, you know,” Jack said. “It’s your business. I mean, I’ll listen, and I promise you, nothing you tell me will change how I feel.”
Miriam laid down next to him, head on his shoulder, hand on his chest over his heart, feeling it beat, thumpthump-thumpthump. She felt safe. Jack wasn’t as big or strong as Ben, and he wasn’t a hardass like Ben, but somehow he made her feel safer than she’d ever felt in her life. She felt desire stirring in her stomach, and she slipped her hand under his shirt, tracing circles in the light coating of hair on his chest.
“I’d rather tell you all this now. Just have it out of the way. I’ve tried not telling guys I was dating, and it never went well. I like honesty.”
“Are we dating now?” Jack had his face buried in her hair, muffling his voice.
“I don’t know, are we?” She craned her neck to look at him.
“Are you done with Ben? Like for good?” His tone was serious, and he propped up on an elbow, searching her face.
“I threatened to kill him if I saw him again, so I’d say yeah, I’m done with him.”
“That was awesome, by the way.”
“What? The threatening to kill Ben, or the thing with the fire?”
“Both.” Jack laid back down, and Miriam cradled her head against his chest again, touching the skin of his chest, greedy for his warmth, for the comfort of his presence. Jack let the issue drop, and she was glad. She wasn’t ready to talk about that yet.
“So I guess we are dating, yeah,” Miriam said. There were several minutes of comfortable silence, then Miriam said, “Jack? I have a question.”
“What’s that?”
“How is it you were there, on that road at that time? I mean, it seems like a a crazy coincidence.”
Jack didn’t answer right away. “You know Gramps’ Second Sight? He says I have it, too, which is how I had that dream about Joe. Well, I had a dream about you. I saw you walking in the rain, and I saw Ben show up in his car…and it wasn’t just a dream, it was real. I was going to go to your apartment, but that just didn’t feel right, so I turned around and headed back to where I first met you, at my cousin’s apartment complex. I assume that’s Ben’s apartment, right? Well, I knew I should’ve taken my Jeep, but I was in too much of a hurry. Something bad was going to happen if I didn’t stop it, I knew it in my gut. It started raining, and then I saw this glow. At first I thought a building was on fire, or something, but as I got closer I realized it was you, but I was going too fast, and I lost control…” Jack trailed off, shrugging. Miriam traced lines on the skin of his chest, wanting nothing more than to kiss him and never stop. She knew exactly where that would lead, though. That was something she wanted, desperately, but wasn’t ready to let that happen. Not yet.
Jack looked down at her, a thousand unasked questions glittering in his gaze. He rolled slightly so he was leaning over her, dipped his head down and kissed her, his lips soft and gentle and questing. Miriam couldn’t help her reaction. She tried to resist, but her body wouldn’t obey, and her thoughts were brushed away by the tenderness in his kiss, a gentility that was not at all unmasculine, only affectionate and considerate, and god, so alien to her, so wonderful. She couldn’t help pressing up into the kiss to deepen it, tangling her fingers in his hair at the back of his head, her other hand on the hard muscles of his stomach; she couldn’t help that his strong arms around her fanned the coals of passion into burning flames, so hot she was worried she might burst alight once more. She forced the fire down, pulled away from the kiss, and as she did so she had a momentary vision of Jack before she had healed him, lying broken and bleeding on the road, but in this vision, he hadn’t crashed his bike, but rather had been pummeled into a pulp by Ben’s quick, merciless fists. The brief vision doused her passion, and she turned away, shaking, eyes stinging with tears she didn’t understand.
“What’s wrong?” Jack asked. “I thought…I thought this is what you wanted?” Miriam covered her face with her hands, not answering, not knowing how. Jack pulled her back toward him, gently but firmly, pulled her hands away and brushed the tears from her cheek.
“I–I did, I really did. I’m sorry, Jack, I just…I can’t. Not yet.” Miriam buried her face between his neck and shoulder, finding comfort in his hand wandering up to rub her back. “I’m so sorry, I know I told you–I know you must be so frustrated. I keep doing this to you.”
“Miriam, look at me, please?” Jack tipped her chin up, and she finally met his eyes. “If you don’t want to, if you’re
not ready, I understand. Just tell me why, okay? I don’t want to do this if you’re not ready. I want you, yes. I’m…god, so turned on by you, so attracted to you. How could I not be? Look at you, you’re so beautiful.”
“No, I’m not. I’m not. And it’s not that I don’t want to. I do. I want you. I want to do this with you more than I–more than I should for how short a time I’ve known you. It’s crazy how badly I want this. So please, please, don’t think it’s that.”
“Then what is it?” Jack’s fingers were rubbing up and down her back, brushing her hair out of the way and massaging the muscles of her neck. He moved aside so that she was lying on her stomach, and he kneaded the muscles of her shoulder and back, moving her shirt up and rubbing her skin with a sensuality and affection that was in no way sexual, only relaxing and comforting.
“It’s Ben. I know I told you I was done with him, and I am, I promise. But I just…I don’t think he’s done with me. He won’t let go that easily. I–I had this vision of you all bloody and beaten up, and I knew Ben had done it, and that it was my fault. I healed you back there, but what if…what if he followed you to work and waited for you, jumped you as you were coming out? He would kill you, Jack. I’ve seen him do that before, not actually kill a man, but close. With his bare hands.” Miriam shook her head, trying to banish the memory, but unable to. “We were out having dinner, and Ben had had too much to drink again, and this guy was in the parking lot, talking on his cell phone outside his car. He’d parked so close to Ben’s truck that Ben couldn’t get in, and the guy just ignored Ben asking him to please move. Ben lost it. Just snapped. Attacked the guy and beat him into hamburger. He was unrecognizable before I could pull Ben away from him. It was…god, it was awful. And that was just a random guy that had ticked Ben off. If he knew we were doing this, talking, going out together…I don’t know what he’d do, but it’d be bad. I know I’ve said this before, and I know you think you can handle him. I’m not trying to insult you, Jack, I’m sure you can take care of yourself. I’m just…I can’t–I can’t go there with you, Jack. I just can’t. If anything happened to you, because of me…I’d–I couldn’t deal with that.”
“Isn’t that my decision?” Jack asked.
“I can’t put you at risk like that. You deserve better than this.” Her voice went quiet, almost inaudible. “You deserve better than me.”
Jack stopped massaging her and looked at her with incredulity. “I know I didn’t just hear that. Miriam…god, I can’t believe you’d say that. You are…how do I even say this so you’ll believe me? You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. Let’s start with that. You’re beautiful, I mean…gorgeous. You’re smart, and kind, and strong…Miriam, you’ve got that backwards. It’s me who doesn’t deserve you.”
“Jack, that’s stupid.” Miriam rolled to prop herself up on an elbow. Her thick brown hair had come loose from its braid, and she used the fingers of one hand to untangle it the rest of the way before grabbing a brush from the bedside table to brush it out.
“It’s not stupid. It’s the way I feel. Listen. Let’s not talk about who does or doesn’t deserve what. The important thing is that you can’t scare me away with stories of Ben beating people up. It doesn’t scare me. Maybe it should, but it doesn’t. I like you, okay? I like you a lot, and I won’t be scared off by anything. Unless you tell me that you aren’t attracted to me, and you don’t want to be with me, you can’t get rid of me. Everything else is an obstacle.” Jack ran his fingers through her hair as he spoke, his eyes intense on hers. “I’ll be honest here. I want you broken up with Ben for myself, so I can be with you. But it’s more than that. You deserve better than him. I want you to be with me, because I think I can take care of you, and treat you right. I know I can. I can treat you like you deserve. I can protect you. I will protect you, no matter what. Ben will kill me before he hurts you ever again. I swear it.” Miriam felt the confidence with which he said this, and she didn’t doubt him.
“I believe you,” she said. “And I want to be with you, Jack. In every way. I want to be your girlfriend, I want to kiss you, and make love to you. I just can’t…yet.”
Jack cupped her face, a smile on his face that was so…complicatedly wonderful…that she almost lost her determination. “That’s okay,” Jack said, “I can wait as long as you need.” That kind of answer from Jack didn’t help her efforts to resist him. She fought her desire, watching his liquid blue eyes drinking her in, admiring her. She had to look away from him before she kissed him. She laid down, rolled away from him, reached behind her for his hand and pulled him close to her. She knew it wasn’t fair of her to ask him to lay this close to her, pressed up against her, but she wanted it, wanted the comfort of his presence, even if she couldn’t have him the way she truly wanted. His arm slipped over her waist, his hand on her stomach, his breath soft on her hair. She lay awake for a long time, trying not to imagine what it would be like to be loved, actually loved.
Jack’s breathing evened out to a soft snore, and he cradled up against her in his sleep, holding her tightly, gently, protecting her.
It might feel something like this.
Chapter 11: Now
Carson sat at his desk, flipping through the file, not reading so much as staring, letting his mind wander, trying to connect the dots. The problem was, there weren’t that many dots. An apartment, a job, an ex with a temper and a penchant for beating up girls. But that didn’t necessarily make Miriam the primary person of interest. The most likely candidate, perhaps, but not the only one.
He scanned the file again, seeing the names and dates and phone numbers he’d seen a thousand times so far, waiting for that one detail to jump out at him.
There: Rachel Korolivycz, 4555 Gardenia Avenue, Royal Oak, 248-555-6545. Frequently seen with Benjamin Omar at Woody’s Diner. So he had another girlfriend? That would create a motive: jealousy.
Jenn and Carson drove up to Royal Oak.
“Yeah, Ben was my boyfriend,” Rachel told them, eyes red from crying. She’d obviously heard about Ben. “And yeah, I knew he was sleeping with–what was her name? Mary? Miri? Mara? What the hell ever. That other girl.” Rachel sat at the bar at Woody’s, a sweating bottle of Michelob Lite in her hand.
“So you knew, and it didn’t bother you?” Outright disbelief bled through Jenn’s normally emotionless voice.
Rachel shrugged. “She was just a booty call. Someone to take care of his urges when I’m working. She was nothing.”
Jenn shook her head, not quite believing what she was hearing. “Wait, so you knew your boyfriend had another girlfriend, and you didn’t care?”
Rachel gave Jenn a look of petulant angst. “She wasn’t his girlfriend. I was. He was fucking her, not dating her. There is a difference.”
“So there was no jealousy at all?” Jenn was pressing the point, trying to push a response out of Rachel.
“Not from me. He didn’t care about her. She was just pussy for him. He loved me. He told me all the time.”
Jenn’s face crinkled in disgust, at both Rachel’s language and her ideas. Jenn was straight-laced, traditional. She liked things by the book. The men Jenn dated were all buttoned-up sorts, crisp and organized and polished and formal, calling Carson “detective” and wearing suits all the time. They made Carson want to vomit, honestly, but it worked for her. Girls like Rachel were enough to send Jenn into paroxysms of disgust. He watched Jenn carefully: she was rubbing her palm on her pants leg, scribing the pen on the legal pad in dark circles. Jenn would be bitching all the way back to the precinct, and would probably put on a metric shit-ton of hand sanitizer.
Carson decided to rescue Jenn from Rachel before she had a nervous breakdown. “So you have no idea who would want to kill Ben?”
Rachel looked at Carson in surprise. “I kind of thought it was an accident, or something? You mean someone…murdered him?”
“We suspect foul play, yes.” Carson used the TV phrasing just to mess with her.
“But–” Rachel started, but fell silent. “It was probably Miriam. She was angry at being used. Stupid slut.”
Carson wanted to let his contempt for Rachel show but forced himself to remain blank-faced and professional. “So, did you know that Ben put Miriam in the hospital? He beat her nearly to death.”
Rachel cringed a little, to her credit. “No, I didn’t know that. Is she okay? I mean, I know Ben has a temper, but he’s never hit me. He’s gotten angry, and maybe screamed at me a few times, but…god, that’s terrible.” She seemed genuinely shocked. Carson didn’t get the sense that this girl had had anything to do with Ben’s death, however much he may have personally disliked her.
“Wow,” Jenn said, back in the car. “How messed up was she? I mean, how could you know your boyfriend was sleeping with someone else, and just not care? I don’t get it. If Greg ever cheated on me, I’d probably shoot him. And then break up with him.”
“Yeah, god help the guy who gets on your bad side,” Carson said, watching as Jenn dug her bottle of Purell out of the glovebox and rubbed it into her hands, and then again. Carson cracked a window to let the alcohol smell out of the car.
“Hey, so, tomorrow is Saturday,” Jenn said. “You know I have those reservations at the B and B up north with Greg, right?”
Carson nodded. “Yeah, I remember you saying something about it.”
“Will you be okay if I still go?” Jenn asked. “I mean, I hate leaving you in the middle of a case, but Greg doesn’t take too much time off, you know? I don’t know when we’ll get another weekend together.”
Carson waved his hand. “Nah, it’s fine,” he said, “I’ll be okay. I’ve got a few leads to work on. If anything comes up, I’ll call you.”
“You sure? I could see if Greg can reschedule…” Jenn obviously hoped Carson wouldn’t pursue this option.
“I’m sure, Jenn. It’s fine. I can handle this case on my own. I’m not actually a rookie, you know.”
“Thanks,” Jenn said.
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