Fire In The Water

by Janice Ross

  "I'll get you settled in, then go over to Maggie’s."

  "No, Rhys. Why not head straight there now?" She managed to fake me out by leaning as if searching through her bags, and consequently passing the back of her hand against her fresh profile. Before I was able to object, she presented a million reasons as to why she needed to be alone. "Ultimately, you put your life on hold for me. Now I need you to go off and live."

  The hair on the back of my neck stood up. A light sensation traveled up and down the length of my arms which I attributed to my short-sleeved navy polo. I clutched a light jacket in the palm of my hand. My fingers flexed tighter while I searched her face, finding streak marks all the way down to her chin. The tears ended along the neckline of a beige dress.

  "I am strong." Lisle pulled in a mouthful of the metallic air outside of the airport. She exhaled in a long, drawn out form. "Go, Rhys. I'm not your concern."

  You see, that was a problem to me. My mother was, is and would always be my concern. One parent mattered above the other. Lisle, not Rupert, made me believe I could be good.

  "I can't be happy knowing you're–"

  "Rhys, go. Please. You're making things difficult when it doesn't need to be.

  The terminal stunk of exhaust, gas and cheap, stale cologne. It hadn't yet gotten busy, not in the usual way, so we could talk and debate and come to an agreement without being a focal point.

  "We'll visit you. Give us a few hours." I knew Maggie would want to make rounds with our families. It was something she had been looking forward to because we both knew where the relationship was heading.

  Lisle nodded.

  Eventually, she entered a car bound for Park Avenue–the 432 Park Avenue Residential Tower to be exact. My heart settled to know that although she was gearing up to be under Rupert's thumb again in about forty minutes, their luxurious home might help ease her mind.

  I didn't secure another ride for myself until hers pulled away from the curb. I settled into a car going to Chelsea, less than a twenty-minute drive from my parents. My nerves were the very thing holding me together and pushing me to the brink of insanity. I studied the outdoor sounds and scenery–from the massive skyscrapers on the horizon to the various sounds of car horns that were no different than what I'd grown up hearing. Though today, their distinct weight somehow stood out. Each appeared to take jabs at my gut, intensifying the nerves weighing down my resolve.

  The painted yellow and white lines of the roadway, staunch forms of massive buildings, and huge structures of bridges all seemed new, like I'd just migrated to the island. Whenever we drove under a bypass, I'd close my eyes. We transitioned from Grand Central Parkway briefly onto the BQE and so on. I slumped onto the hard-backed leather seat when we drifted into the Midtown Tunnel. I allowed the scenery of my domain to hold me hostage, to yank me in every direction with the allure of being back where I belonged. My heart thumped so hard I was certain the vibration would carry over the car horns. The minutes serenaded my hopes and desires. With the passage of time, we drew closer to an all-familiar building, and I knew life was getting ready to speed up.

  Shit, over the years I'd see all sorts of guys get caught up in tragic relationships. They'd play tough only to get chewed up and spit out like discarded gum. Never thought I'd ever be one of those saps, minus the getting chewed up and spit out part. Maggie was what you'd call faithful...dedicated. That was why she would be getting the halo cut diamond I had custom made in the U.K.

  The soles of my brown leather slip-ons gripped the pavement in front of our building. Luggage in hand, I couldn't bring myself to take another step. After all the fuss I’d made about finally moving ahead, I felt like a spineless prick. There was no question in my mind, but initiating this next step sparked fear like words could never explain.

  "Yes Rhys, do it," I mumbled. Thank God just a handful of stragglers had been out. The 24-story Noma had been Maggie's choice. She wanted a friendlier type of luxury instead of the typical modern feel similar to my parents' area. Thoughts of her provided the push to set one foot in front of the other in order to secure my bride.

  As I pushed my key into the door of our luxury condo, I could already taste Maggie. I was tired, yet horny. After four years of dating, I was ready to make her my wife. The first step towards that goal would happen this morning, right now. My insides churned, sweat trickled down my forehead. No matter how nervous I was, love trumped everything.

  I sensed the universe suddenly halting; the earth no longer spun. Everything we'd done in the past was meant to get us to this specific moment in time. Two people existed, and everyone else faded into oblivion. After pausing to settle my racing heart, I eased in through the door. The strong scent of lilac rushed to greet me. It was Maggie's favorite. I shook my head, considering all I knew about her.

  Maggie. Was. My. Life.

  She had to be home because it was only about six on a Saturday morning. I was glad when I didn't hear her rushing for the door. Dropping my luggage in the foyer, I kicked off my slip-ons to head down the long, bright white hallway for the master bedroom. The walls seemed to contract all around me, like they were a part of my secret plan. The entire scene had me riled up. I needed to do this and get off so badly I couldn't help but wonder if I should just take her first.

  I thought about stripping, but felt a shower would do me well before I hopped into bed. Besides, Maggie wouldn't let me go if she saw me naked right away. First, I needed to change things from her being just my girlfriend to my fiancée, en route to my wife.

  A thick block of light ran from the ceiling to the wooden floor of the hallway. My heart continued to race. The bedroom door was already open, which was weird. She never liked it that way, not when she was home alone. A sort of heaviness fell down on me, the type to push through when life appeared to be shifting one way over another. A life change for me? Not outside of what I'd already been planning. But I brushed the thought away. Maybe she was up after all.

  I opened my mouth to call out her name just as I turned for the threshold. Instead of seeing an empty left side to the bed, however, a touch of rays filtered from a slither near the window onto two distinct forms. I surveyed the entire room to make sure I hadn't wandered into someone else's spot. My chest pounded like hell, almost as much as the sudden headache I’d developed. But everything else was in place, from the winter white bedroom set and prissy paintings she adored, to the intricate fixtures we'd set up together in order to give a personal touch to our bedroom.

  On the floor lay a large white comforter in one big pile. Thin, pale yellow sheets were tossed over top of an outline I knew well, while some dude with wild, dark hair crept lower by the second over my soon-to-be fiancée. I could tell he was barely alert, even as he slithered head-first between her legs. The same legs I'd handled in the same exact manner.

  My breath cut. I got frozen as a different type of fire singed down in my gut. Tight fists formed at my sides, but I still couldn't move. Here I was, ready to lay my entire fucking future before Maggie. I was gearing up to turn full control over from me to her, all for this stupid shit called love. Less than a minute ago, I'd been imagining burying my head right where this jackass was now devouring her.

  "Ummm," she started moaning. The sounds were like ice water injections coursing through my veins. They sparked my rage, and at the same time numbed my soul. Her cries, her voice taunted me because those noises had been mine more than one hundred and eighty days ago.

  My feet remained planted on the inside of the doorway. Two solid fists formed at my sides, although I wasn't sure why. I had never been a fighter in the past. Never needed to be. I always got what I wanted, but now...

  Hold it together, Rhys. Do not make an ass out of yourself. Turn around. Leave!

  The voices in my head gave the best advice for a guy who should have wanted to detach himself from this shit. I believe I would've seen the logic in my subconscious' insistence if this revelation hadn't already began shredding away at my insides. It hu
rt like hell to come face to face with deception. Word of mouth was one thing; actual seeing made the believing more profound. For her to have gone this far by bringing another guy into the bed I fucked her in, the whore thought very little of me.

  "Maggie!" I gasped like a damn jackass.

  Their eyes darted toward mine. Maggie and this fucker leapt up in a single motion. It was such an intense action, I felt the breeze of their movement from no less than six feet away from the bed. I searched for some form of recognition, but his chestnut hair could've belonged to anyone. His unremarkable facial layout could've fit any stranger. For all my worth and importance, she chose to ruin our relationship for some common asshole not worth knowing.

  "Rhys, nooo," Maggie cried out. Her once sweet voice burned at my ears like a siren's sting. Tears flushed down her face as she shook. Imagine that, she was a wreck. Red blotches formed up and down her paisley skin. There was no way to consider the shade as anything other than hell red. Every horrible thought and spiteful name I could conjure up rushed into mind.

  "Man, I don't know what to say," the guy began in a matter-of-fact voice, pointed snarl and all. I was glad when he shut his damn mouth because every syllable made me cringe. His existence in the world made me despise being in the same universe as a guy who must've known he was fucking around with someone else's girl.

  I moved towards him. The fists I'd formed into large, human balls grew tighter. The entire length of my slightly ripped arms pulsated with anger from the rigidity of my grip. My temples throbbed to such a degree that the rays of sunlight piercing through the windows burned. I felt worse than shit, like a punk without an ounce of redemptive qualities. I'd given my all, tried to be better than the other guys who'd treated their girls like property. Hell, I fell under the column of the sorry pricks. Yet here I was, facing the girl I was ready to give the world to along with the guy she was giving her all to.

  I inhaled the now filthy room I'd spent the last two years in, looked over to Maggie's tiny body wrapped beneath the yellow sheets, and then finally fixed my attention to the unlucky bastard who'd just pulled on his shorts.

  "I don't know you, buddy. Hell, you don't know me either. This is seriously screwed up." With the exception of daylight streaming in, the room set off a special blend of darkness and regret. The more I stood there taking in his words, the angrier I became.

  Shit, anger in no way summed up my emotions.

  "Dude, this is seriously screwed up," he repeated like I wasn't already aware of the downward spiral my world now traveled. "Seriously."

  Was it? I wanted to shout. Screwed up for who, you or me?

  A brash force of rage burned deep within my soul, permeating my limbs. I couldn’t be certain, but if he'd not said a word, I might not have slammed my fist into his fucking jaw. But damn, it felt incredible to soar past flesh to bones. And the sound…amazing! I had to have shattered his jawbone, or at least rearranged his face. Gripping his hair with one hand, I plummeted his face with a well-prepared fist.

  "Rhys, no!" Maggie screamed from behind me. Her piercing cries gave life to my fight. They became the fuel to my fire. Each gritty sound reinforced the shame associated with her dirty deeds. Hell, my actions were a direct result of everything she'd done to guide me down this road. Yet, as her fight to save this stranger continued, I slammed the shit out of the prick. She must not have known that the more she tried to protect him, and the more she pleaded for mercy over the jerk's worthless life, the more I'd let loose.

  No?

  Stop?

  Calm down?

  What the hell was that when some piece of shit believed he could step into my world to give it to the chick I had planned to give my life to?

  ~

  I've heard about people blacking out. Can't say it had ever happened to me before that morning. Actually, I saw dark and watered down visions of the life I'd planned with Maggie. But instead of standing back or walking away like some douchebag, I couldn't resist the urge to return the hurt a million times over.

  Sounds stopped registering.

  Pain numbed.

  Common sense fled.

  I swung and stomped non-stop, until even Maggie's screams tuned out from behind the douchebag and me. My fists slammed into his face, creating loud effects with each hit. A thick knot formed in my chest. Air got sucked out of my lungs. After being forced from all angles, I hated everyone and everything, even myself.

  Then...

  Someone wrapped an arm around my neck, damn near choked me out immediately, but I fought like hell. My neck, arms, back and legs were no longer mine. I fell into the force. My eyelids grew heavy. The last thing I remembered was a blurred image of Maggie standing off to the side.

  When I reopened my eyes, she was still there. This time clearer, and with long streams of tears racing down her cheeks. My insides boiled, especially when her arms reached out for me. She had these perfect pink lips to brighten full, dark blue eyes. If I didn't know any better, I would've sworn this girl in front of me wasn't capable of shredding my future. But I did. I knew better than anyone else just how deceptive my dream girl could be.

  "What the hell are you doing?" I swatted at her fingers, but then a hand clutched my neck. I shook like a wild animal being caged. Not only had I been torn apart by love, I also had to endure submission and self-control. How the hell was this supposed to be fair? "Let me go," I mumbled out, winded. I got tossed several feet away.

  "Please, George, don't hurt him." My heartache ran over to me like we were still Maggie and Rhys, the ultimate couple. She had the nerve to plead mercy for me. Imagine that. She was concerned about me getting hurt as she'd already managed to stab my heart to pieces.

  "Whoever the hell you are," I struggled to spit out, unable to see the owner of the tatted up, hairy arms around my neck.

  The bedroom dragged me down, kind of like a day of overcast before the storm. Although I was feeling burdened, my insides sparked with life. I would never again lose out on anything, couldn't be the defeated one again. I struggled to my feet with bulky arms still fighting to restrain me. The painful reflection of horror on Maggie's face fed me life. I spoke in a steady tone, balancing the words for all to hear.

  "As a matter of fact, do you know who I am?"

  Yeah. Now was the time to turn to my birthright. I wasn't some sad little guy with school boy issues. Shit, I was Rhys Colburn, New York royalty.

  III.

  Rhys

  ~

  "What the hell is this about, Rhys?" Can't say I expected a different reaction from Rupert. We were the Colburns, the perfect all-American family. We weren't supposed to lose our cool. We never showed out in public, and we sure as hell never got locked up. Attaching something he believed to be so low to our family was enough to push him out of character.

  "Answer me, dammit!" Thin, plastic lips pulled tightly to reveal the latest efforts of regular Botox treatments.

  This was not all me. Because of Maggie, I’d gotten dragged away from the apartment I'd been providing for. Because of Maggie, I’d gotten slammed into the back seat of a filthy police car. Because of Maggie, I’d made an ass out of myself when all I really should've done was walk away.

  All of a sudden, the flawless walls of our world came crumbling down before me. The things I'd failed to notice flashed before me, like neon signs I'd chosen to ignore–the silly little excuses she'd make for being late at the least opportune times or the times I'd awaken to whispers sounding from the hallway, only to be patronized like I was a fan of hers. She played me. When Maggie would disappear for the weekend, only to tell me that family issues had taken her away, I’d believed her.

  Was she lying all those times I'd given the benefit of the doubt?

  Had her parents’ "issues" in fact been a scapegoat for her infidelity?

  If so, how did I miss the signs?

  "What happened, Rhys?" Rupert insisted. He had to see the broken man in front of him.

  I searched his face for sympathy, hi
s eyes for warmth and understanding. "What do you want me to say?" I'd had my fill of the cryptic precinct. My soul could take no more. I was a stranger in the midst of all this bullshit. "I'll listen to anything you want to get off your chest. I'm begging you to please get me the hell out of here."

  Let me make something clear. My father might've been a god to most, but I wasn't. He had the respect of every big wig in the city. To top things off, he was expected to live a blemish-free life. If his followers knew that the only reason his wife stayed with him was because she couldn't do any better, the public sainthood would be null and void. Let's not forget that the only reason I fed into his bullshit was because of Lisle.

  As we faced off, his neck tightened. His lips formed into a stretched line. Bushy white eyebrows twitched and nostrils flared. He was beyond pissed over my public embarrassment. The one thing I could count on, however, was that he wouldn't retaliate out in the open.

  Once he bailed me out and we got into the back of his Bentley, I held my breath for the firestorm that had been brewing. Even his driver, Jeff, gave a look of remorse.

  "This is it, Rhys," Rupert announced in a labored sort of voice. He reached into a shiny compartment to remove a stout glass and bottle of Singani 63 Bolivian Muscat Brandy. "I've had enough."

  My eyes bore into him for being so damn pretentious. Imagine, in the midst of scolding his twenty-three-year-old son over a heartbreaking situation, he instead took the time to flash this type of bullshit. I could be the difficult one, but every damn thing about his overly perfect ass pissed me off.

  "I don't know what you want out of life," he began, approaching from a different angle. "After you had issues during your junior year, you begged me to let you explore the damn world with your mother." He paused to take a sip. "And on the day you get back in town, you end up getting locked up. Jail, for Pete's sakes." His voice was monotone, not dipping or rising to reflect the anger I could see raging through his dark blue pupils. "Maggie called me. Poor girl was hysterical."