Ballistic

by K. S. Adkins

  “Happy now?” I asked her.

  “So, is he lying?” she asked me.

  “Play it again,” I tell her, then restarting the voicemail, I listen close. He said he’s working late and that the department is screwing him out of money so if she could put five hundred in his account, he’d square up with her next week. “He’s full of shit,” I told her.

  “Told you!” Venessa said, pushing her.

  “Why would he lie to me?” she asked, genuinely confused.

  “Because he can?” I offered back, but when my phone alerts me to another case, I cut our coffee date short. “Gotta go,” I announced

  “So soon?” Macy asked. “We haven’t seen you in forever.”

  I feel a moment of guilt followed by urgency to run. I loved these two, always will. But my mind doesn’t work like theirs does. Being with anyone too long fucks me up.

  “Plans soon,” I said, throwing back my coffee. “You bitches know how to find me.”

  Running to my truck, I light a smoke, throw on W.T.P full blast, and wonder if Eminem is into short polish girls lacking people skills and if he wasn’t, what I could do to change his mind.

  While he cooks, I call the girls and we get everything in order. Jules likes simple, so she’ll get extravagant because I say so. Macy is clearly the planner of the group so I tell her to get whatever she wants as long as it sparkles. I’d cover it. I may regret it later if she hates it, but it’s for Jules, so who gives a fuck about money? Venessa was thrilled she didn’t have to shop, but Macy assures me Jonas is happy to do it. I personally don’t care as long as it’s done. They both tried prying into my whereabouts, but I put them off letting them know they’d see me tomorrow. Satisfied with that, they do their thing and I do mine.

  Heading downstairs, I practically run into the kitchen because it smells so good. Anthony is signing to himself, so I snap a picture of him in his apron before he turns around. When he does, he takes my breath away. I don’t think that I’ll ever get used to belonging to him, or that he’s with me of his own free will. Walking in, I wrap my body around his, and hug him tight. I decided I could hug him forever. Squeezing me back he dips me and kisses my throat. Sinking my hands into his hair I moan at the contact.

  “I missed you,” he says, biting my lip.

  “I’m right here,” I tell him, licking the sting away. “I haven’t gone anywhere.”

  “Yes you have,” he says, standing me back up. “You’ve been gone for days, Lina.”

  “Days?”

  “Days.”

  “Oh,” I whisper, dropping my arms. I don’t know what to say after hearing the disappointment in his voice. I’m only doing what he’s asked me to do. He can’t fault me on how I do it, can he? Okay, so maybe he’s feeling left out? It took me a few, but I also remember he didn’t answer my question either. “Do you want to help me?”

  “You have all the evidence I could find,” he says, turning away from me. “If I could help you, I wouldn’t need you, now would I? I could have done it myself.”

  Okay, that stings. So I tell him as much. “Direct hit. Score one for Team Anthony. Do you feel better now?”

  “Christ,” he says, throwing his towel down. “You don’t get it, do you?” When I stand there blinking, he keeps going. “I needed your help and your insight. I didn’t need you to make this your life. Instead, you stay locked up there like a fucking prisoner. You have two extremes, Lina. Drunk and whatever that is.”

  “That isn’t fair,” I argue. “You asked me to do this! Wait no; you practically blackmailed me with my friends to do this! You fucking stalked me to do this! I haven’t gone out, I haven’t drank, nothing. I’ve been here with you. What did I do wrong?”

  “Are you capable of feeling anything?” he throws out, catching me off guard. “Outside of work, that is. Do you feel anything for me like I do for you?”

  “I don’t know what you feel,” I argue. “You’ve never said anything---”

  Then he’s there in my face, pointing his finger down at me like I’m a toddler who crossed the street without permission. “How can I say anything when I’m not allowed to fucking talk?”

  “That’s not fair---”

  “You wait for me to sleep so you can leave me! Am I really that demanding?”

  “I was trying---”

  “Shut up!” he yells in my face. “You don’t know me, Lina. I’ve been patient with you, but this single minded focus you have ends now. Do you understand me?”

  “No,” I say, honestly confused. “I don’t understand---”

  “You haven’t even attempted to get to know me. It’s like I’m not even here! Any other women would be begging for my attention but not you. You’re off in fucking la-la land talking to yourself, forgetting the world exists. That I exist. I knew you had issues, I’ve heard about them for years. This is beyond issues, this is fucked up. You’re fucked up. You are big on the truth, only you are the biggest liar of them all, Lina because you excel at lying to yourself. Did you really think getting piss drunk and fucking strangers was going to make your problems go away?”

  “Fuck you!” I scream “You don’t live in my head!”

  “No, fuck you! You don’t even live in your own head!”

  “You need my help, so if I were you, I’d try this therapy session on someone else!”

  “I do need your help, but I’d rather do without it then watch you use your gift as an excuse to make bad choices. Because you are, Lina. One of these days I won’t be there to save you. Christ knows you aren’t capable of saving yourself. You’re too busy destroying what’s left to notice anything but lies when the truth is right in front of you!”

  “How long have you been saving that speech for me? I’m guessing it’s been burning your tongue for a while now, huh? Busting my ass for you is my crime and this is my punishment then?”

  “The truth is out there, Sherlock. Quit blaming the world for how you turned out. You’re destructive. The drinking, the fucking, the ‘I don’t give a shit’ attitude. You are begging for love or death and I’ll be damned if I can figure out which way you’ll go. I can handle a lot of shit and I have, but I cannot watch the only woman I have ever cared for continue to lose herself to it. I will walk away.”

  “Again still judging me for my life pre-Anthony. I don’t ever stand a chance at living up to your expectations, do I? I notice you haven’t walked yet. Why is that?”

  “I want to see it in person which way you’ll go.”

  “So you expect me to fail and you want video proof. Nice.”

  “If you believe that, then you don’t have the first god damn clue who you’re dealing with. Oh that’s right, because you don’t have the first god damn clue who you’re dealing with!”

  “I suppose I should do the walking then, it’s cool. I needed some cardio anyway.”

  “Knock off the running, Lina! What are you so fucking afraid of?

  Getting in his face, grabbing his shirt and throwing him back towards the wall, I let it all out. “You will lie to me and when you do, you will destroy me! I’m afraid I can’t let you do that. You think I have issues? Every case, every vic, every ending, I remember all of it. It haunts me. What has happened to my friends haunts me. What fucking happened to you haunts me! I’m tired of hoping I can someday be worth the trouble, because I know I’m not. Stop believing your own lies about me because this right here? Me? This fucked up mess, is the truth. I am fucked up and no matter what you do, you can’t fix me.”

  “My love can fix you Lina, if you let it.”

  “Now who believes their own lies?”

  Fixing me would make him feel better, not me. Because I know I can’t be fixed. I also know Anthony would never be truly happy unless he felt that he did put me back together, and I don’t have it in me to lie just to make him feel better.

  When he says nothing more but looks at me like he’s seeing me for the first time and not liking it, I find myself speechless. I was without words, h
urting because he meant everything he said. I could feel his disappointment in me and I found I couldn’t take it. He had hoped I was more and saw for himself the real truth…that I wasn’t. Backing away from him, I keep going until I find myself in the upstairs bathroom hyperventilating. Smoke alarms go off and I hear him yelling, but I stay curled up on the floor. The walls are breathing, but I’m not. I can’t. He was right about one thing, though. I didn’t take the time to get to know him. I didn’t make the effort and saying it was because I didn’t know how that wasn’t fair to him. I didn’t do it because I was afraid. I knew this was a bad idea, thinking I could keep him. Anthony deserves better. He deserves to be loved without conditions. I want better for him. I want him to have what I could never give.

  I want him to have what I’ll never have.

  Everything.

  The overload was sucking me in. I have names, dates, photos of dead bodies, testimonies, Jules wedding and his accusations running through me and I can’t make it stop. Fighting for air, I turn on the faucet reminding myself this will pass. When I get emotional, I tweak, work it out, then it passes. Only it didn’t pass this time.

  I did.

  Right the hell out.

  “Stay here!” she cried clutching him.

  “I can’t do that Vera,” he said calmly. “This is my job. They have to be stopped.”

  In my room, I listened through the door wondering who had to be stopped and also if this was why he asked me to come home this weekend, to keep an eye on my mother.

  “They’re too dangerous,” she argued. “Send someone else!”

  “There is no one else!” he argued back. “Spend time with Anthony. I’ll be home before you know it.”

  “Will Brent be with you?”

  “Yes,” he said calmly. “Theresa took the girls roller skating for a while. Listen Vera, Brent doesn’t tell Theresa about work. I tell you because I trust you to be rational. Anthony is home, go out and grab dinner or a movie.”

  “I’m not moving from this spot,” she mumbled. “I’ll eat when you get home. He probably wants to spend time with his friends anyway.”

  Entering the room, I hug my mother. “Nope,” I told her. “I’m all yours for the night.”

  Grabbing my father she orders him, “Come back home to me, to us. Promise me.”

  “I promise,” he said, hugging us both. “I promise.”

  My mother fell apart when he left. I’d never witnessed my mother like this. She always held it together, she was proud of my father and his work. Clearly this case was huge to have her this far gone. It wasn’t until the early morning when he came home that my mother came back to us. I prayed to whoever was listening that I would never have to see her like that ever again. In the end, it didn’t matter, I wouldn’t see either of them again until the day I buried them.

  Seething with anger and frustration, I stand there staring at the space she left behind when she made a run for it. The delivery came out all wrong, but it needed to be said. She has to learn to take criticism and deal with feelings other than her own. She may have explained that she processes things differently but my issue is she doesn’t process at all. If I hadn’t sought her out who knows what the fuck could have happened to her. Right now it’s the what-if’s that are messing with my head. At first, she lost hours of time, the more she gets invested those hours turned into days. Yes, I handled it poorly, but I panicked seeing her so excited about it. She doesn’t see she’s in too deep. She doesn’t see anything except finding the truth. I won’t have that on my conscience even when I know the finger of blame is pointed directly at me.

  Hearing the water turn on upstairs, I know she was cooling off while I kept my fucking kitchen from catching fire. Pissed at myself because I can’t expect her to read my god damned mind, it’s when I hear a thump that my anger falls away and it is quickly replaced with fear. Dropping my towel, I run up the steps kicking the door in and see her passed out on the tile, with her arms covering her head.

  No.

  Sliding across the floor to get to her, I cradle her head in my hands while checking her for injuries. Her face is beat red, her little fist is clenched and she’s breathing heavy. Picking her up and carrying her to the bed, I run back down to grab my phone to dial emergency. Running up the steps I see her trying to sit up. Just then the operator comes on the line and I don’t know what to fucking do. Advising him to hang on, I ask her what happened but, she doesn’t know.

  Giving the operator my address, I set my phone down to focus on her until the EMS gets here. She’s dazed, her eyes are glassy and she’s shaking. “Lina,” I say several times, but she can’t focus on me. “Lina,” I try again lightly tapping her face. “Look at me.”

  It takes her several seconds to focus, but she finally does. “Sleep,” she whispers, trying to lie back down.

  “No,” I order her. “Stay awake, stay with me.”

  “I can’t,” she mumbles, rubbing her eyes with her casted arm. Bringing it back down to her side before she hurts herself, I try and get her to talk to me.

  “Lina, look at me.”

  “It’s too much,” she says, looking straight into my eyes. “Lies, all of it. Thinking I could fix this for you. I just wanted you to be proud of me. I was lying to myself thinking I could fix this for everyone. When it’s over and I can’t find my way back, who will fix me, Anthony?”

  “I will,” I swear to her. “Me.”

  “For you, I’d be normal if I could,” she whispers, “but I’ll never be who you need me to be.”

  “I do need you, just as you are. Look at me, Lina. I’m worried about you, dammit. I need you more than I need answers.”

  Rubbing her head with her left hand she starts to float, I can see it happening. “It’s all up here,” she says blankly “Just need one more missing piece. I’m so sick of being a head case.”

  In record time there’s banging on my door. Setting her back on the pillow I fly down the stairs and show them medics to our room. Sitting next to her on the bed she is oblivious to all of it. They check her eyes with a flashlight, her pulse with their fingers and her heart with a stethoscope. Looking at me the medic says, “She appears severely dehydrated and possibly malnourished. We need to get her to the hospital for observation.”

  Suddenly alert, she sits straight up. “No,” she says, pushing their hands away. “Do I even look remotely malnourished to you? My ass fat could sustain me for a month easy. Seriously? I’m fine.”

  “Lina,” I say, soothing her. “You passed out.”

  “I’m hungry,” she whimpers, pleading with me to understand. “Just hungry.”

  “We can’t force her to go sir, but if she’s hungry that’s a good sign. Get some food in her and if she worsens bring her in.”

  “Lina,” I plead with her in return. “Let them take a look at you.”

  “I said no.”

  She dug her heels in and I didn’t want to push her anymore right now but, I would meet her in the middle. “If she worsens, I’ll bring her,” I say, letting them escort themselves out. “Thanks for coming so quickly.”

  Heading into the kitchen, I grab whatever I have in the fridge since I burnt dinner. Taking it up to her, she doesn’t say a word or make a play for the food either. Taking the cheese in hand I reach up to her mouth. “Open,” I order her and when she does, I feed her the first slice then reach for another. Mixing it up with crackers, carrots and a glass of water she eats some, but not a lot. I’ve dreamt of feeding her, but never because she couldn’t feed herself. She needs me right now whether she realizes it or not. If feeding her small bites of food helps, I’ll do this all damn day.

  “I’m full,” she says quietly so I hand her the glass of water to sip on while I set the food aside. It no sooner reaches her hands and she drops it all over her herself soaking her clothes. She tries picking it up, but her hands are still shaking. Doing it for her, I set it on the table then sit next to her to undress her.

  Leaning forwar
d, she allows me to take her top off, followed by her bra. When I reach for her bottoms I feel her body trembling and when I look up, I see she’s crying.

  “What are the tears for?” Shaking her head, she turns away from me, but I bring her back. “I asked you a question, Lina. The tears, what are they for?”

  “I’m weak,” she whispers, hiding her face. “You had to feed me and undress me. I’m embarrassed.”

  “I’ve been dying to feed you,” I tell her honestly. “Undressing you is one of my favorite things and you are the furthest thing from weak. The things I said downstairs weren’t fair to you, Lina. Forgive me.”

  “You were right,” she says. “You were right about almost everything.”

  “I don’t want to be right. I want to be let in. I want you to want to come in, too.”

  “I do want to come in,” she pleads, “but I don’t know if I’m supposed to call first, knock or kick the door in.”

  “Shit.”

  “Right?”

  “No I mean shit, I should have told you how I felt sooner. You don’t have to do any of those things. The door will always be unlocked for you. Only you.”

  “I didn’t pass out from dehydration,” she admits quietly. “I was on overload, it happens.”

  “A lot?”

  “Define a lot?”

  “Lina…”

  “What? It happens, I deal with it when it does, but I’m sorry you had to deal with it too.”

  “This is my fault.”

  “No,” she says, snapping at me. “This is my fault. Just because I don’t process things like most people doesn’t mean I can’t at least try to. Sometimes it gets the best of me is all. Tonight it did. It won’t happen again.”

  “Is that why you drink?”

  “I drink because I like being drunk, Anthony,” she says, moving the wet bedspread to the floor. “Getting drunk numbs me so I don’t analyze every word that comes out of someone’s mouth. Jesus, I didn’t get drunk that much. The last few months have been insane. You just have really shitty timing.”