My Dearest Jonah

by Matthew Crow

  Another scream. Then another. Before we knew it the crowds were rushing around us, tripping on tables and upturning folding chairs in the rush to escape the tent.

  “Where’s Edward?” cried Aimee, battling against the bodies towards where the fire was at its fiercest. I grabbed hold of her wrist and dragged her into the suffocating heart of the crowd in which she had no choice but to move towards safety. We were carried almost without effort towards the exit where some of the elderly couples were already sprawled on the grass, exhausted from the excitement. From outside the tent black smoke crept beneath the gaps in the awning. “Where is he?” said Aimee, pulling against my hold. “I have to find him.” The flames grew over and around the roof of the tent like a cake being iced.

  “I’ll find him,” I said as she struggled against me. “Just go.”

  “You don’t even like him.”

  “Just trust me I’ll find him, now go,” I pushed her into the crowds, which swallowed her whole and seemed to carry her to a safer distance. I turned and stood my ground. Around me people rushed in hazes of colour and warmth, children’s feet levitated as their parents took either arm and double-stepped away from the mounting heat.

  The tent became more and more furious, roaring towards the sky as though in competition with the commotion below.

  “Where’s the girl?” said Harlow, grabbing hold of me in both arms as Barbara hovered, jerking from the bodies that pushed past her.

  “Went with the crowd, should be waiting for you at the front,” I said, forced to shout over the din.

  “Come on,” Harlow took my arm and began dragging me backwards.

  “Friend of mine’s back there,” I said. “Just need to make sure he’s okay.”

  “It’s not safe.”

  “I’ll be out shortly, just go.”

  Harlow hesitated before thinking better of entering into discussion on the subject, and, taking Barbara by the hand, joined the hourglass of bodies that flowed seamlessly towards the edge of the field.

  I walked into the masses - breaking and muddying everything in its path - shoulders bashed and bruised against mine. A boy following his father’s footsteps bumped into my leg and then picked himself up again.

  Through it all I saw him moving towards me, an unlit cigarette clamped between his teeth. He picked a lighter from his pocket and lit it as bodies rushed all around him like a flooded dam. “Well won’t this make for a fine story,” he said over the noise of the fire, already wilting into itself.

  I walked towards him and grabbed him by the shoulders, driving my knee into his stomach. I felt him double over and fall back.

  “Well now, that was far from a clever move my friend, far from a clever move.”

  “What the hell do you want from me Michael?”

  “An apology for start.”

  “I’m sorry,” I hurried. “I’m sorry, God knows I’m sorry but please, please just go.”

  “Well I don’t think you really meant that. I want you to beg.”

  “I’d sooner die.”

  “Second time lucky. I don’t think you’ll be swerving the injection so easily this time,” he said, pointing to my stomach.

  I reached down and felt the bony handle of the knife protruding. I pulled it from the fold in my denim and went to throw it.

  “Now just you hold your horses,” Michael said, walking closer to me, wincing slightly as he moved. “This day and age a man has to be careful what he leaves lying around. You’re all over that blade like stink on shit. I think - ” he said when I found myself unable to respond, “ - I’m going to hang around these parts for some time, get acquainted with the little lady, maybe start me a family. Can you imagine that? My looks and her brain, it’d be the most backwards son of a bitch there ever... ”

  His speech stopped as I took his head in my hands, pushing the blade of the knife towards the lowest edge of his lip.

  “Now I don’t want to have to ask you again. I near as killed you once, nothing stopping me getting it right a second time. You either go or I’m going to cut the good side of your face clean off, you understand?” There was a moment of stillness, that stinging second where the audience contemplates its reaction. I allowed Michael to work his face free from my hands before stepping back, returning the knife to my pocket. “I won’t ask you again,” I said as I began to walk away.

  He made no attempt to follow me, and it was only when I was some steps away did I hear him begin to chuckle to himself.

  “Well, you’re as succinct as ever, big guy. But if you ask me you’re gonna be grateful for a friend like me once those police start sniffing around your house. There isn’t one thing I left to chance my friend. And folk round here won’t be so kind once the fingers start pointing.”

  “I’ll take my chances,” I said, still not turning to face him.

  “It’s just incredible what you find when you go sniffing around someone’s house. Five minutes in that old bedroom of yours I got a direct line to your soul, wow! I tell you you’re a man of hidden depths, I never knew you had it in you.” I heard him move, and a rustling of papers. On the horizon car lights veined the brow of the hill as towards us six flashing eyes of cobalt grew larger and more vocal with each passing instant. “‘My Dearest Jonah... ’” he began, in a whiny, pitying voice. “‘Please excuse my lateness in response, for there have been developments... ’”

  Before even I was aware of my actions I had knocked him to the ground and was sat on top of him, my fist working into the dried flesh of his face. Eventually he was still, his hand limp beneath him. I took your muddy letter and folded it neatly into my pocket.

  “Well wouldn’t you know,” he said through damp, swollen lips. “Looks like I found your Achilles heel.”

  “You so much as talk about her I’ll kill you. You understand? One word Michael... all it’ll take,” I moved towards him and, still bent doubled, he raised his hand to stop me.

  “Now don’t be getting all excited there, friend. Of course I took her address, for insurance... ” I grabbed him by the throat and held him tight at arm’s length. “... and I’m sure that both you and I would hate to hear of any such accidents happening, so how about you reconsider my terms? That’s all I’m asking. Just an evening of your time and skills, then it’ll be like I was never here.” As he spoke he freed himself from my lessening grip, smoothing his shirt now speckled with blood.

  “When?”

  “I’ll come to you, friend. You old romantic.” I turned to leave. “Oh,” he said, when I was almost out of earshot. “If I were you I’d dig up that money the second you get home. That old sack of coin’s a one way ticket to you know where.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Now,” said Michael, standing up. “Where’d be the fun in that? The old Jonah’d have known exactly where to look. Think of it as a test of your skills. I’m gonna need you sharp as ever,” he patted me on the back as he passed. “Happy hunting. I’ll be seeing you soon partner.”

  I will sit and I’ll wait for Michael’s call. It’s all I can do. You have to understand that I’m doing this for you, Verity. However bad things get - and I can feel doom building like a snowstorm - you have to believe me when I say that at the back of it all, however misplaced, is my love for you, and only for you. And I will do whatever it takes to protect you from harm. The world’s a more interesting place with you in it, and I intend to keep it that way.

  Always,

  Jonah

  Dear Jonah,

  Eve’s murder arrived like a plague. It grew impalpably, silently - crawling and multiplying beneath secret, unturned stones - before combusting into something grotesquely irreversible.

  “What do you think you’ll be when we get where we’re going?” I asked, contemplating three half used lipsticks on the bathroom counter. “Blood Roses, Honey Blossom or Candy Frosting?”

  Eve yawned as she came into the bathroom, sitting down on the toilet as her head drooped between her legs. “Aren’t they s
ome of the girls at the club?”

  “This is serious Eve, we got to sort ourselves out and fast.”

  “Just take them all,” she said, pressing a gesture piece of tissue between her legs before standing back up.

  “Eve I’m not your damn mother, you have to cut me some slack here. We need to get this sorted.”

  She sat up and began to tease a nail with a dull file. “I don’t see what all the fuss is about. I don’t have one thing I need except you and that cash. I say we start our lives fresh as mountain snow, let all of this turn to dust.”

  I sunk onto the sofa next to her and took a cigarette from her packet. “Life’s not that simple.”

  “It is for me.”

  “And thank the Lord there’s only one of you. I say this out of kindness you understand.”

  “I’ll miss this little life,” she said, relaxing into her third glass as I picked over the jewellery that scattered the coffee table. “We didn’t have it so bad.”

  “We could have it so much better if you’d help me pack.”

  “I told you, I got it covered. All I need are the clothes on my back and a few dollars to see me straight. I’ll charm the rest.”

  I bundled the jewellery in two tangled handfuls - mock gold, cubic zirconia, all brown edged and rusting - into an empty shoebox beneath the couch.

  “You think we could go back to the club, just to say goodbye?”

  “No!”

  “Well you don’t have to yell,” Eve said, attempting to squeeze the final drops from the spent bottle. “I just think after all Miss Jemima’s done for us it’s be rude not to say thank you.”

  “We’ll write her.”

  “You’re a cold woman, Verity,” she said, reaching into a crevice within the couch and pulling out a handful of bills. “Why don’t you go get us some more resources, so we can celebrate our last night in style?”

  I took the money and located my car keys. “I swear to God, Eve... I don’t find you here when I come back there’ll be hell to pay.”

  Her hand rose from the sofa and waved lazily, before slumping back onto her stomach.

  In the store I made my usual gesture of scanning the brands as if to imply I had any idea what I was looking for. In truth such trips were always born of the same incentive – maximum effect with minimum outlay.

  The lights above me shone sullen and iridescent making even the most menial tasks feel like a living, breathing headache. I selected the three cheapest bottles of burgundy grape I could locate, unperturbed by the triptych of languages which formed its elaborate description, and placed them on the counter.

  “This all, miss?” asked the man on the desk.

  “No,” I said, walking back down the aisle towards the less heady luxuries. “I won’t be long.”

  “No worries. You just take your time.”

  I pressed my hands against the shining foils of the chocolate. Outside a group of teenagers sat on the roof of their car, a radio booming loudly from the doors, opened wide like aeroplane wings.

  “I’ll take these too,” I said, placing a bag of potato chips and three bars of chocolate on the counter.

  “Bad week, huh?” asked the attendant as he placed my questionable feast into a brown paper bag.

  “Something like that.”

  “Well you have a good night. We got aspirin, in case you’re interested.”

  “I’ll man it out,” I said, leaving the receipt on the counter.

  “Hey lady, hey miss!” one of the boys yelled from across the lot.

  I looked up but did not stop walking.

  “You buy us some hooch? We got the dollar if you got the time.”

  “Sorry boys that’s one thing I’m short on,” I said, fiddling for my keys.

  “You want me to take that?” he said, his hand reaching beneath my bag.

  I jumped and felt my face redden. “Thanks,” I said, as J held my shopping bag, leaning against the car.

  “You with the squad over there?” I asked, suddenly unable to process my own thoughts.

  “No ma’am. You see my lady friend went awful quiet on me so I took to prowling the streets like some lonely old drifter.”

  “Sorry,” I said, now urgent for my keys. In the hurry, and my overriding attempt to appear calm, I pushed my fingers clean through the lining of my jacket pocket. The keys dropped down my leg and onto the floor. “I’ve been busy is all. It’s not personal.”

  “Well that is a relief. I’d hate to think I’d scared you off. Say this is quite the night in you got yourself here,” he said, prodding his fingers into my grocery bag.

  “It’s a leaving party, for a friend,” I took the bag from him and placed it on the back seat.

  “You never mentioned no friend. I thought you were that cat that walked alone?”

  “My charm prevails.”

  “This friend going far?”

  “She doesn’t know yet.”

  “It an open party?”

  “Invite only - ” I said more abruptly than intended “ - sorry, I’m late as it is J. It was real good to see you. We should meet up soon. I’d like that.”

  “Well,” he said, pushing himself upright against the roof of the car. “That ball’s in your court now isn’t it darling? You’re as hard to pin down as I don’t know what.”

  “I’m working this week.”

  “You gonna dance for me again?”

  “No. But I’ll pour you a real good coffee, if you’re lucky,” I said, shutting the door.

  J bent down to the window, the rim of his hat edging towards my face. “Well you really do know the way to a man’s heart.”

  “Straight through his back with a nine inch blade... so the saying goes.”

  He laughed and leaned further towards me. “How about a little kiss, sugar, something to remember me by?”

  I parted my lips and allowed him to work his way towards me. The emptiness of his open mouth suffocated me and I sat, motionless, hating every passing tingle that trickled up my inner thighs. His tongue tasted dry and bitter, like a thousand and one nights of whisky and regret. I swallowed hard to destroy any evidence of him.

  “I’ll see you around J.”

  “Not if I see you first, darling. Not if I see you first.”

  Back at the trailer I stepped out of the car shaken but not entirely displeased at having seen J. I hated him and hated what he had done, what he was still doing. But, God help me, I couldn’t help but feel a fleeting pleasure at the thought of him still pursuing me, however misguided he may have been. I walked inside with an added spring to my step, the bottles of wine clanking against one another in my bag.

  “Three of the finest bottles sixteen dollars’ll get you!” I said, placing the carrier on the floor, “And enough crap to kill a diabetic. You packing?”

  There was no answer.

  “Eve?”

  The house was still. No movement, no sound. I dashed into the bedroom and flung open the bathroom door.

  “Damn it, Eve!” I said, making my way back to the sofa to open the wine.

  On the coffee table a note had been written in her girlish writing:

  Sorry V, I couldn’t do it. You know where to find me!

  Each ‘i’ had been haloed with a love heart. Three X’s marked the bottom of the page.

  “Fuck!” I kicked an empty tumbler the full length of the living room: its dregs - a particularly astringent Shiraz - splattered the wall like a burst pimple.

  Something hit my foot as I jigged across the dirt roads out of town, and I found myself unable to brake. Beneath the pedal and the floor a stray bottle of wine had lodged itself awkwardly. I let the car guide itself on the lonely road as I bent down and retrieved the little miracle, all the while grovelling to the god of screw tops.

  Inside the hallway was empty.

  “Well aren’t we blessed,” said Violet, the doorman, not entirely sincerely. Miss Jemima’s unabashed favouritism had erected somewhat of a divide amongst us girls. We w
eren’t to blame, of course, we were simply held accountable.

  “Not tonight, Violet. You seen Eve?”

  Violet shrugged and began counting dollar bills beneath her desk. “See everything, say nothing. That’s our motto,” she said coldly.

  The chorus line kicked and dipped, their tassels twirling like a hypnotist’s watch. I stood towards the back of the room, searching for Eve. At the bar a man had already passed out and was slumped, dead to the world, across the table as two old men flicked peanuts towards his hanging jaw.

  The crowd had been whipped into a controlled frenzy and I felt frightened, as though suddenly dropped into the lion’s cage. I made my way farther into the room, still unable to see Eve.

  J had his back to me, and his arm was so close to Kingpin’s that they seemed joined at the hip. J sat upright, whispering something to a waitress. She nodded and made her way to the bar as he sunk lower in his seat, pulling his hat down to the edge of his eyes.

  I ran back out of that room and slammed the door behind me.

  “Well you look like you seen a ghost. There aint gonna be no trouble tonight, is there?” asked Violet, lighting a cigarette.

  I made my way past her and towards the backstage entrance. “No trouble. Oh and Violet, anyone asks you haven’t seen me here, understand?” She did not respond so I chose to reiterate the point. “I found out you did otherwise I’m gonna knock you straight into next week. Now I need to know we’re on the same page here.”

  She nodded and looked down.

  Backstage clothes strewed the floor like shed skin. The music played on in the background and the sound of the crowd, rapt for the most part, built at intervals to a communal groan of longing. I peeked past the curtain, my hand tight on the brushed velvet, and watched Eve in her natural state. She bent and dipped, the other girls merely served as her shadow as she wound the audience tighter and tighter as though stretching them on a rack. I pushed forward, past the velvet curtain, and saw J sitting at his table, his eyes disguised by the rim of his hat, the rest of him merged with the candlelight. He leant towards Kingpin and pointed towards the centre of the stage. Kingpin nodded as J stood up and made his way to the back of the bar room, out of sight.