“No deal.”
“Fine, anything. All of it,” he relented.
“Alright then,” she said, shutting her eyes and reaching out mentally.
When she opened them again, they were in the midst of a teeming mass of people, standing upon a bridge. An ancient city surrounded them, balanced on a figurative precipice, teetering between history and the present, seething with life as people chatted on cell phones against the backdrop of the Tower of London and Big Ben. Kate had never been to London. Her mouth dropped open, gaping, as she twirled around to take it all in.
“Impressive, isn’t she?”
“London?”
“Yes, this city is a girl, don’t you think?”
“If I had to pick one or the other, well, it certainly isn’t a boy.” A cold breeze swept up off the river and she shivered.
“There’s always a chill to it. Especially in the spring.”
“We should have come in the summer.” She laughed. They could have changed it if they wanted. They didn’t.
Will took Kate’s hand and led her through the crowd, which parted for them as though by silent command. She looked down and noticed that she was in a summer dress, so she thought herself into a pair of green cargo pants and Adidas.
“Spill it,” she said.
“Spill what?”
“Nice try, William Hawke. What were you like, alive?”
“See, the thing is, I don’t like to remember, Kate.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged, still holding her hand. “I was selfish.”
“You promised to tell me.”
“I know, I know. And I will, because I did promise.” He led her through an area filled with theaters. “I acted here,” he said, indicating a theater on their left. Colorful posters plastered to the wall announced the imminent arrival of a traveling show. “It used to be more prestigious than this.”
“I bet.”
“It looks like things have gotten shoddy. Sad. Look Kate, I don’t like to think about my life,” he whispered and stopped to stare at the front of the theater, one hand in his pocket, while the other let go of her hand. His expression was somber, the look in his eyes distant.
“Everyone has regrets,” Kate said, trying to comfort him. She couldn’t imagine what was so hard about recalling the past. There was nothing that ugly or horrifying about the life a person had lived, was there? Unless they’d been a murderer, a rapist, or something worse. But Will had been none of those things. At least, she would have heard of such infamous deeds had he done them. Right?
“But those people are still alive. They can change things. I’m dead. What’s written is written. Might as well be in stone.”
She felt her forehead crinkle as she began to worry further that he had done something so awful, so horrible, that his regret was justified. “Come on. What did you do? Kill someone? As far as I’m concerned there are only a few things a person can do that are as bad as you’re making it sound. Rape, murder, incest, a few other horrors that I don’t even like to think about.”
His eyes narrowed, and she thought she might have hit on one of them, but he looked away, distracted. “None of that,” he muttered.
“So what was it, what did you do?”
“Let’s go,” he urged, reaching to take her hand and pull her to his side. He slung his arm over her shoulders and they continued on down the side street.
She began to rule things out. “Did you kill someone?”
“Nope.”
“Did you rape someone?”
“No, always consensual,” he said.
“You didn’t do anything to any, um, children, did you?”
“Kate, please? Ugh. That’s disgusting!”
“What? I had to ask,” she explained, hating that she went there too. “Did you try to have an entire race wiped out?”
“No,” he said with a little laugh. “Am I an evil mastermind? No.”
“Did you pillage or plunder any unfortified villages?”
“No, I kept it to heavily fortified villages.”
“See, you’re actually quite nice now that we think of it. I bet those unfortified villages are thanking you as we speak.”
The street they were on was suddenly empty of everyone but them. Will stopped and Kate turned to look up at him. He put his hand against the brick wall that she leaned against. “Your faith in me is quite kind, Kate.”
“Well, yeah, I know,” she said, articulately, suddenly flustered. He’d done a complete one-eighty. His eyes were as deep as shaded pools. She felt she was drowning. He leaned down and kissed her. A train whistle blared in the distance. Was that my heart? she wondered, confused, lost in the kiss and on fire.
Will pulled back. “I hope you keep believing in me.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
He stepped away abruptly, ran his fingers through his hair, suddenly avoiding her gaze. She worried for a moment that he was about to turn into Mr. Hyde. What he said next didn’t exactly dissuade her. “Alright. Here goes. Brace yourself, Kate.” He fidgeted and then plunged on. “I was an awful, awful man. I only cared about myself. My fame was all about me. I pretended it was the acting. I pretended it was art. I worshiped myself, the script, the crowds, the cheering. I used the money I made to buy drugs and sex. Not a cent of it went to a good cause. Oh, sure, once in a while I faked really caring about the Red Cross. I sent them some money—a tiny amount, not even enough to buy a box of band-aids. Occasionally I’d donate a bit of blood—but then guess what?”
He waited for a response, his lips pursed into a thin line of contempt.
“Uh, OK, what?” She took a breath, her heart thundering at the possibility of what this could be. Would he tell her he’d done something unforgivable? What, if anything was unforgivable? How do you hold a grudge against the dead? She assumed it was possible. Had to be. But could she do that for someone she’d only known in death?
“I found out I had HIV. HIV, Kate! How many people did I infect with my generous blood donations? Which—which, I might add, I only did because I didn’t want to give away more of my money. I was such an ass. Such a total deadbeat.” He paced back and forth, gripping his hair in his fists, as though he wanted to snap his own neck or cover his ears and shut out his words.
She sighed. Oh. That. OK. Yeah. That’s pretty awful. And, while he wasn’t an evil tyrant, stealing food from babies or oppressing an entire nation, she could see why the guilt haunted him. He saw his motives for what they were. His flaws were as bright as a matador’s cape. And he couldn’t hide from it. Even if the HIV was something he spread before the world was aware of that particular infection, the fact that he did it in lieu of offering financial donations, well, he was the only one who would know that. Instead of helping, his selfish motives might have left a trail of destruction in their wake, as they were wont to do.
Kate grasped for something to say to soothe him. She knew that a person was their own worst judge because they couldn’t hide forever from what was hidden at their core. Lying to oneself could only last so long.
“You didn’t know, Will.” That was what she finally came up with. It came out weakly, though she wished it had sounded stronger, more convicted.
“I can’t excuse myself for that, Kate.” He stopped pacing and looked up at her. She’d never seen such anguish in his face before. He looked hurt and wounded.
“You judge yourself harsher than others would.”
He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Does it? It only matters that I do.”
“Then don’t. Forgive yourself. Let it go. Move on.”
“Easier said than done.”
“Everything,” she answered through gritted teeth, “everything is easier said than done.” It was the worst excuse for inaction. Kate was familiar with it. Her father relied heavily on that line when he didn’t feel like fixing the broken toilet or kitchen sink.
“You think I’m hideous now, don’t you?” His chin struck forward as though challenging her to hit it
with her words.
She did a quick search—here, of all places, was where her feelings were always the most clear. No disguises. Just raw and available. She glanced within and saw the bare truth of her feelings for him. “No, my feelings haven’t changed. If anything, they’ve only intensified. I think it’s to your credit that you confessed to me. That took a risk. You didn’t know how I’d respond. And, well, I’d be the hideous monster if I let your mistakes—mistakes you regret—change how I feel for you.”
“Is that what’s stopping you from running away? That you don’t want to be hideous? Or is it—is it something else?”
“I’m still here because . . .” she hesitated, feeling words she might regret halting at the tip of her tongue, “because I love to be with you.” She settled for that. Good hell, she thought, I’m raw here but I still can’t even tell someone I love them in a dream.
He accepted that with a nod. His eyes cut away, then darted back to lock onto her gaze. “And I love to be with you, Kate.”
“Good,” she said, suddenly feeling shy, suddenly wanting to know how his eyes were so blue. It was like a trick of the camera, or would be if the dreams were a TV show, some sort of modern crime drama where every set was designed around one color. But it wasn’t. He stood in front of her and the wall behind him wasn’t blue. His shirt wasn’t blue—no, he was wearing a black shirt and dark blue jeans. She would have thought she dressed him, except that they’d discovered that she wasn’t in control of him in the dreams. He was as anchorless in the dreams as Kate was. He was the one who brought them there, to London. Not her.
It was his turn to be shy, though. Kate believed that she was to understand that his admission that he loved to be with her was a front for what he really meant: that he loved her, which was what her confession was, only, she didn’t say it either. She hid it behind a facade of enjoying his presence. How could she love him? He inhabited a dream world. She couldn’t touch him, not in reality. When they made love, she might as well have been making love to herself. For all intents and purposes, it wasn’t proper sex. Was it?
Will turned away after telling her he loved to be with her, and while she suddenly felt bashful, he was evidently as uncomfortable as she. He avoided her gaze, glanced up the deserted street, then down at his shoes—he was wearing a pair of black square-toed shoes. She saw him swallow and purse his lips together. The fact that he was suddenly unsure of himself made her ribcage expand. The uncertainty, the desire to be accepted was something that didn’t enter the equation during the sex, which she was learning was just a function of the dream—she seemed to have no control of it. It was almost hormonal. Awesome, yes, but something else other than a position they got themselves into voluntarily.
It was the entrance to the dream. The gateway. Or it was, till today.
Kate wondered if he’d come to the same conclusion.
She stepped forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m so glad we got through that.”
His eyes found hers and a smile spread across his face. “What a relief, Kate. I—well, just . . . thank you for listening to me.”
As they turned to walk away side-by-side, the street was suddenly populated. A busker occupied a doorway, singing some romantic crooner-type of song. Nearby, at an outdoor cafe, everyone was giving a toast. A vendor sold flowers from a box hung around his neck, walking slowly through the mass of people in the opposite direction. Will bought a couple roses, using money he willed into existence, and handed them to her, flashing her one of his huge, dimpled grins. She took them and felt a heady flush—no one had ever given her flowers before. The roses were large, unopened buds, so heavy that the thought came into her mind that each rose was a piece of Will’s heart. His dream heart—the one that she’d built a home inside.
“So, were you ever married?” she asked as they made their way toward the London Eye. He would be able to tell her now that they’d gotten past the true horrors of his life—which, she had to admit, were pretty sad. The thing about the blood donations would be a hard truth to live with.
“Yes,” he said, squeezing her hand tight. “But it only lasted a few years. It was a mistake. We both realized that as soon as we were married.”
“A mistake because you didn’t love her or she didn’t love you?”
He tilted his head in acquiescence. There was no more hesitation when she asked him direct questions like that. “I was selfish. I didn’t know that I’d have to give up parts of myself and my desires to make a marriage work. I was too young. Too stupid and selfish. When I first realized that, I thought I could get over it. I thought it would go away.”
“But it didn’t?”
“Not really, no. I didn’t mind being with her, I just realized she deserved someone who felt the sacrifices were worth it.”
How hard could that be? Kate wondered. Didn’t love mean they weren’t sacrifices? “I’m glad you didn’t lie to me about this stuff.”
He stopped and stared at her, blinking. “Now Kate, why would you think I’d lie to you?”
She shrugged, pausing and returning his stare. “To feel safe, I guess. I don’t know. People lie, sometimes.”
“Well, you got the worst of it out of me, Kate. You know how I feel about my sojourn on Earth. I’m not going to compound it at this point by lying to you.”
“Compound it. What do you mean by that?”
“You never know, right?”
“Never know what?”
He made a rolling gesture with his hands, “You know, the afterlife. What happens when we die?”
“You are dead, aren’t you?” A flicker of hope flared through her chest. Maybe he was alive?
“Yes, but is this the afterlife? I don’t know.”
They kept going. Her mind tried to race around his words, but the enormous Ferris wheel and the crowds around it distracted her. Dusk fell like a fuzzy black cloak and the lights of the city glimmered to life.
“What drugs did you do?” She asked as they got into line for the Ferris wheel.
“Not a lot. Cocaine. Heroine. But it was minor.”
“How minor?”
“Oh, on a yearly basis, I’d say about three times a year at most. I was usually working. I didn’t have time to indulge in it much,” he leaned against the rail surrounding the line. “What about you?”
“Nothing. Not much. I’ve smoked weed a bit, but I’m not into that scene. I get paranoid on weed. I hate that.”
“None of the hard drugs for you, eh Kate?”
Kate laughed. “If I want enlightenment, I guess I’d rather meditate. Plus I’m not rich enough to afford that expensive crap.”
“When I was alive, people would say to me, ‘Will, you know you only live once!’ And I bought it. I fell for that, but I fell for it in the wrong way, I think, now. Instead of realizing that I was bound to die eventually and I better do a lot of good, I tried everything. Drugs, sex—and I mean some really farfetched stuff, Kate—”
“What, like orgies?” The thought sickened her, but she asked it anyway, and she hated herself for not stopping before the words were out. She really didn’t want to know. Yes, the sex they had was dream sex—it was amazing and impossible and erotic—but she still didn’t get into the freaky crap that was out there in real life. She wasn’t into that.
Will blushed and cleared his throat uncomfortably, coughed into his hand and looked around, suddenly more awkward than she’d ever seen him. If Kate hadn’t felt so embarrassed herself, she would have laughed.
“What was that?” She asked in response to the murmur Will hid with a hand over his mouth.
“I said yes, yes, OK?”
“Why are you embarrassed about it?” she prodded. She knew why she felt the way she felt, but why was Will embarrassed about this?
“Kate, I only lived once, and when I did, it was all about me. All of it. It was like my motto was, ‘I live to extract pleasure from every situation.’”
“Why didn’t you ever remarry or someth
ing?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I guess I felt I deserved to die alone.”
“Wow,” she whispered.
It was their turn. They boarded the capsule and the door slid shut behind them before anyone else got on.
It would have been romantic if she hadn’t just heard Will say he thought he deserved to die alone. The inside of her head was a bell and his words echoed around it like the metal chime, furious and angry, jarring her, shaking her up within. Should she say anything? Could she even comprehend what that meant, to die alone? Kate had a family. At least, she had parents and two younger brothers. She had a gaggle of friends. And until she met Will, the plan was that she’d someday marry and have a few kids, thus ensuring that she’d never die alone.
“What, like, in bed, by yourself? Were you discovered by your housekeeper or a neighbor who noticed a foul smell drifting through the walls?” she asked it and once the words were hanging in the enclosed space of the gondola she knew that she sounded like a total jerk. That wasn’t why she said it. She tended to choose her words carefully, but Will had proven to knock her reservations loose. He turned everything upside down and Kate didn’t know which way to go to stay within an acceptable boundary.
And besides, she hoped to lighten the mood with a little joke. Turned out to be a bad one. A horrible, ugly joke.
Will looked like he was going to retch. His smile wavered, his lips seemed to tremble, his face went ashen. She knew that based on his response, what she said wasn’t too far from the truth.
“Will,” she whispered, shaking her head, her gut twisting into knots as she realized how bad she made him feel. He turned from her and looked out at the night-scape of London. She followed his gaze and remembered what he said about it—that the city just went on forever.
Yes, he’d told her how awful he felt about who he’d been when he was alive; yes, he made some mistakes, but Kate was not his judge. So far all the man had done was make her feel magnificent. Before Will, no one had ever given her flowers. That was such a minor thing, and maybe some would say, stupid. But he’d made her laugh. He’d poured his soul into her and together they’d build this strange, exotic, and beautiful dream world.
A Boat Made of Bone (The Chthonic Saga) Page 12