by Vivien Vale
Maybe if I could lift a boulder and throw it like Hercules high up into the sky and watch it crash back down onto Earth, I might feel a little better.
Okay, maybe not.
There’s so much anger in me right now. I need to do something. For a second, I stop in front of a car and look at it.
Is this random vehicle a worthy opponent? I doubt it.
Metal is too soft for someone as angry as me.
Instead, I stride over to the edge of the building.
Once I reached the outer wall, where there’s a sign with a large red arrow pointing toward the hospital entrance, I stop.
My eyes zero in on the wall.
I take a massive swing.
I don’t aim for the fucking sign. No, I aim for the goddamn motherfucking wall.
And I fucking connect.
Yet I feel nothing.
Millions of fucking dynamite sticks are exploding in me. Just fucking tons, kilotons of explosive, uncontrollable emotion is raging through every fiber of my goddamn being.
My vision is fucking red, and I have nowhere to direct any of this shit.
How could I have been so fucking stupid?
Without thinking, my fist punches right into that fucking wall again. Blood is now trickling down my knuckles, but at the moment, I’m not inclined to give one goddamn fuck about that shit.
My gaze zeros in on the decent-sized crack I’ve made in the wall’s white surface.
It’s just still not e-fucking-nough.
There is no outlet for me. Nothing.
I’ve been the biggest fucking dick on the planet.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
The realization that I’ve lost June hits me harder than I can hit the wall.
And I’ve got no one to blame but myself. I’ve been a fucking idiot.
From my meeting with Lawrence in that sleazy bar to the ultrasound appointment, I should have seen it coming.
It was obvious. What’s wrong with me? I’m just like my father…and Lawrence.
Maybe I can just blame this on bad genes?
What a weak fucking way to deal with the whole fucking situation.
June’s gone.
The best thing that’s happened to me in a long time—probably fucking ever—and I let it slip through my fingers, like sand just running through my hand. The only thing is, I won’t be able to pick her up again.
I’ve totally fucked up.
I mean, she’s gone. Packed her bag and handed back the key type of gone—if I’d have given her a key.
Fucking fool.
“Hey, dickhead,” a familiar voice calls. “There’s still plenty of pussy to get, you know. I mean…”
He doesn’t get any further. Like a raging mad bull, I throw myself at the bastard and grab him by the lapels of his shirt.
Then I spin him around and slam him into the wall.
Unfortunately, he’s prepared.
Instead of his head hitting the wall, he brings his chin to his chest and pushes against me. At the same time, his right leg hooks around my left and unbalances me.
I fall.
Clearly, I’m not at my best. Any other day, I would’ve been on top of Lawrence already. But now, I’m approaching the ground at rapid fucking speed.
Smack!
I slam onto the pavement.
The fall knocks the wind right out of me. For a few seconds, I can’t even breathe. It feels as if a metal vice has gripped my lungs and is squeezing every last bit of air out of me.
Naturally, Lawrence uses this moment to his advantage.
Before I know what’s happening, his right fist connects with my face. Luckily, I wise up to his next move when I see the flesh of his fist from the corner of my right eye.
Unable to counter the attack, I pursue the only option I can see. I turn my head quickly at the last minute.
Instead of connecting with most of my face, his next punch only makes contact with the side of my head before his fist slams hard into the ground.
Now he’s unbalanced, and I’ve got my breath back.
I bring my knees up under me and roll.
“What the fuck do you want, Lawrence?” I yell, scrambling back to my feet.
Lawrence lunges for my legs, misses, and lands splat on his face.
This gives me enough time to take a deep breath and prepare for the next onslaught. It comes all too quick.
While I’m busy breathing and trying to gather myself, I spot my brother inching toward me on his hands and knees, but I notice too fucking late, and he’s already close enough to jab his fist right into my gut.
Again, I’m winded, and my body folds in half like a Swiss Army knife.
“I want what you’ve got,” he pants, his arms lunging wildly for me.
As I avoid one of his punches, another one connects with my mouth. It splits my lip open, and I can taste blood.
“What the fuck?” I say, spitting it out.
“You always get everything. You got Chantal when I’d been trying to get into her pants months before you even met her.”
His rage is still fucking building.
“Fuck, man,” I put my hands up in defense.
Lawrence just punches wildly at me. Occasionally, one of them connects, usually with my face—a couple times with my eyes, right and left.
“And then you end up with this gorgeous chick, the one who’s just fucking perfect, the one dad loves.” On this last word, I turn my face a little too far to the right to look at him, and wham, his fist collides forcefully with my cheek.
There’s a crack. I think he might have broken my cheekbone.
“And, you know what’s worse, you prick?” Lawrence has halted punching me. “You’re being a total prick. Instead of chasing after her, admitting your mistake, and begging her to take you back, you’re acting like you’re all of five years old.
“Man, look at yourself. You’re beating the crap out of me, and why? Because you’re so fucking busy trying not to be me. News flash, asshole: you’re exactly like me.”
All I can do is stare at him. I’m not even feeling any pain in my fucking face—it’s all in his words.
“I take it back. You’re nothing like me. If you were, you wouldn’t be here beating the shit out of me, you’d be chasing after June, doing absolutely fucking everything to get her back.”
Fuck it, I don’t care what else Lawrence has to say. I run, breaking into a sprint to my car. How fucking stupid, am I? And why was it Lawrence who had to tell me?
Fuck.
Of course I should have been chasing after her. It pains me to admit this, but my brother is one hundred percent right.
When I get to my car, I fumble with my keys. Finally, I unlock the door and jump in, getting ready to fucking floor it.
I’m easing out of the goddamn parking spot impatiently when the passenger door opens and Lawrence jumps in.
“Who said you could come?” I growl, stepping on the accelerator.
“I did,” he replies, and I can see his smug grin when I glance sideways at him. “I mean, how else are you going to have any fucking chance of getting this girl back?”
Fucking arrogant prick.
I chuckle.
“Remember in eighth grade?”
I shake my head.
Is he kidding? Eighth grade is a lifetime ago.
“You already had the girls eating out the palm of your hand, and I was left to pick up the crumbs.”
Silence.
For some reason, I wasn’t sure what to say to this.
“And you know what was worse?”
Again, I shake my head.
“You had no fucking idea how easy it was for you to pick up a girl and how hard it was for me.”
“If I didn’t know you better—” I start, but he interrupts me.
“Don’t go down Fifth Avenue man, you’ll be there all fucking day getting to the airport. If you want to catch this girl, you better take the fast route.”
I’m torn. Should I trust Lawr
ence, or is he trying to lead me astray? Is this some weird plot on his part to throw me off?
“Come on, man, you’ve got to go east down 57th and then straight onto the bridge.” He takes a breath. “I thought this wasn’t about us, but about getting June back.”
He’s hit the fucking nail on the head.
And so, without giving it another thought, I make a fast, manic, rubber-burning left turn onto 57th.
Some impatient dick blows his horn at me, and I show him the finger.
I’m on a fucking mission.
Adelaide
My hands curl instinctively into fists as I watch him end the call, my nails biting into my palms as his words echo in my mind.
After everything we’ve been through since he popped back into my life, this is how it ends? Without a discussion beforehand?
He reclines on the porch, a wistful expression painted on his face as he looks around the small village. If anything, it only serves to make my anger rise higher, a small fire sparking to life in my mind.
I stand silently a moment longer, watching as his eyes finish their trek, waiting for them to turn in my direction.
When they finally do, I watch them widen in surprise, his body lurching upright in my presence.
“Addie, I didn’t—”
“Didn’t see me? Yeah, I gathered as much.”
“How long have you been standing there?”
His unanswered question hangs between us. What, if anything, did I hear?
“How’s Sten?” I ask in response, taking a step forward.
The tension bunching his muscles seems to relax as the words leave my mouth, his body relaxing in...defeat? Shame?
It doesn’t matter.
He runs his hand slowly across the back of his neck before standing, his face taking on a look of apology that I don’t care to acknowledge.
“It’s the right thing to do, Addie.”
I can’t help the growl that travels up my throat.
“The right thing? Wow, Ford, I didn’t realize that running off like a coward was the right thing. My mistake.”
“I’m not—”
“Oh, yes, you are. I don’t even know why I’m surprised. It’s high school all over again. We get close, and you flee. I should’ve seen it coming.”
“Is that what you think happened?” His voice rises slightly in anger, his hands curling into fists tightly at his sides. “I didn’t run away from you. You have no idea what you’re talking about!”
I hear my own voice rising to match his.
“Oh, bullshit Ford! You did run. Just like you’re running now. You tell yourself whatever you need to, but you can’t fool me. You’re a coward!”
He stomps angrily towards me, his footfalls kicking up dust in his wake. He stops close to me, our bodies mere inches apart. His proximity shoots small sparks of electricity through my veins even now.
“I didn’t run then, and I’m not running now. I just know when to say when, Addie. Unlike you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, please. You have no idea when enough is enough. The doctor with the world on her shoulders, right? Well, your Atlas complex is your own problem. The rest of us know when to walk away.”
“Run away,” I counter, raising myself slightly on my toes.
His frame hulks before me, muscles once again tensing visibly in frustration.
“What do you want from me?” he growls.
“I want you to face this! For fuck’s sake, Ford, I thought this meant something. I thought I meant something to you!”
His hands fly up to his head, running idly through his hair as he looks at me incredulously.
“Of course you mean something to me! All of this meant something to me, Adelaide, but I can’t stay here. This isn’t about what I want or what we had. This is about your safety. If you’d stop being stubborn for one second, you’d see that!”
I roll my eyes, resisting the urge to stomp my foot like an enraged child.
“My safety?” I look wildly around us, gesturing with my arms for emphasis. “I am safe, Ford! Whatever worst-case scenario you’ve got playing in that head of yours isn’t real! Can you even tell the difference?”
“Sure, for now,” he says ominously. “But I’ve been through this, Addie. You have no idea. My worst case scenarios are real. It’s only a matter of time. Whether or not you wanna admit it, I’m dangerous—to you and everyone else around me. I refuse to be the cause of another person getting hurt!”
“You won’t, Ford. Nothing’s going to happen!”
“You’re wrong,” he says, reaching down to grab my hand.
He clutches it tightly between us, my heart racing frantically at his touch.
“Ford—” I say, half-whispering the word.
“No, Addie—you need to listen. The person that I am, the things that I’ve caused, you can’t just wish that away. All of it comes with a price. Your safety is the most important thing to me. If I stay, you’re in danger, no matter how hard you try to deny it. I can’t let anything happen to you. I refuse.”
He gestures roughly around us and says, “And this place, this life that you’ve chosen... I can’t keep you safe here. I only make it more dangerous. It’s driving me insane, Adelaide!”
“So we’ll figure it out!” I shout it frustration.
“How? Are you going to leave, Addie? Give this all up? Because as long as we’re here, you’re at risk.”
His words slam into me, and I instinctively pull my hand from his grasp. My eyes run freely around the village.
Give this up?
My life has meaning here in a way that I never thought was possible. I care about this place, about these people. My heart aches at the thought of leaving it all behind.
“I can’t leave, Ford.”
He throws his hands up in resignation, clearly already knowing what my answer would have been.
“So, there it is,” he says, a touch of finality to his words. “You can’t leave, and I can’t stay. What else is there to talk about?”
I feel hollow at his assessment, tears threatening my eyes. After everything we’ve been through, after finding each other a lifetime later, this is it?
“Maybe...”
I trail off. Really there’s nothing left to say. A void has opened between us.
No matter how hard I want it to close, there’s no fixing this.
Quiet follows the word, heavy and pervasive, speaking louder than either of us possibly could. I feel sorrow washing over me in waves, invading my senses with utter hopelessness.
“This was never going to work,” he says, breaking the moment. “I should have known better, Addie. I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” I ask, feeling anger spread through me anew. “This is bullshit, Ford. I was right to begin with. You’re a coward. We could figure this out, but you don’t want to. You’re too afraid.”
He shakes his head slowly, taking a step backward.
“There’s nothing to figure out,” his voice comes out softly now, sorrow and regret heavy in his words. “I’m no good for you, Adelaide―or for anyone else.”
He looks up, his eyes finding mine intensely. “I’m the Zimwi, okay? I’m a dangerous beast. You’ll be much better off without me.”
I open my mouth to speak, wanting to say something—anything—to close the rift between us. Words fail me though, my mind seeming to blank in the face of his declaration.
There’s nothing left to say. His mind is clearly made up.
I close my mouth silently, again fighting the tears that threaten to spill from my eyes.
He stands a moment longer, his eyes trailing across my face in a way that makes me ache.
Then, with a single nod, he turns away.
I can only stand and watch as he walks farther into the village, his feet quickly increasing the space between us.
It’s tempting to follow and get him to tell me everything, but I know he won’t talk to me, so I t
urn in the opposite direction.
As I walk away from him, my foot kicks a pebble, and I watch it roll off the path, my mind now a million miles away.
Ford
I lay awake on the porch, my cot firm and unyielding beneath me. Usually, I don’t even notice the taut fabric, but tonight I can’t seem to get comfortable.
After our argument earlier in the day, I thought it best to move outside.
It was never really necessary to sleep in the hut anyway. I realize now that it was just my attempt to get closer to Adelaide.
I should’ve slept out here from day one. Just one of many things I should’ve done differently, but not the least—which is never accepting this assignment to begin with.
My fight with Addie plays on repeat in my thoughts, our words echoing around the cavernous space of my head.
I wish that things could have gone differently. I know that I’ve made the right choice in leaving, but I at least had hoped we could have a decent goodbye. Now, even that has gone to shit.
It’s just as well. A heartfelt farewell only would have made this harder. Better to leave on a sour note.
It’s easier that way.
From inside the hut, the sound of Edgar’s whimpering filters out to me, the tension palpable even to him.
His cries rub against my senses like sandpaper, urging me to go in and comfort him.
With a growl of frustration, I turn to my side—facing away from the hut.
I can’t go in there. I don’t belong there anymore. Not that I ever really did, but now I can’t even trick myself into thinking so.
The cot creaks underneath me as I toss and turn, wanting morning to come quickly. At least in the light of day, there will be distractions.
At least, I’ll be able to see Addie.
I clench my hands at this last thought, willing myself to be practical.
Addie and I are finished. Seeing her won’t help a damn thing.
The air is heavy with heat, adding yet another level of discomfort to my current situation. My shirt clings too tightly to my skin, sweat pooling at my hairline.
I turn to lay on my back with a sigh.
It doesn’t seem like sleep is coming tonight.
I give in to the insomnia, letting my mind wander where it wills.
Not surprisingly, everything that comes to mind is distinctly unpleasant. My mistakes in the CIA, my foolish choices when it comes to the lives of others, this disaster with Addie...