Beyond Heat

by Ashley Logan

  “We didn’t fuck in the shed, Vi! We were... talking. There was a call, and it was about his kid. She was out alone in the rain and the dark, at the school, and she’d been hurt. He said he’d explain everything when he could. Oh crap, Vi. He has a daughter.” The word is almost a whisper. My heart that had been opening earlier in the day, is now beginning to shut down.

  Secretive Bruno Jackson has lured me into a web of deceit. Not only has he awakened long dead feelings of affection for a human, and ruined me for other men, he has been keeping something too big to himself all this time. Why? Out of fear of how I would react? I’ll show him a reaction!

  “Scar, take it easy,” Vi warns. “You look like you’re about to rip his head off. Do you know this to be true?” she asks in a calm voice.

  “It has to be,” I whisper, my knuckles whitening as my fists squeeze tighter.

  “Are you kidding?” Vi asks, arching an eyebrow at me. “If we know anything about Bruno, it’s that he’s the most responsible man we know. If he has a kid, I’m sure we’d know it. I mean, there must be birthdays and Christmases and school plays and all sorts of stuff that we would have picked up on, but we haven’t.”

  “I might not know it, but it makes sense, Vi. I bet that’s why he moved here to begin with,” I add as a new wave of conclusions hits me. “And his relationship with his mom is messed up because of it, and it’s why he has no choice but to work his ass off, because he has responsibilities! Oh shit,” I gasp. “That’s who he shared the cookies with!”

  Violets eyes narrow as her face becomes thoughtful. “It does make some sense, but I don’t think you should act on what you’re feeling right now,” she says, turning back to me with concern. “Which is what, exactly, Scar?”

  Wiping away a tear, I shake my head. “I don’t know. Foolish? It feels like betrayal, but I don’t like the man enough for that to be the case. I just... tonight I...” Shaking my head, I wipe my cheeks again. “Nothing. I feel nothing.”

  “I think we both know that’s a lie. Promise me you won’t go acting all crazy until your theories are proven?” she asks, rocking me a little as she hugs me.

  Sniffing, I nod, wondering how I will get proof if the man himself won’t tell me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  BRUNO

  Scarlett was fast asleep when I got home last night. Or should I say early this morning. Blinking myself more awake, I check the time and rest back into the pillows, knowing I don’t need to rush to get up. Damon is with Brad, and I don’t have to drop his car back until we head over to the rest home later to continue on the mural the manager agreed to let us paint. Rolling over, I see Scarlett’s present and smile. Thinking about last night’s woodshed encounter, my smile grows bigger.

  Climbing out of bed, I head next door to find Scarlett absent. Her door is open and her room is spotless again, when I could have sworn there were things on the floor last night. Setting the box on her bed, I back up, eying Vi’s door. Also open, I can see Vi under the covers, alone.

  Frowning, I head to the kitchen and find Scarlett sitting on the counter with a bowl of cereal, crunching loudly with each aggressive chew.

  “Everything okay?” I ask, my blood turning cold, because I know everything is not okay. I just don’t know why.

  “Sure. Great!” she says, refusing to look at me. “How’d the family emergency go?”

  “I got it sorted, thanks. Scarlett why are you mad at me?”

  “Who says I’m mad at you?”

  “You. With your angry face, your lack of eye contact and the pulverization of your poor, innocent cornflakes. Is this about what happened in the woodshed?” I ask, praying it isn’t.

  “Sort of,” she nods, sending another spoonful of cornflakes to the slaughter as she radiates ‘back off’ energy.

  Leaning against the opposite counter, I fold my arms over my chest. “I really enjoyed what happened in the woodshed.”

  “A bit uneven though, didn’t you think?” she says, before drinking the milk from her bowl and setting it in the sink.

  Trying to rub the lines from my forehead, I sigh. “I thought you understood about...” I look down at my crotch and swallow hard as I close my eyes. “My limited abilities.”

  “I’m not talking about your dick, Bruno Jackson. Right now, I don’t really give a fuck about your abilities. I’m talking about disclosure. You managed to get my secrets, but you haven’t told me yours. That’s not fair. How many secrets do you have left to tell me Bruno? You do and say things that make me feel. You say you expect nothing from me, but you do want something from me and you’re not willing to supply me with all the information. You might be scared to share your secrets, but I won’t be led any further down your twisted path without them. How many more?”

  I swallow again as her green eyes flash, threatening me with emotional violence. “Three.”

  Eyes widening, she leans back in surprise. “Three?”

  Nodding, I look to the floor, wondering how in the world I’ve turned her from the delicious girl in the shed into the fiery beast before me. Her jaw sets firm and she holds me in a cold glare.

  “Tell me.”

  “I’d rather tell you when you’re not yelling at me,” I reply, backing towards the door. “I don’t know what you think I did between last night and now that’s turned you against me, but I won’t tell you a thing until you’re calm and I’m ready. I am scared of telling you, because I have no idea how you’ll react, given the fact that you’re yelling at me for no good reason and believe it or not, I’m terrified of losing you from my life.”

  We both stare at each other, panting our frustration. I break first, because I can’t take the fury in her eyes. “I was going to ask if you wanted to go to the gym with me this morning, but I can see that you don’t.”

  Retreating to my room, I pack my bag, grab Damon’s keys and leave.

  Driving to Brad’s house, I have to force myself not to grip the steering wheel too hard. I park in the drive and walk up the front steps as Damon opens the door.

  “Hey man, what the fuck? You’re meant to be sleeping in.” He looks me over, pressing his lips together. “Don’t suppose I need to ask how it went.”

  “It went great, until I got a call that Mom had run off and hurt herself,” I say, fastening the stabilizer straps of my backpack over my chest and hips.

  “Is she okay?”

  “A few stitches, nothing major. Anyway, I’m running to the gym. Can you drive Jenkins over to the home later? I’ll meet him there.”

  “You’re running from here?” Damon asks, looking down the suburban street towards the city in the distance. “Why have you got the crazy eyes?”

  “What?” I ask, stretching my calves.

  “Your eyes. They’re crazy. Something happened with Blondie?”

  “With the minefield I’m walking, nothing will ever happen with Blondie. Scarlett,” I correct, shaking my head. “I need some time to think. You’ll drop Jenkins?”

  “Sure. And hey, I think he’s definitely turned a corner, so expect some rest and relaxation soon. I know it’s been a hard time.”

  He doesn’t say the words ‘for you’, but I know he’s thinking it. Although it’s been hard work for both of us to support Jenkins through his depression, Damon really means a hard time for me, because my life is already a battle half the time and he thinks because his parents are well, his future is funded and he isn’t in love with an impossible woman, his stress is less than mine. I shake my head at myself, because he’s right of course. I catch myself laughing a little and know I must seem a bit unhinged.

  “I’m still standing, Shermansky.” Turning, I start the long run back to the gym.

  AFTER NEARLY KILLING myself at the gym, I make my way to the rest home in an exhausted daze. As I walk through the doors, I’m still fuming about the lack of appropriate supervision that has landed Mom with six stitches in her leg from wandering through a construction site near the local school. In the dark
. Goodness knows where she thought she was going.

  At least I’ll get to spend some time with her today, making sure she’s alright. She likes to watch us paint. Even though she doesn’t remember who I am, the brief windows when she believes me to be her brother at least give me some sense of who she once was and that she hasn’t disappeared entirely.

  Yet.

  The doctors say at some stage she’ll lose it all, and they fear that time as much as I do. With youth on her side, she’ll be physically fit, but will have lost all of her communication skills. I see shades of it already; a fumbling for lost words, the repetition, and the intense frustration from it that causes her to lash out sometimes. It seems unfair that the worst is still to come, and that because of her young body, she’ll be trapped in that hell for many years to come. The only blessing is that she won’t have the ability to comprehend her fate.

  “Hey Shantelle. Brad already inside?” I ask the girl behind the front desk as she takes another sip of her coffee.

  “No, he’s not here yet Boogie. You dancing today?”

  “If we can fit it in, but I’d like to get the day room wall finished first. I don’t like everyone having to use the smaller space out back. How’s Mom?”

  “She’s up and about,” she says quietly. “Heard she had an adventure last night.”

  “She should never have been able to get out,” I say, feeling my brows lowering as I think of the arguments I had with the staff last night.

  “But these things do sometimes happen,” Shantelle says with a wary eye, obviously having caught up with some of the staff opinions about my reactions. “Your Mama is a crafty lady.”

  “Even so,” I say, running a hand over my hair and trying not to get worked up again. “I pay good money to ensure these things don’t happen, and I don’t need the extra stress. When Brad arrives, please tell him I’m already here, and if Mom is around, I’m happy to have her keep us company.”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Jackson. I’ll point her in next time I see her pass by.”

  “Thank you, Shantelle.”

  Entering the day room, I’m greeted by the familiar and settling smell of paint. Setting my bag down, I roll up my sleeves as I look over what Brad, Damon and I have managed to get done over the weekend. Actually impressed with how it’s turning out, I check back with the vision I’d sketched and smile. It’s so much better in color. The wall has been transformed into a very real looking forest with rays of sunshine lighting thick, slanted bands through it. In the parts where the painting is finished, you can almost feel yourself drawn into its depths; can almost smell the pine.

  Like Scarlett’s woodshed. Pushing the thought aside, I try not to think how badly I want her in my arms again and pick up my paintbrush. Organizing my palette, I put the music from my mother’s youth on through my speaker and lose myself in the wall.

  “My my, this just looks fabulous!”

  Her words break into my trance and warm my soul. Smiling, I turn to find her watching me.

  “You like it, Viv?”

  Her eyes narrow as she casts them over me. “Boog?”

  I know there’s no hope of her recognizing me for myself, but a tiny part of me dies every time she tries to place me and fails.

  “Yeah Viv. These new eyes the army gave me help me paint pictures now. How you been keeping?”

  “Oh, fine I guess,” she says, limping a bit as she comes in for a closer look at my face. “Hurt my leg somehow, but it don’t slow me down none. Got a bandage on it see?” She lifts her skirt a little to show me her shin.

  “No dancing for you today, then?” I ask with a smile.

  Smiling back, she shakes her head and comes to stand next to me, linking her arm through mine. “No need for dancing when I can walk through the woods now. How do you make it look so real?” she asks, reaching out to touch the wall. I stop her hand before it lands in the wet paint.

  “Sizing the trees for perspective and layers of paint, Viv. It’s still wet, so you can’t touch this bit. You want to help?” I ask, looking around for another brush.

  She doesn’t remember, but she helped paint a few of the other trees already. Finding her a brush, I show her how to shade the trunk of the tree next to me. Once she’s going, I smile and turn back to my own tasks, watching her out of the corner of my eye the whole time.

  It reminds me of the time we painted Nan’s kitchen for her. It was a surprise birthday present and Nan hated surprises, but she just cried and cried when she saw her ugly brown kitchen turned into the bright, warm place we always felt it was when we ate her cooking. Mom won’t remember that though.

  “That’s it, Viv. Just like that. We’ll make this room something really special.”

  “It’s looking very special already.”

  My head twists in a hurry to look over my shoulder.

  “What are you doing here, Scarlett?” I ask, glancing at Mom briefly and trying not to panic. “I can’t see you now. Please go.”

  “I saw you punishing yourself at the gym,” she says quietly, her eyes still traveling the painted wall. “I followed you - to see if I could find the answers you won’t give me.” Her eyes fall on my mom and she smiles politely. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “You’re not interrupting,” Mom says, waving her over. I close my eyes as my breath leaks painfully out of me.

  “Boog was just showing me how to make the trees look real. You want to try?”

  “Boog, huh?” Scar says, smiling as she comes over.

  I am trapped in a nightmare. Any second now Mom, or Scarlett is going to create a glitch in Mom’s current mental state and she’s going to flip out.

  “Scarlett please. I’ll talk to you later. It’s imperative you go now. Please,” I beg her, giving Mom another sideways glance.

  Scarlett’s smile falters and Mom smacks my shoulder.

  “Boog, don’t be so rude! Honestly. Listen to him,” she tells Scarlett as she points her thumb at me. “Imperative you leave. Ha! Been in the army too long, this one!” Turning back to me, she shakes her head and clicks her tongue. “Aren’t you gonna introduce me to your friend, Boog?” Leaning in closer, she nudges me with her elbow and whispers, “She’s very pretty.”

  Sighing, I drag a hand down my face. “I think she’s pretty too, Viv. This is Scarlett, my sometimes very good friend and always pain in my ass. Scarlett, this is Viv, best dancer and tree painter this side of Buffalo. Love to have you gals stay and chat, but Scarlett was just leaving, right Scar?”

  Scar’s eyes narrow at me. “Sure,” she says, sounding uncertain. “It was nice meeting you Viv.”

  “You too honey. And don’t you pay my brother no mind. He’s changed some since he came back from that desert.”

  I cringe, hoping Scar missed it, but from the look on her face, she didn’t miss a thing. I shake my head, silently begging her to let it be, but I know her too well. She followed me for answers and she’ll damn well get her answers. Pre-empting her questions, I take her by the arm, hoping to lead her out of the room before Mom can hear.

  “Brother?” Scarlett asks, looking back over her shoulder as I pull her to the door. “Bruno, you said you had no siblings!”

  “Bruno?” Mom says, coming after us. “Boog, why’d she call you Bruno?” When I don’t answer, she turns to Scar with her confusion. “Honey why’d you call him his Daddy’s name? Are you lying to this sweet girl, Boog?” she says, rolling up her sleeves in preparation for telling me off.

  “Viv, please,” I try to get a resistant Scarlett out the door, but Mom whips ahead and blocks the way.

  “Lewis Alden Ezekiel Jackson, you let go that poor girl right now and explain yourself!”

  Taking a deep breath I nod my head. “I will Viv, gimme a second.” Pulling Scarlett in close, I whisper in her ear.

  “When I let you go, I need you to go straight to the front desk and tell them Viv needs her meds. Do not come back in.” Letting her go, I give her a gentle shove toward the door as Mo
m steps toward me and clips me around the ear.

  “I cannot believe you just tried to manhandle that pretty young thing out the door. What the hell is wrong with you?” she says, looking me up and down. “And why’d you give her Daddy’s name and keep her from knowing you had a sister?” she demands.

  “Because I’m a terrible person?” I say to placate her, keeping an eye on the door now that Scarlett has gone through it.

  “Don’t you give me that!”

  Her eyes narrow at me and she looks me up and down again. “Who are you? You look like Boog, but you ain’t him,” she says, backing up. “Your eyes are different and your skin’s too pale,” she says, her eyes flaring wide as she peers through the spell of dementia and fears what she sees.

  Tossing a chair at me, she screams. “Who are you?” I dodge the chair, and it hits the wall by the door, leaving a dent.

  “Viv calm down. I’ll tell you who I am, but you’re not gonna believe me.”

  She throws another chair and I move away from the door so the nurses can get through safely. I inch my way closer to her as she sidles away, keeping her eyes on me.

  “Go on then. Who are you?”

  “I’m Bruno Jackson, named for your father. I’m your son.”

  “I don’t have a son!” she screams, hurling an open paint can at me. I get out the way of the can, but the paint slaps my face. Wiping away the muck, I don’t see the next one. It hits me in the head and I stumble back a few steps as she comes at me. Slipping in the paint, I break her fall as I wrap myself around her.

  “It’s okay, Momma. The nurse is going to come and give you some medicine and you can forget any of this ever happened,” I say on the verge of tears as she screams and squirms while I hug her. “You were a good mom and I love you very much and I’m so sorry this has happened to you.”

  Her body stills. “What happened to me?”

  “You got sick, Momma. Real sick. Lost your memories. You don’t remember me at all, but I’m here and I love you.”

  I hold her while the nurse gives her the injection. I hold her until she goes limp in my arms and then I lift us both off the floor and put her onto the stretcher they’ve wheeled in.