Fixed Parts

by J. A. Wynters

  “I refused to leave his side. It took her two weeks but, when she saw I wasn't leaving, Simone made me a bed next to his. It was wonderful and terrible at the same time. For a while there, Simone was sure he was going to lose the leg. Those fuckers…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. Despite the pain belonging in the past, it still felt raw—my failure.

  “He knows you love him,” she said, and I knew she could read me so well. My body constricted with the words.

  “Love doesn’t fix bones.”

  “It fixes enough.”

  She cupped my face in her hands, but I stepped away knowing if she looked at me like that, I would break. And maybe if she looked long enough and deep enough into my eyes, she would find everything I was hiding.

  I pushed away from her, “If you don’t stop touching me, I’ll throw you over my shoulder and drag you back inside. You’ll be guilty of wrecking all my good intentions.”

  “I didn’t know you were capable of having any.”

  I bit my lower lip to stop myself from laughing, “That hurt.”

  Her lips curled in delight, and her eyes shone with menace, “Tell me about Simone.” She laced her fingers into mine the sensation breathtaking and unfamiliar.

  “Simone?” My mind drifted the to the night we first met; the judgement smeared on her face, the anger embedded in the creases of her forehead, the empathy reserved for Spots, the tenderness of her touch, “She’s like the mother I never had.”

  “You have a mother.”

  “Alice?’

  Mia shrugged.

  “She may have pushed me into this world, but she’s never been anything other than selfish.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” her hand squeezed mine. I inhaled deeply pulling away from grief, “Simone took me in, in the same way that I took Spots in. She took pity on me.” I scoffed at the thought.

  “I guess someone had to,” She jibed.

  “I guess I was just as much a mongrel as he was, just as lost.”

  I could feel the squeeze of Mia’s hand as she reassured me and with a look, urged me to go on.

  “I paced outside that operating room for two hours, maybe more. When Simone and Alex walked into the corridor, they both looked spent. Alex bypassed us and Salvatore ran after her like a dog in heat. Simone walked up to me, and it looked like she was ready to murder me. I almost smiled.”

  “Smiled?”

  “It meant she cared. It meant she really cared.”

  Mia nodded, her hair tickling my arm, sending shivers across my body. I swallowed hard and continued.

  “As soon as they were done, I asked to see him. She warned me. She said he was heavily sedated and patched up. She told me to go home, and I told her to get fucked,” I chuckled at the memory remembering Simone’s angry glare melting into understanding.

  “She led me past the operating room and into a recovery room. He looked so frail,” My face pinched with the memory—limp and drugged on the bed they had prepared him, “I rushed to his side and asked Simone about his condition. She was tired and blunt; she said that she did what she could, but there was a chance he might lose his leg,” I bit my lower lip at the memory and watched Spots as he bounded ahead, his bad leg tucked upwards.

  “I slept on the floor with him that first week. I didn’t leave his side at all. Turns out, it was good timing anyway…” my mind drifted away to those days. Maybe everything does happen for a reason.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Nothing that matters now,” I clenched my fists at the thought and softened as I remembered Mia’s hand in mine. “Simone took care of both of us. I paid her but I felt like it wasn’t enough, nothing would ever be enough. The debt is too great.”

  “She knows how much you appreciate what she did.”

  I nodded, “Maybe.”

  We walked in silence for a short while, watching Spots piss on walls and sniff invisible messages left in a language only his nose could detect and decipher.

  “Tell me about your family.”

  “Not much to say about ghosts.”

  I tightened my grip around her hand, knowing her pain, “Tell me what you remember.”

  “My sister killed herself, and I think she took most of my mother with her. She never truly recovered from Giorgia’s death.” Mia’s body tightened against me, and her voice shook.

  “Your dad?”

  “He’s been dead to me for years.”

  I didn’t pursue the questions, I could see the pain as it fell across her features like a curtain of horrors.

  “What about your farm? Tell me about it.”

  “My dad was a farmer, and I was the boy he never had. He had other plans for Giorgia. I wish every day that I could have taken her place. I would have done anything—” her voice fell away and her warm tears streaked down her face.

  “Oh, Mia, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  I winged my arms around her and pulled her close. Her body shook violently against me as she sniffed. I wiped the tears from her face, and she winced at my touch, her purple eye tender and angry.

  “I will never let anyone hurt you like that again.”

  I pulled her to me and kissed the top of her head, wishing for more.

  We walked back, each lost in our own memories—stuck in a past still too heavy to break away from, still pulling us down.

  Maybe, if I wasn’t so focused on protecting her, I would have remembered to protect myself. But she had me. We were entwined in each other’s lives.

  Glued together.

  Inseparable.

  I would never let her go.

  Till I did.

  My body stung with pain; the chair dug into my back, branding me with a long stretch of pain.

  I watched her sleep for a while, wishing I was lying next to her, wishing she was curled up in my arms, wishing I was part of her universe.

  I stood and stretched hovering over the bed. Even from here, I could smell her. Sweat and sleep had dulled the fresh soap of her shower and had made her completely irresistible, her skin almost copper in the early morning sun. She moaned and shifted. My body excited, needy—my mind overwhelmed. Her sheer presence tore down my defences. Her exposed, flushed skin unleashed desire so powerful I had to fight every cell in my body not to climb on top of her and bury myself deep inside.

  I needed air, I needed distance. My body burned with longing so intense I thought I might crack at the seams.

  I turned to leave.

  “Don’t go,” she mumbled, half asleep. As I wrenched myself away from the bed, her eyes fluttered open.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “I don’t mind.” She turned onto her back, her hair a messy hive around her, her eyes half shut, her lips curved in a slight smile.

  “How’s your eye?”

  “It hurts,” she touched it tentatively with the tips of her fingers and winced, “But not as much as being apart from you.”

  I stilled and hovered over the bed. Something in her voice tugged at me, her hand shot out and reached for me.

  “Are you ok, Mia?”

  She nodded and her hand fell away.

  “Gabriel, there’s something—”

  “There’s always something,” I cut her off. I didn’t want to listen because I needed her so badly, I had to get away, “I need to work, there will be time later.”

  “But the shop’s closed for another few days.”

  “I know,” I pushed my hands through my hair, “Not that kind of work. I need to find out who Emilio is and what he’s after. Just a few phone calls, and then we will go past your old place and grab your stuff.”

  “My old place? My stuff?”

  “You don’t live there anymore.”

  “Gabriel,” she pulled the sheet over her body and sat up on the bed, “I’m not just going to move in here, I have a li—”

  I closed the space between us in two long strides and pushed her b
ack onto the bed, straddling and pinning her down. My fingers curled over her damaged wrists and squeezed. She whimpered under my touch; I tightened the grip.

  “In case I have not made myself perfectly clear, let me do so now,” my fingers clenched around the purple bruising, and I could feel her pull, trying to release herself from me. She wasn’t getting the message, “From now on, you go where I go, you stay where I stay, and I know where you are at all times.”

  “You’re not the boss of me.” She struggled beneath me, her shimmering body making mine tenser and tighter.

  “I think you’ll find that I am. I own you now.”

  The sheet pulled away from her torso as she flailed against her outstretched arms, revealing her breasts. She moaned as I extended her limbs. Her back arched slightly off the bed and the sheet clung to her skin, folding around the protruding hip bone. She was the strawberry ice cream I never got to have and would never get to taste.

  My body flushed under her challenging stare, and I resisted the urge to claim her as my own. The boundaries have been set. She would belong to me, but I would not touch her, I wouldn’t taint her with my sins. I would protect her.

  “The quicker you understand how this works, the easier it's going to be.”

  “This will never be easy.” She bucked but I held her, my grip tightening. She clenched her jaw, fighting the pain, fighting me.

  I leaned my forehead to hers, sucking in her scent, and peering deep into the wonder of her eyes. Her heat radiated to me and all I could do was breathe her in. I slammed my eyes shut, fighting my body, fighting my desires. She was so close, I could almost taste her. Her body softened beneath me in an invitation almost too irresistible. I ground my teeth, wanting to grind against her instead, wanting to be inside her. This was too close, too dangerous. Her breathing became shallow, and I could feel her body heating, preparing, beckoning.

  I released her and unwrenched myself from her, rolling away. “Get dressed, I have work to do.”

  “Did you find out anything?”

  I kept my eyes on the road as I steered the car towards her apartment. “Nothing,” I clenched my jaw, my grip tightened on the steering wheel.

  My stomach rolled at the thought. Nothing. A vast emptiness. Something was stirring, a monster had awoken from a deep slumber, and it shook the world as it rose from the depths. I could see it in the markings on Mia’s skin. I could feel the tremor of its presence as it stalked beneath the surface, shaking off dirt and ash, rising slowly to the surface. And it scared me because it was completely invisible—not a trace, not a single shred of evidence.

  “I wish we could just run away, leave this behind, and go anywhere we wanted.”

  “There is no we, Mia.”

  She ignored my harsh tone, “But if there was…”

  I played along, “If you could, where would you want to go?”

  “An island, somewhere far and sunny.”

  “Sounds nice.”

  “Doesn’t it?” She sighed and stared out the window. My stomach clenched at the sight of her.

  “What if I told you, you could? I can set you free.”

  “You won't.”

  I gripped the steering wheel tighter. I wouldn't. I ran a hand over my face and played her game, “Ok, we could.”

  Her head snapped back around and her eyes grew wide, “How?”

  “There’s money…” I sucked in a long breath and questioned my sanity. I was trusting another human being with my secrets, a heavy burden I had carried for years. The lie was about to spill into the world and leave a trail. Once it was out of the box, there would be no putting it back. This would be forever, “Tony’s money, I know where it is.”

  Her mouth fell open, and her eyes bulged. She sat for a moment, her hands slithering along her throat as she digested the words.

  “Tony? The Hand?”

  I nodded. She remained silent, absorbing. I sank into my seat, feeling lighter, “What do you know about him?” I shot her a quick glance as I pulled over, arriving at our destination.

  “Nothing much, rumours. There was a funeral a few years ago, ten maybe—my dad went,” Her voice trembled when she spoke, and I wondered what she wasn’t telling me.

  I killed the engine, and we sat in silence. I waited for more.

  “Would it be enough to get us away from all this?”

  “More than enough.” This wasn't healthy, fantasies about a life we couldn't have.

  “So, what’s the problem?”

  “Let’s get inside, grab your stuff. We’re too exposed out here.”

  Mia pulled out her keys and pushed them into the door. It opened at her touch, the keys left dangling in her hand, unused. I grabbed her as she made to step inside, her foot hovering over the threshold. I sidestepped her, gliding inside, and pushed her against the wall. I shielded her with my body and scanned the room.

  It had been tossed. The couch had been ripped apart; cushions littered the small room. Broken glass and debris lay in disarray across the floor.

  “Stay here,” I whispered to her.

  I took a few tentative steps inside, listening for any sounds. I was greeted with silence. My skin prickled. See, nothing is really silent, not when you’re really listening. There are always small sounds; the tick of a clock, the hum of a machine, the breath of other humans—but not there. This place was full of nothing.

  I sensed the movement before I saw it. I spun around to Mia, and the world slowed down. I called her name, and her eyes shot to mine, then swung to whatever was coming just over my shoulder. Horror painted her face. I swung out my arm as I spun, my elbow missing my unseen attacker. Whatever he hit me with did not miss. The brutal blow to my lower back splintered through my entire body. My knees buckled and I fell to the floor, gasping.

  I turned to watch the assailant rush at Mia. He grabbed her by the throat and pinned her to the wall, his lips moving in her ear as her eyes bulged. Adrenaline surged into my body, and I jumped to my feet. My body would feel the pain later, now there was only Mia.

  I reached for the man, my hand snaked around his neck, and I pulled him off Mia. His hands tore at mine, his sleeve pulling up and allowing me a glimpse of a tattoo on his wrist. Wings. Blue and green. They were not angelic, but rather a geometric design that was both rounded and full of edges. The image seemed familiar, and I tried to remember it. I could feel the memory forming, the fingers of my mind closing around it as the man bucked backwards. The back of his head connected with my face, missing my nose by mere inches. The blow forced my head backwards, and the radiating pain was back. I could feel the hot blood as it oozed from my healing lip. The split reopened. I didn’t loosen my grip, instead tightening the noose of my hand around his neck. He gurgled and fought until his body went limp in my arms. I gripped his head, and all I had to do was twist. One violent, angry movement to crack his neck and end it.

  But Mia was by my side. “Gabriel!” Her voice rang loud and sharp, “Are you ok?”

  I threw the limp body on the floor and wiped my chin with the back of my hand, tasting metal, “Yes, I’m ok.” I pushed Mia behind me and we made our way to her bedroom, “Stay close. They know we’re here.”

  “They?”

  “Come on out, I won’t hurt you,” I ignored Mia and called out into the room. I could hear him this time, or maybe it was my own ragged breaths and beating heart.

  I took a few tentative steps into the room. I could see the shadow behind the door. Obviously, when they were handing out the intelligence quota he was standing at the wrong line. I edged around the door and, in a slick movement, grabbed the edge and slammed it into the body standing behind. I heard the “oomph” as the air left his lungs and repeated the action—slamming the door against him, again and again. He cried out and wedged himself out, rolling away along the wall. The man bolted up and, when he faced me at last, I could see the gleam of the knife as he slashed the air.

  He lunged at me. I leapt out of the way, pushing Mia into the wall. My
body tensed, all my muscles ready to attack, except instead of fighting, he ran. He ran past the couch, the debris and through the open door.

  I turned to Mia, adrenaline slashing across my body in a torrent.

  “Get your stuff, just the basics. We’ll buy anything else you might need. Hurry.”

  I went back to the lounge. I needed to get information, I needed to remember that tattoo. When I rounded the couch, the man was gone.

  “Fuck!” I slammed my fist against the door, the blow sent it slamming back into the wall, leaving a dent where the knob sank into the paintwork.

  I came back into the room and watched as Mia tossed clothes into a suitcase. She emptied out drawers and stuffed them in. I followed her into the bathroom, watching her collect her toiletries. I allowed myself a moment to wash my face and rinse out my mouth. When I came back into the room, her bag was closed and she was piling books onto the bed.

  “I said the basics.”

  “Those are the basics,” She huffed at me. Her pout agonising and infuriating.

  “Let’s go.”

  She grabbed the books and headed to the door, leaving the suitcase to me. I noticed the pictures of Cookie and Jigsaw by her bed and grabbed them as I left the room.

  I scanned the street before I allowed her back into the car. I pulled away, tyres screeching.

  “Are you hurt?” Her hand landed on my thigh, the sensation of warmth making me forget my swelling face.

  I pushed her hand away, I had to think, “What did he say?” My voice clipped and harsh.

  “What?”

  “I saw his lips move, what did he say?” I shot her a quick look.

  She cleared her throat, “He said to tell you that Emilio won’t stop looking.”

  I nodded a slew of thoughts whirling in my head, “Anything else?”

  She shook her head, “What are they looking for?”

  “The past.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why now?”

  I looked straight ahead pretending neither of us knew the answer to that question.

  We drove the rest of the way in silence.

  I winced as the frozen pea bag touched my face.