Chimera (27 page)

Running his fingers through his hair, he seems to acquiesce. “Head hurt?”

“Like hell but I don’t want to wake them up.” As soon as it was out I knew what I had done.

“Who?”

“Never mind. I misspoke.” Resting my head on the back of the couch, I pray death finds me in the near future or I can get back to my fat Russian friend before Nate finds him. The Russian and Jose don’t mix well but maybe that doesn’t apply to separate days. Hell, I don’t know.

“Is there someone here?” Before I can answer, he’s throwing my bedroom door open. He flips on the lights, throws the covers around, looks under the bed, in the closet, then the bathroom. “There’s no one here, Bastian.” Fuck! He grabs my Russian friend from the floor in the bathroom, tucking him under his arm. “I’m taking this with me. So help me God, Bastian, if you don’t get your shit together, I’m going to start hauling your ass with me everywhere I go. I will not fucking lose you again.”

I flip him off when he stomps by me. I know he’ll be back so there’s no point in asking when. He didn’t think to take my keys, so I’ll just go buy a few more of my favorite drinking buddies and hide them around the house. Deciding I’m too hung over to safely operate a motor vehicle, I walk the few blocks down the street to the package store downtown. I had thrown on jeans and a dirty T-shirt not expecting to see anyone I knew and not caring if I did.

Not having driven, I’m limited by what I can carry the four or five blocks back to my house. I opt to buy a couple of canvas tote bags for my buddies to make the walk back easier. As I reach the cashier, who fucking walks in but Tara Winford. Goddammit.

Seeing me instantly, I continue my transaction, hoping the guy behind the counter will hurry up and put the bottles in the bag.

“Bastian?” With her hand on my arm, she turns me toward her. “Oh, honey, I knew it would be bad.” She pulls me into an awkward embrace. She pushes me back to look me over, to analyze just how bad it is I guess. Fuck if I know why women do anything.

“Sir?” The cashier motions for me to swipe my card so he can help other people in line. Distracted from her wandering eyes, I guess she gets her fill.

“Thanks, man.” I toss out at the guy. Leaving the store, Tara follows me.

“Bastian, please tell me you’re getting help this time?” I ignore her, setting my sights on home where I can promptly unscrew one of these and hide the rest before Nate returns. She grabs my hand, jerking me back to face her. “Bastian, seriously! You can’t beat yourself up over this. I heard what you did. Everyone in town knows you tried to save her and almost killed yourself in the process. Did you see the story in the newspaper?”

No, I hadn’t seen it because I had hoped someone would respect my privacy, Sera’s privacy, and hell, for that matter, even Ferry’s. I have no interest in public pity or whatever people dish out.

“I know it’s only been a couple days but you really need to take a shower, shave, and make an appointment to talk to someone.” She’s sincere in her advice. I know she wants nothing but the best for me but the reality is I’m too far gone to give a shit what the Tara Winfords of the world want from me. She had to have known about Sera and Ferry. She had to, but she did nothing.

“Did you know?”

Her face twists up in a perplexed puzzle. “Know what?”

“About her and Ferry.” I stare into her eyes waiting for the moment the lie reveals itself. You can see it, if you look close enough. Everyone’s eyes change for just a fraction of a second when they lie.

“I knew they had dated several years ago but nothing since then. Sera was always very private about her romantic life. I think that’s why people speculated so much about her promiscuity. I don’t think she was promiscuous at all. I never did. I always thought she had the spirit of an artist, one that loved one soul completely, but when that love wasn’t returned she wasn’t able to invest in anyone else. I just assumed she wasn’t with anyone because she couldn’t be with
the
one.” Nothing but honesty. She hesitates before continuing. “Bastian, I know you loved her. You couldn’t stop what you didn’t know existed.” The way she tilts her head and furrows her brow irritates me. I don’t want her sympathy or anyone else’s.

“That’s just it, Tara. I did know. I just didn’t know who.” Ripping my arm from her grasp I walk away without another word. I hear her call my name in the distance but don’t turn back.

Back home, I put a bottle of Jack in the freezer since it will be tonight’s dessert, and attempt to find hiding places for the others, but not together so if the Prohibitionist finds one I won’t lose them all. Shuffling around, I realize I suck at hiding shit…in my own damn house. I’m a grown-ass man who’s afraid my best friend is going to raid my liquor stash. Fucking pathetic. I still stash a couple bottles just in case and put the rest in the fridge. When I open the stainless steel doors, it’s empty. There’s nothing filling the shelves or the drawers. What was full of color just days ago is now bleak. Standing there, staring at the empty space, the light goes out—there’s a fucking metaphor if I’ve ever seen one. I line up my buddies neatly in the dark space inside the fridge. “Guys night.” Typical assholes, they offer no response.

Nate doesn’t come by tonight. Instead, he calls to check on me. He’s at work but will leave if I need him, blah, blah, blah. I’m not some needy bitch for fuck’s sake. I just want to be alone. When I finally pacify him, I go find Jack.

Several shots in, I’m stumbling around. The liquor’s having a much stronger effect on me with nothing in my stomach, and I land back in my boudoir with my ladies. Convincing them to play drinking games with me isn’t as hard as I thought it would be. I suggest strip poker minus the cards. Sylvie continues to lull my mind with her songs, while Sera taunts my eyes with her beauty. It’s erotic in a stoic way.

The angel begins to sway, silently begging for me to ask her to dance. I’ve got two left feet but she looks so lovely in her gray dress I can’t help but extend my hand in invitation. Holding her in one hand, Jack in the other, the room spins around us, twirling us for hours, but Sylvie never gets jealous and never tires. Her voice is just as strong as it was hours ago. Time ceases to exist with my girls by my side and Jack pulsing through my veins, filling the fibers of my being. The warmth and comfort he brings is unsurpassed by anything else. It’s the first time since I got out of that water I haven’t felt the cold in my bones or the pain in my heart. I can survive here, happily.

“
B
astian
! Bastian!”

The voice is faint and angry. I’m unwilling to exert the energy for distance and unhappiness. Ignoring the cries, I close my eyes with my fist around Jack’s neck. The bastard tried to make a move on my girls last night when he thought I was too drunk to recognize what he was doing, but I fucking caught the philanderer and I’ve kept close tabs on him since.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” The looming figure in my doorway looks vaguely familiar but without any light it’s hard to say who it might be, although he sounds rather irritated with me. If he’s after Sylvie or Sera I’ll grab him by the balls until he begs for mercy, too. “What the fuck are you doing? Do you realize the police have been trying to reach you all day? They have more questions for you.”

The light is blinding! Goddammit. “Flip the switch, cocksucker!” I holler not recognizing my voice. The words felt clearly enunciated in my mouth but sounded like a jumbled mess in my ears.

He grabs Jack in a terribly aggressive manner. My brows crease, unhappy with how this man is treating my guest. Suddenly, his arm is around me, hauling me up, dragging me away. “Hey, man. Where are we going?”

“Bastian, I can’t understand a word you’re saying but you smell like a brewery that a hundred drunk sailors threw up and pissed all over. Is this what we’re doing this time around? You going to become a worthless alcoholic who vomits all over the place and doesn’t bother to go to the bathroom? You just piss all over yourself?”

“I’ve been dancing with Sera all night,” I say, completely incoherent.

“Nope, not one fucking word, Bastian.”

Nate! It’s Nate. The killjoy.

I lift my hand to pat him on the face but the crusty stuff caked to my skin stops me from touching him. I hear water. I try talking to him but he doesn’t want to hear what I have to say.

“I’m afraid to ask how much you’ve had to drink. If this bottle was new—” I nod; I don’t hear the rest of his sentence before he pushes me under the water in the shower. It’s cold fucking water. Ice cold water.

“Sera!” I scream as I break the surface, gasping for the largest breath I can take before diving back down to search for her. My chest burns with the need for oxygen, the water pricking my skin like needles, thousands of painful needles at a time. “Oh God,
Sera
!” I plead with her to answer me but there’s nothing but the sound of the river, then silence, engulfed in blackness. When the lightning fills the sky, I see her bloated, blue face, her body contorted into an unnatural position. The fish have been eating at her skin, pecking for food, pulling bits of her away. Unable to hold my breath any longer, I choke on the water, taking it in by the mouthful. I can’t reach the surface, no matter how hard I kick. There’s gloom all around me…up, down, all sides. Completely disoriented, I panic. My heartbeat erratic, I imagine this must be what it’s like to get the bends. Confined by the water, I quit fighting.

“I’ve got you. We’ll just sit here until you’re okay. All right, man?” He keeps talking, what I hear cutting in and out like a radio station on the fritz. “You’re not in the water. I’m with you.” God he must want to rid himself of this burden; he didn’t sign on for this.

We might have sat there for hours. I don’t know. The only time he let me go was to allow me to vomit in the toilet in front of us. Then I went right back against the wall between his legs in a bear hug. Sometime during the episode, he took my filthy clothes off me. No wonder people think we’re gay. I’ve spent an exorbitant amount of time on this floor naked in the last few days, but instead of having the desire to get up, all I want to do is slam my head on the tiles until it cracks open and there’s nothing left.

I don’t care what’s on the other side anymore. I don’t care if it continues and isn’t the end. I can’t stay on this side of eternity. This pain is never going to stop. This hopeless rambling attempt at life is pathetic. The best of me is lying in two separate coffins in two different cemeteries. I have nothing left to offer. I’ve imagined my own demise; I’ve plotted it out but never had the courage to go through with it for fear there was just more to deal with in the next phase, the unknown scarier than the known. That’s no longer true. The known is a demon I can no longer face.

W
hen I’m
able to stand, Nate relaxes his grip on me, rising behind me. He suggests some bread, which I agree to take, but there’s not enough bread in the house to absorb the liquor in my system. It’s like sawdust in my mouth, sticking to my tongue, so hard to swallow. Little bites are all I can muster with Nate watching me like a hawk.

Finally able to understand some of the words out of my mouth, I attempt speaking again. Although they’re slurred, they’re slightly intelligible. “I just want to sleep.”

“I’ll help you get in bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.” There’s no point in arguing with him. He’s bigger than I am and hasn’t been on a three-day bender.

Once in my bed, he leaves the light of
The Seraphim
on, and closes the door behind him. I fill the room with Sylvie’s voice but at a much softer volume than before. Only Sera and I can hear her. Without making any noise, I push the dresser in front of the door. Returning to the edge of the bed, I admire my angel’s features, the softness of her face, the elegance in her arms, the way her dress hangs from her frame. It’s made more beautiful only by my wife’s voice bringing her to life. My somber smile doesn’t receive a response from the stone. I’ll never see either of them happy again. Even the snapshots in my head are tainted by the ruin of the water. They’re spoiled by all of them—even those from months ago. When I see her, she’s blue and bloated. My beautiful angel is gone. Sylvie is on the other side of this world with her. I ache to be with them. The pain is so great it’s crushing.

Quietly, I slide the nightstand drawer open, taking out my 9mm. I don’t want to startle the girls, and I worry neither of them will be comfortable with a gun in their presence. I show it to them assuring them there’s no reason to be afraid. Sera is more interested than Sylvie, she watches me carefully, never taking her eyes off my hands as I load the bullets into the clip. I only load two. I should only need one. The pain in her eyes never wavers. She understands where I am. She doesn’t begrudge me needing to leave. Sylvie continues to bask me in the warmth of her voice as though she’s sending me off on a journey with her raspy notes of unrequited love.

I scratch out a note on a scrap of paper for Nate that simply says,
You’re free. I love you.
I whisper to Sylvie that I can’t wait to see her before kissing Sera gently on the forehead. The sorrow in her eyes encourages me to leave.

Dropping the safety, I raise the cold metal tip to my temple. Closing my eyes, I take several deep breaths in and out. My heartbeat slows. My mind clears. A calm serenity fills my being. Pulling the weight of the trigger back, I never hear the explosion.

Black.