The Goodbye Man (12 page)

Whisper to me and I will scream at your soul.

Why did she speak?
Why did she whisper? Why can’t I stop it? Why can’t I be normal? Why can’t they all just be quiet? I cannot feel like that when she talks to me it is wrong, but I cannot stop it either. I hate it, I hate the noise, I hate voices and I fucking loathe whispers. Whispers do bad things to me. They don’t soothe me, they enrage me. This has to be the worst idea I have ever had. I cannot stay, I have to walk away. I don’t want her to see what her voice does to me, it would be wrong. I turn and walk away. She is too much for me right now, why is she so beautiful?

One week. she has
been here a week in that small recovery room. She has refused to come out yet and I don’t blame her. Her eyes scream fear, she is terrified of what is outside the room. Today is a big day, we have three harvests and I need her out of there. I don’t think she is ready to see that - yet. I need to convince her to move upstairs, where Juan and Mateo actually did a decent job of making the hole into a room. It’s even has a girly touch, which I am sure was Juan. The gnat has proved himself to be at least a little useful, today we are going to take his kidney so he will be on bed rest for a few weeks. He chose the hole next door to hers, and has made it home. I am not entirely happy about people living here. I will just spend more time at home. I have three goodbyes today, then three beds to fill so I cannot be distracted by this. It is time for her to move.

I watch her through the small pane of glass as she stares at the ceiling, unblinking and completely still. Some of the bruises and wounds are healing and she isn’t as pale. She is clean, and her dark hair is combed neatly. I don’t wait any longer; I open the door and she sits bolt upright on the bed and her teary eyes look at mine, full of unanswered questions. “It’s time to move upstairs, mi amor, I need this space.” Her hands grip the bed sheets so tightly that her knuckles turn white and her lip begins to quiver with threatening tears. “You can get up and come with me, or I can pick you up and take you?” I look at her again, and see that she is afraid of me. No, not me, but afraid of what is outside the door. “Come.” I hold out a hand for her to take, and she does. Her soft fingers hold onto mine, they are like a ghost’s touch, not holding on at all. I push the door open so we can leave. There is only one way out and it is through all those that wait. The numbers. I hear her gasp as she takes in the two rows of beds, beeping monitors and still bodies. “Don’t look at them, okay? And don’t worry, you are safe now.” I look at her as she drags behind me, “So are they, mi amor. I saved them.” Her body starts to shake with the sobs she wants to hold in and I lift her up and carry her through the room and into the passage. When I put her down again, she is unsteady and stumbles a little.

“Why not me?” she asks. “Why you didn’t save me? Am I to be your whore now too?” her voice combined with her words makes my blood hot and my mind begins to shatter.

“I have saved you, and mi amor, I don’t want a whore.” She stops talking and looks down at the floor as she follows me, her legs running to keep up with me. We get in the lift and I watch as her silent tears drip on the floor. I don’t do anything, I am too afraid she will speak again. Fuck, this is so fucking hard!

“What you do with them?” That voice.
Make it stop.

“I sell spare parts, little one. I give them peace to save many others who would die otherwise.” I watch her contemplate what I have said.

“You are good then?” She couldn’t be more wrong, I am far from good. I like to think I am not evil, but it’s a lie I tell myself to live each day.

“No, I am not good.” I answer her as the doors open on Mateo’s floor. I wait for her to step out and follow me to her cell or room whatever you want to call it
.
It is looking a little better than it was before. I open the gate that should be a door for her. She looks around in amazement at the small space that the boys have made for her. “This is your room, there are showers at the end of the row, they are cold ones but I will get Mateo to fix it.” She seems too shocked to respond.

“You want me to stay, but you don’t want me?” A shudder of rejection is in her soft voice. The voice that is killing me right now.

“I always wanted you, mi amor. I have work to do today. Stay here and Juan or Mateo will come bring you food later.” I turn and walk away before my body is exposed to more. I cannot listen to her talking any longer. I really do have work to do. I go back down to where the doctors are getting ready to work all day and night. It’s better to do it like this all at once sometimes. I wait while they get the first donor ready, and when they place the clipboard on her feet and leave to go to the scrub room, I lift the brake and start to push the gurney. She has golden blonde hair and freckles on her nose; how is it that no one will miss her? I hold her hand in mine as we get a little closer to the electronic doors. I push her away and whisper softly in her ear. “Goodbye now.” And then all too quickly, she is gone.

I wait with Mateo and Juan as the coolers are filled one by one and the parts of the whole are split up and sent all over. There is a small aircraft waiting outside of town to take this heart out of state to a friend who had a customer in need. I don’t want mistakes today, I need things to return to normal. I need silence. These are long days, and today we have three harvests and Juan’s kidney going out. I treat him as I would any other number going in those doors, he is the last for today. I walk with him, after all it is me who chose him. “Caesar, if I die it’s okay. You saved me anyway,” he says as the doors shut.
Stupid words, stupid fucking voices
. I shake my head and go to wait for his kidney. By the time we are done and he is in recovery, it is three in the morning. My feet ache and my head is pounding. I need a smoke so badly that my hands are shaking like I have Parkinson’s. When I eventually collapse in the office, I smoke ten in a row. Mateo comes in looking as tired and ragged as I feel. “We had a good day, old man. I know you hate noise and talking and voices. But I need to know about her. Why is she here, Caesar?” I look at him. He is concerned for me; the boy understands my misophonia and he does try to help.

“She is here because she belongs to me, boy. Just let this be. You be nice to her. That’s all, just be nice to her. No one has ever been good to her.” I talk quietly because I am too exhausted to yell at him.

“Did the Russian really set her cunt on fire?” he asks with concern, not morbid interest as he would normally.

“He did, but the doctors say it will heal with time. I don’t think her mind will get better, though. You and I both know that when your head is fucked up it cannot be fixed.”

He smiles and nods, we don’t discuss it, ever. But I know my nephew’s secrets. I had to console my useless fucking sisters when Ophelia was found dead and raped. I had to take him in so he wouldn’t do it again. You can’t fix crazy; you can’t even medicate it most times. “Go to bed, Mateo. I am going to check on her and then leave. I need quiet, and tomorrow I must replace those three.” I stand up, a little less shaky now.

“I have paperwork to do first,” he sits at the desk. “Night, Caesar.”

I leave him and make my way upstairs, using the metal staircase instead of the lift. I can see the light burning through her doorway. I swallow the giant lump in my throat as I get closer to her. She sits in the corner of the small couch that is squeezed into the tiny space. I am drawn to her like a moth to the flames, and as I sit next to her, she looks at me with a weak smile. I just sit, no words. I cannot quite manage words after today. After a while of sitting in silence, she lays her head on my lap and my heart wants to comfort her. To take it all away and make her whole again, my fingers dance through her hair. The soft, silky strands slipping through them lull me into a deep silence. I want to hold her closer. I want to love her so much. I want to, but then I would have to tell myself the truth I have denied for so long. Instead I sit here with her head on my lap stroking her hair and wishing for a different life. My heavy eyelids fall closed and I remember doing the same thing with Marta, she would just be still and let me. “Why me?” she whispers. My body reacts, I can’t stop it, the vile heat burns in me and my cock jumps.
Please be quiet, I am begging you.
“Shh,” I try to hush her.

“You say you don’t want me, but your body tells me different.” Her hand touches me over my jeans. I grab her wrist and I know I am hurting her, but she can’t do that. “I am confused by you, Caesar.” I let her hand go, my threat understood, but before I can respond, she straddles my lap. Her voice and her body are so wrong. She kisses me, her mouth is on mine. Her sweet, beautiful mouth violates my mouth and my mind. I cannot think, I cannot move and my hands are in her hair as I kiss her back.
What are you doing, Caesar? This is wrong! This is sick! Stop it!
My head tells me to stop, but her voice made my body want her. When my thoughts actually crash into me, the red rage pulses through me, blinding me and I throw her off of me. Her body crashes to floor, her head hitting the concrete with a thud. I stand and step over her body; disgusted with myself, I leave. I go home to my silence.

What have you done, Caesar? You are sick, she is just a girl.

Save me from the beasts and tantalize me with your ways. Push me,

pull me, only to leave me astray.

There’s a set of windows
above and I know he watches me. I find myself observing, knowing that his eyes can see mine. Part of me wants to undress myself to seduce him, to draw him towards me until he can’t avoid me any longer, but I stay stuck like a statue.

Caesar walks into the treatment room and my feelings instantly change. Depression is settling in, which is unusual for me. Through all the heartache and abuse that I have sustained, I was numb. Since being here and forming a connection that I don’t even understand only to be rejected, I am spiraling into a deep depression as I reflect back on my life.

I am irrelevant. I have always known that, but I am being pushed further and further away. I wonder how long I can stay holding on by a thread. My wounds may be healing. My skin may be brightening. My heart may be stronger, but I am dying inside. The medicine they fed me saved my body, but my soul is damaged more than it ever was before. I don’t wish for things that you may think since living within safety. Rainbows and sunshine are not what I hope for. Instead, visions of my salvation are all that occupy my fucked up brain. They feed me food and I take bites, but small amounts fill me because I am not used to so much consumption. I didn’t even know what to think when I tasted hot pizza for the first time. My mouth almost repulsed the idea.

His presence does things to me that I don’t understand, but my mind has no choice but to welcome them. His black hair stands out, so dark and beautiful. I want to reach out and grab onto it, run my fingers through it, and tug on it as he eats me perfectly. His voice interrupts my inappropriate thoughts.

“It’s time to move upstairs mi, amor. I need this space,” Caesar hums.

Where? What’s upstairs? For a brief moment I am concerned, worried that I am being shuffled away to be forgotten about. Is there something they are hiding up there? Is he kicking me out of this little sanctuary that is sending me into a depression as I am consumed with thoughts of him, the only person that has cared to save me?

I dismiss my thoughts, as his endearment makes my pussy clench and I find myself getting dizzy. I grasp a hold of the bed sheets like my life depends on it. Fuck, I don’t even know what my life means anymore. Again, I am stuck and unable to move. I am finding it harder and harder to exchange air in my once dying lungs as my eyes lock on his while I try to decipher what they mean.

“You can get up and come with me, or I can pick you up and take you?” he questions.

Oh, yes, please. Pick me up, slam me against the wall, and claim me. Break me into a million tiny pieces and make me yours. I wish I could tell him the thoughts that occupy my dysfunctional mind, but I am scared. Not of him, but of being away from him. I fear that if I tell him of my feelings, he will throw me out and I won’t feel him near me anymore. I will take the melancholy sentiments while dreaming of him over being away from him any day.

“Come,” he states, holding out his hand.

It was a command. He is the master. I am the submissive girl who will do anything to listen. Even if he told me sweet lies, I would believe them. I am certain that this man before me is sure to break my fucking heart and I don’t care. I suppose being birthed to the disgusting ways of the world just transcended into something different. I simply traded one kind of pain for another.

I place my hand in his and I have to stop myself from moaning out loud. Finally, his touch warms me. His rough hands feel like they were meant for mine. He pulls me up and walks me through the doors. I lose my breath instantly as a coldness stops inside of my throat. Rows of bodies line up, connected to tubes and the all too familiar beeping. I should be terrified, but I am strangely calm. I see peace. There are no tears or fear staining their faces. Rather, it is replaced with simple tranquility as they are sleeping through the static of this fucked up world.

“Don’t look at them, okay? And don’t worry, you’re safe now,” Caesar whispers to me. His voice sings to me like the sweetest lullaby.

He continues on, dragging me behind, “So are they, mi amor. I saved them.”

I want to fall to my knees and cry for the many stories that are before me. I know exactly what he means with one simple statement. I remember when I prayed for death to escape the cruel elements that consumed me on the daily. He is the man that makes that happen. Though it doesn’t all make sense, somehow it does.

“Why not me?” I gasp, “Why you didn’t save me? Am I to be your whore now too?”

This is the part where I need answers. Why am I not lying in the bed like the girl with freckles that dusts her nose perfectly? Instead, I am standing next to him. My eyes beg for honesty. For the real truth, but I see an impermeable shield in front of his sorrowful eyes.

I may as well lay down my heart and let him dissect it. I feel it being torn as he continues to stare at me, tongue tied. Words don’t find him easily either. We definitely have that in common, too.

“I have saved you, and mi amor, I don’t want a whore.”

They say the truth will set you free. Well, I feel more imprisoned by confusion, lust, and addiction to a man that I hardly know. He leads me into the elevator and I let myself cry. Out of shame. Out of envy for being the one that lives, instead of being one of the almost dead girls who will soon meet their maker.

“What do you do with them?” I ask, trying to find an excuse to engage in conversation. I don’t want to lose him again and I know he is soon to leave me.

“I sell spare parts, little one. I give them peace to save many other who would die otherwise.”

I hate myself again for asking as his accent dances around in my belly, setting fire between my legs. I want to crawl into a ball and cry myself to sleep as I realize that he is good. That makes my feelings for him even more complicated. I almost wish for him to be a bad man. That would be easier for me to hate him.

“You are good then?” I respond.

“No, I am not good.”

His words bite every surface of my exposed skin. I believe him. I don’t want to, but something tells me he is truthful. We exit the elevator and he shows me my room. I’ve never had a room before. The small bed in the corner has a nice bedspread on it and I can’t wait to feel it. Still, nothing makes sense.

“You want me to stay, but you don’t want me?”

The courage that I have longed for erupts.

“I always wanted you, mi amor. I have work to do today. Stay here, Juan or Mateo will come bring you food later. Goodbye.”

Then he leaves me as his last words echo around in my heart, tugging at every string I thought was hanging by a thread. Now, those threads are getting stronger, beating faster, and yearning for him.

I crawl into the warmth of my very first bed, smiling as I replay his voice over and over in my head.

I always wanted you, mi amor.

Visions of his lips on me make me shudder with delight. I open my eyes quickly to ensure I am alone. The wetness between my legs needs attention as I allow my hand to graze over the surface of my belly, down to my pants, imagining it was his strong, rough hand. My pussy is still tender, but it doesn’t hurt anymore like it did before. I rub my clit, letting my arousal cover my fingers. I urge my hips forward, biting my lip as his face is beneath my closed lids while he whispers,
I always wanted you, mi amor.

I need more. I need him.

I finger myself, letting myself feel
good.
Tightness burns deep in my belly and I move my hips as I picture his cock filling me. Yes, he would be sweet and gentle. He wouldn’t be rough. He would tell me how beautiful I am and how long he has waited for someone like me, because there is no one out there like me.

I always wanted you, mi amor.

My fingers are bathed with my arousal I explode into a thousand pieces of brilliant bliss. Tears leak from the slits of both eyes, staining my pillow with evidence of all that I want. Him.