“Yes you are.”
“I’m not.”
“Why are you here then? Surely if you feel things, you should be wherever she is.”
“She’s asleep. I hurt her, fucked her, and then made her ride for two hours. Tired.”
“A horse?”
“What?”
“Ride?”
“Ducati.”
“Ah.”
Quiet, as he refills my glass and then goes to sit back down. No music. No atmosphere other than the one he creates by himself. I stare out into the night, thinking about every minute I asked her for. I’ve never felt that before. It wasn’t even asked for out of possessiveness or greed. It was for silence, for her company, for her ability to say things straight and not fuck around with me. Nothing complicated. Simple. Elegant. Stripped bare. And then, I told her I was still likely to kill myself. Hardly every fucking minute if I’m still offering that advance.
“How are you?”What?I look back at him. “The drugs, Malachi?”
“Haven’t had any.”
He gets up and walks over to me, picking up my wrist. The bracelets get moved, and he presses his fingers to my pulse. Checks it, I suppose. I don’t know anymore. I’m far too busy searching my thoughts for more connection, or yearning, or this ache in my chest that seems less grating now.
“Hands still shaking?” he asks, as he walks away to the sideboard.
“Sometimes.”
“Do you want something for that?”
“No. I have something for it already. He’s called Damien.”
He arches a brow, chuckles lightly. “Breathing okay?”
“Me or him?”
“You.”
“If it wasn’t I’d be dead, presumably. Not something I seem to want at the moment.”
“Well, that’s good. She’s doing something right.” She’s doing a lot of things right. “We should have dinner. I’d like to know her without having to threaten her.”
“Threaten her?”
“She wanted to leave. I said she couldn’t until she fixed you.”
“She hasn’t fixed me.”
He looks back at me. “Are you dead?”
“No, but-“
“Then shut up. A thank you wouldn’t go amiss either.”
I sneer and look away, not remotely interested in discussing the fact that he might have won some game he’s been playing. “Where’s your little thing, anyway?”
He sighs and walks over to his window, showing me nothing but his back. “Over there.” He nods his chin at her building. “Being alone. Being who she is without me, apparently. She does that. Refuses to let me bind her in completely. It’s funny, I’m free to marry because of her and yet she doesn’t want to.”
