Page 38 of Kaine

“Aw, don’t be like that. I’m sure my brother wouldn’t like it. I’m sure he’d want us to be looking out for each other. Just like he looked out for us. Wait, no, that’s not right. It wasn’t us he looked out for, it was just you, wasn’t it?”

“Go away, Jacob, we have nothing to say to each other.” I drop two 100 dollar bills on the counter, avoiding the broken glass. The bartender takes one and puts it in the till, putting the other, his tip, into his pocket before grabbing a rag to clean my mess.

“Hey, hey, where are you going?” Jacob blocks me, as I try to make my way towards the door.

“Get away from me, Jacob,” I growl, pulling the hoodie tighter around my face, as I notice a crowd starting to eye us, curious about the scene that’s inevitably coming.

“You think you’re so good, don’t you?” he spits at me, his voice ugly, his face pinched with bitterness and resentment. “Sitting up there in your skyscraper and penthouse. Well, don’t get too used to it. All of it was supposed to be mine. And it will be again one day.”

“It was never yours and it never will be. I won’t let it. If it’s the last thing I do, to honor ....’s memory. It’s time you finally understand that and move on with your life. Instead of trying to steal mine.” I push past him and out the door. There’s the sound of tires burning on the asphalt and coming to a sudden stop.

I step out onto the road, open the car door and climb inside.

“Where now, sir?” Henry asks

I’m too drunk to stop myself.

“Home, Henry. Take me home.”

***

It’s pitch black inthe apartment when I step off the elevator. It takes a while for my eyes to adjust.

The blinds are open and there’s almost no way to tell where the building ends and the sky starts. As if I just kept walking, I’d soon by strolling over the clouds hanging over Manhattan.

I drop my keys and phone on the kitchen bench and the clatter they make echoes loudly in the otherwise silent apartment.

I wander past the dining room. The table is set, two places. One wine glass is still untouched, the other carries a burgundy taint, and the mark of lips around its rim.

I look past the dining room table and into the living area. There’s a blanket hung over the back of the couch. But nothing else.

Where is she?

Something catches in my throat at the thought that maybe she couldn’t carry through with her threat of waiting and she’s left. Gone home. Out of my life. My fingers run along the kitchen marble bench, trying to connect with the image of her touching the very same spot just a few hours ago.

I should’ve come home earlier. I’m a dickhead.

A soft murmur startles me and I realize it’s coming from the bedroom.

The moonlight streaming through the windows illuminates a path through my home.

There’s the soft sound again.

A moan. No, a whimper? No, more like a restless murmur.

I come to my bedroom and there she is.

Curled up on my bed, her form covered by the sheet, weaving and dipping, up and down every one of her curves. I tip toe closer to her, taking note of the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

She is beautiful.

It’s a single thought. Clear and true in my mind.

Her hair is strewn all over my pillow. It’s like a mane of cocoa and copper, brown and red tinged strands cascading down her back.

Her cheek looks like it’s made of porcelain, and in my uninhibited state, I can’t help myself. I reach out to touch her. The side of my finger caressing the sweet, plump curve of her soft cheek.

Her eyes suddenly fly open.

And she screams.