Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Paul fucks me. Time and time again, his desire for my body is greater by far than Josh or Matthew´s. His phone hasn´t stopped ringing, interrupting our wild cavorting. I wonder where this is all going to lead in the future. When he finally comes, his body glistering with sweat and panting, his perspiration dripping on my body, he stares at his cellphone that is ringing once again, naggingly.
“I should get that.” he finally says.
All I can do is nod. Through half closed eyes, I can see the light that filters through blinds, gifting us with a play of shadows that highlight Paul´s body.
“Tischmann.” He speaks laconically into the phone. His face breaks into a sudden smile, only to get serious the next instant. “What´s that you say?” he asks, looking at me. “But John...”
I lose interest, though I can feel Paul´s intense gaze on me. He seems confused, disconcerted. His laconic answers restricted to yes, no, and short words.
I become interested in the conversation when he gets up and locks himself in the bathroom, continuing to speak in low tones, almost whispering. I get a bad feeling, so I get dressed quickly and leave the apartment. Has Matthew been caught? Damn it all! Is that it? Did they find him? Am I going to be charged as an accomplice because I knew and kept quiet?
As I step onto the asphalt of the city street, I feel like it’s going to suck me down and I will fall into a bottomless pit. My head is about to burst.
I walk quickly, nervously, without a fixed destination. Suddenly, a couple of guys with shaved heads and uncountable tattoos, jump out of a dark alley and stop me.
“Well, looky, looky. It seems we´re gonna have some fine entertainment tonight!” exclaims the taller one, cornering me.
“Great entertainment.” Says the other, whistling. He approaches and squeezes my thigh painfully with his dirty hands.
I look around me. There´s no one around. It´s the early hours in the morning. I was so stupid to walk myself into this mess.
I see a sharp object on top of what looks like an enormous beer barrel. That might help to scare them away. I pull back and grab it, pointing it in front of me. They laugh at me. But before I am raped, tortured or killed, I am determined to defend myself. They keep saying things. I have stopped listening. They are very close and begin to whimper and fondle me. I can feel their stinky breath on the back of my head.
I remember Josh. I can picture clearly how I slit his throat. A furious growl escapes my throat, and with unsuspected violence y lash out, cutting both their necks before they know what´s hit them. They both look at me, not believing what just happened. Just like Josh did before he bled out. The thugs slide to the floor, unable to utter even a whisper through their severed chords.
“That´s what you get for messing with a lunatic.”
I wipe my prints. I know how to do that well. I have done it before. The tattooed freaks lie dead at the mouth of the alley, a huge pool of blood stains the pavement. With a grimace of distaste, I drop the weapon close to them, free of any incriminating fingerprints. «It was self-defense», I would plead on this occasion, if something went wrong. But to tell the truth, this is just what I needed; a little action.
My body gradually loosens-up, my mind is once again clear, blaming myself for a life plagued with secrets and lies. Now, as I am finally able to recall the truth, I am left without options. I wander the dark streets of New York, aimlessly, until I reach the place where it all started.
CHAPTER 11
JOSH PARKER
September of 2004
I´m happier than I´ve ever been. Meredith calls me daddy as if she´d done it for forever. I take her to the park, have dinner with her; I´ve even gotten her to eat all the peas in her plate and I read Peter Pan for her every night, until she falls asleep. That done, I go to Samantha´s room and make love to her every night.
I´ve stopped doing drugs and broke up with Charlotte. It was very different from the break-up with Paula. Charlotte wished me the best, while Paula laughed and got that crazy look in her eyes that always scared me. I´m even afraid of firing her, though it wouldn´t be fair as she is a good assistant and has a great creative mind. Rule number one: personal issues should not rule in the workplace. Rule number two, which I broke years ago: don´t get involved with the boss or co-workers.
Looking back, I remember a happy childhood, until the day when my father died because he decided to drive after drinking heavily. The accident involved another car in which the couple were instantly killed. The only thing left to me, was my mother; she got sick and died shortly after. She lost her mind. She began to hear voices and believed the neighbors wanted to kill her. She´d hide behind trees because she was sure the FBI was after her, to torture her in order to get confidential information about the extraterrestrials who came to visit her each night.
When the situation got too hard to bear, she ended up committed to a mental institution on Riverside Drive. Eventually, she took her own life when I was sixteen.
I ended up living with my elderly aunt and uncle until I was ready to go to college. From then on, I made a life for myself. I worked very hard, I studied ´till late every night, and never got into any kind of trouble.
And, as they say, the rest is history, but I´m sure that in some corner of her deranged mind, my mother would be proud of the man I have become. Not the Josh that has taken hundreds of women to bed or consumed large quantities of drugs, using excess work and stress as an excuse, but rather the Josh who dotes on his five-year-old little girl he has just discovered. The Josh that has decided to settle down with the woman he never should have left.
Samantha and I are very discreet with our relationship, as we were five years ago. Then, everything was passion, all sex and desire. Now, there is more, probably due to Meredith who looks at us excitedly, as if we were two Hollywood stars. She is anxious to start school, telling us she´s so happy that her daddy will pick her up at the end of the day. She dreams of the day when she it will be her turn to stand at the front of her classroom, and tell all her classmates about what her father does and where he works. Something she hadn´t been able to do the previous year.
––––––––
On the third of September, a Saturday in which Samantha and I decided have a day to ourselves, our life took an unexpected turn.
We left Meredith with her babysitter, regardless of her tantrum because she wanted to go with us. Oh God! She was so upset, I had never seen her frown so deeply or for so long.
“You´ll have a great time with Kim.” I tell her smiling.
“But I want to be with you, daddy!”
I smile at her and caress her messy black mane, and leave the house with Samantha.
Hours later, as Samantha and I are having dessert at Daniel, a French gourmet restaurant, we get a call from a panicked Kim, giving us the news that all parents dread.
“But... What? How? How did it happen, Kim?” Samantha asks, exasperated. I´m still unaware of what´s going on.
Those were the worst hours of my life. Someone had kidnapped Meredith, my little girl... my girl with the huge blue eyes, stubborn and beaming. I can only think about the moment she insisted on coming with us, when she said goodbye, upset because selfishly, mom and dad wanted a day alone with each other.
“My God. If anything happens to her, I... I will die.” Samantha repeats over and over, drowning in her tears.
It´s Sunday. Twenty-four hours have gone by since someone took Meredith as she played in the park. Kim told us that everything happened very quickly; she took her eyes off the child for only a second, while she made sure she had their lunch. When she looked up again, the child was not on the swing. She had disappeared.
The detective in charge of the case, a guy called John Peck, doesn´t seem to be very optimistic about the whole thing, but he tries to keep our spirits up. He seems to be an old-school guy, he knows what he´s doing.
“My assistant is on vacation; he would tell you that you have to try to keep calm. Not lose hope.” He says dejected, concerned.
“Please find her,” I tell him desperately, “she´s the thing I love most in the world.”
The inspector nods, evidently disturbed by my tears.
“Do you have children?” I ask.
“No. But I understand how you feel.”
“The hell you do. You don´t understand shit.”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I feel ashamed at my outburst, when I see his dejected look. He nods. He understands that I´m desperate and filled with bottled-up rage. He gets out of my face for a while, but not for long.
On Monday, September 5, Detective Peck shows up at our door at ten o´clock in the morning to burden us with the worst news possible.
I can feel the grief and impotence as I stare into the inspector´s eyes. His words come out mechanically, dull and weighing on him and us, stabbing at our hearts. It´s easy to tell it´s one of the hardest moments in his career, though he´s had to give families bad news countless times before. Extinguishing the last glimmer of hope.
Meredith has been found in an alley, close to our apartment. Dead. My little girl has been murdered. Samantha faints, unable to cope with the pain. I hold her in my arms and scream. I scream desperately, frantically.
It takes a heavy dose of pills before we can go to the forensic lab where little Meredith´s body lies. She didn´t suffer any violence, he body doesn´t show any bruises or cuts. It was a heavy dose of pills that killed our sweet baby: as with Peter Pan, she will hide forever in Neverland. Never turning into the amazing adult woman she might have been, a woman I would have loved to guide and gotten to know.
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