Twenty-Five

It wasn’t an easy decision for him to make. But really, there was nowhere else to go. The need to lie low and off the grid couldn’t be denied. He had to get off the streets for awhile. Maybe Jas and Griffin would even think he’d drowned. That would buy him time. Beyond that? Well, he just needed a rest. Being clean had turned out to be way fucking more stressful than being a junkie, and that was a fact.

He exited the bus downtown. Transferred to another, making his slow way to his destination. Now that he was heading over there, he wasn’t so sure about it all. He’d thought about calling first, but in the end he felt it would feel way more dramatic, way more hysterical than just showing up and ringing the bell.

He took a deep breath as he walked up the familiar steps to the door. She’d been good about trimming the ivy on the stairs. Better than he’d ever been. Rang the doorbell. There was no answer and he actually breathed a sigh of relief. But then the light came on. The door opened and Chris was there. She blinked once. Not sure it was him. He tried a smile.

“Hey,” he said. “Sorry for not calling. If it’s a bad time, I—”

She stepped forward and opened the heavy, wrought iron security gate that kept the rest of the world at bay. “No,” she replied, “it’s okay. Just a little out of the ordinary, is all.” Her eyes went big with fear. “Oh, God … did you take a blood test?”

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s, well … complicated. Can I come in and clean up?”

She nodded. He went up the stairs and into the house. In the kitchen, he used the sink to wash his hair of the salt and his arms and hands of whatever the hospital used to disinfect him. Was only too conscious of her gaze when he took off his filthy, crusted shirt. It felt weird to be there, in his old kitchen, using his old sink, after so many years. The water felt sepia-tinted with memories. It was after a moment that he realized Chris continued to watch him intently. “What is it?” he asked.

“Are you … ? You know,” she said quietly, evidently trying hard to hide her anger and disappointment.

“No,” he said vehemently. “No, no way,” he added in a more quiet tone.

She indicated his clothes. “You just look like you’ve been … forgetting about things again.”

He actually found himself smiling at that. Of course that’s what she would think with him showing up at this hour, in this state. He hesitated, because the truth wouldn’t make her any more relieved. He went and sat down at the table.

“No, I’m not using again,” he said as he stared her in the eye. After a moment of staring back at him, she nodded. Let out a breath.

“Okay,” she said evenly, “then what happened? Are you in trouble, Mark?”

“Maybe. Yeah, probably.” He then told her the entire sequence of events since Oberon had entered his apartment to tell him that Eric had died. And he even told her about Jas and Griffin. Told her everything about what had gone on in his search for the reason why Eric may have been killed. It actually felt good to let it all out, almost like old times.

There were moments when she looked like she was going to pop a gasket at him, followed by moments where she stared at him like she hadn’t seen him in a long time. When he was finished, he sat back and ran his hand through his wet, stringy hair. “And well, it’s gotten a bit hairy, I suppose you could say. And they always say getting clean is good for an addict,” he added with a smile.

“And what if something happens to you?” she said. “You’re not on the force anymore.”

“This isn’t what I planned on, sure, but this is Eric. I feel like I owe him some help.”

She nodded in response. “I don’t know what to say. I guess I should be relieved.”

“Relieved?”

“Yes. It’s a good sign. If you’re involved in this, then you’re serious about staying clean.” She smirked at him, and he realized it’d been many years since the last time he’d seen her do that. “You just can’t help playing a knight in tarnished armor, can you? Damn romantics. You guys kill me.”

He laughed then. Long and hard. Again, he was hit with the feeling he wanted to be back here, with her and his little girl. “I was wondering if you’d let me crash in the basement. Somewhere quiet so I could get some rest?” he asked.

“No,” she said.

“Oh,” he said. “Okay. I understand. Yeah … I mean­—”

“Stop,” she cut in, “what I mean is that you can have the damn couch. I’ll drive you back to your place in the morning. And, well … Anna will get a treat when she wakes up.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” she said. “And I think I even have one or two of your shirts packed away somewhere.” She grimaced as she glanced at what he was wearing. “And you should thank me for that, Marky. You look like shit.”

She got up and left the room leaving him sitting there, dumb-
founded.

Dumbfounded but happy. She still had a couple of his shirts. Maybe he could take that as a hopeful sign.