Killing Ways

72

Ren sat in the car outside Joe Lucchesi’s hotel, her forehead pressed against the steering wheel. Gary was at the hospital, in no position to tell her to go home, not to carry out the courtesy of seeing Joe off at the airport after some of the most horrific moments of his life.

Fifteen hours had passed. Everyone focuses on the shooting, never the aftermath, never the ordinary stuff like people need to eat dinner, sleep, catch a flight somewhere.

Ren checked her cell phone. There were four missed calls from Matt. She didn’t listen to his voicemails, but she guessed he had read about the shooting online. All she managed to do was text him back: I’m fine — don’t worry!

She tried Ben’s phone. She had left three voicemails. Surely he had heard. She’d never wanted to see him as much as she wanted to see him now.

Maybe he found out about the night in the hotel with Joe. But he couldn’t have. How could he have? Maybe he’s on his way. Maybe he’s going to be at the apartment when I get back. Surprise!

She thought about Robbie.

Robbie will never get married, or have kids, or love or be loved the way he always wanted to be, the way he deserved. One last girl emailed him. Maybe she was going to be The One. Maybe Janine was. We won’t ever know.

Everett’s widowed father will never know that Luke, Everett’s handsome, beautiful, carpenter friend, who fell apart when he came to the hospital, was really the man Everett had loved for fifteen years and planned to spend the rest of his life with.

What is to be done with all this grief? I can’t bear this. I can’t. I just can’t. There is no cure. I don’t believe in time. What can time do for me, Everett? You’re the numbers guy. What will it take before I can dance again? Will time make me laugh, or carry me double vodka cranberries, or find me miracles in spreadsheets, and laughs on Monday mornings? And ice for my pineapple juice?

She started crying. I can’t live this way; the horror outside, the horror inside. The thoughts, all the thoughts, over and over. I want silence. I want to be the person who has one thought a day, an unchallenging thought. I want a mind where avenues are really dead ends. No forked thoughts, no networks, no links.

But is that what I want? Is it? Who would I be then?

She dialed Ben’s number again. ‘Ben... it’s me. I’m not sure if you’ve heard anything, but please just call me first, before you speak with anyone else. I love you so much.’ She hung up.

My gut was right about some things. And my gut was wrong. This is so exhausting. Everyone has a gut they can go on and I don’t. Mine is broken. What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to do about anything? Who can even answer that?

Ren called Janine. ‘Hey,’ she said. ‘How are you doing?’

‘Numb,’ she said. ‘Numb.’

‘Tell me what happened... the email everything.’

‘Don’t cuff me to something in a room full of documents for one,’ said Janine. ‘I just kicked over every pile I could and eventually a paper clip slid my way. I uncuffed myself, ran in to check on Gary. He was unconscious. I thought he was dead. Everett... Everett was still alive, Ren. He was still alive. He told me Gary had a second phone — for Sylvie Ross! I went to find Gary’s phone in his office, somewhere in a drawer. I got it, I ran back to Everett. He told me to write an email pretending I was Joe, told me about Geoff Riggs. He knew it would change things.’ She started crying. ‘When I got back to him, he... he asked me to call his parents and hold the phone up. Then Luke... and... Ren, it was the worst... it was beyond heartbreaking. And Robbie was dead... and Everett was dying. And I was right there, and...’ She started bawling crying.

Ren sobbed along with her.

Everett — in your dying moments, that’s what you did. Made sure Duke Rawlins would want to live, would be more likely not to want to die in a hail of bullets and take everyone with him.

Everett, Janine: you saved my life, you saved Gary’s.

And, Gary, your affair helped!

Jesus Christ.

‘Where are you?’ said Ren. ‘Are you home safe?’

‘Yes. Terri’s on her way over. Will you come when you’re ready?’

‘Of course I will, of course.’

Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would be meeting Terri under these circumstances.

Ren looked up to see Joe Lucchesi walking down the steps. She pushed open the driver’s door and started to get out of the Jeep. ‘Hey,’ she said.

‘Hey,’ said Joe. ‘Stay where you are. Let me just throw this in the back seat.’

Where I looked back at your sleeping daughter not that long ago.

The drive to the airport was mostly in silence, two ghostly, grieving people with black memories, shared secrets, deep sufferings, uncertain paths, scars upon scars.

I don’t want any more war stories. I don’t want any more war.

She could see only Duke Rawlins, Robbie, Everett, Gary.

Where the fuck am I?

She was struck with an image of Dr. Gaston holding a putty knife, she heard his brutal words from an old crime scene: ‘dries like concrete’.

What was he talking about?

Where the fuck am I?

Rawlins. Robbie. Everett. Gary. Rawlins. Robbie. Everett. Gary. Gun. Blast. Holes. Blood. Gray matter. Gray matter. Gray matter dries like concrete. Dries like concrete. Dries like concrete.

‘I need to pull over,’ said Ren. I’m going to be sick.

Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.

The car was parked for twenty minutes. Ren lay, weakened, slumped in the seat. Joe gave her space and silence.

I’m so tired. I’m so, so tired.

I can’t do this. I’m cracking. I’m going to break.

She started up the engine, continued on toward the airport.

She thought about the Cheerios on Carly Raine’s lips, the torn black plastic around Hope Coulson’s body, puncture wounds, and scratched soles, and foreign objects.

Stop. Stop. Stop. But this... this will never stop. This is all entangled in who I am. How was this the path I chose? One I knew would be littered with the fallout of the very worst that life has to offer? Things I was destined to pick up and examine and touch and smell and never sidestep. Maybe, if I’m lucky, to climb over. Or destroy with minimal collateral damage.

Jesus Christ.

She glanced over at Joe Lucchesi. He was far away.

Who are we? Were we born broken that we chose to exist in a world of broken things? Is that, really, the only place we can be comfortable?

Where is the comfort? Where is it? We were wrong. We are wrong.

Ren sensed a presence in front of her. She slammed on the brakes. She and Joe shot forward and back, striking nothing, holding tight. A woman glared at Ren through the windshield, slammed her hand on the hood of the car, pointed at the red light she was about to plow through.

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Ren, mouthing it, making it clear. ‘I’m sorry.’ I’m so sorry. This isn’t me. What is me?

Joe reached out and put a hand on her forearm, squeezing it. ‘Are you OK?’

‘Yes. Sorry. I’m...’ a mess. But she knew she didn’t need to finish it. They knew what they both were.

Departures was busy with people who looked so different to them, who had no idea who these two people were, brought together by an evil that had triumphed on a grand scale before it had died.

‘Well...’ said Joe, ‘I guess I’ll see you around.’

‘Yes.’

They hugged. When they pulled apart, they looked into each other’s eyes.

Who are we now? To ourselves... to each other.

‘Thank you for everything,’ said Joe.

‘Thank you,’ said Ren. I don’t know if I can ever bear to see you again.

‘I’m so sorry about your friends,’ said Joe. ‘You lost good men.’

Tears welled in her eyes. Don’t cry. You might never stop. She managed to nod.

‘Joe...’

Maybe don’t say it.

He looked at her, waited.

Don’t. It won’t be the right thing to say.

‘What?’ said Joe.

Biology is one thing. But Duke Rawlins is gone. He’s dead. He lives on nowhere.

‘Nothing,’ said Ren.

‘If you’re ever in New York...’ said Joe.

‘Thanks,’ said Ren. ‘Safe trip.’

‘Daddy!’ they heard. They both turned to see Grace and Camille walking toward them. Grace started to run.

Her little bowed legs...

Ren gritted her teeth.

Tears, tears, threatening tears.

‘Gracie!’ He crouched down, holding out his arms. She jumped into them, burying her head into his neck, just like the first time Ren had seen her.

Tears spilled down Ren’s face.

Not in front of Grace. No.

She wiped them swiftly away.

She could see the same from Joe as he kissed Grace’s head.

‘I missed you so much,’ he said, so intensely Ren could barely stand to watch.

Joe blinked away his tears, pulled himself back from Grace and stared into her eyes.

Please find nothing there of Duke Rawlins. Please.

‘Missed you too, Daddy!’

‘What are you doing back in Denver?’ said Joe.

‘We’re going on vacation!’ said Grace.

Joe frowned. Camille was smiling.

‘We’re going to Disney World!’ said Grace. ‘You, me, Shaun, Camille, Granddad, Pam!’

‘Did you get a job while you were gone?’ said Joe. ‘You’re treating us all to a vacation.’

Grace laughed. ‘Granddad got us tickets.’

And could never have imagined this weekend was going to end on anything but a graduation high.

Joe raised his eyebrows at Ren. The see-I-told-you-my-dad-has-to-play-the-bigshot look.

‘Well, Granddad did a wonderful thing,’ said Joe.

‘She helped!’ said Grace, pointing to Ren.

Well, of course.

‘She told us your flight number, your flight time!’ said Grace. ‘Shaun is on the way!’

Joe was barely keeping it together.

Distract. Distract.

‘You have fun,’ said Ren. ‘Lots of it. Extra for me.’

‘Yay!’ said Grace.

Joe smiled, hugged Grace tighter, kissed her sandy hair.

Ren walked away.

Love. Conquers. All.