Lust Demented

{XLVI}

FIGHT THE MEMORIES. A FADED crimson cage of thin iron to keep out yesterday’s demons. Slide through the crack, propped open with a cement block and a jade statue of Buddha. The dim bulbs in the hallway lamps didn’t seem to get enough power. Floors and walls trapped in time. The old door shut at my back killing the street.

“Chiara.” I whispered to myself. Stomach in my throat, trudging up the timeworn stairs. Senses pushed beyond their peaks. Infantile whines and wails. Cantonese and Spanish resonated through the walls. The building was panting.

Each step taken was to be totally absorbed by the floor. Creaks kept to a minimum. Apt 5E was at the top of the walk-up facing the street. A pair of black leather boots were jammed in the door to keep it open. She was waiting for me.

Immediate sweat covered my forehead. The brick oven was filled with tenement ghosts that life painted over. The overhead lights were off. Large candles burnt a third down were placed haphazardly. The flames were trying to escape the wax, but the breeze cutting through the windows wasn’t strong enough. A large claw foot bathtub was arm’s distance from the stove and small dinner table. Terrible orange linoleum tiles with brown diamonds blighted the kitchen. There were two other small narrow rooms lined up in a rectangle. It was the type of place that would always be dirty. The apartment was missing furniture. It didn’t appear to be a place that was recently lived in.

“Missy?” She sat there cross-legged and silent in the murky bedroom.

“I was going to tell you Farrow.” Kiko, the imposter was waiting for me in an almost meditative stance on the bed by the window. Indestructible, Chiara bounced up and down in her lap. Keeping her body stiff, Kiko’s eyes examined my pummeled face, ending on my handcuffs, shaking her head in disbelief as if her revelations came true.

“I was going to tell you Farrow.”

“I heard you the first time. What is it Kiko?” I shook the cuffs to keep the quiet from conquering us all.

“Missy wasn’t into being a mom. She disappeared even before Chiara was out of the NICU. You picked the wrong girl Farrow. Wish I knew you sooner.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“You don’t want to believe it, but it’s true. Percy was going to put the baby up for adoption. It wasn’t blood. I told him to give her to you, but he said you’re too fucked up.”

“I’ll find him in the afterlife.”

“Hawaii threatened the old man. Saying she was going to tell you. Percy fearing for his life worked out a deal with Hawaii letting her collect Missy’s royalties.”

“Missy never popped up?”

“She went ghost and nobody’s seen her since. I found all this out from Gloom, who was planning to write her next book about it.”

“Capitalistic bitch.”

“Hawaii dangled this in front of Percy’s face coaxing a generous offer.”

“And you?”

“I threatened to turn Hawaii in and took what I could for myself. I’ve been raising Chiara, so we could be a family. I wasn’t sure why I wanted it so badly, until I got to know you.” A wariness floated in Kiko’s voice. I took a few steps closer trying to get a good look at Chiara, but all I got was the shadow of a baby and the moon outside reflecting off a large rectangular cleaver.

“A family?”

“Mr. Michael. It’s true.” Kuroneko’s voice echoed from the closet.

“I wasn’t seeing things?” Except the cleaver that wasn’t there.

“I tried to make you love me. I know it’s fast and love is only a word created by a poet.” Kiko had to know she lost me. Some acts were unforgiveable.

“The money’s in your apartment in Queens.” Kuroneko burst of the closet. “You can’t go home Farrow, they’ll be waiting for you there.”

“Why don’t you fucking say something? If not to me say something to our daughter?” Kiko was in a panic. She was confused that the baby was born from inside her. She was confused how love could creep up on you quickly and slip away even faster.

“Please don’t make me fucking cry.”

“You can’t die from crying.”

“You can die from lots of things.” Kiko carefully rested Chiara on the middle of the bed and stood up. Insane laughter preceded the windmill of her stick thin arms.