Page 52 of Plain Sight

For Lily. And the baby. Sunrise is the deadline, because I don’t want them spending another day in a world like this one. Lily and my baby. Our baby. They haven’t done anything wrong. They deserve so much more than this. Be the fire you wish to see in the world, and so forth. I’m sure you’ve heard the saying.

I was right. The Brooklyn Bridge is the slowest part, but it’s not very slow. No wrecks or visible emergencies. Is this more proof of the existence of God? Could be. His gentle hand is patting my ass all the way across the bridge, ushering me to a new future.

Uh, my head. He’s patting my head. Fatherly.

It feels spiritual as fuck to drive into Lily’s grandfather’s neighborhood. It was fall the first time I saw her, with rustling leaves on the ground and a whisper of cold in the air.

I park in the same parking lot I stole her out of. Criminals always return to the scene of the crime. Or they usually do. You can usually find a criminal at the scene. I think that’s the adage.

Well, here I am.

Hope no hot guys are waiting to mug me in this parking lot, Lily says in my memory. I dare you to⁠—

“You dare me, huh? Dare accepted.”

This dare is different. More accelerant and lighters. Less future wife.

Summer leaves rustle overhead as I make my way to her grandfather’s house.

All the lights are off. The neighborhood is tucked in snug for the night. It’s the last night it’ll be like this. Tomorrow, there will only be ashes where this house stood. Lily’s grandfather will be reduced to ashes, too.

My stomach hurts, thinking of killing him. I’m going to stab him, obviously. I’m not a monster. I won’t make him burn alive like my parents did.

Or…

Maybe I should make him burn alive.

Does this feel good to you? my mom asks.

“You’re always asking me that.” I leave my accelerant and other stuff behind the tree in the front yard and approach the house. The security system is a joke. I have it down in less than two minutes, and then I go back for the things to support me in my effort to burn this motherfucker down. “It’s a nice way to make decisions.”

Does it?

“No, but…” I need to start the fire near the kitchen. That will make it seem more normal, although not for long, if anybody bothers to look closely. I don’t really care if they do, but it seems wrong to abandon all my criminal knowledge. I’m not a sloppy criminal. Just a brazen one. “And I appreciate it. I really do. But…” The can of accelerant is unwieldy, but it’ll get better as it empties out. “Nothing feels good. Nothing, Mom. It all feels bad. My entire life feels bad.”

Not Lily.

“No, not Lily. But everything else is like a stab wound, you know? And Lily’s an angel, but underneath, I’m still—I’m still—” I move around the perimeter of the house, accelerant-ing the place to metaphorical death. “I’m still like this. If I’m going to be a criminal, and if it’s going to hurt this much, I might as well earn it.”

You don’t have to do this, Jamie.

“I missed Walsh. I can’t walk away with nothing.”

You have so much.

“I know. I’m a bastard.”

That is not what I said.

“Sorry.”

Don’t be sorry. Just go home. Lily needs you.

“She’ll have me. And she’ll be safe. She’ll be so happy.”

Will you?

“I’ll be happy. But I’ll also have a stab wound. I’ll still be a crime scene. You know what I’m saying?”