Page 49 of Fight from the Heart

The air is crisp when we return to my building, but I’m not ready to let the night end. We had a great time at the pub, discussing AGame of Thrones, a series we loved, and sharing stories about the characters we loved to hate.

“Mind if we take a walk?” She’s wearing heels so we can keep it slow. I just don’t want to go up to the condo yet and face my bed alone.

“Sure.” We’re holding hands again as we walk the dark boulevard. The night holds all the noises of a large city off in the distance. Along this street, various walk-up homes are lit up, and my mind wanders to who lives in them.

“Do you ever pick a place and write a story?” Pam asks me as if reading my thoughts.

“All the time.” I exhale. “Sometimes I see something, and my imagination grabs it, then I twist it and warp it to fit what I want.”

“I can’t write it, but I can see it whenever I read,” she says on a sigh.

Continuing on our walk, I point. “A cyborg lives there. He has four wives but wants someone different because none of them satisfy him.”

“Four wives,” she gasps.

“And a werewolf over there. He’s been pining for a woman for a long time. She thinks he smells funny.” Pam laughs as I wave a hand before my face emphasizing his stink.

My next work is titled The Beast Within. I wonder how she’ll really feel as she reads the torture inflicted by the main character to get what he wants. He’s also greatly misunderstood, and I’m counting on Pam to discover his truth. He’s in love with a woman he shouldn’t want but can’t give up. It’s all rather autobiographical in a sick fantasy-thriller type of way.

“Let’s see. Alien invasion there. The woman of his dreams doesn’t know he’s from another planet.”

Pam shakes her head at my silliness.

“Your turn.” I squeeze her hand, knowing she has an active imagination as do I.

“A monster with a good heart. He lives in a condo on the main street.”

I chuckle until I realize how prophetic her statement is. “Ah, my girl, still loves the gothic.” My heart patters hard at calling her my girl, and I feel like a fucking teenager instead of a forty-year-old man.

As we near a small park, I draw Pam into the empty space. A singular lamp lights the area, reminding me of foggy nights in London where evil lurks in the shadows and a maiden is always alone in the dark. In our case, Pam isn’t alone. She’s standing with the devil, hidden within his own shadow. I step out from her, guide us to walk a large circle, and then tug her to me. As she stumbles into me, I reposition our hands to clasp between us and wrap my arm around her back. Her hand slips up to my shoulder, and I sway.

“What are you doing?” she questions, chewing her lip.

“Shaking your groove thing in a private setting.”

One side of her lip curls upward

“So I don’t want to get all heavy, but I need to apologize for last night.”

“Jacob,” she groans.

“Look, I was drinking, and it’s no excuse. None. I shouldn’t have shoved Ethan. He shouldn’t have needed to push back. I’m embarrassed that it happened. I don’t want you to think I’d ever act that way with you.”

She’s quiet for a second. “The thing is, alcohol has a reaction in people. For some, it’s good fun and relaxing, but for others, it can be just like a drug, addictive and harmful to them.”

I bite my tongue. I don’t want to argue and justify how it won’t happen again—it won’t—but Pam needs more than words from me.

“For now, I’m hoping you can accept my sincere apology for the way I acted last night.”

“Forgiven,” she says, her voice hesitant.

“Even monsters have to prove themselves,” I say. No anti-hero gets the girl immediately. He messes up. He tries again. He might fall a second time, but in the end, he earns true love. Pulling her closer to me, her body molds with mine, and we dance in large circles around the empty park. I hum in her ear a song of teasing and longing.

“Is that ‘Wicked Game’ by Chris Isaak?”

“How could you recognize that?” I question my throaty beat.

“That’s one of my favorite songs.”