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Setting the antiseptic and bloody rag down, I made my way to Law. I wasn’t sure what to make of this moment between us. Something fundamental had shifted, but instead of feeling unsteady, I felt sure.
I leaned against the wall with Law. The only sound in the apartment was our breaths. I imagined what it would have been like to punch Morris in the face. For months I’d envisioned throwing my entire body on top of Morris, kicking him, beating him, and eventually tearing out the wicked heart that beat his black blood.
“How did it feel?” I asked, cocking my head toward Law.
Law grinned. “Really fucking good.”
It was six in the morning. Sun had risen beyond the clouds, illuminating a pale gray sky. Law had fallen asleep on my couch an hour after he’d shown up. I’d cleaned him up some more and given him the biggest t-shirt I owned, an old rag from when I used to volunteer. It was still a little small for him. On the front it had some pithy saying about animals, and my heart hurt for Raskol again.
Now I clutched my arms against myself, my breath fogging the glass of the window I looked out. Where did I go from here? Behind me a man slept on the couch, but not just any man. A man who appeared to be a pathological liar, but was perhaps the only truth I’d known in months.
Beyond me, past the frozen glass, a city slept. A corrupt and morally bankrupt city that prided itself on its morals slept soundly. I’d spent months trying to clean the rotting black ooze from the city and all I’d managed to do was catch a bit of the corruption myself.
I touched my hand to the cool glass. I was tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of losing. Tired of the Nami I’d become. Christmas was in a few days and I only knew that by the lights that glowed outside. Inside, I was totally black.
I used to love Christmas. I wasn’t religious, but I was one of those nuts that loved to celebrate anyway. I loved the lights. I adored the smells: nutmeg, gingerbread, pine. You name it, I loved it. Everything from the trees to the snowmen to the baking had me cheery and filled with glee.
Removing my fingers from the glass, I turned to face Law. My apartment was noticeably glee-less. Cold, gray, a bit dirty. The paint was peeling and mismatched. The furniture was old and weathered. And a man I couldn’t trust, but who somehow still held my heart, slept on my tattered couch.
“You’re staring.” Even though his eyes were closed and his breathing steady, Law spoke. I wasn’t surprised by it. There was little left Law could do to surprise me.
“Yeah,” I responded. “It’s my place, I can stare if I want.” With easy determination Law sat up from the couch. His hair was a mess, the clothes he wore wrinkled and a little bloody despite the change, but he was still Law: hard, calculating, and ever observant.
“So, what’s the staring about?” Law asked.
“Deciding whether I should kick you out or make you coffee.” I strolled by the couch, my fingers dancing along the edge of the worn fabric.
“And?” Law tilted his head to peer up at me.
“You’re not getting kicked out.” I went into my kitchen and called over my shoulder, “But you’re not getting coffee either.” In response I heard the telltale creak of old springs, letting me know Law had stood up. As I went about my morning routine, making black coffee that I would drink on my shitty fold-out chairs, Law watched. He didn’t say a word as the coffee filtered and dripped. His mouth never opened when I made myself a cup and poured the rest down the drain, just in case he got any ideas about making himself a cup.
When I sat down, I kicked the other chair out as a gesture for him to sit.
“So,” Law said, his eyes watchful.
I sipped my disgusting coffee, deciding to cut to the chase. “We have to be one hundred percent honest with each other. If you lie to me one more time, I’m done. No more showing up bloody, looking for redemption. No more gentle phrases. Done.”
Law smiled crookedly. “Does that mean you’ll give us a chance?”
“It means…” I looked back outside at the gray sky. Snow covered the ground, but it was old snow. The air was too cold for the snow to melt, but not wet enough for new snow to fall. The world looked dirty and gray, and I felt like that was fitting. Because the world was dirty and gray. Full of rapists. And liars. And people who’d been broken by the grayness, turned into shells of their former selves.
“It means,” I said, turning back to Law. “It means I’m not saying no, but I’m not saying yes either.”
Sometime later, after I’d finished my coffee, we still sat at the table. The sun had risen higher, making the world a brighter gray. It was the weekend, which meant families were out together. Weekends weren’t any different to me than weekdays. Every day was marked by loneliness.
“What are you thinking?” Law asked.
“Nothing.” I waved my hand flippantly.
“I thought we had to be honest with each other?” I glared at Law’s rhetorical question. When I’d set the ultimatum, I’d been referring to him. Of course he was right, though. I’d said we had to be one hundred percent honest with each other, and I wasn’t exempt.
“I’m lonely, okay?” I spat. “It’s almost Christmas and I’m fucking lonely. It’s been a bitter year and I’m throwing myself a pity party.” I looked away from Law. Not wanting to see the outside, filled with holiday joy and families, I made myself stare at a stain on the floor.
“Have you heard the theory of multiple universes, Nami?” Law’s question broke my meditation. I turned and stared blankly at him, not sure where he was going with his train of thought.
“There’s a theory that states there are multiple universes just like ours,” Law continued. “Each universe is exactly the same. So, if the theory holds true, there are millions of Laws out there having this exact same conversation.”
“So?” I asked, still not sure what he was getting at.
