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“You know, they made it painless. They have orders for that. She didn’t feel anything, and I won’t have you fucking punishing yourself for the faults of the government.” Handing her a bottle of water, I set her on her feet before I pull her sweater up and over her head. Ripping her jeans off, I pull one of my large shirtsover her so she doesn’t smell like the centre. Laying her down on the bed, I pull the blankets over her legs and nestle beside her.
“I'm struggling to put a name to the emotions swirling inside of me. I’ve never really lost someone that I cared about like this. When my grandparents passed, it was because they were very old and it was a natural thing. Nothing about this was natural.”
I pull her against my chest. Her makeup is smeared across her face. I kiss her forehead. “Listen, grief is a fucked up thing. It’s going to come in waves. Sometimes you’ll be okay, but sometimes you won’t be. Your body just has to make room for the broken, bloated pieces of pain to fall into. It’s like our bodies are made for a certain amount of pain and it just has to shake down and fall into the slots where it fits.”
“How do I know how to act? I didn’t even know her family. I’ll never be able to say goodbye properly. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
Her words bite at my heart. If I could swish away her grief like an Etchasketch, I would in a heartbeat.
“She knows. You know that. Everyone around you knows how you feel. You let us feel it. We know. And when you lose someone, anything you feel is valid. Want to get drunk and dance on the roof? We’ll go do it. Want to kill some people because they took away your best friend? I’m your man. You want to sleep for a week and ignore the world? I’ll do my best to keep you fed and hydrated. You want to shut it out and ignore the pain while we have crazy dirty sex for hours? It’s all fucking valid and anyone who tells you differently is full of horseshit.”
She only nods. I get up from the bed and get a face cloth, running it under warm water. I bring it to her to clean her face so that when she wakes up from the nap she desperately needs, she’ll feel better.
A couple of weeks pass us by. I go to work and check in with Marla as much as I can. She’s made it to the centre once, but otherwise I’ve been paying the fine. I don’t care if she ever goes back.Marla chose the sleep-in-bed-for-a-week option, and keeping her fed and hydrated is a harder task than I thought it would be, but I’ve kept her alive. As I walk into the house after a rough night at work, I find her at the kitchen table, typing away on her laptop. Seeing her out of bed surprises me, but gives me hope.
“You look tired. How was work?”
We’ve never talked about what type of sales I do. I always thought it was silly that we have small secrets. “It was long, just a lot of horseshit customers. How is your work?”
“My clients understood why I was away. I felt bad, but I told them for the next while I’ll have to go to work part-time. It’s just too much and I know I should bring in money for you, but I’ve looked into subletting my apartment.”
I shake my head. “Don’t worry about money, just worry about healing. We’ll be alright–not like lobster and gold flake cake okay, but we can still afford tacos.” The smile that graces her face puts my world back on its axis and the tension leaves my shoulders.
Marla’s smile fades and she meets my gaze. A fire burns within her eyes and she clears her throat and starts to speak. “I need a favour. I want to kill that bitch. How do we do it?”
I lean back in the chair across from her, thinking ideas over. “What if we follow her after work and take her from wherever she goes? That would work best if it’s truly what you want to do. But it won’t take away the grief. It won’t fix what’s broken, Marla.”
“I know that. She wouldn’t give me a chance to say goodbye and told me if I didn’t stop, I could be next.” Her eyes don’t leave her laptop, but the rage boils under my skin and I grit my teeth. “Relax, you aren’t an attack dog.”
The joke catches me off guard and I laugh. “Have you met me? I’m your attack dog.”
She giggles, and it’s music to my ears. It has been too long since I’ve heard the sound. I watch her as she closes down her laptop and cleans up the notebooks at the table. “Want to go to bed?” she asks.
“Did you eat?”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Yeah. I had the leftovers you brought home at lunch.” I purse my lips and raise an eyebrow. “I promise you I ate,” she says, gesturing towards the empty plate on the table. “Today, I treated myself to more than just coffee and indulged in a refreshing shower.” I wrap my arms around her waist and she sighs against my chest, grasping her hand I pull her up the stairs to bed.
“Goodnight my dove,” I whisper into her hair as we lay down, her body pressed next to mine. Having her in my arms soothes my soul. Her face looks peaceful as she closes her eyes and falls asleep on my bare chest. Everything is right in the world when she is next to me.
“Which one is she? They all wear blue scrubs,” I say to Marla as we watch from across the street.
“The one with the braid, the darker hair.” We follow this lady home. Her apartment is in the same building as Marla’s. It makes things easier for me, but we still wait for a while.
“What are we waiting for?”
“Just gotta wait a bit, can’t just rush it, want to make sure she doesn’t have a family that will report her missing right away.”
After a few hours, no one has come. I get out of the car and cross the street to enter the building. Using my key, I slip into this woman’s apartment and find her half asleep on a green corduroy couch.
Opening the bottle of chloroform, I wet the cloth and press it over her mouth until she stops struggling. I bring her down the service elevator and prop her against the pillar outside.
“Marla, bring the car around the back of the building. Hurry!” I say into the phone and then hang up.
The car quickly comes to the side door. As I hoist the woman into the trunk, I can feel Marla’s eyes on me.
“How did you use the service entrance?” she asks. As I pull away from the building, watching the city lights disappear through the rearview mirror. I look at her, “Because I’m the landlord.”
“You bought the building I live in?” I nod, backing into the driveway as she just stares at me.
