Metal Urge (33 page)

It was shameful, hurtful, humiliating, and completely unbelievable.

How could his wife turn her back on everything they had gone through together that tragic summer?  How could she so easily forget the vows they took in front of friends and family---in front of God himself?  The phone rang and Thom considered letting it go on ringing.  Deanna had already called to arrange a time to drop by and collect her belongings in the morning.  It was a cold and calculated call designed to make it clear that she cared more about her work clothes and school books than she did for her husband’s broken heart even though she had tried to sound concerned and contrite.  In a voice heavy with fake guilt, shame and remorse, she had failed to convince him that she really believed she was at fault for any of this god awful, hurtful mess.  There would be no discussion of reconciliation---Deanna was right where she wanted to be---with Nigel Guilford.

He rubbed his eyes and blinked at the sound of ringing, still persistently annoying.  He strode to the phone and snatched up the receiver saying nothing.  Trevor called out ‘hello’ several times before Thom recognized the voice.  He apologized and Trevor sensing something was very wrong, quickly extended an invitation for lunch at his home the following afternoon.  He didn’t invite Deanna.  Somehow he understood that she wasn’t with Thom any longer, and probably never would be again.  It was strange, but after kicking his heroin habit, his power of perception had become almost uncanny.  It frightened him a bit.  Just as he sensed the little blonde bitch had left Thom for Nigel, he felt Maggi was involved in the sordid mess as well; perhaps with a friend of the home-wrecking bastard.  He hadn’t worked out the details, but Thom would no doubt be willing and able to fill in those ominous blanks.

Chuffed that Thom had accepted his invitation, Trevor rang off.  Lighting his eighth cigarette and pouring his fourth cup of coffee since awakening to face another boring, lonely morning, he leaned back on the cushy velvet sofa feeling sorry for the poor sod who sounded so beaten and listless on the phone.  They had much more in common than he ever imagined they would.  Thom needed a friend, and he needed an ally.  This might prove to be a most productive partnership after all.

****

As the cab pulled up in front of Thom's flat, Deanna couldn’t help but notice how quaint and charming the building looked covered in snow.  It could have been a winter scene on a picture postcard sent to loved ones back in the States.  She paid the driver and stood in front of the walkway staring at the door and then down at the keys hanging limply in her gloved hand…the keys Thom had asked her to leave under an empty ceramic pot next to the front door when she was through packing her things.  Nigel had insisted on coming with her, but she refused to let him.  She needed to do this alone.  It wasn’t going to be easy, and her heart was heavy with regret, guilt, and sadness.  In truth she welcomed the negative feelings, relishing the way they tore at the very fabric of her treacherous soul, blotting out the joy of her reunion with Nigel.  She had no right to that joy---she had come by it in the most underhanded and cowardly way imaginable---by betraying her husband.  Thom had hurt her physically and emotionally in his drunken rage, but she couldn't really blame him.  Day after day she had ignored his pleas for the two of them to try and mend their failing marriage.  Each time he reached out for her, she flinched away as though the very thought of his touch repulsed her.  Nothing could have been further from the truth---it had been her damned, foolish pride.  Not that it mattered anymore.  At this moment she was forced to admit it was her emotionally charged reunion with Nigel that had completely destroyed what little was left of her battle-scarred relationship with Thom, and there was no turning back.

Taking a deep breath of the freezing air, she walked up to the door and placed a hand on the cold, damp wood before summoning the courage to unlock it and enter the flat.  All was silent except for a soft scraping sound she couldn't identify.  A blast of frosty air hit her when she entered the dining room area and noticed that the French doors to the garden were slightly open.  “Thom?” she called.  “Are you here?”  A wild fluttering started in her belly working its way up until her heart was pounding with dread.

“Don’t come out here, Deanna.”  Thom’s voice was muffled by the falling snow, but she could hear the warning in his words.

“What’s going on?” she asked, looking out of the doorway at Thom, who was squatting on the ground by something she couldn’t quite see.

“I told you not to come out here!”  He snapped, trying to turn his body to shield what was lying on the ground next to him but it was too late.  He stood up and wiped his wet hands on his jeans, trying not to look at Deanna as her hands covered her shocked and horrified face.  She gazed at the rigid little body of Mims lying frozen on the ground in disbelief.

“Oh God, no!  Mims!” she cried, her tears freezing instantly like tiny icicles on her face.  “How did this happen?  She wasn’t allowed outside without one of us to watch her,” Deanna said shaking her head and crying.

“A pipe burst yesterday so I called a plumber to fix it.”  Thom crossed his arms, hugging himself against the cold as he looked down at Mims body.  “He must’ve left the door open a crack and she slipped out.”

“Didn’t you think to look for her?”

Thom looked hard at Deanna and frowned.  “I was out most of the night.  After I got home I called for her.  When she didn’t come running for food I reckoned she was fast asleep in your old bedroom.  She’d been acting daft since you left…”  He turned away and swiped at his eyes.  He felt Deanna’s arms slip around his waist and heard her sob against his shoulder.  Pulling away from her, he told her to go inside while he finished digging a hole for Mims.

It was hard work chipping away at the frozen ground, but he was finally able to dig a shallow grave.  Looking down at the small hole, he shivered and called for Deanna to come outside and join him.  They stood solemnly over the cat's body for a few minutes as the silent snow swirled and floated around them.  Deanna handed Thom one of her brightly colored wool scarves to wrap Mims in before he laid her body in the grave.  She placed Mims favorite kitty toy beside her and ran her fingers over the stiff, little form in one last caress.

“My sweet little girl,” Deanna wept.  Reluctantly she moved away, wiping her eyes and nose with a soggy tissue.

Thom placed some rocks over the grave and promised that he would make a cross to mark Mims' resting place as soon as the weather got a bit warmer.

“I’m sorry I sounded like I was blaming you for her death,” Deanna sniffed.

“It's alright.”  He knew it was a devastating blow to her---she loved that cat more than she ever loved him.  Pushing past her, he entered the small kitchen and offered to put on the kettle for tea before he left.

“You’re leaving?”

“That was the deal, yeah?” Thom said, placing the kettle on the burner.  He excused himself to go and change into dry clothes, leaving Deanna to stare after him numbly.  When he called out a final goodbye from the entryway while he pulled on his leather jacket, Deanna rushed out of the kitchen and grabbed his hands.  He shook her off and smiled sadly.  “I’d rather you didn’t act sentimental.”

Red-faced, she backed away, her fingers twining and untwining in a nervous gesture, as though she wasn’t quite sure what to do with them.  “Thom, please…”

He shook his head and started for the door.  “Don’t say it, Deanna.  I don’t want to hear you say you’re sorry.”  He opened the door a crack and turned back to her, his expression somber and filled with pain.  “Let’s be honest darlin', I’m not the one you want; I never was.  There’s really nothing more you can say, yeah?”  Thom gazed at her, cocking his head in such a way that it broke her heart and nearly shattered her resolve.  “It’s the silliest thing, actually,” he laughed, a strangled, mirthless sound.  “I love you the way you love him.  God, I’m such a bloody stupid fool.”

He slipped through the doorway, leaving Deanna to sob out her guilt in the hollow echoes of the Chelsea flat she had once been so happy to call home.

****

Deanna didn’t tell Nigel about Mims until all of her things were put away, and she was getting ready for work.  She could barely stand the thought of spending an evening pandering and bowing to nit-picky hotel guests, struggling to satisfy their often unrealistic demands.  Who cared if they felt pampered or if they got their money’s worth out of their hotel stay.  Her precious little girl was dead because she hadn’t been there to watch out for her.  He tried hard to console her, but he couldn’t.  No one could.  Bitter memories of Mims lying frozen in the wintry garden, and Thom’s final cutting remark that slashed through her like a razor-edged sword were all she had left of her disastrous attempt at happiness on a pretty street in Chelsea.  She didn’t seduce Thom just to forget Nigel; she seduced him because she wanted him.  She craved the feel of his mouth on her skin, the blazing heat of desire in his incredible blue eyes, the sensation of their bodies so intricately entwined she could feel him touch her soul...

How could she have done such a cruel and hurtful thing?

Nigel held her, murmuring sweet, loving words in her ear until it was time for her to leave.  As she pulled on her coat, he begged her to stay home, offering to call her supervisor to say that she was ill, but she was determined to suffer every single misery she had selfishly orchestrated while destroying an innocent man whose only mistake had been to fall in love with her.  She looked at Nigel’s face so filled with love and concern for her and felt a stab of irrational fear.  Unable to break its icy hold, she clung to him, whispering how sorry she was for making such a horrible mess of everyone’s lives.  He kissed her trembling mouth and assured her that she had done nothing of the sort, pleading with her to stay home, but she smiled a brave little smile and told him she would be alright.  Nigel watched her walk towards Aldgate High Street where she would catch the underground train.  He felt a tiny flutter of anxiety and shrugged it off before going back inside to give his parents a call about the Christmas holidays.

****

The huge wooden door swung open, a rush of warm air caressing Thom like a tropical summer breeze.  Trevor stood in the doorway looking more like the overly confident cad Thom remembered.  Gone was the cadaverous grin and sunken eyes.  One might say he was positively glowing with health, for someone as eerily pale as Trevor anyway.

“Come in, come in!”  He said, gripping Thom’s outstretched hand in a firm handshake.  “It’s so good to see you, Thom.”

He led his guest into the massive, ornately decorated parlor and asked him what he would like to drink.  Thom asked for Scotch---straight up.  Trevor poured him a generous serving in a Waterford crystal tumbler that sparkled like diamonds in the dim light of the heavily curtained room.  Pouring himself a glass of ginger ale, he sat down in a plush wingback chair and smiled warmly at Thom.  “One addiction leads to another,” he said, raising his glass of ginger ale and chuckling.  “I’m what the Yanks call a teetotaler now.  Ah well, here’s to an existence no longer muddled by demon booze and pretty poppy.”

Thom raised his glass feeling slightly guilty about drinking the sparkling golden liquor.  “I’m sorry, Trevor.”

“Whatever for?”  Trevor laughed.  “My dear boy, we all have our Achilles’ heel…booze, drugs, a pretty blonde…”

Trevor gave him a knowing look and Thom shifted in his chair uncomfortably, slightly taken aback by Trevor’s intuition.  He tossed back the Scotch and Trevor filled his glass again.

“Do you want her back?”

“Of course I want her back even though she’s a cheating bitch,” Thom rubbed his face and scowled, “who wasted no time legging it back to Nigel after we had a few stupid rows over the bastard kissing her at the airport.

Trevor's mouth dropped open in surprise as Thom frowned and shook his head.  “That isn't the half of it---she never even bothered to tell me about it.  Nigel spilled his rotten guts to me.  Can you bloody believe it?”  Thom laughed harshly.  “I gave Deanna every chance to tell me her side of it but she never said a word.  Her excuse was that she didn't want to cause trouble for the band.  Part of me believed her, but I was so hurt and angry.  It seemed to me that she was trying to protect that back-stabbing wank.”

Trevor tapped the exquisitely cut crystal decanter and Thom nodded.  He poured a double shot and Thom sat back, sipping the potent liquor, hoping it would soothe his nerves.

“Our arguments got so out of control that we were hurling vicious accusations and getting really nasty with one another.  It was ridiculous,” Thom continued.  “You wouldn’t believe some of the bizarre crap Deanna accused me of.”  He stared at his glass, the hand-cut edges blurring as tears filled his eyes.  “I love her so much.  I can’t help myself even though my love means fuck-all since Nigel muscled his way back into her life.”  He finished off the last dregs of his drink feeling no relief from the wretched pain of his ruined marriage.  Licking his dry lips, he tasted the bitter tang of defeat and it made him want to retch.  “After I got back from the States she refused to try and sort out the nightmare our marriage had become because of Nigel's bloody interference.  Now she's shacking up with the bastard, sleeping with him and all, acting like I don't even exist.”  Thom glanced at Trevor and shrugged helplessly.  “My hands are tied because of Metal Urge.  If it weren't for the band I'd go over to Nigel's flat, beat him senseless, and...bollocks!”  Thom almost shouted.  “I wish he’d never been born!  I'd be going home to my wife and my mum and sister would still be alive.”