Elastic Heart (23 page)

I’ll admit I wasn’t expecting what stood on the other side of the door. I thought maybe it was one of Morris’s henchmen finally coming to finish the job. I figured it could be some paparazzi who’d discovered where I lived. Never in a hundred nightmares did I imagine what it really was: Law covered in blood.

Speechless, I took him in. Blood covered the hands that had always been so gentle with me. Red stained his t-shirt. Eyes widened, I swallowed the sight of him. Bloody, disheveled, but not hurt, it appeared. Before I could ask what the hell happened, he spoke.

“I snapped.”

“Can I come in?” he asked. Stupefied, I stepped aside to allow him entry. Law walked past me and I watched his movements as if in a dream. He wasn’t the brutally stoic man I’d come to know these past months. He was undone, eyes wild, hair a mess, muscles twitching. Rubbing his thumbs together, he paced around my apartment as if I wasn’t even there.

“You what?” I finally asked when the air filled with too many unasked questions. I stared at the blood on his shirt; it was soaked into the fabric, hard and stained. His gray jeans even had splotches of blood on them.

“I snapped,” Law repeated. He rubbed his forehead with his palm and I noticed his bruised and bloody knuckles. I realized the lights were still off and bent over to turn the table lamp on. Pale yellow light engulfed us, making the shadows we cast bolder.

“What does that mean?” I asked. Law walked back and forth across my living room, his strides practically wearing the floor thin. While he searched for his words, I went to the kitchen to get something to clean him up. I grabbed a kitchen towel and ran it under some warm water, then grabbed some ice from the freezer and threw it in a sandwich bag. Exiting the kitchen, I thrust the contents at him. He thanked me gruffly but I was already heading to the bathroom to grab some antiseptic. When I returned I made him sit on the couch.

I took the towel back from Law, who was gripping it so tight I swore I saw bones beneath his skin, and started to dab at the blood on his knuckles. Law hissed but didn’t say anything. Silence once again surrounded us as I did my work. I cleared away the crusty blood from his knuckles and fresh blood started to flow. I stood up to get a towel or a bandaid but Law grabbed my arm.

“Stay.” I looked at the hand on my arm and shrugged, sitting back down with Law. Finished with cleaning him, I sat unmoving, unsure of what to say. That is, until he spoke. “I beat the shit out of Mitch Morris.”

“What?” I exclaimed, turning to see his face. His expression was unreadable. “Is he alive?”

“Of course he’s alive.” Law waved my question off and stood up. He started pacing again but I wouldn’t have it.

“What happened?” I marched up to Law and stood in front of him, blocking his circular route. “You can’t just come in here covered in blood and not explain to me what happened.”

Law sighed, placing a bloodied hand over his face. “I had my monthly meeting with Morris and I just…” Removing his hand, Law pierced me with his eyes. “I snapped, Nami. I thought of all the pain he’s brought to you and to Becca…to others. I should have kept my cool. He obviously knows now that I know. Maybe he always did, but now he knows I’m not okay with it.”

“I don’t…” I struggled with what to say. “What does this mean?”

Law shrugged. “Well, GEM fired me.”

I rolled my eyes, like that mattered, and pushed for more answers. “Is Morris going to press charges?”

“I don’t think so.” Law leaned against the wall and exhaled a long, hard breath. “It was really fucking stupid of me to do. I was building a case against Morris. I don’t know what this means. My contacts at the bureau haven’t gotten back to me yet.”

I stared at Law leaning against my wall. I wasn’t as convinced as Law was that Morris wouldn’t press charges. He had the entire police force in his pocket. Morris didn’t need a bloody face; he could have put Law away without any evidence. Why was Law so sure he wouldn’t press charges?

“You threatened him, didn’t you?” I didn’t expect Law to tell me the truth. He’d been feeding me lies since the inception of our relationship. I’d asked the question not looking for an answer, but to let Law know I was already aware. I turned back to pick up the now bloody cloth and antiseptic, when Law replied.

“Yes.” I spun back, surprised by his honesty. “I was one good punch away from ending his miserable life when I stopped myself. I’m not that person, Nami. I don’t intimidate suspects. I follow the rules. But I really fucking wanted to finish him off.” The look in Law’s eyes, the grimace on his face, let me know he was telling the truth. Truth was uglier than lies, and the ugliness in Law had me convinced.

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.

“So, Nami, there are millions of Namis experiencing the same pain as you. There are millions of Namis going through your exact situation. You are never alone.” I didn’t know how to respond, so naturally I looked away. In truth, it was probably the most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to me.

It had only been a few days since Law had shown up bloody and begging for redemption, but it felt like forever ago. Time was weird like that. When you didn’t sleep, the days stretched on and on, almost feeling like they never ended. My relationship with Law was lost somewhere in that time. We hadn’t defined it, but we hadn’t destroyed it either.

Since then, he hadn’t texted or called. My phone stayed silent, dead like a brick in my pocket. I remembered wanting the buzzing to stop and now that it had, I was at a loss. I didn’t want to admit it, but it was impossible to deny: I missed Law. I tried lying to myself, I tried constructing a fence of denial, but each time I reached for my phone to check the time, the pang in my gut reminded me of the truth. I missed Law.

I missed his texts. I missed his obstinate force. I missed his stubborn will. I missed him. I could have easily picked up the phone and called him…

I shook my head and stuck my key in the lock. That morning I’d left to go steal some heat from a grocery store. I’d left to get warm but I’d also left to forget. Once upon a time I’d run from my old apartment because it was riddled with memories. I’d seen Morris everywhere I went. While avoiding hypothermia at the grocery store, though, I realized something: I saw Law everywhere.

I saw Law in my apartment. I saw Law on my couch. I felt him against my skin. I heard him in the wind. The yearning I had for him was so visceral that I almost wished for Morris again. It was so much easier to hate. Hate was fuel but love was fire, and it was slowly burning me up inside out. I kicked the door open, ready to drown myself in some whiskey, but the sight I saw stunned me to the spot.

Flowers. Flowers everywhere. I put a hand to my mouth, shocked. Dandelions covered my couch and chair. The golden crowns were like small suns in my apartment. They made my dismal, dingy living room shine. There were so many of them that they smothered the floor and made it invisible.

It was beautiful.

After months of psychological torture and abuse, though, my first instinct was to run. I saw the display and assumed it meant something terrible.

I reached behind my back and gripped the doorknob, ready to sprint out of my apartment and ready to flee, when I noticed a card lying on the couch. My hand still held the knob but sweat now made it slippery. What if this was some kind of trick? What if Morris was sending me a message?