The Bodies We Wear (25 page)

Most of all I cry for me.

I killed someone tonight. I took his life.

Finally, when all the tears are gone, I pull gently away from Chael, who has been holding me all this time without saying a single word. Without speaking, he reaches down and tears a strip of his shirt away and hands it to me.

“I don’t have a tissue,” he says.

I try to laugh but out comes another sob. Pressing the cotton to my face, I wipe away the blood and the last of the tears.

“How do you feel?” he asks.

“Stupid,” I say. “Dumb. Empty.”

“You’re not.”

I look down at the dead body of Ming Bao. A pool of dark blood has spread beneath his back, staining the concrete, leaving a mark that will take a long time to wash away.

“He deserved it,” I say. “He killed you. He took you away from me.”

“Yes, he did.”

“I don’t feel any better,” I say. “I thought I would but I don’t.”

“That’s not how the healing process works,” Chael says. He puts his arms around me again and pulls me close. But suddenly I’m repulsed at the idea of him touching me. I shove him back.

“No,” I say. “Don’t act like it’s okay. It’s not.”

“I didn’t say it is,” he says. “But you’ll heal if you allow yourself to.”

“He won’t.” I go over to the body and kneel down beside it. Ming’s eyes stare up at the sky. He looks peaceful. Younger. As if all the anger and violence has been erased from his eyes.

I wonder where he is now. Is there his own personal hell waiting for him? Or is there nothing but darkness? Is he being judged? I hope so.

In reality, I haven’t done a thing. Tomorrow another man will take his place, standing on the street corners, peddling Heam to the gutter rats. I could go out with my knife and kill them all, but more will just pop up in their places. In superhero movies, the masked man always stops the bad guys and saves the world. They stick to that version of happily-ever-after. No one points out that the sequel isn’t far behind. Or the trilogy. And so forth.

A never-ending problem. Suddenly my revenge seems rather small.

What exactly have I achieved?

“So that’s it, then,” I say as I turn around and get up off my knees. “Now I’m really going to hell.”

Chael smiles. “You just don’t get it, do you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Life isn’t that black and white, Faye. Death isn’t either.” Chael comes over and takes my hand and it’s so warm. My own fingers are icy cold. “You are a good person. You can’t live your life trying to undo all the wrongs done to you. Or me. All you can do is go on and make a difference in the lives you’ve yet to meet.”

“But I saw hell,” I say.

“You saw what you needed to see,” he says. “Do you remember that night? Ming gave me the drug first. You fought like a wildcat. The last thing I remember before I died was you screaming my name and begging me not to leave you.”

“Did I?” I say. “I don’t remember that.”

“It was the guilt and fear that sent you where you went,” he says. “And if there’s one thing I know, our life is never written in ink. We can change our future. Free will, Faye. You choose your own path. You are in charge of your future, even in death.”

“I want to go home,” I say. Suddenly I need to see Gazer. I need to give him a hug and tell him how truly sorry I am about his wife and child.

“I’ll walk you home,” Chael says.

“Stay with me,” I say. “For tonight.”

“Absolutely.”

We don’t talk much on the way home. There are no words to describe how I feel. Chael holds me. We get a few odd stares from people but I don’t care. We must look a mess, both covered in blood. What amazes me the most is that no one bothers to ask if we’re all right. No one calls the police. They avert their eyes and look everywhere but at us.

No one cares.

There’s something really wrong with this picture. Have we become so jaded that we can’t be bothered? Is it possible to make people care again? How can I make them listen?

We need our pain to be heard.

It should be shouted from the rooftops.

My anger is gone. I have no idea where it went but I’m not mourning it.

We get off at my stop and I duck into a gas-station bathroom for a few minutes before going home. I stand in front of the sink with an insane amount of paper towels and try to remove the last traces of blood. Considering I just got my ass almost kicked, I don’t look that bad. My lip is slightly swollen but not enough that Gazer will see. I dab at the dirt on my jacket and rinse my mouth out a few times with tap water. My hair is a mess but I manage to comb it out a bit with my fingers.

Finally, I decide this is the best I’m going to get so I turn out the light and head back to Chael. He’s been in the men’s room himself and has managed to clean up a bit. He’s even turned his shirt around so the ragged hole isn’t visible.

We walk slowly and at some point he takes my hand and I allow it. When we reach my church, I hold on tighter.

We go inside. Gazer is sitting by the fireplace. I look at the clock, surprised to see it’s just a little past eight. For some reason I feel it should be later. When Gazer sees I’m not alone, he puts down his book and stands to meet us.

“Gazer,” I say. “This is Chael.”

I’m so nervous, you’d think I was introducing the Queen of England to the Dalai Lama or something equally ridiculous. Chael steps forward and holds out his hand and Gazer, after a moment’s pause, extends his own to meet it.

“Pleased to meet you,” Gazer says. His face is a mixture of surprise and pleasure. I’ve shocked him. I can’t help feeling a little happy about that.

The men exchange a bit of small talk. I don’t add to the conversation. What can I say? Gazer, this guy is dead so don’t get too used to him. He might not be around much longer or he might start rotting in the living room. He’s a good man. He’s almost as smart as you. I love him and I can’t say that to you either because it’s too personal. I’m not ready to share. But when I am, you’ll be the first to know about it.

As it turns out, I don’t need to say a thing.

“Maybe I’ll go down to the bar and hang out with some of the old boys,” Gazer says after a bit.

I open my mouth in surprise but Gazer just winks. I leave Chael to admire Gazer’s book collection and follow my adoptive father to the door.

“What are you doing?” I say. “You never go out for drinks. Ever.”

Gazer grabs his coat and hat and puts them on. “Always a first time for everything,” he says. “And I feel like celebrating.”

“For what?”

“Your life,” Gazer says. “When you left today, Faye, I was positive I was never going to see you alive again. Instead, you show up with a boy on your arm and your eyes are glowing. I don’t know what happened tonight but I’m just thankful. So I think it’s time for me to move on too. Go out and see some of my old friends. I’ve been a hermit for too long.”

“A new outlook on life? That’s always a good start.”

“I don’t want to know what you did tonight so don’t tell me,” he says. “I’m just glad you’re home. And I better not have to remind you not to do anything that might annoy me in my absence.”

“No wild parties. No drugs. No fun. I get it.”

“Not funny, Faye.” Gazer looks back toward the living-room area, where Chael has sat down to read the back cover of a thick novel.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “But he’s good. You’ll approve. He’s taught me a lot of things.”

“Oh?”

“I’m not better,” I say. “Not even close. But you’re right. You’re always right. The two of you are very similar. It kinda freaks me out a bit.”

“Nonsense,” Gazer says. “There’s no right or wrong. Everyone is different. You just needed to find out on your own.”

“I’m tired of being angry all the time. Sometimes I just want to forget everything. Be empty. But that wouldn’t solve my problems either.” I swallow hard and take a deep breath. The tears are threatening to come back out again. I try to concentrate enough to keep them away. “Do you think I’ll ever be okay?”

“Don’t know.” Gazer puts his arms around me and hugs me tightly. “But I’m glad you’re sticking around to find out. Now go pour that man some tea or something. I’ll be back in a few hours.” He pauses and shakes the door handle. “I think we’re going to have to fix this. Lock’s going to break right off any day now.”

I close the door behind him and head back to the main room. Chael is done looking through Gazer’s book collection and is now admiring his vintage vinyl.

“He’s got just about every single big band from the twenties and thirties,” he says. “And this record player is amazing. It’s got to be at least forty years old.”

“More like fifty,” I say. “I grew up listening to that stuff. I know most of those records. I swear, Gazer should be at least ninety years older than he really is. He loves all that stuff. I’m going to make some tea. You want?”

“Sure,” he says without even looking at me. He’s too enthralled by Bing Crosby’s greatest hits. I wander into the kitchen, wondering what I’ve gotten myself into. They say girls marry their fathers. In this case, my ghostly boyfriend’s musical taste is way too much like my guardian’s.

Am I ever going to live a normal life?

When I come back five minutes later with tea, Chael’s managed to figure out the record player and Frank Sinatra is blasting out a ballad.

“Dance with me,” he says, taking both mugs of tea and placing them on the table. I start to pull away but he gets his arms around my waist and soon we’re both laughing as we step on each other’s feet.

“I feel like I should be more upset than this,” I finally say as he spins me around.

“Why’s that?”

“Um … Ming?”

Chael pulls me closer and I sink into his arms. He’s so very warm and soft. I lean my head against his shoulder.

“What about Rufus?” Chael asks. “What are your plans for him?”

“I don’t care about him anymore,” I say. “I really don’t.” I pull my head away and look right into Chael’s eyes. “Why is that?”

“You said earlier that you feel empty,” he says. “And I think that’s true. But that’s because something’s been removed from you. All that hate is still there but maybe it’s not.”

“No,” I say. “It’s still there. But it feels different.”

“Maybe you’re learning that you can channel it somewhere else. Make a difference in the world. Create rather than destroy.”

I think of Beth and imagine all the other Beths still out there. All those gutter rats that have been rejected by everything warm and loving. Pushed to the point of addiction because they’ve lost any chance of real happiness. The world is a hard place. Can one person make a difference? Can I?

“You need to refill yourself with something other than pain.” Chael leans down and kisses my neck gently. “Let’s start by giving you some really good memories.”

His lips meet mine and everything melts away.

It’s surreal. I almost feel like I’m watching a movie in which I’m the star. This isn’t a happy ending. I killed a man tonight and now I’m dancing. That’s wrong. I shouldn’t be this happy. Rufus is still following me. Now that I’ve killed Ming, he’s going to come after me with vengeance.

But all those nagging thoughts refuse to stay in my mind. I’m ignoring them because I don’t want them.

What’s wrong with me?

I push Chael away. The room’s gone suddenly cold. He comes closer again and puts his arms around me. I allow it only slightly.

“This is wrong,” I insist.

“You’re punishing yourself again,” he says.

“I should be.” The tears are back again, threatening to fall.

“You’re allowed to be happy.”

“Not like this.”

Chael reaches out and runs a finger along my cheek. “It takes time to heal,” he says. “It won’t happen overnight and I’ll help you get through it. I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere. We’ve got all the time in the—”

A gloved hand stabs a needle into Chael’s neck. Silvery liquid speeds through the tip and into the skin. Chael’s green eyes widen as he struggles to get the last word out.

“World,” he says.

Then his entire body shuts down. As he falls away from me, all I can see is a look of surprise staring up at me.

“Dumb bitch.”

The words are there and it takes me forever to tear my face away from Chael. I know that voice. I’ve heard it a million times in my head, playing over and over like one of Gazer’s records.

I look up and gaze into the eyes of the monster I’ve wanted to kill my entire life. Only minutes ago I was ready to give him up. Now he’s gone and taken that from me too. How many ways can he destroy me?

Rufus stands before me, smiling like a maniac. He’s holding in his hands the needle that, seconds ago, was sticking out of Chael’s neck. There’s still some silver liquid in the syringe.

Heam is deadly and has plenty of side effects. But it’s a drug that is ingested by swallowing. People don’t shoot Heam unless they’re planning on never coming back. It’s like putting liquid nitrogen into your veins. It kills you within seconds.

Chael isn’t like most people. Chael’s survived being shot and stabbed. He heals quickly. This should be a walk in the park for him. But he’s not getting up off the floor. His eyes remain closed. He’s not breathing.