The Last Thing You See (15 page)

That
was a birthday to remember.  In the days that followed, I kept on having flashbacks to certain moments, and I suspected I’d be having them until the end of my days.

It wasn’t just the craziest, most satisfying sex I’d ever had in my entire life.  It wasn’t just the moments of hilarity or the magic as I watched her transform back to Harper Bayliss as she removed her costume and make-up.

The truth was that I’d never been happier or more deeply in love, but that was a difficult thing to admit to myself.  In a way, it felt disrespectful or dismissive of the memory of what Christie and I used to have, because I’d loved Christie with everything I had too.

Thankfully, with Harper, it was a difficulty I didn’t have to go through alone.  I brought it up later that night over the pizza we had delivered when she gave me a small birthday present.  Something
other
than herself for me to unwrap.

It was a picture of us.  Wallet-sized.  I’d never had a picture of anybody but Christie and I in there.  After everything Harper and I had done, for some reason, this felt like a daunting step.

“You don’t have to take the other one out,” she said.

And that settled it.  Harper and I stayed awake late, just talking and laughing in bed, and I stayed awake long after she fell asleep peacefully in my arms, just basking in the perfection of it all.  Part of me wanted nothing more than to repeat that day over and over forever.

Unfortunately, wishes like that seldom come true.  The world kept on turning and Harper had a busy schedule shooting the Dark Fox sequel.  Between Harper, the gym, and the odd shift of security work, I kept as busy as I could too.

Tonight, I had an interesting idea of somewhere to take Harper.  In my travels, I happened across a place called “Concealed Meals” where your food was served in absolute pitch dark and the waiting staff were all visually impaired.  It had incredible reviews, so I went ahead and booked a table for two.

The danger of the place was that they didn’t tell you exactly what you were being served, so it was a bit of a lottery in that sense.  I didn’t know about Harper, but although I wasn’t allergic to anything, I also didn’t
like
absolutely everything.  That’s why I decided to stop at the store and get some salted-peanuts or something to smuggle in so we were in no danger of starving.

I was walking down one of the aisles when the cover of a magazine caught my attention out of the corner of my eye.  It was your typical brightly-colored sensational-styled trashy magazine, but the biggest headline on this one, aside from the title, was Harper Bayliss’ Sizzling Bikini Pics, and sure enough, the cover shot confirmed she looked pretty damn hot in a bikini.  I recognized it from our day at Manhattan Beach.

Although I was sure I looked altogether too similar to the people who perused those magazines at the very back on the
top
shelf, I couldn’t help but look both ways before grabbing this one to have a quick look.  The photos of our kiss had surfaced weeks ago.  I wondered how many more were being printed now.

I found the page easily enough and saw that the photos were taken from a completely different angle to the previous ones, and they were a lot clearer.  A different photographer with a different camera perhaps.

The pictures were, for the most part, about what I would have expected, Harper looking gorgeous and perfect as she splashed around in the water or sunned herself.  The last one made my heart sink a bit though.

Apparently the paparazzo was still there snapping away when Harper and I were getting ready to leave, and he’d caught me in the brief moment between when I took off my rash vest and put on a shirt.  All my scars were there in crystal clear definition for the world to see.

The caption read ‘Beauty and the Bwaaaaaaaahhhh!  Kill it with fire!  Please don’t touch our Harper, Mr. Martell!’

“Assholes,” I muttered, and put the magazine back on the shelf.

I should have been used to it.  People had been flinching at the sight of my scars for almost a year now, but every now and then it still took me by surprise.  The way Harper looked at me didn’t just make my heart melt, it was such a relief from what had become the norm too.

It was almost like she didn’t see the scars at all, except I knew she did because sometimes she would trace her fingers along them as if she was trying to touch each one in turn.  The thought of Harper made it a lot easier to weather the looks from other people.

I patted my pocket and cursed.  I’d left my phone at home again.  It shouldn’t matter too much, I knew exactly what time we had arranged, but I hoped Harper wasn’t trying to get through to me with a change of plans because of working late or something.  Still, there was nothing I could do about it now.  If I went home for my phone, I
would
be late.

*****

When I pulled up in front of Harper’s house, I waited for a minute or so.  Every time I’d picked her up before, she had come rushing out before I ever had a chance to knock, whether I had to buzz the intercom at the gate or not.  Come to think of it, I had never set foot inside her house yet.

Harper never came out and said it, but I got the impression that her family hadn’t warmed to the idea of the two of us yet.  I wondered if their sentiments were anything like that photo caption I’d just read.

The arctic glare from her mom when she opened the door told me that there was indeed no warming at all.  Not the slightest bit of thaw.

“Nick,” she said.

“Evening, Mrs. Bayliss.  Is Harper home yet?  I forgot my phone so I don’t know if…”

“Let me get right down to it,” she interrupted.  “I don’t want you seeing my daughter anymore.”

“Uh… no offence, ma’am, but that’s not really your decision to make.”

“Listen.  I, we all, appreciate what you did for Harper with that maniac, but you two just aren’t right for each other.”

“Why not?”

Mrs. Bayliss’ eyes softened as if she was giving me what she considered a harsh truth that I needed to hear.  “Your whole relationship is built on shaky ground.”

“Mrs. Bayliss, I don’t know what you’re talking about.  You might not believe it, but I love Harper and she loves me.  That’s all that matters, that’s the least shaky ground there is.”

“Does she?  She
is
an actress, you know.  A good one.  I didn’t want to be the one to tell you this, Nick.  I’ve been telling Harper she needs to do the right thing and come clean.”

“About what?”

“You two met under,” Mrs. Bayliss threw her hands up, “extreme circumstances.  So she employed you for some kind of training as an excuse to spend more time with you, but she told Orson she was doing it as some kind of rebellion against me and because she wanted to satisfy some… boy from the wrong side of the tracks fantasy.  She’s been using you, Nick.  No offence, but do you really see a girl like Harper going for a guy like you?”

I looked at my feet for a few seconds.  The words Mrs. Bayliss was saying were painfully plausible, stirring up the unavoidable fears that lurked at the back of my mind about Harper and me.

The past few months had been like a fairy tale.  Was it possible that’s what it literally was?  In that brief moment, everything I could remember about the time we spent together flashed through my mind, those fears whispering that it was all true and if I looked hard enough, I’d find the evidence of her charade.

It all made too much ugly sense.  Then I thought of reaching out and feeling her in the night.  I could feel her even when she wasn’t there.  She was a part of me, and when I saw the way she looked at me, I knew I was a part of her too.  She
was
an incredible actress… but she couldn’t fake that.  I looked back up.

“To put it mildly, Mrs. Bayliss, you are absolutely full of shit.”

When I pulled into my driveway, I was hoping to see Nick’s car parked there in front of my house, but it wasn’t.  I hadn’t been able to get through to my mom since finishing up for the night, and this was just one more circumstantial sign that something wasn’t right.

I stepped through the front door, listening for any sounds that would tell me where everybody was.  I felt myself waver between fear that my mom might have told Nick what she had implied before and flashes of anger at the same possibility.  What if she told him and he believed her?

The clearing of a throat and the dull clink of a glass being set down brought me to the living room, where Orson was reading a book and my mom was tapping away at her tablet PC, a bottle of wine sitting next to her glass on the coffee table in front of her.  The way they both did their best to appear not to notice me was one more nail in the coffin of my hopes.

“What did you do?” I asked.

“You’ll thank me one day,” she said.

Blood rushed to my head and pounded in my ears as I circled around the couch, standing on the opposite side of the coffee table from her.  My breaths came in quiet wavering gasps as I struggled to keep myself from screaming with rage.

“
What
did you
do
?”

“He’s not good enough for you.”

“Take it easy, Harp,” said Orson, maybe seeing the shade of red I was turning.

“You.  You shut your mouth.”  I glanced at Orson and then brought my focus back to my mom.  “It’s not the nineteen thirties anymore, if I want to be with Nick and he wants to be with me, then we’re going to be together.  So I’ll ask again. 
What did you do
?”

I was a nuclear reactor perilously close to meltdown.  A bomb.  A volcano.  I felt my hands bunched up into quivering fists at my sides as I stared her down.

“I told him exactly what I said I was going to.  He needed to hear it.”

For about two seconds I was silent and still, somehow transported from the edge to the eye of the storm.  Then the yelling started.

I had no idea what I even said, but I vaguely saw myself pick up the bottle of wine by the neck and throw it with all my might straight through the window over Orson’s head.  I wanted to punch something until my knuckles broke.  I wanted to burn the house down.

The intensity of my anger was completely out of the ballpark of anything I’d ever felt before.  The scenes that played out in my head were violent and frightening, and I understood crimes of passion for the first time.

I had to get out of there.  I had to talk to Nick, and I had to get out of there.

Fumbling for my phone, I raced out of the room and headed upstairs.  I slammed my bedroom door behind me and held the phone against my ear as I found my bag and started stuffing things into it.

I almost cried when I heard Nick’s voicemail recording.  I didn’t even know what I said or if I left a message at all.  My mind was that far gone.

How long ago had Nick left here?  Did he, in fact, forget his phone at his place?  Was he at home and avoiding my calls or was he not even back there yet?

These questions were all beyond me.  I couldn’t figure out what to do.  I couldn’t even think properly.

I spotted my iPod on top of my drawers and grabbed it, clutching it against my chest like some kind of magic shield. 
A run.  You should go for a run to think.  If you go driving now, you’ll just crash
.

Before I knew it, I was pounding down the stairs in my running gear, fixing the headphones into my ears and scrolling through my music looking for the two hours of thunderstorms.  Orson, carrying a brush and shovel, spotted me at the bottom of the staircase.

“You’re going for a run? 
Now
?  Hold up, I’ll come with you.”

“Stay away from me.”

I slammed the front door behind me as the first thunderclaps played out from my iPod and the pitter-patter white noise of raindrops started.  I jogged down the steps and paused by my car, staring at it with jaw hanging open at the sheer ridiculous luck.

The wine bottle I had thrown out the window of my house had apparently sailed straight through the right rear window of my car.  I shook my head, threw my hands up, and then continued running.

Once I was through my gate and on the sidewalk, I sped away much faster than my normal pace, feeling desperate to get distance between myself and the people whom I could barely reconcile my love with at the present time.  It was the end of a grueling day, and I couldn’t keep that speed up for too long though.

My strides shortened and the shadowy world, poorly lit by a sliver of moon, passed by much more slowly.  I forced my breathing into an even pattern, feeling my whirling brain begin to relax and unclench at the same time.

Energy was diverted from blind rage into the exercise, and I could almost feel the recorded rain washing away some of the more insane things that had crowded into my mind a few minutes ago.  I wasn’t calm by any stretch of the imagination, but I could at least think.

First thing was first.  If my mom told Nick that I was only with him to annoy her and because I wanted to slum it for the while, how would he respond to that?

I thought about the possibility of never being in his arms again and felt a lump forming in my throat, making it difficult to keep my breathing even.  I still couldn’t understand why my mom was so adamantly opposed to Nick.  Why didn’t she see in him what I saw?

The idea that everything we’d shared might be wiped out because of something I couldn’t even comprehend was awful.  Everything we’d shared.  That gave me hope.

Surely Nick must realize he was more than some bad boy booty call.  I’d told him my greatest fears, he’d shared his most painful memories, and we were still crazy about each other before tonight.  We fit together like we were two pieces of the same person.

Whenever I fell asleep snuggled up against him, I slept like I was in the safest place in the world, and when I lost myself in his eyes, I could see him looking just as lost in mine.  That couldn’t be undone by mere words from my mother, could it?

I hoped Nick had told her that she was full of crap.

After I returned from my run, I would go to Nick’s apartment and I’d wait for him if he wasn’t there.  We would get through this.  I promised myself we would.

That left the lingering problem of my mom.  Her cold distance was bad enough, her active attempts at breaking Nick and I up were intolerable.

The fear of losing her, losing my family again, had never let me consider laying out an ultimatum like I was now contemplating, no matter how much she had controlled my life.  I didn’t want to do it, but I would.  I would cut her out of my life until she accepted Nick.

As I was trying to think of how I could word such a demand, a car accelerated past me before slowing down at the intersection ahead.  It turned right off of my street and on to the street that I would have to cross to make it into the park, disappearing behind the wall that surrounded the property of whoever lived on the corner.

The street seemed even darker than before after the sudden flash of the headlights and I concentrated on the ground for the moment, not wanting to add a twisted ankle to my current list of grievances.  The park was really well lit, so I didn’t have far to go before I’d be clear of the shadows.

I didn’t even see it coming.  The impact made me think I must have been hit by a car.  I couldn’t hear anything over the white noise in my headphones until I hit the sidewalk, scraping my elbow painfully and jolting one earbud loose.

My wind had been knocked out of me at the first collision, hitting the ground made it all the worse, and now there was a crushing weight on top of me.  And a man’s voice.  I couldn’t make out what he was saying because one of my headphones was still in, half drowning the words out with rain and thunder, but he was scrabbling for my wrists, trying to hold me still.

With burning lungs, I went on auto-pilot from all the BJJ drills Nick had put me through and pushed first one of the man’s knees downwards and then the other, putting him in my guard before I grabbed at his collar with one hand and gripped the sleeve of his shirt behind the elbow with my other.  After putting my left foot on his hip to help me swivel my butt out to the side, I swung my leg in front of his face and pulled him into an arm-bar.

I held on to his hand for dear life and began stretching my body out, extending his arm out and then putting all the pressure I could muster from my whole body on to his elbow, straining to bend it backwards, to hyper-extend it to the breaking point.

The man grunted in surprise and pain and almost fell to the side on his back.  That was a common reaction to this particular technique, Nick had told me, but after the tiniest of staggers he regained his balance and managed to get to his feet, pulling me up off the ground before suddenly dropping back down to his knees again.

My head bounced off the sidewalk with a sickening ‘
thunk
’ sound that I felt more than heard, and I saw stars.  I tried to hold on to his arm, tried to keep my knees together tightly to maintain the position, but everything was spinning.

I felt his arm slip out from my grip as my body seemed to go limp, and there was something warm and wet on the back of my head.  The world swam for a moment and I couldn’t hear thunder and rain anymore, all I could hear was the sound of my feet being dragged across the ground.

My eyes wouldn’t focus, I barely knew which way was up when I felt myself stuffed into some small and cold space that smelled like gasoline and engine grease.  Another ‘
thunk
’ sound, much more metallic and much more external to my body than the previous one, plunged me into almost complete darkness for a few seconds before I both heard and felt a car starting up and the shift in momentum as it drove away with me inside.

I blacked out.