Time Off for Good Behavior (33 page)

How he had no right. How he had no fucking right.

How he was dead.

“
I thought I
’
d be happy,
”
I said finally, surpri
sed by the sound of my voice as the words came out on their own. I stared at the Virgin, speaking as much to her as to Walter.
“
I
’
ve been praying for this for a long time. I know it
’
s terrible, but it
’
s true. And now here I am, and he
’
s finally gone, and I
’
m not even relieved. I
’
m sad, actually.
”

“
That
’
s understandable,
”
Walter said calmly, always the voice of reason.
“
I
’
m sure you loved him. Once.
”

“
I should hate him,
”
I said, my eyes drifting back to the Virgin.
“
I should be happy he
’
s finally gone.
”

I pa
used, but I didn
’
t know what I was waiting for. The music maybe. Now would be a good time for the music to make sense. Now would be a good time for anything to make sense. But, of course, nothing did. Not George, not Walter, not the Virgin in her garden o
f
stone.

“
He loved me.
”
I nearly choked on the words as I said them.
“
He may have been a sick bastard and a bad guy, but he loved me, and he was the only one who did. I know it sounds crazy...
”

“
No,
”
Walter said quietly,
“
it doesn
’
t.
”

“
And instead of being
relieved that I don
’
t have to be afraid of him anymore, I feel like the last person who will ever love me is just... gone.
”

Walter put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me tight against him. I collapsed onto him, sobbing under the weight of George
’
s li
fe and death. Walter held me, rocking me back and forth, kissing my hair, and whispering quietly,
“
He won
’
t be the last one.
”

We sat like that for a while, until I recovered enough to realize I was getting cold out there in my shiny nylon running pants and
T-shirt. Walter pulled off his sweatshirt, revealing a worn-out Rolling Stones
’
86 World Tour T-shirt underneath. I smiled. He pulled the sweatshirt over my head and put his arm around my waist, guiding me silently through the halls of Hastings General u
n
til we were in the parking lot.

I started to take off the sweatshirt when we got to my car, but Walter put his hand out to stop me.

“
Keep it.
”
He smiled.
“
I
’
ll get it later.
”

I nodded and unlocked my car door but turned back to Walter before opening it.

“
T
hank you,
”
I said.

He shrugged.
“
I
’
m glad you didn
’
t have to do this alone.
”

“
No,
”
I said.
“
I mean for everything. I don
’
t make it easy for people to... help me.
”
I swallowed.
“
To care about me. I know that.
”

He smiled.
“
It
’
s okay.
”

“
And I
’
m sorry,
”
I said
. He nodded, although I could tell he wanted to ask what I was sorry for. Sorry I
’
d kissed him? Sorry I
’
d slept with him? Sorry I
’
d left him? All of the above? I reached over and grabbed his band.
“
Can you do something for me?
”

I felt his fingers tighten a
round mine.
“
Anything.
”

“
Don
’
t give up on me,
”
I said. I could feel my eyes filling again, and I blinked the tears away. Stupid, mushy, crying fool.

Walter pulled me into his arms and hugged me, kissing the top of my he
ad and breathing a little lightness back into me.
“
I wasn
’
t planning on it.
”

I pulled away and got in my car and drove back to Elizabeth
’
s, taking a hit off the smell of Walter
’
s sweatshirt every now and again to keep me going.

***

Sunday morning I woke
up on Elizabeth
’
s sofa. I
’
d been unable to go to sleep the night before and had crawled down to the living room and switched on a documentary channel. I fell asleep to sharks and woke up to baboon asses. It wasn
’
t pretty.

I headed out to steal some empty c
ardboard boxes from the Dumpster behind the grocery store. An hour later I had one box on my shoulder and another under my arm as I headed up the steps to my old second-floor apartment. Before putting my key in the lock, I turned and looked out toward the
city of Hastings, shielded behind a veil of flour, and remembered standing there with Walter after that first kiss, pondering silently on the existence of purity. I laughed a little, amazed at how sometimes a few weeks could seem like a lifetime.

I pushed
the door open and stepped in, my foot sliding a bit as it made contact with an envelope. It was a standard business envelope, with
“
Wanda
”
scrawled in George
’
s handwriting on the front. Judging by the scuffs on it, he had taken some time shoving it under t
he rubber runners that weatherproofed my front door. As I bent down to pick it up, I heard a familiar voice behind me.

“
That
’
s one hell of an ass, cupcake.
”
I stood up and turned to see Manny the Mailman.
“
You can
’
t be sticking out an ass like that just an
ywhere. You might give some poor guy a heart attack.
”

“
Hey, Manny,
”
I said.
“
What are you doing here? There
’
s no mail on Sundays.
”

“
Ah, there was a weird guy hanging around here a week back. Mrs. Forini called the cops, but he left before they got here. I
been checking up for her. She was pretty freaked out.
”
He gave me a pointed look.
“
So where the hell ya been, babe?
”

“
I had a little domestic problem,
”
I said.
“
I had to get away for a while.
”

His face darkened.
“
Was it that guy?
”

I gave a small smile.
“
Ye
ah. He won
’
t be back.
”

“
What about you?
”
he asked.
“
You back?
”

I shook my head.
“
I
’
m just cleaning out the apartment. I found a place I like better.
”

Manny nodded.
‘
Yeah. Well. Good for you. Glad you
’
re okay.
”
He reached over and gave me a pat on the back.
“
Take care of yourself.
”

I waved after him as he bounded down the steps. When he was almost at his car, I yelled out,
“
Hey, Manny!
”

He turned and shielded his eyes against the sun to look up at me.
“
What?
”

“
You let me know if you ever leave that wife of y
ours, okay?
”

“
Ah, you,
”
he said, giving me a wave of dismissal and getting in his car. I dropped the envelope into one empty box and headed back into my apartment to pack up.

***

Later that afternoon I came
out from the shower, stepping over the piles of stuff I
’
d kept from the old place. It wasn
’
t much. Books and pictures, mostly. Everything else I
’
d donated to a women
’
s shelter downtown. It was time for a new start, anyway.

I towel-dried my hair on the bed
and stared at the remaining sticky notes on my wall.

Get a new haircut.

Go see parents.

Do something meaningful.

Identify phantom music.

Figure out what I want.

Tell Walter.

I focused on the last one and wished I hadn
’
t vowed to take care of everything el
se before really talking to him. I knew I could call him, and he
’
d be over in a flash, holding me, making me feel better. Giving everything and demanding nothing.

Which was exactly why I had to get through the other stuff first.

I threw the towel onto the
pile of laundry in the corner and tossed myself back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Maybe I should just forget the whole thing and call him. Maybe this reinvention of self was just a big old truckload of bullshit I invented to fuel my avoidance. Well,
I didn
’
t want to avoid Walter anymore. I wanted to move on, with him if possible.

Screw the sticky notes.

Screw the goddamn sticky notes.

I sighed, grabbing the cordless phone from its base. I pulled one of the sticky notes off the wall and grabbed the ph
one book, letting my fingers do the walking through the Beauty Salons & Stylists section.

***

“
I want something different,
”
I said, tapping my feet on the bar at the bottom of the stylist
’
s chair.

The unfortunate stylist who
’
d gotten me was a girl with p
ink hair named Anna, who tilted her head and looked at me.

“
Just... different?
”
I could see the dread in her face. I imagined the last woman who
’
d said that to her leaving in tears, threatening to sue, seemingly unaware that hair grows back.

“
Yes. I don
’
t
care what you do. Just make it different. Red, maybe. Or blonde. Short. Layered. Bobbed. I don
’
t care. Have fun. I
’
m your own personal Barbie doll.
”

“
Really?
”
she said, her eyes brightening.

I nodded.
“
Really
”

Anna grinned and cracked her gum.
“
Cool.
”

***

“
What did you do to your hair?
”
Elizabeth asked, dropping her bag in the hallway, too surprised by my new look to notice that she
’
d left the door open and that a tall, good-looking, and apparently very happy man was still standing right behind her.
“
It
’
s
all short. And red!
”