“Where else would I be?” he said after a while.
She opened her mouth, closed it, and fled to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. She stood frozen in front of the mirror and then started to sob uncontrollably. When she saw him lying like that, all she could think of was that he was dead. At least at first. After she realized he had just sunk deeper into his sickness, a hot anger had overwhelmed her, and if she were completely honest with herself she’d admit it wasn’t just anger. When she first heard his heart beating there was something else. Something close to disappointment.
She stayed in the bathroom a long time. First, moving under the shower and turning the hot water on full until it was steaming. Standing there was therapeutic; the hot water calming her, dulling her senses, quieting her mind. After ending the shower, she slowly, methodically dried herself and then stood in front of the mirror and even more methodically applied makeup. By the time she was done it was almost impossible to detect the redness around her eyes.
“Still breathing?” she asked as she left the bathroom. Shannon didn’t answer, but his head tilted towards her.
She dressed quickly, quietly. When she was done she asked if he wanted any breakfast. Shannon shook his head.
“Are you going to be okay?”
“I’ll be okay,” he murmured. “I just need some time.”
“Well, you’ll get that, won’t you?”
No answer.
“What’s going on? Can you tell me that?”
“I really don’t know.” He tried to smile at her.
“Can you at least guess?”
He shrugged, moving his shoulders up and down as much as an inch.
“So it’s going to be like all those other years all over again,” Susie said after a long pause, an angry harshness edging into her voice.
Shannon let his eyes close and placed a hand over them. “It’s not going to be like that. This year’s going to be different. I’ve already gone further than I ever have before.”
As soon as Shannon said it, he felt the little strength he had left ebb away from him. Susie had become very quiet, very still, as she stared at him. After a long while she asked him what he meant by going further than in the past.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“Of course you do,” she said, shrewdly, her voice as brittle as sandstone. “I want you to tell me what’s behind all this.”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying,” she stated softly. “And I’m sick of it.” Her bottom lip started to quiver. She bit down on it, turned and left the room. A minute later, Shannon could hear the door to their apartment open and close. Then he could hear the lock turn.
Around ten in the morning Joe DiGrazia called, leaving a message on the machine that he was just checking up on his asshole partner. Eleven o’clock DiGrazia called again and left another message.
A half hour later Shannon could hear a key turning in the front door, and then DiGrazia’s low, guttural voice calling out. Then, his partner’s heavy footsteps along the hallway floor.
There was a hard rap on the bedroom door and DiGrazia peered in, his granite-block face a bit exasperated.
“This is breaking and entering,” Shannon said.
“Not really,” DiGrazia explained as he walked into the room and pulled a chair up to the bed. “Susie called earlier and invited me over. She said you weren’t doing too well. She’s afraid you’re about to slip over the edge.”
“Especially with her pushing.”
“That’s a pretty shitty thing to say,” DiGrazia said. “You’re a lucky man to have a wife like that. Not only is she a sweetheart but she’s as beautiful as all hell. Why the fuck she cares about you, God only knows.” He gave Shannon a hard look. “Pal, you are more than lucky. I’ll tell you, it would be a real shame if you lost something that good.”
Shannon looked up but couldn’t read anything in his partner’s expression. “Am I about to lose something?”
“It could happen. Everyone’s got their limit, buddy boy. I know I’ve already reached mine.” DiGrazia let a sympathetic smile crack his face. “You really do look like hell,” he said. “It’s getting close to lunchtime. Why don’t you get up and take a shower and shave. We’ll go get something to eat.”
Shannon declined, shaking his head slightly. He hadn’t eaten anything yet that day or the day before, but he didn’t want any food. What he wanted was a drink. Several of them. The impulse had been gnawing away at him all morning, working its way into his bones and into his blood. He wanted a bottle, bad. All he could think about was getting one, which was why he knew he had to stay in bed.
“That’s what I get for trying to be a nice guy,” DiGrazia said. “Fuck you anyways. I’m too busy to spend my time babysitting an ungrateful asshole like you. As you know, I’m kind of shorthanded at work with my partner flaking out. And our little mamma’s boy hasn’t confessed yet.”
“You haven’t beaten it out of him?”
“I wish I could. Youth Services has got our little mamma’s boy wrapped up tight. They got a real asshole lawyer for him. The blood drops we found on the pillow weren’t from the victim. This sonofabitch lawyer is fighting us every step of the way. The State Attorney has to go to court Monday so we can get blood samples from the kid. You sure you don’t want to get something to eat?”
“Rather not.”
DiGrazia pushed himself out of his chair and shook his head slowly. “Just trying to do Susie a favor,” he said as he strolled out of the room.
A half hour later he returned sheepishly with a couple of subs. “I have to eat anyway,” he explained as he wolfed down a sausage sub. He had laid out a meatball sub heavy with onions next to Shannon.
“You going to at least try it?” he asked.
Shannon didn’t bother to answer him.
“You going to have to either eat it or get out of bed or lie there all day with it next to you,” DiGrazia threatened, showing a bare-fanged smile and looking more like a bulldog than usual.
“Or toss it against the wall,” Shannon observed.
DiGrazia wiped his hands on the paper bag the sandwiches came in and stood up. “I tried,” he said. “You can’t tell me I didn’t. Have fun lying there and rotting.”
Shannon closed his eyes. He didn’t bother watching his partner leave. When he opened them the room was empty, just him and his meatball sub. He groaned as he looked at it. Smelling it made him nauseous. Since he didn’t have any choice and really didn’t want to look at it all day hanging from the wall, he twisted himself over the edge of the bed and stood up, his legs wobbly. He picked up the sandwich and moved slowly out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen. There, he tossed it into the trash. On the way back, he stopped in the living room and collapsed into his imitation-leather easy chair. It was amazing how bad he felt. Like he was hungover, his head pounding, a hard, tight pressure pushing against his eyes, his mouth feeling like he had gargled with sawdust. He leaned forward and held his head with both hands. It was over a year, forgetting about the double shot of bourbon he had a month earlier and the half a beer he had the night before, since he had any alcohol and it was like he was now suffering from the DTs. A year of being mostly sober and now this. Just like all the other years. Thinking about it made him laugh. The laughing hurt, though, especially in his stomach. He leaned further forward, rubbing his head slowly, trying not to think about how badly he wanted a drink. After a while he stopped thinking altogether.
Of course, he had fallen asleep. Not really dreaming or conscious, just drifting along. Floating in a warm, peaceful blackness. Something was tugging at him, though, disturbing him, forcing an awareness within him.
And then there he was in front of him, grinning widely, ingratiatingly. Shannon knew him instantly. He was older than Shannon remembered-a good twenty years older-as if his memories had somehow aged equivalently with time. The man’s skin now spotted and bloated and sagging slightly around the jaws. His body thicker around the middle. His hair thinner, almost nothing where the ponytail had been. But there was the same malformed chin. The same tiny, slit mouth. And the eyes, pale, almost translucent, like a rattlesnake’s. Shannon felt a coldness as he looked into those eyes.