Chapter 107: Mimi XIV
When Michele entered the bedroom, she saw Patrick sitting on the edge of the bed, his pale body was hunched over, his hair falling down around his face. She stopped in the doorway, watching him. He groaned and dropped his face into his hands.
"Your hip?" she said quietly.
"It will pass," Patrick muttered. "It always does."
Michele sighed still not moving and neither was he. She could see the flesh at the base of his ribs flinching he was tight. She could see how tight the muscles in his back were too... and then she noticed the red scratches lining him It caused a pain in her throat and a fresh flash of anger. "I’m sorry," she said. "Was it Jacquelyn? Perhaps she was a bit too..."
"No," Patrick snapped looking at her. "She was nothing."
Michele sat down next to him. "Really?"
"Really," he said.
"She seemed eager enough to me," Michele said. And she ran her hand lightly over his back, feeling the raised welts of the scratches with her fingers. She could feel the skin quiver.
"I’m a little tight," he said. "I will have it rubbed out, like I said it always passes."
Michele breathed out lightly and she kissed his shoulder leaning against him. The muscles in his upper arm tightened and relaxed as she did. She remembered a time when there wasn’t anything sculpted and hard there, when it was only warm, wiry flesh. Nowadays, every boy came into training camp looking like an over chiseled man, tall, and huge. These old men had to train hard and long just to keep up the standard, until one day they would never be able to live up to that standard.
She sat back and stood up, looking into his eyes. They were large, hurting, and almost curious, somehow after all these years he’d maintained something of a boyish glint in them. But the face around them wasn’t anymore. She ran her hands over it, and there was no more soft, smooth, sometimes spotted flesh. There was nothing left of the angular chin and the scrawny neck. There was his darkened, clear, stubbled skin, and the lines beginning to take root around his eyes and the corners of his mouth. She felt the sting of tears in her eyes, and thought, had she ever thought he would be like this? Had she ever thought he would be anything more than that snotty, vibrant, energetic boy that he was?
It was funny; he hadn’t seemed like a boy back then. He had been only a year older than she had been but twenty was ages older than nineteen and he already had so much. He had seemed so much older than her. And now she knew, they had only been babies back then. She had thought they had known so much. She had thought that she had known so much. She had thought she had been so clever. She had thought that nothing could have hurt them as much as it had.
"But what do babies know?" she whispered letting the tears fall.
"What?" Patrick asked, frowning and reaching up to her, his warm fingers brushing at the tears.
"I’m so sorry," she whispered, and she could feel herself trembling. "I was so stupid... I don’t... I didn’t understand... it was my fault, I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have!"
"No!" Patrick said pressing his hand against the small of her back and nudging her forward. "Don’t worry, we can’t foresee everything... I’m not mad, like I said, Jacquelyn was nothing, I will be fine."
"Oh!" Michele growled covering her face. "No not that... I meant... Dammit!"
Patrick coaxed her down to him, gently rolling her onto the bed. "What then?" he asked. "Jonathan? I was going to suggest that myself really if you hadn’t done it, I know the boy was getting restless.."
"No!" Michele snapped pushing him away from her. "I’m sorry! I can’t explain it... I lost it, I don’t know why or how. I don’t know when I lost it.. and.."
"You’re not making sense," Patrick said in an almost stern voice. "Calm down."
Michele sighed a trembling breath and pressed her fingers to her closed eyes. "Nothing ever made sense did it? Nothing ever will."
Michele was angry with herself when Patrick left for practice. She didn’t know exactly what she had been crying about, what was pricking at her. She knew that she had been dreaming so heavily lately, but it was hard to remember what she had been dreaming about, save the fact that she remembered vaguely loud, bellowing voices. And her chest hurt in that sad way she had almost forgotten about. In a way, she was starting to feel young again. At least she was feeling that pain that had ensconced her when she had been young.
It had to have been the episode with Jonathan. She didn’t know what had possessed the boy to act the way he had been all day. Sheer boredom? Either way, it had been disturbing and she wasn’t entirely sure she had done the right thing. It was just for a night, maybe two at the most, and she knew how much he liked Alex. He would be better as soon as he went back to school. She was sure of that.
Or maybe it wasn’t Jonathan and it was the uncertainty of that faceless, nameless figure that moved in and out of their house at will. He had touched her, assaulted her, threatened them like a hideous storm cloud. What did he want so badly?
What would it have been like if she had just swallowed the water, inhaled it into her lungs until her eyes closed forever. What would have happened? How would they have explained it?
Michele thought about it later on as Patrick had returned from practice and had plodded upstairs with a belly full of spaghetti and meatballs to sleep it off. He didn’t have Jonathan with him, he had called to say the boy was begging to stay with Alex a little bit longer. That made her feel a bit better. At least she knew then that Jonathan was enjoying himself.
She held the glass of water up to the sunlight cutting into the kitchen window, looking through it to see a watery window and a watery backyard. Was it silent in the water?
The doorbell rang and it surprised Michele enough that she dropped the glass and it smashed on the kitchen table, exploding and gushing water and broken glass all over.
"My God!" Michele screamed as she jumped back, leaning into the refrigerator and trembling, feeling the cold of water in her blouse.
The doorbell rang again and Michele slowly looked over at the doorway, squinting and trying to remember something. There was an answer for everything and it was tickling at her.
You didn’t really think you could have escaped consequences, did you? Haughty Bitch! Whores always see consequences, whores always feel them.
Michele wrinkled her nose and shook her head, smoothing at her blouse and feeling a quick sharp pain in her palm.
You weren’t innocent, the memory of his voice ran through her head as she went to answer the door, you were rash and you struck too quickly and you weren’t ready for the repercussions...
Taking a deep breath, Michele opened the door and just was not prepared to see him there. "Danny?" she said.
The pup looked horrified. "Holy shit!" he gasped, "What happened?"
"What?" she said.
"You have blood on you!"
"I dropped a glass when I heard the doorbell," Michele said in a numb voice as Danny stepped in, wrapping his warm hand around her arm and leading her into the kitchen. She was feeling light headed and she sat easily onto the kitchen chair.
"Where’s Patrick?" Danny asked. "Isn’t he here?"
"Yes," Michele said, shaking the cobwebs from her head. "He’s napping as you should be, what are you doing here?"
Danny didn’t answer her at first as he moistened a paper towel in the faucet and dabbed at her face. "You’re not bleeding here," he murmured.
Feeling the pain anew in her hand, Michele looked at her palm and saw the blood dripping from it. "Just a puncture," she said taking the paper towel from him. "They always look worse than they are."
Danny didn’t move back from her as she pressed the towel to her palm and squeezed it there. She could feel his warm breath and the warmth from his body and she looked up at him, seeing his soft baby skin. Large baby eyes. She couldn’t resist it. With her good hand she touched his cheek, and rested it there, her thumb brushing quickly over his lips, soft lips. "What are you doing here?" she whispered.
"I came to see if everything was alright," he said. "I tried apologizing to Jonathan today and... and..."
"And you don’t know why, do you?" she replied. "You don’t know why you’re here."
The corners of Danny’s mouth turned down and he stepped away from her. "Yeah," he said. "I thought I knew... but it just doesn’t make sense anymore."
"Then go home," Michele said. "Go to bed and close your eyes and try not to think about sense."
Danny leaned against the counter, sighed and closed his eyes. And when he left Michele began to clean up the glass and water in the kitchen and she thought to herself. Why did I just let him go, again?
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