Spoiler
This is thanks to my papa's death, my music, and for the fascination with snow. I dedicate this to my invisible man, since this is yours.
My hand rests against my cheek, staring out at the window. The rain falls steadily, fogging up the street. I watch the cars race by, in a hurry to get out of this city. Away from here, where I would like to be.
Her arms wrap around my shoulders and I straighten up. "Whatcha thinking about, hm?" she asks, with a smirk. She kisses my lips and I wrap a hand around her hair, my fingers slipping through those blonde strands easily. I deepen the kiss and let myself enjoy this time.
She pushes me away when we hear the child cry. "Damn kid," I growl, leaning back in the chair as she rushes off to soothe the child's wails. Sometimes I want to put a pillow over that boy's head and watch him suffocate. I want to wrap my hands around that fragile neck until he turns blue in the face. Then I can leave this place and his whore of a mother. I clench my fists, knowing I would never do that. That never stops a man from dreaming.
I pick up my black trenchcoat and put on my black hat. I need a smoke and to get away. I call back to my girl, saying I need some air. She only says be back soon.
Hopefully that won't happen.
I walk down the street, content to be away from that home. She loves me, but I do not feel anything for her other than tha twinge of lust, that want to ravage her body and make her scream my name. But that hasn't happened since that kid was born. I told I wouldn't leave her. I wish that was true now.
I slip into the bar and smirk when I smell it: sweat, lust, beer, and the familar smell of vulnerability I long for. This was where I found Karen at. She was just a young stripper, doing this so she could get by. I paid her extra for a night with her. I never meant to get close to her, but something happened. I became her benefactor and got her pregnant.
"The usual?" the bartender asks, pulling out a bottle of vodka for me.
I only nod and examine the girls. "Any new ones for me?" I ask, growing bored of them. Some are too meek while others acted completely drunk. I like the confident blonde one, the one giving me the eye. She is the one telling me that she's in charge, a challenge. That's what drew me to Karen. Her confidence in herself, her self-assurance, it was all so challenging, so interesting. I wanted to charm that elusive snake.
I point to the girl and motion her over. Her show's over, so she sits beside me, taking a shot of whiskey. "What's your name dear?" I ask, throwing in a charming smile and an extra $50. Her name is Carol, after much coaxing. She goes to NYU, and she was bored so she does this. We exchange numbers, a few flirty gestures, a feel here, a tap there-
My phone rings and she leaves, winking to me. I nod and pick up. It's Karen.
"You're at the club, aren't you?" she asks. Her voice sounds so weak and quiet, as if she had been crying. I swallow a lump and answer.
"Yes. I don't see a problem woth that," I growl. I didn't do anything so why should she be concerned?
Karen sighs and I hear a sob held back. "Dammit, I knew you were a cheating bastard anyway."
"Oh don't be like that," I say. "I didn't think of anyone but you."
"Liar."
"The baddest," I say with a grin. "Don't worry [ihoney][/i], I still only want you in my bed."
"Why can't you be nice?" she whispers, tired.
"I'll be home soon, so be good. Goodbye." I hang up the phone and lean back, taking the last gulp of vodka. "Thanks Borris. See you soon."
I leave the store and run by the flower shop, for an apology bouquet. I buy her paper flowers, the cheapest ones they have.
I run home, keeping the bouquet under my coat. I ignore the splashes of the cars passing by, annoyed. Didn't they know that I needed to be home before Karen did something dangerous? She always seemed to to overreact when she thought I did something wrong.
I freeze when I see the smoke coming out of the top of the apartment building.
No.
I see the firetrucks outside the building.
No.
Somehow I'm running, pushing people out of my way, screaming.
No.
The flowers crumble to the ground as the stretchers pass by. I recognize the red hair under the sheet. I can see the burnt hand hanging outside the stretcher.
No.
Somehow I am screaming, pushing people away, tears rolling down my face.
Karen. My Karen. Dead.
The boy stands to my side, his face half burnt. "Daddy?" he asks in that quiet manner he has, "Where's Mommy?"
I hold the boy close to me, the last thing I have of her.
