I can never help but wonder about these people, these victims, when they come to me. Where they've been, where they were going. I always thought it would fade with time, but enough time has passed for me to realize that it's not like that. They were lawyers, musicians, teachers, suits, mothers, sons, fathers, daughters. They've been all over the world; they've never left Boston. They've had everything they could ask for; they've had nothing at all. I wonder what they were going to do, where they were headed before someone or something decided that their time was up; work, school, to a lover, a mistress, to see their child, their parents. They didn't get to say goodbye. And I'm the one to slice and dice to figure out why they couldn't get to their daughter's fifth birthday or why they didn't have enough time to get to tell the love of their life how they feel.
A stranger gets to be the last one to see them intact.
I try to keep my mind clear, but every once in awhile I find that I put myself in their place, thinking about what could have brought me there. I could have been at home with a glass of wine, at the wrong place at the wrong time. Ask anyone here, and they'll tell you that I probably pissed off the wrong person. But I know that every one of them would not rest until they found out exactly who it was I pissed off. Would I miss anyone? Would I feel bad leaving things behind as I go into the afterlife, if there in fact is an afterlife? How much of an impact have I truly made on the people around me? They would mourn now, but give it a year or two, and see if they even remember my name. I don't know if there'd be anything I'd miss if I were gone.
No. That's not true. I can think of one thing: you. You would remember my name, Woody. You would remember me. Long after people have forgotten who I was or what I looked like, you would remember, you would remind them, you would do your best to rekindle my long-since-extinguished flame. I know you would, even if you won't admit it if I ever asked.
I don't know what it is, but since you came to the city, since our paths crossed for the first time, there's something in me that lifted. I don't know, maybe it was just refreshing to see someone who wasn't hardened by the streets of Boston, someone who wasn't hardened by what I saw on a daily basis, who wasn't cold like so many people I've come across in my life. You were different, and I liked that. And even when you began to learn and become familiar with the ins and outs of this city, once you began to see how people conduct themselves and how they live here, you never really lost that boy-of-the-country charm. It might have been kept hidden, stored away for safe keeping, but it was there, and I knew that you would be able to bring it out at the right moments.
Maybe that was it; coming in contact with someone who didn't seem to have such a jaded soul, that was what I needed. I have seen so much, too much, and I bet that before you came here you hardly, if ever, needed to see any of that. But then I brought you into my world. You'd seen what I see every day, and you knew that you had to change, no matter how small that change was, to be able to seem okay with everything you now had to come in contact with.
I'm so sorry I jaded you.
I've kept my guard up, I know. I don't have to be reminded of that, but it's instinct, you know? My guard has been there since my mom died, and I never really found a good time to let it down. But don't mistake that for being a cold person. I've seen you catch the right suspect, after you know that he will be locked up. You may have come too late for one person, but in turn, you have made so many others that much safer. I'm proud of you, I hope you know that. But even if you don't, it doesn't take that away.
Is that why you've never looked at me in the way I've hoped? I don't necessarily wear my heart on my sleeve, but in your mind, it means I can't feel? I wish I could let you in, I wish it was that easy. I'm just not sure if you would like what you see, if you would see anything at all.
I see death every day. It's my choice. But I feel so numb sometimes. And I know you could be the one to make me feel alive. If nothing else, give me something to let me know where you stand. If I could see some sign of you feeling anything for me, it will be safer to show you me, no guard, completely out there. I would know then that there's a reason to be out in the open.
Once in a while, a case really gets to me. I'll feel for the victim so much, I am broken down to the point of tears. You've never seen that, no one has. I have been passionate about cases, about justice for the dead, but if there is something I learn about them I relate to, it takes it to a whole different level. It's scared me so much, I can barely deal with it, let alone have anyone else deal with it; no one else ever seemed to have this problem, and I wasn't about to be the first one. That's why it's always at home, where I know I'm safe. I would never let anyone else see this.
But I would give you all I can give.
Lately when I look down at the table and imagine myself there, I only focus on what I would have done beforehand, who I was with. I imagine myself in your arms, just waking up. I imagine myself engaged in a kiss, and I swear I can almost feel it. If that were my last day, if those were my last moments, I would be happy. I would have been with you, and that's all I ever needed.
I'm not dead. And if you were the one to make me feel alive, I would need nothing else.
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Every once in a while, a case really gets to you. You'll feel for the victim so much and it breaks you down. I know you think no one knows, I know you think no one can see it, you hide it so well until you are alone. But I know. I can see it in your eyes, Jordan, although you think I can't. I always feel as though I'm trespassing; I wish you would willingly let me in, so I don't feel like a criminal, stealing glances into your soul. You could let your guard down with me, Jordan, I hope you know that.
I won't be the one to hurt you.
I know why you don't let yourself fall completely, I understand it. Maybe it's better that way. You know you won't get hurt, there's no risk. But what if you did take a risk? What if you trusted me with the things I know are getting to be a burden on you? Would that really be so bad?
I would love nothing more than to be the one to take you in my arms and do my best to make it all go away. I would kiss your tears and I wouldn't let you go until you said you wanted me to. But I probably wouldn't let go anyway; I just want to hold you, Jordan. I want to know that I actually have a chance in this world. I want to know that I have a reason to survive in this world. I would do anything for you, if you would only give me the chance.
I bet you didn't know that.
Every once in a while, a case gets to you. I could see it in your eyes every time. And today was no exception. I watched you as you just stood there, before you began, and I even wondered if you were going to be able to go through with it. But you did, and I know how hard it must have been, and as I saw you rush out of the building at the end of the day, I knew where you were headed, and I knew what you were going to do. I knew where I had to go.
I just hope I can make it better.
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"Jordan?" She heard his voice from the other side of the door. She always realized that sooner or later, people would catch on, but she liked to think she still covered it up pretty well. Maybe if she didn't answer, he would go away.
"Jordan?" The door opened and she could hear Woody's voice clearly now. Damn. She thought she locked her door. She couldn't let herself look at him. Let him come to her. She felt him coming closer until he was right behind her. She wiped away a tear and hoped her voice wouldn't crack as she spoke.
"What are you doing here, Woody?"
He didn't say a word, he couldn't. For so long, he'd been waiting and he couldn't get a word out. All he wanted to do was be there for comfort, some sort of consolation, and already he failed. He was about to turn away, to forget this crazy idea and pretend he never set foot inside Jordan's apartment, when she looked at him. She had only meant for it to be a glance, but as soon as she locked eyes with him, she just couldn't look away. And he knew exactly why he came to her.
Woody sat down next to her, trying to come up with the right thing to say, when she sunk into his arms. She fit perfectly in his arms. He pulled her closer as he felt a tear land on his arm, and he could feel Jordan's fingers crawling around him to meet at his back. Finally she was beginning to let him in. He had to say something, he had to. If it weren't then, it wouldn't be ever. He buried his face in her hair and stayed there for a moment before speaking.
"Jordan, I love you."
Her head snapped up and she looked at him with wet eyes. There was something in her eyes—shock, fear, he couldn't tell what it was, but he knew he had to make it better. "Oh, god," he started, fumbling in speech to find the words. Suddenly he turned back into the new guy who wasn't used to his surroundings. Jordan smiled. She always loved it when this side of him came out.
"Woody," she said to get him to calm down. She put a finger to his lips and shook her head. Don't say anything, don't ruin it. Nothing needs to be said now. Jordan leaned in and brushed her lips against his, such a perfect sensation. She pulled away, only to have Woody brush her hair back and press his lips against hers. He didn't want to let her go. If he let go, she could forget everything, this wouldn't have happened, it wouldn't have been real. They pulled away and Woody saw her smile. He pulled her into is arms again. "Jordan…" he began.
"It's okay," Jordan replied. "It's okay." She wrapped her arms around him, pressed her body against his own, rested her head on his shoulder. "I love you too."
She spent the night in Woody's arms, slowly falling asleep with him, feeling a faint kiss on her temple before she closed her eyes. And when she woke up in the morning and found him still sleeping peacefully, found herself still in his arms without the desire to be anywhere else, she realized that this must be what it was to feel alive.