The Innocence of Cherries - a short story about Todd Manning, Melanie MacIver (2000-2001), Lindsay Rappaport, and Blair Cramer
Warning: character death
Pretty yellow hair wrapped around Todd's fingers made him thrust that much harder, made him less aware of the filtered midsummer sun beaming down on him and Melanie as they made love beneath the fruited branches of a cherry tree. The grassy ground made for special, peculiar bedding, the scent of woodsy promise encircling the two.
When Todd grunted out his delectable, stolen orgasm, Melanie gripped onto him with as much strength as she could, her thighs and arms pressing tightly in a useless attempt to control him because her covert lover's energy was reaching the limit of decency. Bad enough that he'd insisted on doing it here, bad enough that he had taken his mild flirtation with the Commissioner's fiancée to a new level.
He kissed her deeply, Melanie hardly able to breath, and she sneaked a peak at him through slit eyes. She knew he could see her doing it because ... as always, he had his own eyes open. She then gazed at him, fully ... innocently, as he rubbed his nose against her, kissing her gently with satiated affection.
"Why do you do that?" she asked, still breathless and growing increasingly self-conscious with each passing second. Her eyes quickly searched the back doors of Todd's recently acquired house, looking for any observers.
Letting himself collapse onto her before moving himself to her side, he retorted, "Do what?"
"Watch me ... why do you always watch me while we ... well ..."
He shrugged, putting his fingertips to her mouth. "Shut up... why do you always ask so many questions?"
"Todd ... it's like you don't trust me or something. Yet ..."
"Don't even mention that word. I hate that word."
Melanie laughed with a kind of exuberance that brought an instinctive smile to Todd's face. He liked her way of enjoying him - she gave off no judgment when she listened to him or chuckled at his sarcasm. Sure she had her opinions, but for now, she shared them sparingly; she let him be ... and he did the same for her. Her hand ran up and down the length of his arm, skipping to his bare hip. Staying there. He studied her features, remaining a long time at her lips, and then surprisingly added, "I like the way you laugh." He couldn't believe that she blushed. He couldn't remember the last time anybody blushed at something he said to them.
"I'm glad," Melanie answered. They quieted, taking each other in, much like two cats warily feeling the other out. She let her eyes roll upwards towards the branches above her. "Are they good?"
"Are what, 'good'?"
"The cherries ... have you eaten them?"
Todd lay back, putting his hands behind his head, his comfort with his nakedness striking. "Yeah," he said dreamily. "Real sweet ... sugary ... must be good earth ... from whence they sprout-eth."
He grinned at his weak attempt at Shakespearean English, smiling, too, at a secret he had, at yet another one. Secrets were nice ... comforting. In fact, Todd and Melanie would never have gotten together but for a secret, and they continued to co-exist thanks to continuing secrets.
Melanie stood, stretching tall to gather a bunch of cherries. She plopped down onto her knees, plucking at one of the purplish red fruits with her teeth. Chewed at it, contemplatively nodding her head. Rolling the pit in her mouth, after swallowing the pulp down, she then said seductively, "You're right, it's very sweet ... perfect in fact." She spit the pit into the palm of her hand and studied it.
"I know ... I told you. But ... you shouldn't eat them."
"Why not?" Near-panic widened her eyes, parted her lips slightly.
"Well ... you might learn too much from them ... you might ... lose your innocence."
A knowing expression then broke out on Melanie's face. "Really? Thou speaketh like a serpent, one who might be condemned to crawleth on its belly for all eternity."
Todd reached over and pulled her down to him, wrapping his arms around her. "You're as bad as I am - with Shakespeare."
They both lay quietly for some time ... the sun heating them, reawakening their physical desires for the other ... until Melanie's cell phone rang out. Lazily she reached for the phone and answered. When she heard the response, she immediately looked at Todd and pulled away from his forever probing hands.
"Oh ... hi ... Bo."
Todd groaned and Melanie slapped a hand over his mouth. She could feel his tongue tickling her palm.
"Dinner? ... I don't know ... no... nothing's wrong. It's just that ... no ... it's not Lindsay. I talked to the hospital - she's doing much better ... yes ... the delusions are not as bad they used to be ... sure ... she IS still saying she didn't kill him ... it doesn't matter ... ok ... yes, ok ... um ... me too ... I'm sorry ... all right ... bye."
Melanie took another gander at the doors all along the back porch as she put the cell phone away, stealing a glance at Todd. He was lost in thought - getting dressed. "You okay?" she asked.
"Yeah ... why wouldn't I be? I just got done putting one over on Bo ... good old Officer Bo, man of the world, super... cop." He sniffed and appeared serious. "You don't feel guilty, do you?"
She could never fool Todd. She wore her emotions like armor, the truth always draping her, glimmering in any kind of light whether moonlight or daylight, or the light from someone's love of her. Her relationship with Bo was coming to a grinding halt and he was keenly aware that her affections for him were waning. She had a feeling, too, that he knew specifically it was because her heart was being wooed away from him. But so far, Bo was not letting on that he had an idea as to who it was. If only ... my God, she thought, nobody would understand. Nobody.
Todd's voice cut through her heavy thoughts. "Never feel guilty, Melanie," he said. "NEVER ... feel guilty."
Tears immediately sprung to her eyes, "Todd ... my sister is being driven insane by ME ... by my not telling the truth about what I know of the killing of Colin. And Bo ... Bo ... how's he going to feel when he ..."
"He'll want to kill me first, then himself." Todd grinned and then dropped his voice to a seductive whisper, "I love to win."
"But ... how do YOU do it? How do you NOT feel guilty?"
"'bout what? Screwing over the 'Commish'?"
"No ... about everything ... how do you live with yourself - with the things you tell me you've done ... how do you free yourself?"
Unexpectedly, Todd pulled on his shirt rather gruffly. Then muttered, "Who the hell said I was free? I don't feel guilt. But I sure as hell am not free ..."
"Oh God ..."
He bristled, "That better not be pity ..."
"It's not," she said firmly. As always, it was the truth. Melanie never lied to Todd ... it was a wonderful, blissful, impossibility. And for the most part, she never lied to the outside world either except ... she WAS keeping certain information to herself. BUT ... but it was to protect someone close to her. See, self-preservation was rarely, if ever, her motivation for keeping secrets.
With a sigh, as a breeze kicked up, she reached to Todd and caressed his cheek, she seeing the slightest easing of his features. "What are we doing?" she queried, her tone matching the gentle fluttering of the cherry tree leaves.
Light eyes slimmed at her question, he turning slightly so he could lightly, sexily, kiss her hand. He didn't answer her. At his silence, she pulled her clothes to her, bringing them close as if to protect herself from him. A barrier they were ... one easily removed.
Todd lifted himself slightly and slumped back against the tree, closing his eyes a moment. Remembered the feel of soft skin smacking against his hand, the sound of a scream ... the soft thumps of a body falling down steps. A lot ... of steps. There was nothing like the sweet satisfaction of shutting up someone you hate with a well-placed hit whether via a punch ... a kick ... or shoving a person up against the wall. The key was to hate the person ... otherwise it was ... icky. Yeah ... the particular memory playing out made him groan in a low, soft way.
"Trust in my words, Todd! TRUST ME! How can we have a marriage without TRUST?"
"And how the fuck am I supposed to trust a lying, back-stabbing bitch like YOU? Huh? Tell me that!"
"Because you love MEEEEEE!"
"I love you? 'HOW can ANYONE love YOU'?"
"What did you say?"
"You heard me - they're your words ... and you were so ... RIGHT!"
"Trust," he said in a voice barely above a whisper, the picture in front of him fading into that of Melanie. Her watery blue eyes held him in place with their inherent kindness, such a difference. She inched close to him.
"I thought you hated that word ..."
"I do."
"Why?" she asked, her features showing a pointed lack of hidden meaning to her question - this wasn't a demand for Todd to trust her. It was simply an inquiry. It was ... what it was.
He stared at her thoughtfully, reaching out a moment to rub his thumb along her lower lip. Sniffling, he pulled his hand back. "Bo trusts you," he said. "He trusts that you're not fuckin' around."
"Yes," she answered, a touch of that guilt in her voice.
"But you are. With me ... of all the people in this world ..."
"Not exactly 'fucking around'," she answered, a hint of smile playing upon her pinkish mouth. "You know that things slipped badly when ... well ... never mind."
"But he TRUSTS at the minimum ... you aren't fucking ME."
"Todd ... you were not exactly something I planned. I'd already been sorely disappointed in him, in our supposed ... love for each other. I didn't think that I'd be loving anyone ... for a long while. But I suppose you're right ..."
"My point is ... he's trusting you ... and I benefit from that 'trust' because he's not on my case, he's not on yours ... and ... we're what we are - and I get it all, he gets nothing. Except he's the one with all that trust ... of you."
"And I'm finished with him ... he's calling me now to try to repair something, trying to fix things ... and ...it's not going to happen ..."
He shook his head, slightly aggravated, "You're not getting this ... "
Melanie furrowed her brows, questioning him. Not wanting to misunderstand anything.
He explained, "I don't care what you're doing. It ... doesn't matter 'cause I know the truth. My point is, 'trust' isn't real - it's malleable, it's ... murky ... it's ...a front ..."
She shook her head slightly.
He went on. "Look, there was a time when it did ... matter, when trust MEANT something tangible. Before, when someone was cheating on me, it was the end of everything. I'd ... lose my mind. But ... I learned that it was a crock ... because 'trust' ... goes so far beyond that."
He picked up a stem of grass, twisted it in his fingers, examining it. Finally, he pressed and rolled it until it became nothing but green, moist fragmentation. He looked at Melanie, "'Trust' is a lie, a fallacy ... a screen behind which people hide the truth. It's a form of blackmail. 'TRUST not what you see, but what I tell you to see. And if you don't, well, screw you.' And ... and ... ok, sometimes that's true, sometimes your eyes do play tricks on you, but other times, they don't. Most times, what you see is exactly what your eyes tell you is happening. The truth is right in front of you ... but you're told to TRUST the lie. Or else ... they leave you, or else ... they blame you for your reaction to what you see ... your reaction to the truth. And then ... the collapse of everything is thrown in YOUR face - all because you couldn't trust the lie."
"You're cynical."
"I'm realistic."
"If Bo were to catch me with you - I wouldn't lie to him ... I wouldn't ask him to believe in his 'trust' of me."
"And we're back to the 'truth,' not 'trust.' Just like I said."
"So ... how is it then that you won't care if you catch someone you love, cheating?"
"I'm saying that it doesn't MATTER because I only 'trust' MYSELF. I 'trust' ONLY what I know to be true. MY truth, MY world ... what I feel when I touch you, what I feel when I look at you. I see the truth ... and I'm always right. So whether I trust you ... whether you're cheating on me - it doesn't matter because I'll know - and there won't be room for justifications, for ramifications ... for lies. No room to demand trust ... because trust is irrelevant. The only thing that counts ... is the TRUTH."
"Mmmm ... I see. I think." She smiled affectionately.
"Let me put it to you this way, I won't catch you cheating on me - because YOU wouldn't get a chance to do it ... I'd know your heart ... your ... truth. You wouldn't get a chance to yell at me about trusting you."
"And what would happen to me when you figured out my truth?"
He grinned ... chewed on a blade of grass. Shrugged ... "I'd know what to do. I guess ... it all depends on the circumstances - on your handling of your truth."
"Hmm. Ominous."
Dressed now, she stood again, grabbing another bunch of cherries. She kneeled in front of Todd, fed him one, then another. She kissed him, tasting the nectar on his tongue. Easing back, she shook her head contemplatively. He furrowed his brows, curious...
"I was ready to marry him," she said. "He was ... a good man. He loved ... loves me. Then ... everything with Colin happened ... and I learned so much about my own sister; I told him about my father. And in the middle of that mess, for the first time in my life I experienced someone's disappointment in me. Then ... I ran into you. You."
"And you couldn't resist ... me."
"I resisted ... I resisted like hell."
Todd laughed, swallowing the last bit of cherry pulp. Melanie's hair shined in the sunlight, shimmering, giving it a sense of fluidity. Her pretty, dainty features were so different than Blair's – there was a distinct softness to them ... but he wasn't sure it was physical. It was as if ... what was inside ... was ... soft. As opposed to hard, callous ... misery.
"How's Starr doing?"
"Good ... got a ... psychologist." He spit the words out bitterly. "Girls are so damn sensitive."
"She went through a lot – don't discount the profundity of her loss."
"'Profundity of her loss'? You're kidding, right?"
"No ... of course not. My GOD ..."
"Shut up. She's better off – a whole lot ... better off. Kinda like East Germany without the Wall ... kinda like VH-1 without trashy girl bands ..." She said nothing, glancing down at her hands. He corrected his crassness. "I'm being a jerk. She's had a tough time but she's getting over it. Or ... at least living with it."
"I'm glad for that. Really."
"Yeah ... me too." He picked up a cherry and placed it on his tongue, holding it up by the stem. Then he took it into fully into his mouth quickly. Nodded, speaking with his mouth full. "Sweet."
"Yes ..."
"It's the soil, you know. It's ... Bavarian."
"Bavarian?"
He grinned ... "Bavarian. Imported ... special chemicals, enzymes ... blood."
"Blood?"
"Yeah ..." He laughed heartily and then subsided, tilting his head, taking his lower lip in between his teeth a second or two. "Bavarian ..."
"Sounds more like 'barbarian' if it has blood in it ... real blood?"
"You don't believe me?"
"No."
"But you trust me ... to tell you the truth."
"Ohhhh ..." She shook her head. And smiled back at him. "You're playing with me."
His eyes softened and he leaned over to kiss her. When he shut his eyes, because this time he wanted to, he listened to everything around them, listened to the sound of her breathing ... of her not breathing. He tasted her truth ... as their tongues touched gently. Pulling away, his passion was evident in his heavy-lidded gaze. Hers ... was evident in the way she wanted to continue kissing him.
"I have to go," she said, regret in her tone.
"Dinner with your super-hero ... cop?"
"No. I'm going to see Lindsay." She paused. "Should I tell what I know? Has enough time passed, you think?"
Todd got up off the grass, offering his hand to help Melanie up. They both stood now, both serious. "Are you asking me if enough time has passed for a rabid dog to stop being rabid?"
"I guess so."
"Look at me ... directly at me. Not at my mouth, not at my chin ..."
"Yes?"
"Rabidity ... doesn't ever fade, doesn't ever disappear ... is never cured. Doesn't matter that Lindsay has an out... doesn't matter that you know of a technicality to get her off ... she's still rabid. She hates ... and she'll never ever stop hating."
"She's my sister ..."
"Too bad."
She turned away somewhat, a flurry stirring the leaves of the cherry tree along with strands of her blond hair. Losing my Innocence, she thought, patting her hair unthinkingly, was there really any such thing? Aren't we all guilty of something? At some point?
Returning her gaze to Todd, she said, "You don't think she'll come around?"
"No. I know her type – I know her. I've watched her screw around with people I love ... Jessica ... Sam ..." His voice lowered along with his eyes. "You."
He felt her hand on his cheek and saw her look of gentle compassion. He realized he was showing some vulnerability at the moment – he tried not to.
"You are judge, jury and executioner, aren't you?" she said. "You only believe in your truth – what you know it to be."
"Yes."
"She's 'guilty' in a universal sense – you know that, I know that. She killed Colin – it's true. BUT ... at the very end, even though she had set out to murder him, even though it was her plan to do it, to take him out ..."
"With that syringe full of poison ..."
"Yes ... but she never got to him with it – instead, he lashed out at her and would have killed her ... had she not pushed him against the hearth. Todd ... it was self-defense ..."
"Technically ... but she still intended to kill him. No excuses, no fronts. She wanted the guy dead because he had the goods on 'er. She deserves to be locked up – if not for his death, then for what she did to ..." His voiced dropped, "... Nora. Period. Trust ... your truth. Lindsay deserves what she got. 'One good turn, deserves another.'"
"Yes ... yes. But I saw it – I'm the only witness ..."
It was Todd's turn to reach out to her, to react to her vulnerability.
"Believe me," he said. "Trust me. Don't tell your secrets."
He smiled at his using his most hated word ... and she did, too.
"Besides," he said, "she's not in prison – she's in a mental hospital. She'll be taking lots of anger management classes ... basket weaving ... ha ... the longer she stays, the more there is a chance that she'll be cured of ... whatever makes her so ... damned ... yeah."
"Right ... okay. Wish me luck on not being killed by her ..."
Todd wasn't amused. "I'll go with you."
"No ... no. I'll be fine ... really. Trust me."
"Never. Always."
She laughed and kissed him ... "Bye ..."
"Come back ..."
"I will. Trust ..."
"Shut up," he teased.
He then watched Melanie cross the wide expanse of grass, climb the steps to the porch and walk into the house, giving him a last wave of her hand. He knew that she'd be stepping along the wood floors, passing by the warm mission-style furniture ... passing by the appearances of incredible normality ... passing through a bit of hidden hell.
She didn't know the truth about the ghostly remains which lurked within that house. So ... innocent she was. And yet they were maintaining this relationship ... how odd, how fortuitous that they came to be at all. Finding each other in a flurry of distrust and paranoia about Colin's murder and the relieving death of Melanie's father.
Polar opposites ... good and evil ... purity and filth. Yet it seemed to work – how odd.
Todd strolled along the perimeter of his property at that, keeping a watch on the cherry tree. It was the focal point of the back grassy garden, the center of all that greenery in the spring and summer, even winter and fall. Always there, steady and sure. Sometimes at night, he'd stand in the darkened window of his bedroom and watch the leaves shudder and settle with evening mist, thinking of each part of the tree, wondering what part needed the most nutrients, wondering ... about the special soil that fed it.
"Bavarian, Barbarian ... Blairian. I guess it's all the same, huh?"
Kneeling down, he scooped out a chunk of soil and picked through it, running his fingers across the pebbles and black dirt ... while the sound of chucking that same soil played about in his head. Whoosh ... the repeated pitching of a shovel and the intermittent pauses during which moonlit dirt flew through night air. Lots of work to dig a hole big enough, wide enough. Lots of work to thump down a burgeoning tree in that halfway-filled space. Thump ...
What hadn't been hard work was the quick death. THAT ... had been all too easy.
Todd took the hand-full of dirt and tossed it outwards, watching the dark spray dot the grass helter-skelter. Turned and looked at the symmetric windows, evenly spaced and clean, recalling her last day here ... last minutes ... last seconds.
"You okay?"
"Can you ... can you just help ... help me up?"
"You hurt?"
"Yes ... yes ... it's my back I think ... I can't feel my legs ... why'd you hit me? Those stairs, Todd ... why?"
"Shouldn't have trusted me, Blair."
"But I lied about the baby for YOU ... for us!"
"You lied, again ... about a goddamn baby. Lied to play with me, to manipulate me ... to FUCK with my head ... which is why you ended up losing it. 'Cause someone up there loved the baby more than you. It died ... and was saved from having a life with you as a mother."
"Just help me ..."
"You trust me to help you?"
"I trust you ... Todd ... call someone ... please ... I'm really hurt ...I won't tell anyone that you hit me ..."
"I guess this really was my fault, huh? You falling down these steps."
"Todd! Stop talking and call someone! I won't tell!"
"You're the one talking too much. I'm tired of your screeching at me."
"Todd ... what are you doing?"
"Shut up."
Easy as cherry pie. A well-placed hand over leaky holes can do wonders to the torment of a broken psyche. Close the openings, stay firm, don't let her move an inch – then pitch the dirt and dig a hole ... fill the space. Plant a tree above it all ... watch the blossoms, watch the healing of your heart. Sure ... it hadn't been physically easy to hold her down ... but her injuries had worked in his favor, not letting her thrash about much. He'd straddled her and felt her bucking up against him while he held her nose and mouth shut. He'd leaned down into her and with each passing second, whispered her own cruel history with him into her ear ... telling her of each of her crimes against him.
Remember the baby lies, Blair, remember Cord, Blair, remember Max, Blair, remember the pink tape, Blair ... remember your wanting to frame me for your crimes, Blair, remember how it was me responsible for you, Blair ...
Then, towards the end of her struggle, he had growled, that this final act was him. All ... him.
And at that, she stopped the fight ... and he could breathe easier. Tears spilled ... not for the loss of her or for the inevitable familial trauma, but for the sheer relief of putting an end to his misery ... sheer relief of killing the disease. Treating the rabidity, though never curing it ... oh yeah ...
"Ahem ..."
Bo Buchanan's unmistakable essence interrupted Todd's black reverie, startling him. Turning sharply on his heels, still in a crouched position, Todd then stood quickly, grinning mischievously. "Well, well ... if it isn't Llanview's finest, come to check out my cherry tree ... wanna a bunch?"
"Manning ..."
"Ohhhh ... not a cherry kinda guy – you like your fruits ... even sweeter, huh? More innocent ..."
Breathing in deeply, squinting his eyes at the sun, Bo shook his head, "I wanted to close out a file today - close out the missing persons case of Blair Cramer. Put it into our long-term unsolved category."
"She's not here ... she's still missing."
"Yeah ... I wanted to ask you one final question before I come to that conclusion."
"Ask away, Commish. My life's an open book." Todd's eyes didn't waver from Bo's ... not one millimeter. Bo looked away only briefly.
" Where did you say she went to? The last time you spoke?"
Putting on a false expression of pain, Todd answered in a funereal tone, "My wife-to-be told me she was ... distraught over the loss of our baby and ... said she was going to South America ... take a trip down the Amazon river ... I argued, she slapped me and walked out the door. End of a very long, painful story ..."
"Any witnesses?"
"To what?"
"The conversation."
'I thought you only had one question?"
"I thought your life was an open book."
Todd smirked slightly, crossing his arms across his chest. "You're good ... so witty."
"Answer the question."
"No witnesses – but there were notes of flight plans ... you guys have it. There were the tire marks on my driveway from when she split, leaving me and ... her daughter ... you guys have pictures of those black streaks. Nothin' more to say."
Nodding, Bo crossed his arms, too. Glanced downwards, then raised his eyes to Todd. "You hurt Melanie and I will see to it that you get the chair for the murder of your ex-wife."
Todd's face registered none of it, he remaining still in the flow of air that shifted the weighted branches above him. "Melanie ... will be fine. I would never hurt her – I trust her. And I'm sure you trust her ... to make the right decisions in life."
"Yeah."
The commissioner then made his way slowly down the side yard and disappeared from Todd's view. Todd inhaled all he could before letting go of the overly-clean oxygen, figuring the police must have been tailing Melanie, figuring the commissioner had seen his ex-fiancée lose some of her innocence in the back garden of Todd's country home. He chuckled ... and then laughed louder ... plopping down at last on the grass where he lay under the sun.
"Blairian soil," he said to the ghosts which lived around him, "better keep your secrets lest the tasters of your fruit lose their innocence ... entirely." He rolled over and lay on his stomach, petting the grass with his hand and putting his ear to the ground as if listening for a response. Hissed, "You were right, Blair ... all I needed was to trust and I'd be happy. 'magine that ... so simple ... so very simple."