"Thank you," Ames says next, calm as can be. Thank you of all things. I feel like there's a 20lb weight attached to my lungs. "I appreciate that."
I can hear the phone clank onto the table. I haven't turned around yet but I know he's picked the gun back up. It rustles between the fingertips of his good hand. Shamelessly I hope he's left-handed, so that maybe he won't be able to aim with the other if he ends up shooting.
Now there's silence. An uneasy and very heavy silence. Even Joe does not make a sound. In fact he's falling asleep so I put him in the circular crib and face Ames' back as he stares out the window, peering through my blinds. I wonder if anyone can see him standing there, if anyone has any idea what's going on here in this apartment.
Finally he walks closer to me. "How's he doin'?"
On cue Joe whimpers. "Who?" I ask, thinking he's talking about Luka, or maybe someone he saw outside the window. But he looks to me, then the crib, and then me again.
"Joe." There is no hint of malice or ill-will in his voice at all. I don't know what to do. I can't figure him out.
We both watch my son for a moment, his eyes opened wide as if he is taking in the world. "He's fine." I say, trying to stay calm but I can't do it. I sigh loudly but it sounds more like a huff. "Please…" I can't make anything else come out no matter how many ways I shape my lips.
"My daughter was easy," he states, as if this somehow applies to anything we've been talking about. "But my boy, I tell ya he was always colicky. Didn't sleep through the night for the first three months." A pause. "How 'bout Joe?"
"Joe sleeps fine."
He says something I can't understand because my eyes keep moving from his gun to my son. The only thing I catch is, "They grow up fast." And then I've had it, take my hand from my face and toss my hair away from my head.
"Look, what do you want?" The tears are back in my eyes but I can't tell anymore if they're from anger or fear.
He looks shocked, like that was a dumb question. I feel like he's just placed a duce on top of my head. "I want to talk to Luka."
"Like this?" I practically shout at him.
He scoffs. "This happened to the both of us, him and me, so I see no reason why we should go through it alone."
"It's over!"
"That's what you think?" I blink. It's that silence again. "You're the successful doctor, right? You're smart, you're beautiful, you've got the man, you've got the baby, you've got everything." He pauses, seemingly thinking but I have no idea what's going through his head. "So don't take it personal when I say to you that you have no idea where I am right now."
I've got to get out of this. I've got to understand, got to make him understand so that this can all go away. I want to stop looking like I'm about to cry. "You're wrong." I purse my lips as I try to smile at him as some kind of proof.
But he doubts. "You think so?"
"Yeah." I swallow, prepare myself. I'm determined now. I will get through this. I will get through it better than I've gotten through anything in my entire life. I will get through this for Luka, I will get through this for Joe. So I dare to lock eyes with this man who is trying to destroy my family. "I think I know exactly where you are right now. You know 9 years ago I," I look at the floor, try to figure out what I'm going to say, but if I think about it for too long I'm scared it won't work. So I shake my head at him, then shrug my shoulders. "My marriage was over, my mother was in a mental institution for the 7th or the 10th time, I don't know, and I, I drank, a lot. A lot." I watch his face for signs of connection, anything. "And I had reached this, I, you know what, ah," It's gone. I've lost it but somehow words I don't recognize, words I've never said keep spilling out of my mouth before I can rationalize why I am opening myself up to this man of all people. "One morning I woke up in this apartment and I had no idea how I got there. Next to some guy I didn't even remember meeting. And he was going through my stuff, lookin' for money so he and his buddy can get a fix. So I ran out of there and went downstairs and I tried to get a cab but I had no idea where I was and it was 5 o'clock in the morning and there were no cars on the street so I just, I just sat down on the stoop and I just, waited for something to happen.
"And at that moment, I'm telling you, I knew, I mean I was positive, that happiness was something I was never going to find."
"You're getting deep on me now," he smarts.
"No," I answer quickly. "No. I just…" I purse my lips again, knowing the tears are back. "I am just trying to tell you that things can change, they can get better, even if you don't see it, they can."
He goes back to the window like he hasn't heard me and I just stand there helplessly, watching him. Then he sits down in our chair again but he doesn't look at me. I can just hear him breathing. When he does finally glance at me, his gaze is vacant again and his words are anti-climatic. "Do you have any bourbon?"
I pinch my eyes against the tears and pour him a glass.
He puts the half-empty glass down lazily on the second frame, the picture of Luka and me with baby Joe on the couch that my mother took when we brought him home from the hospital. We were all tired from the many sleepless nights in the NICU but there is a glow on our faces in the picture. A glow that is somehow not strong enough to reflect off his glass as it slides over it. I vow to break that glass and throw it out as soon as I possibly can so I can erase any evidence that he was ever here.
Suddenly a key jingles in the lock even though I can't remember locking the door when I came home. It feels like a lifetime ago. I take my hand off of my face and watch Ames turn toward the door. "Hey," Luka starts casually. Quickly I stand and place myself between Joe's crib and the stairs so that I am the first person Luka sees. "Sorry it took me so long, the traffic," But when Ames interrupts him the moment I'd hoped for disappears.
"Hey hey!" he lifts up the glass as if to make a toast to Luka. "I got fired!" I don't understand the excitement, but regardless it is not contagious. Luka is in instant panic-protection mode, the same way I saw him on the night of our first date when that pick-pocketer tried to steal my purse. He looks at me but I just shake my head wordlessly.
"What are you doing here?" Luka snaps, coming closer to me.
Ames goes to take another sip of the drink. "You said if I should ever need anything I should call."
He's reached me now, grabbed my hand that has been keeping my balance on the side of the crib, switches so that he is the one supporting me. "Okay. What do you need?"
"To talk, to be listened to."
Luka's voice literally bites off the end of Ames words. "Abby take the baby upstairs."
"No need for that now." Waving the gun, Ames steps forward but Luka does too, placing himself between this man and his family.
"Take the baby upstairs!" He's practically pushing me.
"They can stay right here because we're going for a little ride." He's smiling, like this was in his plan all along. Maybe it was.
Luka stops, thinking, but only for a moment. I don't know what it is but suddenly he's got something in his head. "Alright."
"NO!" Now I'm crying, placing myself as close to Luka's body as I can get. "Don't!"
"It's okay," He puts his hand out to assure me, but it isn't! It isn't okay! He can't do this; he can't leave me now that he just got here!
Ames motions with the gun. "My car's just around the corner,"
"No, come on, please," I'm begging and I hate it but I can't stop. The words are coming of their own volition from a well-spring of desperation. "Please don't do this, Luka don't go. You can't go. Luka!"
Now he is pushing me, hard. His hands are like vices around my arms as he yanks me back toward the crib. I find his eyes but he won't give in. I can't move. I can't breathe. He just stares, professing his love silently, promising to come home but my heart is not strong enough to believe.
Ames looks at me. "Abby," And even though it's the last thing I want to do, I turn to him, breaking myself from Luka's gaze. "Thanks for the chat."
And then, with one last squeeze against my hand, he walks away from me, out the door with Ames. Luka's eyes never stray from mine the whole way, but yet he leaves me there alone.
As soon as it shuts I pick up the phone and rush to the window. The 911 operator speaks. "Um, uh, there was a man in my apartment, with a gun. He took my husband. His name is Curtis Ames." Only there's nothing out the window except darkness now; Luka is already gone.