Thanks to all of you who took the time to comment and review the last chapter. If you keep taking the time to review – even just a few words so I know this thing is being read – I'll keep on writing.
The Endgame
Chapter Twenty-Nine
"Date Night"
Claire watched Gotham flash by in all its night time splendor as she clung to the Joker who directed Schiff's silver motorcycle to a destination known only to him for the moment.
On Saturday evening, the Joker had presented her with a candy apple red motorcycle helmet just after a late supper of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding prepared impeccably by Thomas Schiff, telling her to get into her jeans because it was date night. He was taking her out of the tenement for some fresh air and an adventure.
The night was moonlit but still gloomy as Gotham always tended to be. She clung to the Joker, her arms wrapped tightly around his slender frame, as she leaned her head against his back, trying to recognize the landmarks to figure out where he might be taking her.
Their helmets and the noise of the wind rushing by prevented them from communicating verbally. He handled the motorcycle as though he had ridden one before but she knew, by now, that the Joker was amazingly adept at most things he took on, first time or not. His natural athletic ability and intelligence made him a natural for almost anything – even riding a motorcycle that he had purchased from Schiff only hours earlier. Of course there was no paperwork involved; just the gift of a late model SUV to be delivered by Charlie on Monday, and ten thousand dollars in cash. The bike now belonged to the Joker. Schiff had been beside himself in expressing his gratitude for the generous trade.
With the helmet in place, the Joker could go anywhere and not be recognized for his trademark scars. They were covered completely by the black, flame-emblazed helmet.
She heard him let out a whoop or two as they travelled the streets of Gotham, celebrating his freedom in a city that tended to keep him shut in, or confined to back alleys, to avoid recognition. She had to smile at the unbridled war cry he unleashed at unsuspecting citizens on street corners; in fact, she joined in on one, happy for the exhilaration he must be feeling. She could feel his shoulders shake with laughter at her joining in with his vocal expression of liberation. Her face was sore from grinning, so pleased she was at his joy.
As they moved past Trinity Square and the monument to the Unknown Soldier on Marshall Boulevard, she realized they were in the neighbourhood of Wordsworth High School where she had taught that fateful year they had met. As he swung around Collegiate Circle three, four times, as though teasing her with the clue, he finally rode up and entered the high school property from the north side, mostly sheltered by a stand of oak trees that had grown that much taller, thirteen years taller, since the day she had left the premises in shame and disgrace, her career in tatters.
They pulled off the road and onto the lawn, passing between the trees and up to the side of the main building that had very few lights visible at ten o'clock at night on a Saturday. They bounced along the uneven ground, as she clung to him to avoid being thrown from the motorcycle until he came to an abrupt halt at a row of windows close to the ground. He killed the engine and leaned back into her embrace, able to speak now that the motorcycle was silent and they were out of the wind.
"Welcome back, Baby."
She slipped off the bike from behind him and stood on shaky legs, having had a work out from the wild ride over.
He jumped off and kicked the stand out to secure the motorcycle, taking his helmet off at the same time. He spidered his large hand through his wild hair to comb it back into some order. His face was still bare of paint; a state he seemed to have come to prefer in her company. He helped her remove her helmet, to get her bearings.
"Is this?" She looked up at the four storey building. This was an angle she hadn't viewed it from before but she was sure, this was the place.
"Yeah. Wordsworth. The scene of the crime." He verified it for her.
"Is it still?"
"No. It's an adult education centre now. But, still a school. And it still has…" He ran up to one of the low, ground level windows and dropped to his knees. "A swimming pool."
She could see that the windows had an odd reflection – a pulsating, undulating, aquatic feel to them. This was the swimming pool annex, added the year she began her tenure at Wordsworth. The pool was the envy of all the other Gotham high schools; nearly Olympic in size and costing a relative fortune for its time. The superintendent of schools at the time, a swimming fan, was determined to produce an Olympic swimming champion from Gotham. He had picked this particular establishment to further his own, personal dream. The Joker moved to the fourth window from the eastern end of the building, obviously knowing in advance which one to pick.
"I had Charlie scope this place out a while ago, to set it up for my own personal use when I need some recreation. I love the water. The security is lax on Saturday night and Charlie was kind enough to rig the window so that I can enter and leave without tripping the alarm." He pushed in on the sides of the window that popped forward with little effort, allowing him to remove it and slide it to the side, leaving an opening large enough to enter easily. He was on his knees as he looked at her, nodding at her to join him. "Com'on, Kumquat."
He handed her his helmet as he slipped through the opening first, landing on his feet, about five feet below her, in a practiced manner that led her to believe he had been here many times before. He reached up to her from inside and took the helmets from her, setting them aside and then reached up again to help her in her descent into the pool complex with him. His arms grasped her firmly, allowing her an easy landing on her feet beside him.
"It's all ours …. for as long as we want." He swept one long arm out at the empty pool facility, lit only by the underwater lighting installed in the blue and white tiled walls of the pool itself, shimmering beneath the still surface like blue topaz crystals, adding a low, eerie lighting to the entire expanse of water before them. The semi-dark room had an atmosphere of its own with high humidity and the unmistakable odour of chlorinated water. There was an echo in the large tiled space that magnified their voices.
"Won't we get caught?" She whispered but it reverberated like a shout.
"No. The security takes off early on Saturday night. Like clockwork. We're on our own, Miss Sanborne." He used the name she was used to as a teacher. She looked up at him for a moment, wondering what he was thinking. He just smirked. He was loving this. She played along, happy to indulge him in this trip back in time.
"I don't recall you trying out for the swim team."
"I would have." He ducked his head down towards her, eyes sparkling in the watery reflection of the pool. "But I was much too interested in the chess club. Why hang around with a bunch of water-logged geeks who shave all their body hair and wear bathing caps when I can hang out with a hot, British babe that I can have all to myself with only a chess board between us?"
With that, he started a half-run/half-skip toward the far end where the diving board sat over the deepest part, shedding his jacket, vest, shrugging off his suspenders and unbuttoning his shirt. He looked back at her as he reached the board, gesturing for her to follow.
"I didn't bring anything to wear in the water." She laughed at his enthusiasm.
"Skinny dipping, Baby." He tossed his shirt in the general direction of the trail of clothes he was creating and then started lifting his feet, one by one, to remove shoes and socks. "It's just you and me. Nothing I haven't seen before and I'm always anxious to see again." He waggled his eyebrows comically.
She walked towards him, picking up his discarded clothes as she did so, folding them into some order. She just shook her head and sighed.
"You're really just eight years old, aren't you?"
"Nah, more like fifteen going on sixteen, hmmmm?" He tilted his head at her in a suggestive manner, alluding to his age when they had been found together in a compromising position that led to the events that forever changed their worlds. He unbuttoned his pants and without ceremony let them drop, stepping out of them onto the board. He was completely naked now, aside from the bandage that still adorned his right bicep where he had been wounded days before; the wound that she had attended to so carefully. He walked to the middle of the board, testing it ahead of him, with a little bounce. "You gotta come in. I'll be disappointed if you don't."
"Your arm." She reminded him. "It's just healing. Be careful."
"It's okay. The water's chlorinated. Just like a disinfectant. Besides, you did such a beautiful job of dressing it every day, it's completely closed." He assured her.
She watched him, enjoying the sight of his tall physique devoid of clothing. He was a beautiful boy who had grown into a beautiful man. She loved his lack of inhibition of any kind. She watched his long arms come up together over his head as he assumed the position of a dive. The board wobbled as he left it, his pale body moving up in a gentle arc and then down, slicing through the still surface of the water with hardly a splash, disappearing into the deep.
She walked along beside the pool, watching his form beneath the water, illuminated by the underwater lights as it glided smoothly half the pool length where he popped up, shaking his head, his long hair sending a spray of water around him like a halo. He treaded water and looked over at her.
"Can you swim?" He smiled at her as she sat down cross-legged at the pool's edge.
"No."
"Why am I not surprised?" He smacked his lips which usually indicated disdain.
"Well, I never got around to it. I like water but I just puddle around. I sink like a stone." She got on her knees and reached out to test the temperature with her hand. It was warm. In the cool of the autumn evening, it was inviting, especially since he was already in, naked, and playful. And she wanted to please him.
"Aw, com'on in. We'll play Marco Polo. Do you know Marco Polo?" He started to swim over to where she smiled at him, contemplating. "We can stay in the shallow end here so you can touch bottom."
"Yes, I know Marco Polo." She stood up now, looking down at him.
"Fish out of water!" He took her by surprise, taking advantage of a rule of the game, pointing at her to make her "it" to begin, as he swam away.
"That's not fair. I'm not ready yet." She bit her lip in frustration as she wiggled out of her jacket and then pulled her sweater over her head. He started to giggle and it echoed all over the partially illuminated space. She doffed her bra onto the pile of clothing that was growing, and sat down to work on her boots. As she leaned forward, her long dark tresses fell over her shoulders and covered her breasts in a most alluring way.
"You look like a mermaid." He watched, grinning with delight.
She shimmied out of her jeans, leaving only a pair of pale pink bikini panties between her and full nudity. She pointed a toe and dipped it in tentatively.
"Off with the panties. This is a no panty zone." He said it with mock seriousness, cupping his hands loosely around his mouth as he spoke, projecting it like a loud speaker. "I'm the panty police and I order you to pull over and remove your panties, Miss." He dipped his head level with the water to blow bubbles, his eyes sparkling with mischief, watched her intently.
If there was one thing she had learned about him in the last week or so, it was that he could keep an argument going circular for hours. He would wear her down until he got his way. It was easier to just give in. The panties were added to the pile of clothing and she leapt the short distance into the water, landing about six feet away from where he waited. Her feet just barely reached the bottom of the pool on tip-toe. She kept her arms out at her sides to steady herself and then moved them around slowly to begin treading water and touching bottom with her toes, in turns. It felt absolutely delicious to be nude in the expanse of warm water. She felt all the muscles in her body relaxing one by one. No wonder he liked coming here.
"You ready?" He started to make an arc around her in the water. "Close your eyes."
"Stay in the shallows."
"I will. I will." He chuckled.
"And once you choose your spot, don't move. This pool is way too big for me to find you if you're moving around."
"I will. I will."
"And don't get out of the pool. That's cheating."
"Okay. Okay."
"And remember you're taller than I am so you can't go by what's shallow for you. What's shallow for you could drown me."
"Claire?"
"What."
"Shut up and play."
She opened her mouth to say more but then thought better of it. She closed her eyes tightly and started to count down from ten to one, out loud, very slowly as he moved into position. Then she began by shouting.
"Marco!"
"Polo!" He answered back but turned his head as far to the right as he could to let it his voice echo around the walls, confusing her as to the direction it was coming from. It worked. She moved way off to his right and stopped after about ten feet.
"Marco!"
"Polo!" He answered, throwing his voice again. It worked. She was getting further away from him.
"Marco!"
"Polo!" He gave into his giggling this time because she looked so lost and she was going further and further away from him.
"Marco!" She was starting to sound frustrated. She was naturally competitive like he was. She wanted to make him "it".
"Polo!" He stopped throwing his voice and shouted directly at her, watching her head turn in his direction. She began to move closer now, moving slowly in a combination of treading and walking, eyes still tightly closed.
"Marco!"
"Polo." He spoke now instead of shouting, as she was much closer, only about four feet away.
"Marco."
"Polo."
She leapt forward in the water and closed the distance with a triumphant smile on her face, eyes still tightly closed, as she reached out and put her hands against his chest.
She blinked her eyes open and fluttered her eyelashes at him in a comical way. It was clear that she was enjoying their outing. He pulled her into an embrace that brought their nakedness against one another as his hands reached around and gripped her bare bottom. Her arms encircled his neck as he let his hands slide down her thighs and she wrapped her legs around his hips, clinging to him as he pushed off, holding her with one arm now as he stroked through the water with the other one, swimming along with her wrapped around him.
"This is wonderful." She murmured, feeling almost weightless and enjoying the feeling of his graceful body buoying them along as they moved, together, through the water.
"Hi, I'm Marco." He kissed her mouth softly. "Can you feel my polo?"
She shrieked out a laugh, one that seemed to gush up from her toes. He loved when she laughed like that. He knew she had a freaky side even if she didn't know it, herself. He got such a kick out of teasing it to the surface. It's what made her so fascinating. And so much fun.
Charlie had just finished his late night call to Janice, inviting her to come with him to his country cabin the next day. He got out of bed, dressed in his usual sleeping attire, a pair of black boxers. He didn't feel ready to sleep yet. Talking to her had somehow given him a second wind. He was hungry. He walked to the bedroom door and opened it to head to the kitchen and bumped into Leo who was coming to see him.
"What are you doing up?" Charlie checked his watch. "It's nearly 10:30. You won't get taller if you don't sleep. Remember? I told ya."
Leo just sighed and walked past him into Charlie's room and fell down on the bed, looking miserable.
"What's up?" Charlie flopped down across from him cradling his head in one hand.
"I don't want to go to a stupid birthday party tomorrow." Leo curled up in a fetal position and grasped his toes with his fingers. Charlie noticed that Leo's legs were getting longer as his pajama bottoms were a little short now, revealing bare ankles. "I wanna go to the place with you and look for rocks." His dark hair was a mess and hung into his equally dark eyes. He looked just like his mother.
"You gotta go. Your cousin Frankie'll be disappointed if you don't show up at his 10th birthday party."
"Why aren't you going?" Leo challenged him. "It's family. You never go to family stuff anymore."
"I have repairs at the place." Charlie sat up and tried to sound reasonable. "The roof is leaking and I have to bring wood in to dry before it snows or we won't have a good fire when we go up there in the winter."
"Is it because of Uncle Ramon?" Leo wasn't letting him off so easily. "Is it because you punched him that time? Frankie told me about it. I missed it. I was in the pool."
Charlie rolled his eyes. He was hoping Leo didn't have to find out about that. He wasn't proud of it. He had been grateful that Leo didn't witness his "pop" wailing on his uncle at a family bar-b-cue. But Ramon had it coming. He had been begging for it for years. One remark too many about Leo's parentage just made Charlie snap. He had laid into him with three good punches to the face and his asshole brother-in-law was down before he knew what hit him. It was like a scene from a movie; the women all screamed, the men tried to hold him back, too late, and he hadn't been welcome at the Salazar family get-togethers since; unless he apologized to Ramon in front of them all. Like that would happen.
Ramon had challenged Charlie from day one, constantly hammering away at sensitive issues with boorish remarks to get a rise out of him. It was territorial. Charlie was sure of it. It had to do with Cha Cha. The family had no decent boundaries. They were all raised without rules, without any sense of lines you didn't cross. It was like a goddamn commune or something. Cha Cha's upbringing was the reason she was the self-indulgent, ego-centric, person that she was. As the youngest and the only girl after four boys, she was indulged and adored, especially by her closest in age brother, a little too much. He was sure, in his gut, that Ramon and Cha Cha had stepped over the line probably as soon as she was in a training bra. So Charlie was the interloper. When he married into the family, taking Cha Cha as his wife, Ramon was pissed.
Charlie had questioned Cha Cha about it more than once, bracing himself for the truth but she always skated right around the topic. If it had happened, it was pretty clear that she was okay with it. She was proud of her bohemian upbringing and considered her family intellectual and outside the confines of ordinary society. They were special. Rules were for other people. Yet, she would slap her little boy for doing something as innocent and normal as exploring his own body. She was a hypocrite.
"Yeah, I punched him. I shouldn't have. Well, I mean, he had it coming. But it wasn't the right time or place."
A female voice joined the discussion.
"All you have to do is apologize and you're back in the Salazar good books." It was Cha Cha, leaning in the doorway. They both looked up at her there. Her arms were crossed on her ample bosom. She was dressed in a very short baby blue negligee and Charlie noted that her shoulder length black hair was down. That was her signal that she wanted to have sex. She always took her hair down for sex.
"Not going to happen." Charlie told her calmly, referring to the apology.
Leo sat up now and looked between his mother and the man he considered his father.
"Maybe Uncle Ray should apologize to Pop for making him so mad." Leo suggested and Cha Cha just stared at him in a way that made Leo put his head down and mutter. "Well, just saying….."
"Leo, go to bed. It's late." She came into the room now and took a seat in the armchair beside the bed crossing one shapely bare leg over the other. Charlie was grateful she was wearing the matching panties. The outfit left little to the imagination and he wasn't sure she should be parading around like this, in front of Leo.
"I will." Leo didn't make a move to leave yet. "How come Pop's sleeping in here now?"
Charlie looked at Cha Cha and she just shrugged and looked back at him, leaving him to explain.
"Well, I come in late a lot. Irregular hours. You know. I thought it best to sleep here so I don't wake Mom up when I get in late."
Leo frowned.
"You're not out late tonight."
Charlie just blinked at him. The kid was too quick. He was stuck for an answer.
Cha Cha got up from the chair, climbing onto the bed between the two of them and cuddling up with a pillow like she was settling in for the night.
"Pop and I have two beds now. We can sleep in either one. I kind of like it." Her dark eyes flashed in the semi-darkness to fall on Charlie, focusing on his bare chest. She reached out a freshly manicured hand to tease a few tendrils of his longish hair. "Leo, you go off to bed. We want some grown-up time."
This was what they had told Leo in the past when they didn't want to be interrupted. The boy seemed to understand that "grown-up" time meant something private and he shouldn't come in or call them unless the house was on fire. There had been next to no "grown-up" time in the past several months.
The way Leo was smiling, Charlie had the definite feeling that he was old enough now and had learned enough to decode what "grown-up" time really was all about.
"Did you get my note?" She scooted a little closer to Charlie who seemed to be deep in thought. "Charlie?"
"Hmmm? What? Oh …. yup. Got it." He glanced at her quickly and then laid back and looked at the ceiling, deep in thought once again. He was trying to figure out how he was going to avoid a scene in front of Leo. The boy didn't have a clue that his parents discussed separating every day and that he was the only reason that Charlie was still under this roof.
"Angela Featherstone saw Pop on Friday morning when he dropped me off at school and she said that he's hot." Leo sat cross-legged now, enjoying the rare occasion of being up so late.
Charlie spluttered out a laugh.
"Is Angela in your class?"
"No, she's a year ahead. She's a genius."
"Well, she would be smart to take note of how hot you are." Cha Cha purred into Charlie's ear as she laid her head against his shoulder.
"I think she's stupid." Leo blurted it out and Charlie cracked up, laughing at his blunt assessment of his school mate.
"Stupid isn't nice." He managed to get out.
"You laughed." Leo countered.
"Well, yeah, it's funny – but it's not nice." Then he looked beside him at Cha Cha who was looking at him in a way he hadn't seen in years. That look reminded him of why he had succumbed to her years ago despite the fact she was obviously shallow, incredibly needy and pregnant with another man's child and in spite of the warning from his very sensible older brother that the woman was a man eater and a master at control. At the time, Charlie thought that Dan was just jealous. Now, he knew better. That smoldering gaze of unbridled lust could make any man feel like a superstar. But it wasn't enough anymore. He knew it was fleeting and once he gave in, the head games would start again. Besides, he had had a taste of Janice. There was no comparison.
"Leo, go to bed. I'm serious." Cha Cha licked her lips, eyes still on Charlie. "You had Pop all to yourself all day. It's my turn."
"Not tonight." Charlie said it before he could even think it over.
Leo and Cha Cha said in unison. "What?"
"Mom's got to go back to the big bedroom because it's guy's night in here. Leo's sleeping here tonight. With me."
"I am?" Leo stood up on the bed and jumped around doing a little dance. "Sorry Mom. Guy's night." He snapped his fingers at her to move fast. Charlie laughed because the look on her face was priceless.
The Joker and Claire were out of the pool after a great time; she even got a swimming lesson, even if it was just him tossing her into the deep end until she figured out how to stay on top. She never, for a minute, felt that he wouldn't save her if she went down for the third time.
Now they were dried and dressed, and were prowling the halls of the third floor looking for what used to be Room 335E, Claire's old homeroom. The halls were darkened except for emergency night lights at either end. She moved along peering though the small windows of each room because the numbers were all different now. The Joker concentrated on the banks of lockers across from the rows of rooms. He was looking for a clue.
"They all look so different now. The seating arrangements are all turned around." She said, frowning. "There's no teacher's lounge."
"Wait." He put out an arm to stop her moving ahead. "Look." He pointed down at the base of a locker.
She looked to where he pointed. They were looking at the bottom that was slightly pushed in three places, like someone had hit it with something heavy. He grinned and turned to look at the door opposite.
"That's it." He walked over and tried the knob. It was locked, for now. He reached into his coat and produced a short-bladed knife. He held it in a practiced hand and leaned over to begin his work.
"How do you know this is it?" She was fascinated at his certainty.
"Because, that day, after Lauren walked in on us and you went running after her, I came out of the room. " He stopped for a moment and looked again at the lockers across from them. "And I was so pissed that we were interrupted that I put my boots to that locker right there and kicked the shit out of it."
She nodded and smiled, although her stomach was doing flips in a mixture of anticipation and dread, at the thought of entering that room again. She watched him jimmy the keyhole in the handle and with a small click, he turned the knob and the room was open. It was dark. He didn't want to take a chance of turning on the room lights as the bank of windows faced the street, so instead he moved out into the hall again to find the hall light and switched it on, just enough to make the room possible to navigate. He walked past where she leaned against the door frame and moved into the room, then paused and reached out and grasped her arm to urge her to follow him.
The seating arrangement was opposite to what it had been thirteen years ago and there were fewer desks for adult education. The teacher's desk was set along the side of the windows instead of at the end of the room by the door where it had been before. The air was stagnant, rather stale, and the smell of books, markers and waxed wooden floors brought them back in time; funny how odours could sometimes conjure the strongest memories.
He moved over to the teacher's desk and braced himself on one end and started to push. It moved easily.
"What are you doing?" She laughed nervously.
He didn't answer. He didn't have to. She joined him and helped him move the desk over to where it had been when she taught. It might even be the same desk, she thought. It certainly looked like it. The top was nearly clear of items. That was different from the way it had been when she used it. She kept a collection of items on top; little keep-sakes, odds and ends to illustrate a point in a lesson, a snow-globe of the Parthenon for Greek History, a small replica of Mount Rushmore, extra thesauruses and dictionaries for the kids who didn't have the means or always forgot to bring their own. And always, always, a vase for the fresh flowers she kept to add a little bit of nature and colour to an otherwise gloomy classroom.
She remembered that he had sat second row, second desk from the back. She could locate the approximate area now and stared at the spot, lost in time pulling her backwards.
"Chess club was in the teacher's lounge after school that day, remember?" He leaned against the chalk ledge about five feet from where she stood behind her old desk. "I had already played Lauren and beat her in about three minutes. She left and then you and I played. I won. You told me to be careful about my head getting too big. Then you asked me to come back here because you wanted to give me an article about Russia, a history of the chess grandmasters." He watched her carefully. She nodded, smiling a little wistfully as he continued. "And I asked you whether or not you were serious about you and I making that trip to Russia together."
"And I said….." She began to remember.
"You asked me how my mother was." He gave her a look that made her smile rather sheepishly. "You were stalling. Changing the subject."
"You were a very intense young man." She touched the edge of the desk with her fingers and rubbed it, like it had magic powers that could help her conjure the past. "You had that habit of looking directly in someone's eyes when you talked, as though everything you said was a challenge. You still do."
He pushed away from the ledge and walked over to where she was standing and took her hand to lead her around to the front of the desk. He stood in front of her and she looked up at him. Even then, when he was a fresh-faced teenager, she still had to look up at him.
He squinted a little at the recollection and continued.
"I panicked a little. I thought you changed your mind about Russia. That you somehow decided I wasn't good enough to play there. Or that maybe you didn't want to travel with me. Worried about what people might think. What they might say."
She searched his eyes in the semi-darkness, amazed that he could remember all of this. And also amazed at his thoughts at the time.
"Oh no." She went to touch his shoulder but he pushed her hand away. She blinked, a little taken aback but went on to explain. "I thought you were brilliant. I knew you could do it. But, yes, I was worried about how it might look."
"But we had the funds, right? You got the scholarship lined up and we would have been able to go, completely funded. Both of us. Me as the player and you as my tutor."
She shook her head that he was correct in his memory.
"I told my mother about you." He frowned at the memory. "I told her about our plans. I told her you were special."
"What did she say?" Claire was stunned at how much he was divulging; how close he still was to the emotional turmoil of that time.
"She warned me to behave. She could see I was obsessed with you. She reminded me of our ages but she was pleased that I had plans. She knew she was dying soon and she wanted me to have something to look forward to." He closed his eyes for a moment, as though the memory pained him. "She apologized for not being able to be there – to see me succeed. She was so sure that I would succeed."
"She must have loved you very much." Claire was becoming alarmed at this change in him. This sudden ability to reveal an emotionally vulnerable side of himself. It was like a veil was being lifted but she wasn't sure if it was a sign of something healthy or something falling further apart.
"Love." He gave a dry chuckle, expressing amusement at the idea. "Did you ever intend to make that trip with me?" He asked sharply, in an accusatory tone.
"We could have gone for summer vacation." She clarified it for him. "But I was getting concerned about how we were relating to each other at the time. There was the incident, a few days before, when you kissed me, remember? Things were going in a direction that had me worried. To be truthful, I was afraid." She stopped, went to touch his shoulder again and then pulled away. He waited. She continued. "I wasn't sure I could handle things properly if they got out of control. I wasn't sure I was strong enough to keep you in line."
"I felt it." He moved in closer and put his hands on the desk behind her on either side, penning her in, just as he had done that day. "I could feel you trying to pull away and I was desperate to keep you close. I needed everything from you. I didn't care about Russia or being a grandmaster or chess or travel. I only cared about having you to myself."
"Jack, I'm sorry." She whispered to him. "I was confused. It was impossible, don't you see?"
"No." He said it quickly, flatly. "I don't see."
"You were fifteen years old." She tried to sound reasonable.
"Nearly sixteen. And you and I both know I was never young. I was an old man at five."
They both knew what he meant. She nodded sadly. She wanted to hold him but she could feel his agitation. She would be pushed away. So she let him continue.
"So. Sixteen. Too young. But we could have done it anyway. With a little patience, in two years, I'm eighteen. We could have been married. Make it all official."
She looked at him with an expression close to shock. He gave a low, dry laugh at the look on her face and continued to tell her the story he had conjured up, in meticulous detail, in his daydreams of her, at that time.
"By then my mother would have been dead. My father didn't give a damn what I did. We could have done what we wanted to. We could have travelled all over the world together, me winning the tournaments, you managing things, keeping track of all the money rolling in, the book deals, the endorsements. Everywhere we went, everyone would comment on my beautiful wife, my tutor, my companion. And then the children would come along, one by one, probably four - three girls and finally the son that you wanted. And they would all learn to travel and be schooled on the road by their brilliant mother. What others thought, what others might have said, would be long forgotten by that time. We would have just been the Napier's, that fortunate family, the ones who had it all."
There was silence for a few moments while everything he had just said swirled around in her brain like a terrible revelation. An unbearable truth. What he had hoped for was not that impossible, looking at it thirteen years later. What made it unbearable to consider was the fact that it was completely impossible now. That one sweet, ripe moment had come and gone. She felt as though someone had punched her in the stomach, the pain of knowing this was that bad. She slouched forward slightly feeling nauseous and weak.
"Jack, I'm sorry."
"So when I came onto you that day. When I tried to get you to give in to me. To have sex. It was a desperate attempt to possess you. I felt if I could get you to cross that line, then you couldn't go back. Once we were together that way, no one could separate us. You would see me as a man and not a boy. And we came close …. before we were interrupted."
"We came very close." She had to agree, feeling a rush of desire at the memory.
"Tell me the truth." He coaxed her to sit on the edge of the desk as she had that day, and pulled her legs around him as he brought her in against him, replicating the position they assumed then. "Did you want me?"
"I couldn't let you …."
"No, I want to know if you wanted me." He pushed against her, and she put her arms around his shoulders, nuzzling his neck.
"I've never wanted anyone that much." She whispered to him. "I was so torn and so ashamed."
"If you had just taken me to your apartment like I asked." He reminded her. "We could have been gone before Lauren came back to find us. Things might have been so different."
"I'm sorry."
"Stop … saying that." He gave her a look that made her freeze. "It was just a fairy tale. Anyway, little Lauren interrupted any future that may have come from that. I wonder what she's doing now….." He seemed momentarily distracted by that thought.
Claire didn't want to know what he might be thinking – about Lauren.
"She was crazy about you. She came back to see if she could catch you on the way out. To walk with you." She reminded him, trying to keep it in perspective. "She only joined the chess club to be near you. She didn't mean any harm."
"She didn't have to run right to the office and turn you in."
"She was upset. And she was jealous. She was so young." Claire tried to get him to look at her but he was staring off in the distance, focusing on a thought. She tried for a distraction.
"I didn't know that you wrote to me when I was away in Arkham. What did you say to me?"
He finally looked at her. He hesitated for a moment and then leaned in, speaking closely, as though it was a statement of utmost importance.
"I told you that I loved you, of course. I was actually capable of that delusion then."
He watched her react for a moment and then wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in close, supporting her as she clutched at his lapels and braced her forehead against his vest, eyes closed to the clench in her chest.
She felt like she was being choked. It was her inability to cry. Since Arkham, she had been physically incapable of it. Tears would not come so all the emotions got stuck somewhere in her chest, torturing her with a need to be released but something in her always blocked them. Relief was never hers. She hated it. She wasn't normal. In this way, they were the same.
"I don't know exactly when I started to hate you." He mused out loud, his tone flat, emotionless. She felt the words like a sharp blade and blinked hard at the exquisite pain mere words from him could inflict. He didn't notice and went on. "I can't remember a lot afterwards aside from never getting a response from you to my letters, my mother's departure from the world, the funeral that no one attended, and then moving back to Indiana with my father. I do recall a shitload of psychological testing when I got back to school in Indiana. They told me it was because I wasn't processing the grief and they were concerned. I think I got picked up somewhere along the way by the government. I think they sought me out, as they have a tendency to do when they see a potential young man with a high IQ and the right psychological make-up to become a useful tool in their darker agenda – possible black ops. What ever happened, however it went, what I did, what they did, someone, somewhere did a fine job of creating a black hole in my memory so I wouldn't know who to thank for this." He gestured to the scars adorning his cheeks casually, "Who to stick the knife to. And to think, it all could have been so different, huh Claire?" He grasped her chin to make her look up at him. The agitation seemed to soften to something more like bitter acceptance. "If only you had taken me back to your apartment like I asked….hmmm?"
"You hate me?"
"I did."
"Not now?"
"No, not now." He cocked his head at her like she was being silly. "How could I knowing what you went through because of me? It wasn't your fault."
"I underestimated you." She leaned in and laid her head against his chest again. "I should have taken it all more seriously."
"We are two different people now." He stroked her hair. "Those two people are gone forever." He sounded wistful but hollow.
"We still have now." She sat up straighter and looked into his face earnestly.
Slowly, a faint smile grew on his ravaged mouth, his eyes sparkled a little more with some light returning.
"We only have a little more time, Baby. Just a sliver of time."
"Then let's make the most of it. Let's leave this place and let's leave that awful time behind us." She put her arms around his neck and kissed one scarred cheek softly. "I just want to be with you, Jack. Nothing else really matters to me anymore."
"But you have to go back." He reminded her gently, enjoying the way she melted against him.
"I know."
"How many more days? About five or six?" He was losing track of the calendar.
"That's about right."
"And then you go back to your life and I can get on with mine."
"Of course." She teased some of his wild curls with her fingers, so relieved that the gloom was lifting.
"And if we have some success and you become a mother, I don't want you coming back on me because the kid takes a turn down my strand of DNA and chases you around with kitchen knives."
"I told you. I will be completely responsible. You won't have to get involved." She smiled at his description of their possible offspring. "Probably won't happen anyway."
"The kid or the kitchen knives?"
"Both." She clarified it for him.
"Well, it won't if we just sit around here talking about it."
"Let's get out of here, yeah?" She didn't just mean the physical space. She meant the sadness and regret this space represented.
"I'm going to keep you up all night, Little Lamb." He rubbed her nose with his and pulled her in against him, purring as he did so. "Better late than never, hmmm?"
"Take me home, Jack."
"Home?" He looked at her like she was mistaken. "I don't have a home."
"Anywhere I am is your home." She told him softly. "I don't care what happens in future. Just know that. Anywhere I am is your home."
