Has it really been a month? There should only be 4 more chapter left and this journey is over. Sorry Charlie…
Molly paced. She paced from the window in my cozy office to my desk to the fish tank I'd installed to offer me some sort of animate companionship, a friend besides music. She wrung her hands over and over as she stared down into Alpha's watery world of plastic castles and sea grass, settling into a nervous tracing of his swim patterns. It all looked to be some blurry mess of fidgets and ticks, and while it was all at once maddening, I could only offer her the freedom to do such things as solace. She finally turned to me as a ghost, paled yet bronzed, a swirling, jumbled look of destruction in her eyes.
"My mother is coming to Montreal for a week." Her words were a whirlwind of unspoken questions and simmering anxiety. My stomach tightened at what it could mean but I was still trying to bank on my plan A: legally signing Molly away to this old city, good music, and me. I kept a straight face, trying to remember how I'd remained so cool in my youth and tapping into some of the leftover stoniness.
"When is she supposed to be coming?" I knew I must have sounded squeaky, even to my own ears I sounded like a wounded animal.
"She'll be here Monday." Monday; Monday was six days away and with the lowering of such a sentence, Molly looked to be expecting me to come through and deliver the world.
"Oh." I was such a cop-out son of a bitch. Could I not see that she was dying here? Her mother coming must have been a fate worse than death by the look on her face and all I could do was think of myself and give up a chilling "oh" as the solution to her problem. Could I not at least try to help her?
I sat back slightly on the edge of my desk, extending my opened hand as a whole-hearted invitation. She didn't bother taking it before collapsing into my chest silently, pressing the side of her face into my breast bone. My fingers slid beneath her hair, rubbing slightly the smooth, delicate skin at the nape of her neck, mumbling incoherent words of reassurance to the top of her head. She mumbled something back, neither of us really understanding the other, not really talking to anyone in particular. She squeezed me tightly, turning her head to talk directly into my sternum. There was no break in the flow, no time to breathe as the words spilled so easily from her lips into my very center. She withdrew from my arms and backed away just to look at me, maybe to look at the way her words hit me, to see what a dying man looked like when he's told there's nothing that can save him. Her pulling away was masochistic on its own, but she was so deadpan, so unfeeling.
I could feel every intricate twist and turn the blood in my body made as her face screwed itself up in a mask of somber nervousness and twitchy resolve. This girl - I'd let her consume me. Small hands, wide eyes, silken tongue - I'd fantasized that all of it had been mine. With one revelation - one quick, seamless proclamation - she was threatening to take it all back, to tie me down and hold me back from her. Readers, I beg of you; I'm not a bad man. As I told you some time ago, had I known who she really was, maybe I could have talked myself out of all this. I only knew her as Molly. Did I truly deserve the punishment some unnatural force was making her inflict upon me?
I was looming above her, my hands wrapped around her slim biceps, pulling her in closer before I could stop myself, before I could run the hell away. I'm sure I scared her but at the moment, fear was something we'd both have to deal with.
"Did you know Molly? Even before you ever met me, did you know about Jude and me?" I cringed; she cringed; the world cringed when I'd finally verbalized what hadn't been in such a very long time: Jude and me as Jude and me. She barely shook her head and I fought back the urge to shake her into talking. "Give me something besides that."
"I didn't," she choked on her words, "I didn't know. Only after we talked that time."
"Don't lie to me, girl… I hate being lied to." I ground my teeth together and squeezed a little too hard on her arms; I could swear my jaw and fingers were breaking. She never winced beneath the pressure but I was close to losing it. Of course, I wasn't mad at her but at such a cruel joke this all was.
"Why would I lie?" She screeched and my fingers loosened their hold. Only after I'd fully let go did we both allow ourselves to fall back together, not really sure what we could say preceding our impending doom. I held on as long as I could because I knew that this would be one of the last times I could. I knew she was feeling the same thing.
"If she comes here, she'll take me back to Toronto."
"I know," I whispered sullenly.
"If she comes here, she'll take me away. There'll be no music; there'll be no you. What am I going to do Tommy?"
"I don't know."
"You could talk to her. Tell her I need to stay." I had to admire the fact that she still believed in valiance, that knights existed and that they could come to the rescue for all damsels no matter the situation. Unfortunately, Jude was a dragon like no one had ever slain. For Molly, thought, I'd be willing to offer my own head and face the fire breathing beast even if I knew it wouldn't do either of us any good.
It's strange telling all of this to you now. As I've said, you know the story. Jude was my world for so many years and now I was willing to fight for the chance to essentially make Molly my new Jude; fight mother for daughter. I didn't feel good about myself when I thought about it that way. I was confusing myself. Was I driving the phantom white car or being followed by it? Looking down at the girl pressed against me, I tried to wipe everything out of my mind as I agreed to at least talking to Jude for her - us - for the first time in twenty-five years. I couldn't squelch the nagging voice in my head telling me it was a bad idea, but I knew that all I had to lose - Molly - was more than likely about to be yanked from my grasp anyway. I could really do nothing worse.