Chapter 2: Something funny

How he got back into the boat was a mystery to Eric. He was nearly hysterical by then. Holding onto Lori, he amazed himself by crying. There was a persistent roaring in his ears. The roaring wasn't due to the lack of oxygen or how much strength it had taken him to drag Lori to the surface or how frantically he was trying to determine how much time had passed since she'd gone under – two minutes, five, ten, more?

It was something in the distance, approaching, but he couldn't focus on that. Not with Lori limp in his arms. She was dead, but not in an appealing manner. That thought cut right through him, almost making him choke. Eric realised with absolute clarity that he needed Lori alive.

That made him feel weak, which in turn made him angry at Lori. He stopped clutching her and willed himself to feel like he'd done before with the others. It wasn't the same. Numb, he registered the way her hair billowed around her face as she sank deeper.

And then Cristofuoro was there. Eric detected a glint of triumph in his eyes, but he told himself he must have been mistaken. The detective fished Lori out of the lake and hoisted her into the motorboat. There was an endless moment - time had ceased to mean anything - wherein Cristofuoro performed CPR. Eric watched, until Lori started coughing up water.

Though Lori didn't open her eyes, relief coursed through Eric. He became aware of everything at once. His wet clothes. The taste of the dank water still in his mouth. The hard wooden board upon which he was sitting. The silence surrounding them. The detective's disappointment.

Cristofuoro had hoped Lori would die. Lori, who had never done anything to anybody, except be there. Exist. Eric knew why, of course. With Lori dead, he would almost certainly have been destined back for the correctional facility. Where he belonged, according to Cristofuoro. How screwed up was that? The detective wanted Lori dead and he wanted Lori alive. It was like fucking opposite day.

How are you any better than me? Eric had wanted to ask. 'Cause it sure as hell wasn't because of the 'danger to society' that the detective wanted Eric behind bars. The detective probably told himself that, but Eric knew the real reason. No, it was because of that comment about his vegetable wife.

The detective stared at Lori, who was breathing regularly now, but whose eyes remained closed. That look of disappointment was gone from his face. He seemed ashamed of it suddenly. However, even now, Eric saw that the detective was weighing his options. Lori might not regain consciousness. This could be his only chance to get rid of Eric.

On the other hand, she might wake up. Eric could picture that vividly. Lori sitting up in a hospital bed. Everyone looking at her, hanging on her every word. She would enjoy the attention.

'No, Eric didn't push me. He tried to save me.'

That was true, but he wasn't sure that Lori had noticed that he had been yelling at her to grab the oar. Too busy with her thick headed suicide attempt. She definitely didn't know he dove in. Not that it mattered. She would say that he'd tried to save her. That was Lori.

What would happen to Cristofuoro if Lori woke up? Who would take care of his wife? The detective appeared to consider each scenario carefully.

(***)

There were several times during his first week back in the correctional facility when Eric tried to write a letter. He'd gotten it into his head that he would tell Lori's mother the truth about Gary. There wasn't much else he could do. He was in here. Lori was in a coma. But if she woke up, that would be taken care of. Eric wanted to be able to say 'when' instead of 'if,' but who the fuck was he kidding?

It felt like the decision to kill his parents. A spur-of-the-moment decision that nonetheless had been necessary. Except that really had been necessary. This only felt that way. It felt poorly thought out, like it would end badly. He wasn't even doing anything. He was merely thinking about it.

Yet, he had waded in. Rash and idiotic. Giving a shit about Lori: such a stupid idea. There was no calculation, no preparation. Somehow she'd gotten under his skin.

The only goddamn hope Lori had ever had was him. She'd genuinely thought that he would love her. Or, if he couldn't manage that - and of course he couldn't: he was a fucking psychopath – that he would at least be nice enough to kill her. Maybe those two were linked in Lori's mind. Love and death. Eric could certainly see someone as fucked up as Lori making that connection.

Whenever he thought of Lori, he would feel this sort of unresolved regret. Like it wasn't over. Like they could've been something. He didn't know what. He only knew that he missed her.

He never did send that letter.

(***)

Ten days after the incident at the lake, Lori woke up.

(***)

When Eric was released, he did three things.

He briefly speculated about what would happen to Cristofuoro now, but just as easily discarded the thought.

He visited Gary.

He went to see Lori.

(***)

Lori's mother was wary of him. A good thing, he supposed. Showed some sense. Still, his polite young man act was second nature to him and it wasn't difficult to manipulate Lori's whereabouts out of her.

Constantly having to exercise control did cause Eric trouble. It was exhausting. He hadn't expected it to be like this. Pretending had been easier inside, but then again, there had been no temptation there.

Outside, it was everywhere. In his aunt's neighbourhood. At the supermarket closest to them. Several of them passed him on his way to the store where Lori worked. Their bare skin brushed against his arm. They apologised. He apologised. They smiled. He kept walking, but the experience left him shaking and sweating.

When he saw Lori, she was standing next to a CD rack. She looked different. Her hair was shorter than he remembered it being. Her movements were lighter. She seemed shiny. There was someone else observing Lori. The guy was wearing the same blue employee vest that Lori was wearing. Eric didn't like the way the guy was eyeing her, so he sidled up to him. With a studied nonchalance, he leaned his shoulder against the wall.

'Did you hear about Gary?' Eric asked. The man started and glanced at Eric, before deciding that they didn't know each other.

'Who?' the man inquired, indifferently.

'Lori's mom's ex-boyfriend. He wouldn't leave Lori alone and now he's gone.'

The man glanced at him again. This time his gaze lingered. This time his gaze was familiar. Eric had been on the receiving end of it a few times since he'd gotten out. It was how people looked at him right before they figured out who he was. But this time, Eric was wrong. The man didn't recognise him; he recognised the story.

'I heard, yeah. You mean he left?'

Eric shook his head. Keeping his eyes on Lori the entire time, he leaned a little closer. Then, finally, he looked straight into the man's eyes.

'No, I mean that he's gone,' Eric said and smiled. It wasn't a movie smile. Not one of those smiles than makes the audience go 'oh, he's the killer!' and sends shivers down their spines. Bright and scary. It was a smile with nothing behind it. The man stepped back. Suspicion clouded his features.

'Who are you?'

From the corner of his eye, Eric could see Lori approaching.

'Eric?'

He waved at her and pushed away from the wall in one effortless, fluid motion.

'Eric Komenko. Google me,' he whispered at the man, before greeting Lori.

'Hi.'

'Hi.'

'How are you?'

'Not dead. Not in a coma. Fine.'

Lori was less jittery. Aloof and not faking it. They stood around awkwardly. Eric felt awkward too, which he was so unaccustomed to that he blurted something out.

'What do you want?'

It sounded aggressive too, as if she had come here and was bothering him, instead of the other way around. Lori stared hard at him. Shoved her hands into her pockets and lifted her chin defiantly.

'Need me. That's what I want. I want you to need me like you needed that girl by the river, but you don't. So, you know, whatever.'

He tried to suppress the horror he felt at Lori's naked neediness, but it must have shown plainly on his face, because Lori laughed.

'That's what you get for trying to save little old me. You're sorry about that now, I guess.'

'Dammit, Lori! Don't,' Eric snapped. Heads turned in their direction. Lori blushed slightly.

She was always doing this. Making out like she was nothing. He didn't get what she wanted to accomplish with this kind of talk. To be pitied? Did she want sympathy, was that it? Or was she waiting for someone to confirm her fears and kick her down for good? Either way, Eric wasn't the right person. Her attitude only served to annoy him.

'I'm not sorry at all,' he amended. That was the sort of thing you were expected to say. Funny thing, though; he actually meant it.

I'm glad you're okay. That was true, also, but he couldn't say it. It would come out like he didn't mean it and maybe he didn't. What the hell did he know? It's not like he'd felt this way before. It's not like he's got experience with this shit.

He was venturing into unchartered territory with this whole caring business and he didn't like it. It was inconvenient.