Chapter 11 #2
Kira’s expression is apologetically polite, and I know she’s going to reject me before she even opens her mouth.
Of course, she’s sweet about it, so I can’t even get mad at her.
“Sorry, Tommy, it’s a private university.
But we won’t be gone that long, just a couple hours.
Watch some movies on my big screen, you’ll love it! Lexie, come on!”
“Coming!” her voice echoes from the closet; goddamn, it must be big. “I’m coming!”
She flies through the door, panting like she ran a mile, smoothing her hair into place. “Let’s all go to dinner after class. I want to talk more about what happened, Tommy.”
“Maybe we should call Janessa?” Kira’s question is tentative, and she’s leading Lexie through the hallway, and it’s like they already forgot about me. Like they already left, and I’m not even here.
“I don’t know…” Lexie chews her lip as they stuff things into their purses and backpacks near the front door. “Maybe we should. I want to know what the hell she was thinking. Like… why?”
“I just want to make sure she’s okay,” Kira says, because of course that’s all she wants. She’s more of a saint than Mother Teresa.
I drift behind them, like a dog, but I’m trying hard not to whine like one.
I try like hell not to show how the anxiety is building as they get their things.
I listen and hover between their conversation about Janessa and whether or not they should reach out, but the words flow over me because I’m not part of their life. I’m just the pretend fiancé.
I’m not really… here.
“Bye, Tommy!” Lexie calls over her shoulder at the front door.
“The phone for the staff is on the wall in the kitchen,” Kira says quickly. “There’s a chef, laundry service, personal shopper, security, and a driver. Don’t go anywhere without checking in with security first. Watch some movies, okay? Okay, bye!”
And the front door slams behind her.
And I’m left all alone.
By myself.
In this big, soft, quiet place.
My heart speeds up immediately, but I force myself to move calmly and slowly back through the house.
With deliberate thoroughness, I inspect every room, pretending like it’s some great task, letting it take up some time because I’ve got too much of it and not enough to do with it.
By the time I’ve investigated every drawer and cabinet and closet, it’s probably been a whole half an hour.
I’m starting to sweat, and my adrenaline is spiking. I don’t belong here, all alone in this foreign space.
No, not foreign, not entirely. I’ve been somewhere like this before. And that’s the truth of the matter, isn’t it? That’s why I hated Young-gi’s mansion, and why I can’t sleep unless I can hear the shitty neighborhood I live in blaring with sirens and music and shouting.
Because when I’m in places like this… it feels like him.
I didn’t always live in a shitty apartment with five roommates in the inner city. For a long time, his house, the home of the man who took me, was where I lived. It was where I grew up. It’s all I remember of my childhood.
And it was a nice house. A perfectly good, nice neighborhood in the suburbs.
It was a quiet house, on a quiet street, with nice things inside and good heating and air conditioning and a fridge full of food and a pantry with sweets just for me, given to me specially on the days I cried after his two friends came over to “love on me”.
You love me, don’t you? My best friends love you, too. Be our good, perfect baby and–
Yeah, his house was a little bit like this. Not as rich and fancy, but close enough.
It disgusts me. Makes me feel like I’ve got bugs under my skin. I scratch and pull at my arms as I pace around some more, faster this time, and redo the circuit of the house.
The big TV calls to me, and the soft couch, but if I want to avoid feeling like I’ve gone back in time ten years then I shouldn’t just sit and watch movies.
It’s one thing to do it on a plane, with the roar of the engine in the background and with Kira right beside me, but in a house?
On my own? In a quiet, clean place like this?
It’s all just too familiar. I don’t belong here.
And that’s what’s repeating over and over in my mind; I don’t belong here, I don’t belong here. I don’t belong here.
And with the mental clarity that comes after an emotional breakdown like the one I had last night, I know that what I’m really doing is trying to send that message back to my younger self.
I should’ve run away. I should’ve escaped.
But I never did. I just… stayed. Until I murdered him, and his two friends.
I stayed there until I snapped. But I shouldn’t have stayed. Why did I stay? I didn’t belong there.
Why didn’t I run away? I don’t want to think he was right, that I ever liked what he did to me, or that I ever loved him. But if I hated him… why did I stay? I was a little kid, yeah, sure, but kids run away from home all the time. Why didn’t I?
All those years and it was my fault, my own damn fault, because I just let it happen.
I don’t belong here. This place isn’t for me. My place, where I belong, is on the other side of the city and when I’m there, I’m never alone. I’ve got too many roommates to ever be alone.
I freeze, hope blossoming as an idea occurs to me.
I should probably check on my apartment, shouldn’t I? Yeah, yeah, I need to go check on it, I think, almost desperately.
I should just go look at it, at my bed, and my meager supply of stuff, and make sure that my roommates didn’t give it away or anything.
And I should pay rent with what money I have, so they know I’m not gone for good. So I have a place to go to, when this is all over. So I know where I belong.
And I can check on Joshy! I think enthusiastically, my mood swinging wildly upward as I put on my shoes. He’s nice enough. He might be wondering where I am.
Because I belong there, yes, okay, I’ll just go check on everything and make sure it’s all good.
Making the decision to leave, even temporarily, is a release ten times more powerful than using the bathroom this morning, but just as physical. All my muscle tension relaxes, and I breathe easier. I even laugh. Laugh!
Yeah, I just need to go back where I belong.
I grab one of Tommy Claremont’s fancy watches to pawn off for rent money, because I didn’t exactly get paid in advance.
This is a great plan. I need to pay rent, I need to go check on my stuff.
It’s no big deal, just something I’ve got to do.
An errand. I can run errands, can’t I? And there’s nothing to be worried about, and it’s fine if I’m gone while Kira and Lexie are in class.
By the time I get back, they might even be here already, and I won’t have to wait for them by myself.
And if they aren’t here yet, I could wait downstairs, or go on a long walk….
Just… anything. Something besides waiting here alone.
Without an ounce of hesitation, I leave the apartment, then the building, then the block. Every step makes me feel lighter. Every step makes me feel more like just Tommy. The Tommy I am today, the one that knows how to run away, and not the Tommy I was when I stayed.
**********
Young-gi
“Pakhan,” Yosef leans close to me from his spot by my shoulder, speaking quietly enough that no one in the meeting can overhear. “Security says Tommy left the premises.”
I lean back, so I can respond under my breath. The speaker of the presentation drones on, and if anyone notices that I’m not paying attention anymore, they don’t dare point it out.
“Where?”
“He didn’t check in to say, but they’re tracking him.” He holds his phone out for me to see the screen, and I watch a small red dot–my men–slowly travel toward an area of the city that Tommy should have no business going to. Not anymore.
“Should they intercept?”
I think it over. “No. I’ll get him.”
Standing gets everyone’s attention, but I simply nod at them and make my way to the door.
Without a hitch, the meeting continues, because I don’t actually need to be here.
I just sign the paychecks and put my name on the building.
This is a legitimate business, so it has momentum even when I’m gone.
A CEO is a lot less important than some people think.
“When did he leave?” I ask once we’re out in the hall.
“About twenty minutes ago. Our team waited to report until they could confirm he wasn’t just getting some exercise.”
“Next time, I want to know immediately.”
Yosef nods somberly. He does efficient work, because my driver is waiting on us by the time we get downstairs and out of the lobby. I climb into the back of the car, and I’m startled to realize my heart is picking up speed. As we drive away from my building, I feel…
I feel…
Like we can’t get there fast enough. Like I should’ve been told sooner that he was out on his own. Like my ears are already tuned to listen to his voice, like my eyes are already waiting to rest on his face.
Impatient. I’m feeling impatient.
I’m not usually impatient. I lean my head back against the car seat and let myself reflect on that, and what it might mean.
Due to the distance of my office from Kira’s apartment, and the amount of traffic blocking our way, we don’t catch up to him until nearly an hour has passed since he left Kira’s place. He didn’t take the subway, and according to the staff tailing him, he stopped at a pawn shop.
After he left the shop, one of my staff remained behind and confirmed that he sold something of his, not of Kira’s, so he wasn’t stealing from her or from me.
I can’t explain how that makes me feel, if anything at all.
I can’t describe what happened to my mental and physical state when they told me he went into a pawn shop and sold something, and the way I sat frozen until I got word that he was selling something he was allowed to sell.
I can’t describe it; none of it makes any sense.