31
In search of any reason behind his exit, I entered the kitchen and flicked the lights on, only to see the food was untouched.
The soup had gone cold. The salad, wilted.
My caretaking had been snubbed. Apparently, my concern for him was irrelevant, and he'd made that clear by ghosting me.
So I dialed him up and didn't hold back.
"Where the fuck are you?!" was all my voicemail said.
I nearly threw my phone against the wall when he didn't answer on the third attempt. I was becoming livid. Now he was saying screw me. It was abundantly clear I meant fuck all to him. Without thinking, I was out the door, fumbling for my keys. Except, they were missing. I ran back inside and checked around the hooks adjacent to the entrance, then in the sofa where I’d slept, but they were nowhere to be found.
Right away I knew he'd taken them. I called five more times and left as many voicemails, chewing him out to varying degrees in each one.
Why the fuck was he shutting me out? We were in this together, right?
Here I was ready to die for him, to kill for him, ready to risk it all, and here he was pulling another disappearing act.
His trademark: running scared. It was the one part of him I despised the most—or that I understood the least. It was abhorrently spineless.
I tried to sit but couldn't stomach the inaction. I needed to get to him. Needed to see that he was alright. I didn't want her family to extort him, which he was ripe for at the minute. They held all the bloody leverage, and probably would for the rest of his life.
Fuck’s sake, that could easily drive a weak person off a cliff.
I saw flashes of him offing himself in inventive ways and was nearly sick.
I grew so jittery I could barely use my phone.
My fingers kept hitting things I didn't intend to.
Several apps opened and crashed. Then the system froze altogether.
Sometime later, the Uber arrived. My leg wouldn't stop bouncing in the backseat. The driver—a husky white guy with Dahmer-style glasses stared at me in the rearview. Something must’ve dawned upon him.
"Dude?! Aren't you, like...that dude from Invicta?! With the hair?"
"Uh, yeah…” I chuckled. “I guess."
"Duddde! You're like...totally him!"
"Yeah, Ralph Rawlings. Good to meet you, mate."
“Duddde!” he shrieked. “How fucking sick is that?! You just called me mate! You’re so British, bro!”
“Yep, haha…”
“Holy shit! So who the hell is Nick Goldberg then?" he asked, referencing the name I used on the app. "Is that like, one of those cool fucking aliases or something? Like James Bond?”
“Uh, yes, actually.”
“Fuck, man, that's cool. You're alright in my book, Ralph Rawlings."
"Thanks, mate," I grinned. "So are you."
He accidentally ran a red light, because he was so focused on watching me in the rearview. A storm of angry horns followed us for a while. When we neared Rome’s street, I told him to drop me at the corner, since I didn't want to risk exposing his address like I'd done my own.
"Dude, not to push my luck here or anything," he began, as I got out of the backseat of the Toyota. "Mind if I get a pic real quick? My little sis would freak the fuck out—"
"You know what, I'm so sorry, mate, but I really don't thi—" I saw his big dumb eyes when he turned around, and couldn't discount all we'd been through together. "You know what, fuck it. Why not? Let's do it!"
"Awesome saucesome!" he exclaimed.
I leaned over between the two front seats and offered a lackluster thumbs-up and half-grin.
"My sister's gonna freak!"
"Cheers, mate. Good to meet you. And how about we keep that whole alias thing between us, alright?"
"Not a problem, Mr. Rawlings. Your secret's safe with me, bro."
"Appreciate that." I shut the door with a nod and started up the unlit street.
Soon I met a steep incline and couldn't see what lay ahead until I reached the summit. Nothing awaited but more pavement, dense shadows, tree cover, and the neighborhood wildlife. Nocturnal things that rustled in the darkness around me.
There were few signs of human life, apart from a light or two in a front-facing window.
When I discovered Rome's address post outside the private approaches, I buzzed the intercom and took a trembling breath.
After a few rings with no response, I began to deduce he hadn't come home after all.
Just as I started to pull out my phone and call him for the hundredth time that night, his voice broke through the static.
"Yeah? Who is it?"
"Did you take my fucking keys?!" I snapped, unable to hold back the second I heard his voice.
"Rafe?! Fuck, babe, what the fuck are you doin’ here?! You can't be here right now! She's here, and I—" his voice broke away beneath the interference of the shitty intercom.
Dead silence followed. I waited for him to pick up again, to no avail.
Becoming hysterical, I sprang into action, running headlong up his driveway and hopping the gate with the assistance of a hedge.
I scraped up my arms and banged my shin, but there was no time to fuss over it now.
On the other side, I jumped down onto the pavement with a thud, finding his car and a stranger's car parked outside the house.
With images of her hitting him over the head flitting through my mind, I sprinted to the side door and knocked as hard as I could without shattering the glass.
They had five seconds to answer, or I intended to do just that.
Anything to gain entry. Fortunate for her, he appeared before the five seconds was up, probably already heading to meet me anyway.
"Rafe, babe, go. Go!" he urged, shoving his way outside and shutting the door.
"Fuck that! What's going on?! Are you ok?! Why’d you take my keys?!"
"Because, babe, I didn't want you to follow me—”
The back door flung open, screeching backwards on its hinges.
An enraged shriek preceded her. She came storming out like a maniac, blonde hair flailing.
Shouting unintelligibly. ‘Fuck you!’ was hollered on repeat at the top of her lungs.
And how dare I show my disgusting fucking face while she was there.
Her screams were shrill, pealing through the night like an unhinged banshee. Loud enough to wake the entire block. There’d be gossip about this tomorrow. Probably a domestic disturbance call to the local PD. It might even make the news. Her hysteria was so unnerving I began to freak out as well.
“For fuck’s sake!” I roared, losing all composure. “Shut the fuck up, you psychotic bitch!”
“Hey!” Rome shoved me several feet. “Not cool, bro, what the fuck?!”
“You gonna let him talk to me like that!” She pushed him from behind.
“Keep your fucking hands off him!” I charged at her and Rome shoved me back again.
“Fuck both of you!” she hollered, slamming a hand onto the glass door.
“Go fuck yourself—”
“Rafe, ENOUGH!” He shoved me away again, so forcibly I stumbled. When she lunged at me, he intercepted, and I fell back against the car in shock.
"Go Rafe!" was all I heard over her cries. “NOW!”
Coming to my senses, I blinked at him in defeat, then strode down the driveway and hopped back over the gate. I could still hear her tirade from the opposite side of the wall, and the sound of her voice was so grating it made me sick to the stomach. Like nails on a chalkboard.
I took off running to put distance between me and whatever the fuck that even was.
I had no idea what I was thinking, being so hostile and confrontational.
That wasn’t my style. But something primal awakened whenever I saw them together.
It was dreadful. Fuck how I loathed the sight of it.
For the love of God, she was still screaming.
I kept running in search of silence, to undo everything I'd heard.
All I saw was her inhuman rage. Her contorted face. Her jabbing finger. The revulsion.
There was nothing to say really. There had been no valid defense.
I was totally and completely in the wrong, and that's what enraged me the most. The guilt. I had been the architect of her psychotic break, in my own heartless, self-serving pursuit of him. Yet stupidly, I stood her down like I had a right to be there. Like I was ready to duke it out. With a woman no less. I was a total sicko. Completely fucked in the head. There’s no way this wouldn’t make headlines.
A block away I slowed, exhausted and overcome with anxiety.
Despite my best efforts, I began to cry.
I asked myself why she hated me so much.
No one had ever treated me that way before.
I was Ralph Fucking Rawlings. Everyone adored me.
Even those who didn't know me would struggle to find anything truly objectionable to say.
Had I fallen so low? Had I become irredeemable?
I sat down on a boulder at the end of a driveway until I stopped sobbing. I put the collar of my t-shirt over my nose and took a few stabilizing breaths. Blinded with tears and disoriented. Where the hell even was I? My cheeks were raw after I wiped them with the hem of my shirt.
Staring down the foreign street, I sat and fumed, wondering how I'd get home.
I couldn't bear to face another Uber driver at the moment, yet they were my only hope of making a clean break.
I wished I could get my last driver back again.
He felt like my only friend in the world just now. I wish I'd told him to wait for me.
***
Moments later, before finishing up my request in the app, I got a call.
It was Rome. I thought about ignoring it, but couldn't shake my concern over her hurting him.
She was hysterical enough to brain him without compunction.
She would only come to her senses long after he was concussed, or worse, dead. I answered, but didn't say anything.
"Rafe?! Babe?! Where are you?! Did you drive here? I've been lookin’ for you! I can't find you!" he panicked, out of breath.