When Blue awakened in the Emergency Room of St. John’s hospital I was holding his hand. He didn’t know who I was right away. But momentarily he drew my hand to his lips. “Lady,” he said my name that he didn’t know was made up, in a way that made me know he loved me. I love him. Never more than when he put his own life on the line to protect us all from the maniac who had brought the gun to Sunday morning yoga. The first thing he asked when he came to was about Nate, “Is Nate ok?”
Photo: Joel Goodman
This whole thing has made me question my Lady Smith .38. The one I bought to kill that prick who seduced me all those years ago. I still think he deserves to die, but I don’t know if I have the whatever-it-takes to do it.
The police are still looking for a blonde man, five foot eight, with a recent dog bite on his calf, probably needing stitches. He fled the yoga studio, after knocking Blue on the head with his gun. I have a strong feeling no one will ever see that creep again.
…
“That was heroic, tackling an armed man, were you in the military?” Blue smiled wanly at the policewoman who had come to the hospital, and I smiled too.
“Had you ever seen the man before?”
“I can’t say for sure.”
“Would you recognize him again, sir?”
Blue looked unconcerned, “I don’t know.”
“So why did you go back there when you saw him, according to our reports you were all the way in the front of the room.”
“I thought he was going for Nate,” Blue replied. “I wish I could tell you more, I’m still a little foggy.”
We were in a private room at the same hospital where I was given radiation treatment last year. And where I decided one morning after I got zapped, that I wanted to live, because I wanted to off the bastard who took my virginity and then never called me again. Old CP was what I called him to myself. I’d off the Cherry Popper and then I could end my life’s journey.
First I bought my .38. That took some time. Whoever said it’s quick to get a handgun legally hasn’t tried to buy one. A multiple choice quiz, and then a waiting period while they do a background check and you presumably cool off if you’re in a rage – but I didn’t. Then, of course I had to learn to shoot it. That was fun. I went to a range in the valley and played bang bang. Girls don’t get to do that enough. I loved it.
I ingratiated myself into the cherry popper’s life. That was much easier than buying the gun. I brought it to his house, one, twice, three times—to see how it felt. I even had sex with the guy and made him fall in love with me. Then I met Blue. They are releasing him from the hospital tomorrow and I’ll bring him home.
…
“Just sit on the sofa, and I’ll bring you something to drink,” she said.
He could see out the window it was evening. Where had the day gone? It made him nervous. He couldn’t remember what he’d said to the cops, he couldn’t remember what he’d said, period.
The blow on his head; the trembling in his hands, now he felt trapped here.
He tried to get up, but had to sit right back down. Dizzy. They had told him at the hospital his head might spin; there might be nausea, a headache. All he remembered was Endless raising his arm, a dog’s growl, and then the world went dark and when he awakened, there was Lady.
The police wanted to know about Endless. The police wanted to know about a lot of things. He needed time to construct a reasonable story, and he needed concentration to memorize it.
He had a fake driver’s license supplied by Endless with the name Blue and something else. He was so foggy now, he couldn’t remember his made-up name.
Having Lady around acting like his girlfriend made him look legit. He could tell the cops thought he was some Westside asshole or other. Hadn’t he been posing at that since the fires?
The question remained: how good was his fake i.d.? Had Endless given him something that would stand up? Or had Blue sold out to the fuck-head for a couple of grocery store cards and a roof over his head.
Another thing: would the place above the antique store still be safe? What if Endless was waiting for him there?
Lady had some food and a drink on a tray and was putting it down on the coffee table in front of the couch.
“Here you go, hon,” she said brightly. Blue didn’t like that “hon.” Who the fuck wanted to be called hon.
He looked sideways at her. She was so eager, so pleased to have him here, so kind, so good, and now all he wanted was to get the fuck out, and have space to think of his next move.
She had her hair pulled back away from her neck in a soft ponytail and a low cut top. Her neck looked sweet, and sort of vulnerable. In a couple of years it would start to waddle.
Blue looked down at his own hands. Trembling. Wanting to do something. Eager to help him release the anger that was pulsing in his throat, that was tightening his jaw…
“You okay? Hon? Why are you looking at me like that?”
Blue closed his eyes, “Sorry, you, I guess I’m still a little out of it.” He tried to talk gently, but it sounded harsh and unconvincing to his ears. He tried to quiet his hands, staring straight ahead, fingers clenching and unclenching, imagining his hands around her neck…
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