Paresthesia Pt. 10

She eyes the bag on the table. It's empty and that's terrible. I should have just bought her two burgers and left it all to her. But I didn't.

"I'll think about it, ok? I want to try and talk to Mama before I commit. And I'm going up to visit Taita soon. That's going to be a thing."

"Where is he? Your dad, I mean."

She lets out a dragging, ragged breath and I think I have overstepped. Judging from the silence that comes after, I did. I open my mouth, but the apology was too slow to cement itself in the world.

"Prison. He's in prison."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Like I said. I'll think about it. No guarantees. And I am glad to see you Evan. I'm sorry I kind of brushed you off for the past few days. You and Hannah."

"Don't apologize. Feels like all I've done with people for the past while is apologize and be apologized to. You just do what you need to do."

"Thanks. Have people been doing that? Thanking you?"

"Here and there. But not nearly as much. And there is one more thing I came here for."

"What is it? It's not another job thing, is it?"

"No. Nothing like that. Everything I'm going to get is through the normal transaction process. Although it will be cash. Not sure how normal that is nowadays."

"You sound like an old man. People still do cash. Mostly. Kind of. Sometimes."

"Anyway. I want to get something for Hannah. And I want your help."

"Sure, what is it?"

"Something red."

---

I have my something red plus something not red and Alessandra will not let me live it down. She doesn't need any more responses. She doesn't need any more of my attention. There is something I am doing right now and that requires focus. There is a rooftop in need of a seating and while I am not the most vertically inclined, a nice man with a shamrock tattoo is more than willing to give me a boosty. And it is a good boosty. He gets a fiver and I get a ladder to climb while the hair brushes past rusted metal. It helps get the mind in the right place. There's a bit of a bite in the hands and my bat keeps thumping against the small of my back. I didn't have time for the cages beforehand, and this is close enough.

I need the sting of something in my palms. It helps. It really does. Each and very little pin prick in my hands is a signifier that something in me is bleeding out. And something else is bleeding in. It all collects within me, the darkening sky, that odd shadow that lingers too long, the glint of metal that could be a knife. All of the dangers and threats unspoken swirl as I climb the fire escape. All the little infractures against security manifest through me. I am sharp. I am deadly. I resonate with malicious intent and the dead song of the black swine god.

All the flowery words in the word do not protect me from the edge of the roof and the dizzying height across the park. Such a nice night for it all really. Just over half a moon, cool but not cold. We have a month or two before the nights start to swelter and burn. But tonight, tonight is good for it. I don't know how Violence plans on infiltrating the museum. All in all, I actually don't think it will be too hard. Heaviest things they have to deal with are high school field trips. Now, those can certainly get rowdy, but nothing rambunctious and mischievous. That is where we come in.

And my escort for the night is running late. Again. Heaven knows why. She's had a chance for a good night's sleep. Had a chance to get her nails and hair did, probably a good hearty meal in there too. Shoeshine, a jog, a cup of coffee, every single way that people can spend time. But no, I am here on the edge of the park and watching the breeze sway the branches.

I like the museum. Hannah and I should probably go for a visit. Nothing criminal, just a day spent idly learning about natural history in all its forms. They have a mammoth skeleton at least. It might just be an elephant one that they've gussied up. I wouldn't be able to tell the difference at least. But the building is just something nice to look at. It reminds me of a top hat. Little narrow base with glass doors then a big bulbous square on top where everything actually is, then a big long spire with offices and conference rooms with all the civic needs a board of directors need. This time, though, there is also a very fancy ruby that I need to help take.

My meandering thoughts make the time slip by, but they do not manifest any Violence. That's okay. That's honestly okay. Good night to have to myself. Always important to have those, even when the attachment is going nice and smooth. I'll give her a half hour before I go back home. Hannah needs cuddles after this morning and I was not able to provide them as needed. But it will be fine. All fine and dandy and good. Should have brought a snack or something. Would have been the perfect spot for it.

I hear the ladder sing that song of rusted metal and biting palms and I sigh with it. Solitude broken and I have to do things now. I promised to do things, so I have to do them. But not right now. I have a moment more to myself and even a smidge more if I play it all cool and don't turn around to greet her. The ladder stops its noise and the roof gravel takes up the set.

"Evening Beat," says the gravel crunching steps. And all is lost. I am no longer alone with my thoughts wandering through the city streets, lit by vacant offices and dull streetlamps. I am back in the now with cold roof ledges and a wonderful view of the park as a sultry woman sashays her way to sit next to me. I give a non-committal wave and that is enough to pull her down to my little world.

"Hey," I say. Probably didn't even need to say anything. She'll start the spiel any moment, laying out the prep and the work and it all will just flow from there. Easy, she always makes it so easy.

"Heard from a little birdy that you visited your favorite little red devil. Does your ball and chain know?"

"Yeah, she knows. Her idea, actually. Figured I might as well visit and see how she's doing. So, what's the entrance? Did a tightrope last night, so this has to be different. Parachute? Dig a tunnel? Disguise?"

"Front door," she says with a huffing laugh, "It's a museum, not a bank. Bribed the guards earlier so that the security system is off. Easy peasy."

"What happened to high wire like?"

"Like you said, burned through that last night. And this was the best I could do in one day. Cut me some slack. And it will still be fun. Easy can be fun."

I shrug and don't disagree. Fun might not be the right word, but it is one that has the same shape as this. Novel might be a bit better. But we're still not moving. She is sitting next to me and staring at the path we have to take. Wandering one, curvy and loopy. We even pass under a bridge where so many things can happen. Super-secret treats with forgotten money, or a scary man with a knife. So few of those around recently. Kind of hard to be angry enough to accost a passerby when the weather's so nice. And there's a guy by the docks who'll give you free room and board if you ask. Food's extra though. That requires a bit of work.

Just like me by my lonesome, we spend a long moment together in silence, letting our respective thoughts wander and collect. They might even meet, but neither one of us knows.

"You ready," I ask. I am already moving to my feet, digging out a stray pebble that likes my palm a bit too much.

Violence says nothing for a long second. With practiced effortless ease, she hoists herself up to a handstand on the lip of the building. The dismount involves a full double backflip and a perfect stick. 10s from all the judges and I am impressed. She still says nothing as she walks past me with a slight gesture to follow. I twirl my bat and let it sit on my shoulders. That's about all the flare I am willing to put on for the moment.

---

The glass bends to Violence's touch. Simple, it all seems so simple and clean with her. The lockpicks came from nowhere and they will disappear back into that terrible nonexistence once the time comes for us all to move on. I barely have time to process what she is doing before the doors swing open with no protest at all. Like a gentleman, she holds it for me. The paint she wears belies no emotion. Layered on thick, a deep maddening purple tonight. Some of it stains her collar. I do not know how she will get it out when it comes time to shed the skin. But she will. And in probably less time than it takes to get my hair back to normal.

No security either. Good sign, a really good sign. I take in the intoxicating scent of history without a care in the world. Front desk is empty and now I have no idea how to navigate the endless maze of edutainment. A massive glass structure hangs from the ceiling. Sharp, deadly, abstract, and perfectly fit for the ambience. Good time, I am having a good time. Violence wordlessly hops the desk and starts rifling through the drawers.

"Not a gas station," I say, "Doubt there's anything in the register. Do they even have a register here?"

"Not what I'm after, genius," she says, "Seeing if the bribe I offered is enough for them to forget a set of keys."

"Like that'll make a difference for you."

"Eh, anything to make the gig easier. And this is a nice chair. I should get one. You should get one too. Everyone needs nice chairs."

I do not disagree. But I feel off in the space. Not the usual sense of trespassing. That comes with a naughty thrill. This just feels cold and empty. Shivery cold with crawling bugs and worming skin. Not fun, not exciting, but I have my bat. That is fun enough for everyone here. Violence sighs and steps from the chair.

"No keys. No money. Just a pack of gum. Want a piece?"

I take it and it is spearmint. Little stale and I probably should not trust desk gum. But if it kills me, my breath will at least smell alright. Not a bad way to die, really. Violence rifles through it all once more and then gives it all up.

She leads the way and I see no reason to challenge the call. Kind of expecting more of her people. A guy or two in the wings with a dark hood does wonderful things for the image. Even if nothing happens, they can carry things. And that's probably the most important part of any good heist scenario. There could be more jewels than the one she wants and now she has to rely on scrawny old me to carry it all. I understand that as my role in most shopping trips, but I am still ill-suited for it.

She has decided on a very meandering path for the night, it seems. We start in the ice age exhibit, under the protective care of our skeletal mammoth. Or elephant. I've been to the zoo and this does look like an elephant. The placard be damned, this is an elephant. The museum has been tricking people for years. Shame. Shame on them. Poor kids have been feigning interest over this. Nerdy kids have been dragging bored parents to see this.

"Y'know, this is actually the oldest mammoth discovered in the country," Violence says.

I hum some indifferent noise. Maybe the oldest fake mammoth in the country. I want to break it, but I figure mammoth bones would win out against aluminum. And the steel pins keeping up the puppet tip the scales even more. I reach out and touch the toe for comfort. It does not pull away. Maybe the mammoth is alright.

"Do you think that cloning thing will ever actually happen?" I ask, "Y'know, that thing where they'll mess with an elephant enough to make it give birth to a mammoth?"

"Not really. Just one of those things that sounds possible enough to make for a good headline. Like real AI. It's kind of possible, but the mind is such a weird thing that I don't humans can actually make one on purpose."

"Could they do it accidentally?"

"Oh, for sure. That's like 80% of science is just dumb luck. Maybe even as high as 90% in some fields. And astrophysics? That's 100% right there."

I snort a laugh and turn my eyes away. They also have those big saber tooth cats that look very funny. I pet a tooth affectionately and it does not bite. Better than any cat I've met without giant teeth. Violence amuses herself with the big sloths that are more like bears.

Odd feeling, for a heist, so lackadaisical. That odd edge in my stomach falls to an uneasy dull knot. There is no threat here, despite what the big teeth and sharp claws of the stuffed animals tell me. They are all dead and gone, and even if they weren't I have a bat. The great equalizer. If I were to add nails or barbed wire, then I'd be simply unstoppable. But no cops, no capes, no thumbs waiting with trained rifles. Hannah would like this place, if only to kill an afternoon. I did see one of those penny machines and those are always a good time. Probably the best use of a penny.

I do not have to endure the meandering perusal of taxidermy approximations for much longer. We come to the jewel in question after an honestly kind of interesting detour through the hall of botanical wonders. I am always up for a fun time with plants. Probably should get some for the base. Lots of hanging ivy from the walls, make the whole thing kind of give off this long abandoned vibe. I take a picture for my first safety text of the night. Violence entertains me with facts about flowers. Pollen, apparently, is most akin to the humble nutsack in human and most vertebrate anatomy. So, by some definitions, I am somewhat allergic to nutsack. Good to know. Probably should tell Ken at some point.

But all the facts slip out of my mind once the jewel comes in sight. It seems our bribed benefactors saw fit to keep the lights on. And it was a beautiful choice. Alessandra's friend is red. This is beyond that. The jewel encapsulates the essence of what red can possibly be. It is the ideal red that all other reds strive to be. The light shapes through it into red. Blue to purple to red. Yellow to orange to red. Violence is salivating and we are not even close to it. I am probably turning to flush and hot at the thought of having that in my hands. And the cut, each angle perfect and sharp and deadly in the vaguest suggestion of a cobra's hood spread wide.

"Beautiful," Violence mutters with a quavering voice.

"Yeah," I say in the same way. Just a little dagger of common sense keeps me from rushing in and snagging it.

"Are you sure your new friends did the whole system?"

"You just had to say something, didn't you? Because now you're making me paranoid. How dare you make me paranoid."

"I just don't want to lift the glass and light this place up like a fireworks factory. So, y'know, pull some fancy tool out. Check for lasers. That sort of thing."

"Place doesn't have the budget for lasers. Watch."

She takes a step forward. And then another. And then another. She breaks into a sprint and performs a flawless tumble run.

And not a single laser tripped. No alarms, no shutters, no swarming security guards with machine guns and steel eyes. Nothing. Simply nothing.

Just once, just once in my lifetime, I want her to fuck up. She needs the experience. I don't think she ever has and it would be good for her. Nothing catastrophic or disastrous. Just a mild enough inconvenience to tarnish the image. A nick in the plate, a chip on the vase, a weird smudge on the glass. But no. Nothing. So, I walk forward, head heavy and bat drooping. I don't have the will to hoist it up and over anymore. I don't find any lasers either. Doesn't mean they're not there. Maybe they're just bad at being lasers.

It's even more magnificent up close. The ruby somehow turns more red in every sequential angle I look at it from. Shifting, sparkling, twinkly frozen sunshine drop in a serpent muzzle. A tap and it would shatter completely unleashing solar venom from beyond inferno. I could take it. I could just bonk Violence on the nogging and have it all for myself. The hypnotizing eyes of the gem command it. I don't.

Instead, I rear my bat up over my head and line up the shot.

I don't do the natural conclusion of the motion either. Instead, the wonderful Ultra-Violence puts a hand to my chest and one between hers. She pulls a small scalpel and a compass. A shrill whine later and a perfectly neat circle of glass falls into her open palm. She is smug. Completely smug and smarmy through the neon purple distorting her features. I could still do it. She doesn't know that, but I could.

She reaches in and pulls the gem free. The magic shatters. It's just a rock. It's just a red shiny rock, well cut and heavy, but that's all it is. I don't even know why she wanted it in the first place. Hell, I don't know why she wanted me along either. I could knock this out in a second, even if I didn't have my little trick up my sleeve.

The paint cracks around the edges as she turns and admires the whole cut and glimmer. Smiling, she is smiling, entranced by perfection. I cast my gaze around the room. A collection of tapestries catch my eye. Labelled as native in red and white and black. I like them. Not sure if that's an accurate one, but that's my ignorance. They would look nice hanging up in my place, if I could switch the lightning around. But no, going with the ivy climb and the apocalypse made cozy. And they do look good in a museum. Much better here. Now the landscapes with cobblestone bridges, and that old timey map of our first subway, that's something. Not tonight. If we're having an addition to our décor, then the other party should be involved. That's it. Anniversary, we hit the art museum and take a few pieces. That'll be fun. Might even get a statue out of it if we bring Alizarin along for heavy lifting.

A hand is on my chest and the ruby is in front of my face. It is still tantalizingly red and shiny and so many forms of precious. Just a nudge of violence and it all comes down to be mine and mine alone.

"Isn't it beautiful," Violence whispers. Awe, plain and simple awe that the world could make something so perfect, only to transcend such a paltry label with human hands. It's the size of her fist and it is hers and hers alone. It's the color that gets me. Red, beautifully red. I should change my hair, my coat, to be more like the ruby.

"This is the part where you say I'm prettier," she says. And the magic is gone. The ruby is just a rock and the tapestries are stolen wool. The mammoth is an elephant overgrown and the spotlight suddenly seems dimmer.

"I'm not doing that," I say, "And not because it's not true. I hoped this wouldn't happen. Violence, it's not a thing between us. It's just not. And that line is the first step to lying through that. So, I'm not going to say that."

There were no right words, no right phrasing out of this and I don't care. I am not saying anything else. I can't read her face through the paint. I don't have to. Anger, rage, something dark and spiteful and jealous, sorrow, pain, something blue and swallowing. Disappointment, and not in some grand righteous way of how the world is imperfect. She didn't get her way. That's all it is and I think the simplicity of the feeling surprises her.

"Why?" she asks. It's not really a question. It's not really anything that needs an answer. But I have one and she needs it, if only to dive deeper into the sensation. That's the only way out of the current place.

"Because I don't have that for you. Maybe when I was starting out, something could have happened, but I really don't see anything lasting out of us."

She's silent. She's fuming. I have nothing to apologize for.

All in all, I am oddly calm. There is still that little twinge in my gut that says I did a bad thing, but I do not know what else I can do. This is the first time that it's come up so blatantly, but still, I do not think letting this fester with halfhearted shrugging words would do any good. In retrospect, the years where it festered silently were probably too much. That night should have been talked about and dismissed as not quite an accident, but a swerve in intoxication. One that was pleasurable, but not to be repeated.