Trust Comes Easy Ch. 04

She did exactly what I hoped she would do. In her panic she left the keys behind. I grabbed them and found the cage with the potassium cyanide, unlocked it with the third key I tried and grabbed one of the small bottles from the back. Locking that cage up I moved to the one with hydrochloric acid. My hands fumbled with the keys because of Maya squirting, her juice still covered my hand. I kept stopping to wipe it off. I also tried five keys with no luck. Footsteps started towards the door, followed by Frank's voice. "Did you get the folic acid out of storage?"

I dashed to the door, standing behind where it would open.

"Yes, it's over here."

Footsteps walked away and I ran back to my task. Three more keys with no luck, only two left.

"I'm going up to Greg's office," Frank said, "I'll be back in twenty."

Maya would be in here as soon as he left. I tried the second to last with no luck, figures it was the last key I'd try. I got the door open just as I heard the click of Maya's heels towards the door. It swung open.

"Maggie?" Maya said.

I appeared from behind the door. "He's gone?"

"Yes. Come on." Maya turned.

I grabbed my box, hoping she wouldn't notice my stuff was piled higher thanks to the large bottle of hydrochloric acid underneath it all.

On the way home I made three stops. One was a hardware store where I grabbed the rest of what I needed: a paper painter's mask and several pairs of thick rubber gloves, a hammer and chisel, a pair of goggles and a bucket with a lid. The gross part was no longer the killing; it was going to be the cleanup. The second stop was the park where Kaye and I first said we loved each other. We said it at the edge of the lake that sits in the middle of the park, and I stood at the same spot with the box that held the wedding rings. Before Friday the thought of those rings brought me joy, but now they're only a reminder that our relationship will never be the same again. I brought back my arm to throw the box in the lake.

"Hey! Stop!"

I turned. It was a cop.

"Unless that's a rock, it better still be in your hand when you walk out of the park!"

Fucker. I had a mind to flip him off, but getting arrested wasn't a good idea right now. As I got back to the car, I realized I haven't done anything right lately, even getting rid of a small, stupid box. I'm a fuck up of the highest order. I'll probably screw up tomorrow too. That thinking started to weaken my resolve about going through with it, and I knew I couldn't go home like that. So I ended up in a bar called Bill's, a place I'd never been to before.

I sat at the bar and kept ordering drinks. As each one came I held the faint but desperate hope that it would numb me to the point where my current situation didn't look so bad. But at the bottom of each glass was the reminder that my luck had run out. There was no other explanation. Too many bad things happened at once, and only the total absence of luck could be the cause. For many years I'd considered myself lucky – that I had enough brains to stay in school, that I had enough sense to stay alive if it meant dumpster diving behind restaurants for food in Utah or staying away from heroin when I felt so down on myself in New York, that I'd managed to start my life over again without telling everyone what it used to be. It always felt like I was just lucky enough to get what I needed. And now I stood to lose it all, because 'lucky' wasn't good enough anymore.

The bartender came up to me with my latest glass of hope. She was in her late forties or early fifties, with enough grays coming through her red hair to signal it was time for a new dye job. She placed the drink in front of me and smiled. "You've been putting 'em down sweetheart. Not that I mind since you tip well, I just don't want to see you tip over."

"If I do, just sweep me under the rug."

She chuckled. "Let me take a wild guess. Man trouble?"

"Female trouble."

Her smile softened. "Are we talking the female friend trouble, or..."

"Or, dot dot dot."

Her cackled laugh sounded like she'd smoked since she was born. "Well, at least you still have a sense of humor. That's important. Keeps the noose from looking so good."

A customer signaled her from the other end of the bar. "Be right back." When she walked away I was face to face with my reflection in the mirror behind the bar. It seemed like a long time before she came back and said, "I don't know much about same sex relationships sweetie. Hell, I don't know much about men either. Don't get me wrong, they're simple creatures, I've known that since my first boyfriend in high school, but then again I'm on my third husband, so what does that tell you?"

"That we're all fucked."

"Whew, we're just a pair of optimists, aren't we?"

I managed a chuckle.

"So tell me about it," she said.

"You don't want to hear it. It's too much and too weird."

"Honey, I've been behind a bar since I was seventeen. Too much or too weird is a challenge for you, not me."

"Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you." And then I laid it all out for her, everything that happened from age fifteen on. It took a little while, but luckily the bar was slow. I left out the part where I was planning on killing Amanda, admitting to a future felony seemed like a bad idea at the time. It was probably a bad idea any other time as well. I just told her that Amanda had left and Kaye was still angry, which is what I figured tomorrow would be like.

When I finished the bartender sighed and said, "That's a bummer."

"Worst part of it is she has every right to be mad. I mean if this was some fight like I've had with other girlfriends, where we both lose our tempers and both act badly, it's both our faults. But I screwed this up all by myself. And she has all the right in the world to hate me."

"For right now, yeah, sure," she said. "But if she still hates you a couple days from now, she's not as special as you think."

"How you figure that?"

"Look, I understand her getting mad about how you lied about your past. It's an instant, emotional reaction. But if even half of what you told me is for real, and by the way you didn't just meet the challenge, you reset the bar, then when she calms down she'll understand why you weren't crazy about telling the truth. If she's worth anything, that is."

When she put the check down I saw that it wasn't half of what I knew it should be. Before I could protest she said, "Bartenders prerogative. And before you get all 'don't want to be anyone's charity' on me, the last bunch of drinks was mostly mixer. Didn't want you dying of alcohol poisoning before you had a chance to make up with her."

I smiled. "Thanks."

"Besides, you'd never fit under that rug."

20.

When I got home I left everything in the car except the potassium cyanide, which was small enough to fit in my purse. The rest I could come out for tomorrow after Amanda was dead.

When I got upstairs Amanda was on the computer. "Are you now gainfully unemployed?" she asked. I nodded. She got up and walked over. "Good. We fly out at twelve forty five tomorrow."

Then Amanda pulled me to her, wrapping her left arm tight across my shoulder blades and her right arm above it, bent at the elbow so it pushed my head towards hers. She kissed me, and reluctantly I kissed her back. When it ended she looked me in the eyes, our foreheads touching. I tried to look away but she tilted her head left and then right, chasing me with her gaze. Finally I stopped running and looked at her.

"It'll be just you and me," she said. "Like it used to be."

My breathing was going so fast it felt like I'd just finished running a marathon. I could feel the air traveling to my lungs, where it seemed to do nothing except keep me alive. There was no taste in it anymore, no joy. My heart felt cold and hollow in my chest. Part of me said to cozy up to her, to make her feel comfortable. The other part of me knew that was the wrong move. My eyes narrowed and in a voice I barely recognized, I said, "The only reason I'm going with you is because you threatened to kill her. Don't forget that. Not for one second."

Amanda just stared back at me for a moment. Suddenly she grabbed me by my ears and forced me back until my head slammed into the wall. I cried out, more in shock than in pain. Her gaze held steady into my now wide and frightened eyes. "You loved me once," Amanda said, "you can learn to do it again."

She let go and walked away. I stayed against the wall, fighting back tears and fear. Tomorrow, I thought.

When Kaye came home she remembered that she was supposed to meet Lucy and some others for a drink. I offered to join her, but Kaye said she'd rather go alone. Yeah, I've got nothing to worry about. Before Kaye left Amanda reminded her, "I still have the tape, and your career, in my hands." I wasn't looking to be left alone with Amanda, so I told her I needed to practice on my violin, since I hadn't done it since last Thursday. I usually practice on the roof because it annoys the neighbors when I do it in the apartment. Just as I was about to walk out she said, "Here," and tossed something on the floor in front of me. It was the folder with the story by Carol Hitchcock. "In case you get tired of hearing yourself play."

I picked it up. "So where did you get this?"

Amanda smiled. "Given to me by the author herself a few years back. Met her down in Rio. I won't bore you with the details."

When I got to the roof the sun was just starting to set. I tried playing, but kept screwing up even the simplest notes. Was tomorrow going to work? And if it did, what exactly was I going to say to Kaye when she got home? Would she believe Amanda just up and left? Was Kaye going to do the same? I stopped playing and put down the violin, unable to concentrate. Instead I sat and opened up the binder. If Hitchcock is as good a writer as everyone says maybe her piece could put my mind on other things.

"As Naked As A Tree" was a strange title. It turned out to be an autobiographical piece about when Hitchcock was a teenager and she took walks in the woods behind the farm in Kentucky where she lived. At first she did them because she liked being out in nature, but soon it became more about spending time alone with her imagination, and it also gave her time to think about problems she was having, like telling her folks and her friends that she liked other girls. I could relate to that. Then one night she was watching a movie and there was a scene where a woman ran naked through the woods. Just watching it excited Carol. So during her next walk in the woods, she stopped at one point and took off all her clothes. That changed everything for her. She looked at the trees around her and realized they were as bare as she was. She wrote:

"We were all naked in those woods, me and the trees. I hugged one, my naked body against the naked tree. I marveled at how aged they were and the fact that they survived being naked outside for so long, in the cold and the heat, in the rain and the snow and the wind, and it made me realize that life throws things at everyone. You just have to adapt, grow some thick bark and you can get through it."

After that, Carol only felt truly comfortable with herself when she was walking through the woods naked. It didn't just give her a sexual charge, but one she felt down to the core of her being, like this was the one moment she truly felt alive and not under anyone else's thumb. So I decided to take her advice.

I took off all my clothes. Then I picked up my violin and started playing a piece by Bach. Standing there with the air and sun on my body I felt so alive, so free. I started swaying as I played, feeling the music moving through me like it never had before. And the sunset matched my mood with a perfect golden sky. When I finished the piece there was silence, but I sensed someone behind me and turned. It was Mike, the guy from the apartment across the hall, and in his arms he held what looked like a large computer printer. I turned back to the sunset.

He walked up and stood beside me. "It's beautiful."

"I was just thinking the same thing. What's with the printer?"

"It's a long story."

We stood silent for a little, enjoying the sunset. The hues of the sky made it look like a painting or a picture rather than real life. But I knew no one could quite capture the scope of it or the colors, I'd tried many times with my camera. I stole a glance at Mike, the printer still in his hands, his eyes fixated on the scene before him. If my nudity had any affect he didn't show it in the least.

Finally he said, "I'm going to drop this over the side. You mind?"

"Just as long as you don't go chasing after it."

Half a smile cracked the side of his face. "Would you help me make sure no one is down there when I throw it?"

I nodded and Mike and I walked to the edge and I looked over. It was the side that faced the next building, so there was little reason for anyone to be down there. Mike brought the printer over his head. It was big and looked to be a high-grade job, and his skinny arms almost lost control of it. But then he steadied, and stood there waiting for my signal.

"Clear," I said.

He heaved the printer over the side and we both watched as it sailed towards the ground. The bulky machine turned over in the air once and then smashed onto the pavement, the casing splitting open easily with the eight-story drop and sending the guts of the thing flying in every direction.

"Cool," I said.

"Yeah," Mike said. For the first time in weeks there was a full smile on his face.

We looked back up at the sunset. The gold color started to turn red as the sun started down over the hill in the distance.

Finally I said, "Kaye's probably going to leave me."

"Any particular reason why?"

"Because she doesn't trust me anymore." I sighed. "We fell in love so quickly, and she trusted me so easily, but then one stupid thing happens and it's like I can't get her to trust me that quickly again."

Suddenly Mike laughed out loud. It scared me, mostly because he'd been so subdued when he was with his wife and so depressed after she left. Then he looked at me in the eye for a while. "That's the funny thing about trust," he said finally. "It comes so easy. Hell, most of us do it without thinking. We want to trust people. We want to have something that connects us, that way we're not so alone. But it's so fragile too, because when we're betrayed it scares us, reminds us of how alone we really are. When trust is lost, it's not half as easy to get back as it was to gain it. That's unfair and it sucks but that's reality."

I snorted. "You're very wise today."

"Experience is a bitch. My wife cheated on me."

I pursed my lips and hesitated asking him the natural next question. It didn't last long. "Anyone you know?"

He shook his head. "Did it with the guy who sold her that printer." He rubbed his hands on his face. "I threw her out, but she keeps calling. Says she wants us back together, keeps begging for another chance."

"You going to forgive her?"

"Don't know yet." Then he shrugged and said, "Who am I kidding? Yeah, I am. She says it was a huge mistake and I believe her. Unless you're an idiot you can usually tell about people. She was under a lot of pressure, from work, from her family, from me. Said she walked into the store and the salesman started hitting on her hard and she just went with it without thinking. Normally she's a very caring person; it's one of the reasons I fell in love with her. I don't think she did it maliciously. Why exactly are you naked?"

"It's a long..." I stopped and chuckled. "Actually it's a short story. Here, read it." I handed him the binder.

21.

After the sunset I got dressed, went downstairs and sat on the front steps. There were many ways tomorrow could play out, and I wanted to talk to Kaye alone before that happened. I wasn't sure what exactly I wanted to say, there was no way I was going to tell her about my plan, but I felt the need to speak with her before it went down. As the time dragged on and I had nothing to do but think, I realized that in some way I was saying goodbye to Kaye, just in case. If tomorrow went badly and I was forced to leave with Amanda, or she discovered my plan and killed me, or if in her last moments she managed to overpower me and...okay, that's enough thinking for right now.

Just after nine the car pulled down the street and I watched Kaye do a horrible job parallel parking it. My nerves were doing handstands as she walked across the street, and my mind blanked on what to say to her as she walked up to the building. Kaye stopped and stared down at me for a slow, agonizing minute. Then she sat down next to me and gave me a big hug. It took me off guard, and I slowly put my hands around her.

"I love you," she said. "You know that, right?"

I felt a smile crawl across my face. "It helps to be reminded now and again."

We broke the hug and Kaye kept her face close to mine. She exhaled and that's when I smelled something. "Have you been drinking?"

She gave me crooked grin. "A little. I, um, talked to Lucy." Kaye moved so she sat facing the street.

"You told her about—"

Kaye shook her head. "No. I was going to. I wanted to tell her the whole thing, get some outside advice. But I realized laying this on someone else..." Kaye sighed. "So I just asked her what I really wanted to know without telling her the details."

"What did you ask her?"

"That's not important." Kaye looked at me. Have I ever you about Da'mon Warner?"

I thought for a second. "No. Is he one of your kids?"

"He was in the first class I ever taught." Kaye leaned back against a step. "Da'mon didn't run with the gangs or deal drugs, and according to school records he'd never caused any trouble. I checked because he was smart, really smart. Got high marks on every homework assignment, aced every test. Funniest thing, you talked to him and he sounded as lost as every other kid in the class, but when it came to schoolwork he was the exception. And I told him that one day." Kaye smiled. "After class. I said that if he kept his grades up I thought he had a real shot at going to college. And he looked at me like I just told him he could walk on the moon." Kaye's face practically lit up with the memory. "I was happy for him, but I was happy for me too. I went into teaching to try and make a difference."

I arched an eyebrow. "And to prove your parents wrong about underprivileged kids."

"Yeah, well, a little of that too. With Da'mon I felt like all my dreams were going to come true, you know? First month on the job and I'm grooming a kid for college." When Kaye's smile slowly faded I knew this story didn't end well. "Three days later Da'mon doesn't show up for class. At lunchtime the principal calls me to his office and tells me Da'mon's in jail, for stealing a car."

She was silent for a while, so I asked, "Did you ever find out why he did it?"

Kaye nodded. "I went and visited him in jail." Then she looked at me, and in her eyes was this vulnerability that I've rarely ever seen in her. "You know what he fucking tells me? He said, 'I had to steal that car, Miss Foster. You told me I could go to college, and that takes serious coin. So I figured I'd better start earning like everyone else.'"

My jaw dropped. I realized that wasn't vulnerability in her eyes. It was guilt. She took a breath and said, "It was my first lesson in how little I understood about where these kids come from. In their world, the only people who earn good money are the ones who deal drugs, boost cars, run numbers," she paused, "sell their bodies. Other than that, you're just working a low wage job, living somewhere around the poverty line." Kaye snorted. "Me? I grew up knowing I had options. I could go to college. I could travel the world. I could marry some trust fund kid and hang out at the country club while a nanny raised my children."