CONTAINS CONTENT:
Death, tragedy involving a child, language, mention of an unknown character taking their life, accusatory sexual dialogue
Austin gestured to the couch upon arrival at his office, and for a moment, Marielle was concerned that he’d try to sit there with her, although why that concerned her, she wasn’t certain. It wasn’t as if they’d never sat together before.
He didn’t. Instead, he went to his desk and sat, folding his fingers in his lap and waiting.
There was a pause. Marielle gave an exaggerated shrug. “What the hell do you want me to say?”
“The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain… Anything.”
She swallowed and picked at a loose string on her sleeve for a moment. “How was I supposed to feel?” She raked some loose wisps of her hair back from her face. “How am I supposed to feel? You yourself said that you thought I was falling for the guy.”
While Austin’s hands remained clasped, he opened them and lifted them for a brief moment. “We don’t know everything he’s been through. He’s trained, Marielle. It wasn’t personal.”
“I know,” she replied quickly. “I know that, and yet…” She shook her head, looking out the window. “It was a weird sort of wake-up call, you know? Like, what was I thinking? A bridal gown and white picket fences? I don’t think he can have any of that, and neither can I.” She wrapped her arms around her torso. “Not based on the lives we’ve both chosen.”
“Because you don’t want it,” Austin said matter-of-factly. She looked at him with an expression that said “How dare you?” at first, but then it melted into something thoughtful, maybe even agreement. “Face it, Marielle, you want this life. You want to run around the world and be constantly on the edge of the unknown until the day you die. You weren’t made for picket fences, bonnets, and tea parties. I feel like you’re just now understanding a new level of yourself, and it scares you.” He lifted an eyebrow at her.
She fanned herself with one hand. August was so darn hot. Then she dropped it, glaring at him, and pointed a finger. “No antics, Tundra. I mean it: none.”
He lifted his hands in mock surrender, then folded them under his arms. She was pretty sure this gesture was Austin telling himself no.
“I guess I feel like I’m coming apart,” she continued in a whisper. Then she put her face into her hands momentarily. “He’s not even from here, Austin. There’s another Vincent out there, just like him, but different.” She breathed steadily for a few minutes.
Deep in thought, Austin gazed at his desk as if he’d stopped hearing her for a moment. Finally, he looked up at her with a nod. “He said there’s another version of all of us out there,” he said, gesturing outward with his chin.
“Yeah, he did. But even in his world, I’m not an agent,” she said, her eyes welling again.
She knew Austin saw this, and that his instinct was probably to come and sit by her and hold her close, but he stayed still. His expression confirmed her readings of him, however.
“That’s what you really want, huh? To be part of this team.” She nodded. “How much sleep did you actually get last night? I know we rolled in late after our game.”
“Not too much.”
“All right. Let me take you home.” Austin stood up from his desk and grabbed his keys.
She shook her head. “Austin, no, I—”
“You have to feed that damn cat,” he said. Right, she’d forgotten about that—again. Poor Felix. “I want you to go home. Yes, that’s an order. Go home and take some time away from here, away from Vincent. Let me and some of the others watch him for a night. He’ll be fine. Get your mind off him.”
“So I can think about you?” she snapped, then regretted it immediately.
He glowered at her. “Whatever makes you feel good tonight,” he replied darkly. There was a hint of “Yes, please” somewhere in there. She couldn’t be mad at him for that one; she’d walked right into it.
“I’m sorry,” she said meekly, rubbing the back of her neck.
He remained serious. “I know the difference between work and play, and I won’t violate that, Marielle. Right now, we’re working. Last night? We were playing.” He shrugged as he leaned forward. “I spent a good chunk of time yesterday taking care of you, but it’s all good. And I’m telling you, you need to go home, take a bath, and rest.”
She quirked a brow at him, noticing how he leaned against the desk, hands clutching the rim and one leg stretched out a bit. She was attracted to this posture, and she suspected that he wanted her to be. “How do you know I like baths?”
“You do,” he insisted with a subtle, knowing smile. He gestured with his thumb over his left shoulder. “I’ll take you home.”
She got up and followed him out. When they got into his car, he turned it on, and loud, aggressive music came blaring out. He punched the volume. “Sorry,” he said with a grimace.
“It’s cool. I like loud music, too.”
Austin put the car roof back. “Yeah? What do you want to listen to?” He opened up a gigantic playlist on his phone, which he’d stuck to the front of the dashboard. “Go ahead.”
She picked a song at random, and off they went, both of them singing along to the loud music. Marielle thought he was charming.
Felix was waiting when she walked through the door, and she immediately bent and picked him up. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry!”
Austin peeked in as she went to get Felix food. “Everything okay?” he asked. She nodded and went to the cabinet, cat over her shoulder. “Can I use the bathroom real quick?”
“Sure.” She gestured out the kitchen and to the left.
After setting Felix’s food down, she started making coffee for herself. “Want some coffee, Austin?” she asked casually.
“Uh, sure!” he called from the other end of the apartment.
By the time she finished making it and went to her living room, Austin had returned, wiping his wet hands on his jeans. She set both cups on the table, and he came to sit on the couch near her, but again, his placement was careful. He was in that perfect “I’m a trustworthy friend” place. It was obvious, and he clearly knew it was, but neither of them explored the reasons behind this.
“It’s a nice place,” he said, taking a sip before gesturing to the space before them with his mug. His eyes drifted to the piano. “Have you lived here long?”
She was already drinking and made a humming sound into the cup, which echoed a little. Steam rose up, giving her face a glossy look as she set her cup on the table and leaned her temple into her hand. “Yeah, about seven years. I like it. It’s quiet here.”
He nodded. “And the cat. When did you get Felix?”
“He’s been here a little less time. He was…” She paused, her face twisting a little. “He was Peter’s.”
Austin put the cup down and leaned toward her in interest. “Sabine’s son?” She nodded. “Can we talk about that?” Marielle sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, maybe this is the wrong time to try and shrink you, but”—he shrugged one shoulder—“I know that’s weighing on your mind, and I think maybe you should talk about it.”
Marielle looked distant for a moment. “It was a long time ago.”
“I know,” he whispered, and it sounded more intimate than he’d probably intended.
***
What Marielle remembered most? There was so much noise.
She remembered running toward the disaster, toward the noise, toward her friends and her former lover, now a friend as well: Sabine’s husband Morgan.
She remembered how her legs felt like they were on fire as she pushed them further, and how she’d moved so fast she actually skidded into a wall. It hurt, but she shook it off and kept running.
Morgan was in a research lab in the biochem department with his son, Peter, who had been brought in after a possible fever that morning had turned out to be nothing, and “Daddy had to go check something at work.”
It had been a normal day… That’s what Marielle kept thinking after everything was said and done, that it had been a normal day. Normal days turn dark all the time, but no one could have predicted this, and now that Vincent had revealed that it had been an attack from the other side, Marielle saw the entire thing in a different light. Everyone had always believed it had been an accident of some kind, a hardware malfunction. Now she knew that hadn’t been the case at all.
The entire building was in a panic as Marielle tried desperately to reach the lab. The biochem department was locked down from inside when she got there. No one could enter, but a large observation window allowed her to see inside. There were wiry catwalks in the back, and to the left, something that looked like a rectangular swimming pool flanked by five or six control panels.
She saw Sabine’s brother-in-law, John, standing at the nearest control panel on the other side of the window. John… sweet, tender-hearted John in his white lab coat and oval glasses. Marielle didn’t know him well, but knew that Morgan had introduced him to Sabine’s sister, Arianna. He was one of the kindest souls she’d ever met.
Presently, he was in a panic as he pressed buttons. The enormous black cloud in the center of the pool expanded and contracted slightly, repeating the cycle over and over again, growing a bit larger each time. The alarm blared overhead, warning everyone in the room that there was danger. Marielle could see the last two or three people running in the back of the lab, making a feeble attempt to get to safety.
“One less?” John shouted to Morgan, who stood on the other side of the pool, holding his son on his hip.
Peter was three. His big green eyes were still at that stage where they were full of life and innocence. He had one hand in his mouth, while the other clutched a drawing in red ink. Marielle had never gotten a good look at that drawing, but she imagined now that it was three stick figures: “Mommy, Daddy, and me.” The look on his face said that he had no idea of the danger he was in, or that anything serious was happening at all. That had been the worst part for Marielle, and part of her always tried to block out the memory of his innocent, carefree face.
“Won’t do any good,” Morgan replied, frantically pounding buttons one-handed.
John nodded, accepting that, and went to the next panel, where he coded something in.
Morgan looked into his son’s eyes, forcing a loving smile and bouncing him a few times. Peter laughed.
Sabine slid in next to Marielle, a look of abnormally stretched horror on her face that Marielle had also tried to forget.
Morgan spotted the two women on the other side of the window and brought Peter to it. “It’s okay,” he said to Sabine, squeezing his son. “I’ve got him.”
It wasn’t okay. Both of them knew this. Sabine nodded and reached out, touching the glass. Peter’s little fingers brushed his mother’s hand from the other side.
“John?” Morgan asked over his shoulder, eyes remaining locked with his wife’s.
John slammed his hand down. “Cover going out.” The console beeped, then made a harsh blatting sound. He shook his head. “Ineffective.”
Morgan forced a smile. Sabine could read her husband’s thoughts. “No,” she breathed.
“Marielle?” he said quietly as he stared at his tear-soaked, broken wife. He never once looked anywhere else. “Lock this down from out there, too?”
She reflexively went to the door and entered a code from the outside.
“No, they won’t be able to get out!” Sabine screamed, clawing at Marielle.
Too late. Door locked.
There was silence for several moments as everyone stared at one another, knowing this would be the last moment Sabine ever saw her family.
That horrible black dome expanded again. “Warning: overload,” a computerized voice exclaimed from above.
Morgan tried for one more hopeful, “John?” He glanced back over his shoulder at him.
John adjusted his glasses, then shook his head gravely. All Morgan could do was force another smile at Sabine.
After what felt like an eternity, John rushed to Morgan’s side. “We can still try to get out,” he said, throwing darting glances at the black orb as it swelled like a bubble about to burst.
Morgan turned to John and gave him a soft, defeated smile. There was no way to get out now. “Take him and get to the containment tube.” He spoke to Peter. “Go play with Uncle John, okay?”
He handed Peter to his brother-in-law, who forced a quiet, friendly, “Hey, buddy.”
“Un-cle John.” It was the last thing Sabine heard her son say.
“That’s not going to protect us,” John said once Peter was in his arms. The alarm was growing faster, louder; arcs of electricity sparked from the pool.
“We don’t have a choice,” Morgan replied.
Both men paused, John looking into Morgan’s face. “I love you,” John said matter-of-factly. They had been family for over four years.
Morgan nodded, then gave him a pat on the shoulder and a push, and John and Peter hurried down the steps toward their only hope of survival. Morgan watched them as they vanished behind some stairs.
Sabine was frozen. The alarm began to count down. Ten seconds… That was all the time God was allowing her. Ten seconds to understand the whole of their relationship, from their first meeting at the bar that night with Marielle to their friendship, their love, their marriage, their child… Ten seconds to consider all of the love in the world and realize they were going to lose it. Ten seconds felt like twenty hours as the computer counted them off one by one.
“Ten… Nine… Eight…Seven… Six… Five…”
Morgan managed to smile at Sabine. “I love you.”
Sabine didn’t look human anymore as she choked out a garbled, “I love you so mu—”
The room filled with expanding darkness until it enveloped everything, including Morgan. When it dissipated moments later, he was gone.
With a cry, Sabine collapsed like a marionette whose strings had been cut, and Marielle bent down and held her.
***
Marielle stared at Felix as he licked his back paw, two streaks down the sides of her pale face.
“Arianna committed suicide not long after,” Marielle whispered. “Sabine really did lose everything.”
She turned to look at Austin. His own eyes were glistening. He let out one of the longest sighs Marielle had ever heard and leaned back against the couch, hands spread out across it as if he’d just fought a major battle and was trying to catch his breath.
“Holy shit,” he said, exhaling. “And John is…”
“We don’t know what he is.” Sniffling, Marielle wiped her nose with the back of her wrist and took a few sips of her coffee. “He’s alive, that much is obvious, but he seems to be in a constant state of being torn apart and put back together again.” She drew her knees up to her chest like a small child and rested one cheek against them, looking away from Austin’s compassionate gaze. “He’s in the research lab, in a room designed for him. Kirra developed a serum that seems to mostly keep him together, but he can’t go anywhere or do anything. He’s been trapped in that bed for the last five years. He can’t stand sunlight, either.”
Austin fought for the right words. When none came, he simply said, “I’m so sorry.” It sounded real, and that was what mattered.
“It’s okay.” She lifted her head and wiped her eyes. “I mean, it’s not… But it has to be, you know?” He nodded. “I just… I wonder all the time what would have happened if I hadn’t listened to Morgan, if I hadn’t obeyed his—”
Austin cut her off. “Hey, no. You did nothing wrong. If you hadn’t done what he said and anyone had tried to get out, you’d be dead now too, and so would Sabine and who knows how many other people. Hell, the entire country could have been wiped out, we don’t know. The lab was designed to contain the situation.”
“It’s like… I know that, but…”
“But it’s hard to believe that you did the right thing when so much loss occurred,” he whispered.
She nodded, wiping the tears from her face. “So,” she began, then paused. Austin was looking at her as if he thought that nothing on the planet could have made her ugly, and she felt mildly uncomfortable. “I told you something personal about me… Tell me something personal about you.”
A brief expression flashed on his face where he looked excited that that might turn naughty, but he caught it quickly. “What do you want to know?”
“How did your wife leave you? And why? What was that night like?”
Austin swallowed and exhaled slowly, rubbing his bottom lip in thought as he tilted his head against the back of the couch and stared at the ceiling. He looked deep in thought, as if trying to figure out how to word things.
“Is that too much?”
“I’ll tell you,” he said with a resolute nod.
***
Austin slammed the lid of his laptop down and tore the earbuds from his ears as Erin walked into the room, pushing back from his desk as though it had just burst into flame. He was still trembling as the high left his body, and Erin’s eyes passed over him as she set her things on the nightstand. She wore a formfitting dark-gray pant suit, and her dark-blonde hair was swept up away from her face in a partial bun.
“I thought you were coming home later,” he said casually.
“I was.” She glanced at him, then the laptop, then him again. “The meeting ended early,” she said with a sigh.
“Oh. How was it?” He shifted his hands awkwardly, eventually hugging himself around the middle.
He could tell she knew what was going on. Glancing at the laptop again, she sat on the bed and took her high heels off.
He bent on one knee to help her and rubbed her foot for a moment. “It was okay, we just ended early. I wanted to come home to see you.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she paused. “Austin…”
“What?”
“Come on,” she urged, motioning with her head to the laptop.
He half looked back at it. “What do you mean?” he asked, and one of the things he always remembered about the situation was just how innocent and genuine he sounded in his head, like a little boy. Because in his head, he always convinced himself that nothing was ever wrong.
“I know what you do,” she pressed. Then she exhaled and took her right foot out of his hands. “You know that I know what you do…” She put her face in her hands. “Austin, I find this stuff all the time now, but recently… I’ve noticed that your”—she fought for a word—“content? tastes?…have been leaning a little more one way than the other.”
His throat going dry, he swallowed hard and looked away from her prodding gaze. “And… and I need you to explain to me w-what’s going on.” She was shaking; tears filled her hazel eyes and fell onto her cheeks. “There are a lot of very—very different photos and videos in your folders right now.”
“Yeah,” he whispered guardedly. “Because I—I have something to tell you. Something you need to know.”
“Oh, God, no…” Erin shook her head and covered her ears. “Austin, no, please. Please? No.”
“Yeah.” He nodded, looking down between them. “I’m bisexual, honey.”
She shook her head, her lips tucked in as if to trap her emotions inside herself. “No… no, you’re joking.” He fell silent and kept his eyes on the floor. “Austin, you have to be joking. Don’t do this to me right now!”
She stood from the bed and whirled away from him. He went to her, reaching out and taking her arm. “Erin, we can work this—”
Her knees bent, weakening. “I—I put up with so much from you!” she wailed, tears falling unbidden. “So much, Austin!” He kept trying to pull her to him, but she took a step back or walked away every time. “Th-the porn? —Which I turned a blind eye to, by the way. I just kept telling myself. ‘At least it’s me. At least he’s with me,’” she said as if speaking to someone invisible. Then she rounded on him, making it personal again. “At least you were with me!”
He tried to open his mouth, but she stopped him. “And the clubs? The clubs, Austin! Every Friday night, I stay up waiting for you!” She whimpered, twisting her hands together. “Every Friday night, you leave me alone, crying myself to sleep!”
Erin paused, and her fair face flushed even more as if something had just dawned on her. She’d made a decision, and she wasn’t going back. “I’m done.”
“No, wait. Can’t we work this out?”
“I’m done!” she repeated, putting her hands up to stop him from coming near her again. “No, I’m done! I’m leaving.”
Austin made one more grab for her as she tossed things back into her purse. “I don’t want you to lea—”
“Don’t touch me!” She jerked away, her face red and puffy. “I’m not doing this with you anymore!” They were both still for a moment, staring at one another. “I have put up with so much from you, so much! And now…” She looked up, eyes wide in disbelief. “Now, Austin? You want dick!” Her ironic laugh sounded hysterical. “Am I just—am I just not enough for you?”
He was still, eyes closed, chest rising and falling as anxiety opened in his middle. “I told you to get help for this, Austin. I told you to get help at Christmas when we missed the flight home because you were… I don’t even know what you were doing. I don’t want to know anymore.”
His eyes were still closed. She shook her head and shoved past him to the closet, where she pulled out a few hangers with clothes on them. Then she dragged a duffle bag from under the bed and began throwing clothing and other items into it.
He went to zip it shut. “I’ll get help…”
She pushed him away and unzipped it again. “It’s too late, Austin,” she said dismissively. “You’re disgusting.”
“Too late? Wh-what do you mean?” He still hadn’t processed what was going on. “Oh,” he breathed as a realization occurred to him. “Is it someone else?” She scoffed and folded some socks, stuffing them into the bag. “It’s someone else, isn’t it?” he pressed, his heart pounding. “Is it Jeff?”
Erin shook her head, but her silence confirmed that it was her associate, Jeff Parsons. With a sigh, she finally acknowledged him. “Nothing… has… happened.”
“You’re really with someone else?” he demanded, and now it was his turn to back up a little bit.
“Austin, I promise you, nothing has happened between us,” she insisted. “Nothing.”
“Really? Someone else, Erin? Come on!” he cried, and he was never sure afterward if he had truly meant to hurt her or if he had just been trying to shift the blame.
Her cheeks grew even redder, and she grabbed at her own hair. Her back straightened, and she took a stance that said these were her final words, so he should listen carefully. “Austin… you have had many someone elses”—her voice grew quieter—“in locked spaces and dark rooms”—even quieter —“by the light of your computer screen or your phone, or in some seedy strip club…”
A final tear dripped off her chin. Erin shook her head and zipped the duffle bag, then threw it over her shoulder. She lifted a finger and pointed at him. “I hope,” she choked, “that it was worth it.”
Then she slipped into a pair of sneakers and marched down the stairs and out the front door without acknowledging him again, as if he no longer existed to her.
***
Austin and Marielle were silent for a few moments after he finished.
Marielle rubbed her lip. “So… you’re a sexual addict.”
He swallowed hard, still staring at the ceiling; his hands were folded on his chest. When she said this, a silent tear rolled down his face. He nodded, acknowledging what he’d never been able to with Erin. In fact, maybe he hadn’t fully acknowledged until this very moment. “Yeah.”
Sighing, Austin stood and paced for a moment, clearly at a loss for what to do. He went to the piano and gestured. May I?
She nodded. He sat on the bench, sipped his coffee, and put the cup behind him on the table so as not to damage the wood. Lifting the cover, he put his fingers to the keys as gently as Marielle imagined he would touch a lover.
He thought for a moment. “Okay,” he whispered. Then he began to play the chorus to Elton John’s “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road,” singing along slowly as if to kick off the song before starting over from the top.
Marielle took a deep breath and let the pleasant sound of his silvery voice comfort her, knowing that was all either of them would allow for now. She was surprised by how much she adored his playing and the sound of his voice. Austin had a flair for performance, which didn’t shock her; much of what Marielle observed about him was beautiful in one way or another. It was another moment when she saw right through him. Austin never knew how to say exactly what he felt, so he used a song in the vain hope that someone else’s words would convey a fraction of his thoughts.