Secrets And Silence

Melissa looked into his eyes, making Jake feel warm and whole. Her legs curled around his, and he rubbed them softly, up and down with paint brush strokes, breathing her in. Her mouth only an inch from his, and her eyes locked on his lips, like she wanted to devour him. The winter winds blew outside and the world outside was cold and unforgiving, but inside this room it was just the two of them. And he never wanted to leave this room. He never wanted her face to move or her eyes to leave his mouth. He never wanted to stop smelling her breath and tasting it as it came out from her nose, and the small cracks of her lips in small, short, calm exhales.

But she did move as she climbed on top of him, her back arched, and her skin smooth. Jake didn’t know what to do with his hands because he wanted to touch her everywhere at once. She leaned in and kissed him, and he knew that at that moment he’d do anything she asked. When she kissed him like that, and moved her body on top of his, and let out moans, and rubbed her hair, and looked at him like a vampire, he would do anything. Melissa could lean into his ear, and tell him to kill. Kill the old man across the street, kill his wife, kill the dog that never stops barking throughout the night, kill for me and I’ll make you feel good. I’ll make all the bad dissipate into the air, and all that will remain is this, right here, right now. Will you kill for me, Jake? Will you? And he’d say yes, of course I will, anything. Anything for you.

Then she began to let the spit flow from her mouth into his. Letting it roll off her tongue onto his, and his legs shook from the excitement. “Please, don’t stop.” He said, “Please, God, don’t stop.” And she didn’t, the saliva continued to flow into his mouth and down into his throat, and he was inside of her, and she was inside of him, and he never knew anything could be so goddamn good. It was just a shame that when it felt that good, it wouldn’t last, and he could feel himself succumbing to the pleasure, but Melissa wasn’t nearly ready to end this. So she controlled the movements, and didn’t let him control the pace. Because whenever a man controlled the pace, pleasure only came for him, not for her. But when she was in control, she controlled everything. And her eyes told him that they weren’t finished, until she said they were finished, so slow down, cowboy, and enjoy the ride.

And he did. And when they were finished she rolled off to the side, and he panted, feeling the sweat on his forehead, and his chest. Breathing in deep, long inhales and exhales, feeling the world revolve around him, and she smiled next to him, her hand resting on the side of her face, and her other hand playing with Jake’s chest hairs. “How was that?” She said, and he looked at her, to see if she was being serious, before saying, “Best goddamn sex, I’ve ever had.” And Melissa laughed knowing that Jake said that almost every time. But she was happy, she was happy she could please him and make him pant like a parched dog. She liked that he laid there afterwards staring up at the ceiling, the gears in his head oiled and working, like he was thinking he found the answer to immortality. She could stare at him for half the night when he was like that, but it didn’t last long before his eyes were once again sunken, the bags deep and hollow, and his head a flurry of regrets, and pain. And then Melissa once again felt like an obstacle in his way, and wanted so badly to ask him what the fuck was going on? But she knew what’d he say, “It’s nothing,” or “I’ll figure it out,” And she wanted to scream in his face that that wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to know him, and understand him, and tell him that love meant taking in the worst of a person as well as the best. It wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t just physical. It was metaphysical. It was philosophical. It was science and the study of the human mind. But he’d locked that part of himself away so long ago that she feared, he didn’t even know it was there anymore. Or if he did, he didn’t know what to do with it.

Then his phone buzzed, and Jake looked at it, and the calmness left his face like whiplash. And the world outside of these four walls, once again reminded him that it was real, it was harsh, and it was calling for him to get out into it, and brace the storm. So he got up and went to the closet, threw on a pair of jeans, and a black shirt.

“Where are you going?” Melissa asked, and he said, “out.”

“Where?”

“Out, I said. Christ.”

And Melissa could feel the tears begin to form in the corner of her eyes. but she wasn’t going to let them fall. Not tonight. She wasn’t going to be a story that he told his buddies at the bar, about how she was a great lay, but a typical fucking emotional woman. She wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction, because she had just been in control. And she knew that sooner or later she’d hold it, and he’d spill his guts and for the first time, she could look behind those eyes and understand the machinery inside his head.

“What’s going on, Jake? You know you can tell me, right?”

He looked at her and for a split second, she could see the side of him that she wanted, right there in his eyes. A softness, that wasn’t weak, because it pushed its way through the strength of a man’s silence. No, it wasn’t weak. It fought every single day to be seen. But the look was quickly replaced with cold, and he left without saying a word, his head slung low. And as Jake walked down the hall of the apartment building, he said to himself, “Soon Melissa, we’ll get out of here and I’ll tell you everything. I’ll tell you every single thing you want to know and I’ll look in your eyes to see what they feel and if they can withstand it, and if they can we’ll leave, and we’ll never come back. I just have something to deal with first.”

Jake arrived at The Dollar Bar ten minutes later, and saw Chris sitting at his booth in the far left corner, making the waitress, Angela Caissy feel uncomfortable with the way he talked, the way he flirted, and the way his hands grazed her ass as she walked away to grab him another beer. Then he looked over at Jake, and his eyes made him feel weak, like his knees would give out and within a second or two, his lips would caress the barroom floor. But he tried to remain steady because this man was a wolf, and a wolf loved weakness.

Chris wasn’t tall, he was only 5’9 and weighed about 200 pounds. He had a crew cut, and his hair was blonde. Tattoos crawled up his arms onto his neck with bible verses, judgment, an eye for an eye, and tribal art. His eyes were dark and even when he smiled and joked, his eyes looked like they didn’t belong to the rest of his face. They looked like mini-computers scanning you. Scanning your face, your body movements, the tensity in your shoulders, the hardness in your gut. Looking for enough data, to figure out who the hell you were, today. Because even if he knew you yesterday, he didn’t know you today.

Jake slid into the booth on the opposite end, And Chris asked him, “How’s it hanging, brother.”

And Jake said, “No complaints,” though he had several.

“That’s good. That’s good. Lots of people complaining these days. You know what I mean? Like remember when we was growing up, Jake? Folks didn’t complain, they just got the job done.”

And Jake nodded, though he didn’t agree. Personally he hated the generation strength bullshit. He found the arguments so tired, and full of shit. But he nodded, and Chris’s eyes scanned his, and he let out a small laugh. “Ya don’t agree?”

“I dunno, Chris. I guess.”

“Ah, don’t give me that shit, Jake. Tell me how you feel, you’ve always been smart. No need to be a yes, man.”

Jake sighed. He’d love to tell Chris the truth, the actual truth. That as a kid, he’d only felt bad for him, cause he lived on Hillside above the train tracks. Because he was dirt poor and he hadn’t grown into his thick solid frame, so he looked like an overgrown fat fucking baby, and he didn’t know about his strength, so he thought he was smaller than he was, more timid than he was, and he took shit, and he needed a friend. So Jake became his friend, because he was also an outsider, with a family who was falling apart. And maybe cause he knew when Chris realized his size, and his strength that he would have a great protector to get him through school during the recession, where kids were looking for any reason to fight. Any reason to transfer the hostility at home where they were the small and weak ones, to school where there were kids smaller and weaker than them.

He wished he could tell him that he wanted to leave, because a real friend would want what’s best for that friend, not what’s best for themselves, and he wanted to tell him that they had never been friends because friends didn’t use each other. And all Chris had ever done was use him, and all he’d done was use Chris, but now he didn’t want that, he wanted Melissa and he wanted out. But he was scared, he wasn’t a wolf. He had never been a wolf. Just a dog, who followed his master.

And Chris knew he felt this way. Jake knew that he knew, because his world hadn’t been the same since Melissa. There was no escaping that, and there was no pretending that what was happening wasn’t happening.

“I dunno Chris. I think every generation since the beginning of time thought the generation after them was a bunch of pussies. I know my folks thought it was about me. And now here we are doing the same thing. I think there are pussies and strong people in every generation and that there was never just one filled with great human beings that could lift the weight of the world on their shoulders. That’s all.”

Chris thought about this, and then said, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m just getting bitter in my old age.”

“Maybe so.”

Then the smile faded, and Angela came back with a pitcher of beer and two glasses.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

“Yeah,” She said and rolled her eyes before heading back to the bar. Chris slapped her ass hard, and she turned around and so did a few other patrons of The Dollar, and for a moment, Angela was ready to tell Chris all the things that she was never allowed to say to him because of who he was, and who he knew, and what he could do. And Chris smiled at her, waiting for it, just drunk enough and pissed enough at Jake to have someone start some shit.

A couple young guys at the bar with more product in their hair than Angela looked at Chris, and looked at Jake, guilty by association. With eyes that said, they were thinking about going over there and taking on the king, and Chris stared right at them, wordlessly pleading for them to do so. But Angela said something to them, and then gave them both one last look and turned back around to watch the ball game.

“Why do you do that shit, Chris?” Jake asked, feeling tired of this routine. Wishing her back in bed with Melissa, wishing he were out of this shit town and out of this shit life.

“Oh she likes it, Jakey. She’s just playing hard to get.” Then he winked, and held that cold stare longer than most people could. Holding it until your skin began to crawl, and then adding ten more seconds to that, before turning his attention elsewhere, knowing that he got you sweating, and not sure of what was about to go down.

“Yeah,” was all Jake could manage, before Chris grabbed the pitcher and filled both glasses to the rim, and slid Jakes over to him. “Drink up,”

“Why did you call me here?”

“Just a couple friends getting a beer.”

“Is that what this is?”

“How’s your girl by the way?”

“She’s fine.”

“She is that. She is fine indeed. I’ve heard some stories about her, you wouldn’t fucking believe.” He said, wrapping his arms around the booth.

“Oh yeah?”

“You betcha. Sex must be off the hook, because boy has she gotten some practice.” He winked, and Jake remained silent, looking for a swift exit. Not a wolf but a dog. Not ready to take on the king, never ready to take on the king..

Then the two eyeballers at the bar, who Chris figured were working for Marvin's crew, got up and started for the door. And Chris said, “Let’s go outside for a sec, I need a smoke.”

“Jesus, it’s freezing.”

“Ah, fuck that. It’ll only take a second.”

And like a dog, he got up and followed him outside. The wind was cold and Jake flipped his collar up, and rubbed his hands together. “Hey!” Chris yelled out and the two from the bar who were at the crosswalk next to the Antique shop turned around, and the one on the right pointed to his chest to ask if they were talking to him, which of course they were because the street was deserted.

“Yeah, yeah,” Chris said and slid his glock in the back of Jake’s jeans before slow jogging towards them. He picked up a small piece of brick next to the entrance of the Antique shop, and got close enough to the man on the right to smash him in the face with it, busted his nose, flooding his face with blood. Then he went down, and Chris climbed on top of him, and got two or three good shots in before the friend on the left tackled Chris, taking him to the ground. But the gentleman with the spiked-product filled hair was no match for Chris, and Jake knew it, and before long, Chris was smashing his face off the side of the curb, while the man on the left looked on in horror. Then he took off, sprinting down King, before the blinding snow engulfed him and he was no longer visible.

Chris got up, breathing heavily, and looking at Jake. “Fuckers think they come into my bar and look at me like that. Fuck that, Jake. Fuck that.” Jake was terrified, and his hands trembled and the cold cut through his skin and his core, and Melissa was there deep in his head, whispering and telling him that he has to choose. The life or the girl. And at that moment he was going to run off, and leave, and tell Melissa to pack up her shit and get in the car and they weren’t going to stop driving until the world was new, and exciting and free. But could drive far enough to be free of your sins? He hoped. Christ, he hoped.

Jake looked at the man on the ground, the snow falling hard, mixing the white and the red, and his face was smashed badly, cuts under both eyebrows, and his nose twisted and mangled, and he said, “M-melissa.” It came out weak, and with the air, and the wheezing, Jake didn’t know if he heard what he heard, but he thought he did. “I’ll k-kill that bitch.”

In his peripheral he could see Chris, and he felt a smile. He didn’t want to look at it and acknowledge it, but he could feel it. It was there, and it was Chris, this psychotic fucker. He knew that somehow he had something to do with these guys, and something to do with Melissa. Maybe they were part of Marvin's crew or maybe Chris had put them up to it, or maybe not. But he knew, that’s why he put the gun in his pants, because he was making him choose. Him or Melissa, and sure he could take off like he said. He could leave this guy behind, and grab Melissa and take off. But there was more to it than that, wasn’t there? There was always more to it than that. Melissa could say no, plain and simple. She’d lived here her whole life, and what made Jake think that she loved him enough to uproot her life, because the sex was good? Life with them had never gotten any deeper. But then Jake thought that was his fault. She wanted to go deeper and learn more about him and who he really was, but he was the one who hadn’t allowed it. But he would. Goddamnnit, he would.

Then the man on the ground said their address, and hauled a picture out of his breast pocket. Chris grabbed it, and handed it to Jake. It was him and Melissa, making love. Her back naked, and Jake laying there with his eyes closed, dreaming of a different life. This guy knew where they lived, and he knew who she was, and Chris was making sure that Jake never had a choice. He was never going to run away from this life, because Chris would never let him. Or if he did let him, he’d never feel security or safety, he’d never dare have kids, he’d never do anything but look over his shoulder for the rest of his days.

And so, Jake pulled the trigger. Without even realizing he’d done it, the barrel smoked in front of him, and hair products, lost his face. Chris laughed, a huge hearty laugh, and said, “Holy shit, you really do love this gal, don’t ya? Holy fuck. I never thought you’d do it.” Then he wrapped his arm around Jake, and Jake lowered the gun, he could turn it on Chris right now, and blast his fucking head off, and go back to Melissa. But the secrets, the goddamn secrets would tear a hole through his heart and they’d die a slow death of silence, and secrets. Silence and secrets, that was all his life would ever be, unless he let her go, unless he followed Chris into the darkness, and stayed like a vampire.

This kid, this kid who was too big for his own body, this kid who needed a friend and stared at the trains being shunted down below Hillside. This kid who was scared of his own shadow, twisted Jake, and molded him, and when Jake thought that he was helping a kid with nowhere to go, and no one to care about, in reality, Chris was playing him. Seeking out someone weak enough to stay by his side. Someone loyal. Someone he could have around like a shadow. And it was him. He’d never get to stay with Melissa, he’d never get to leave this town.

“I feel like I’m dying,” Jake said.

“Everything is kind of dying, ain’t it? Every breath is a kind of dying. But there’s living too.” And he slapped him on the back and headed towards The Dollar. “Our beers are getting warm, let’s go.”

And like the dog he was and had always been. He slid the glock back into his pants, and headed back towards the bar. A car pulled up next to the curb where the man lay dead, and some of Chris’s goons threw him in the trunk and headed off down Main.