She'd seen it in the paper. The Daily News. Page fourteen. A small story in the lower right-hand corner. She was not surprised, of course. Although she mourned and she grieved. Not as much as she needed to, though. She hadn't had the time to mourn properly. For one thing, Joe had been with her the whole time, almost since the moment she'd gotten home that evening. It wouldn't do to let on too much to Joe. For another, she had things to do. Calls to make. Loose ends to take care of and details that had to be kept quiet. Still, she could not pretend to be herself, and the next morning, she saw Joe watching her. She knew that scrutinizing gaze and she couldn't help but think: He knows. And then she almost laughed out loud because her next thought was: Of course he knows. Who was she kidding? He'd always known. The only question was how much he knew.
She would miss Kid. She would miss her wonderful and precious possession.
But already she was realizing she wouldn't miss him as much as she thought she would.
Because he never should have tried to leave her.
He should never have tried to think about or talk about or finally even do the unimaginable.
So, yes, she would miss him. But she was already wondering how long it would take her to find a replacement.
– "-"-"SAMSONITE It's all they were fucking talking about. At the club. All night long. The bartender, the bouncer, the waitresses. Even some of the customers.
Mr. Wonderful was dead.
They all said he killed himself. But she knew differently, didn't she? She sure as hell knew fucking differently.
At least she thought she did.
No, no, she definitely did. There was no fucking question about it. It took her a while to remember but it always took her a while to remember stuff. So she wasn't concerned. She knew something was bothering her and then she remembered what it was. Then, when she did, something else started bothering her.
Because once she remembered, she remembered something else. Congratu-fucking-lations, she thought to herself. Two biggies in one day. And of all the fucking things she'd have to remember, it would be these two, wouldn't it? There was an old Russian proverb: The more you forget the longer you live. But, no, not her. She was American now, so she remembered.
The first thing she remembered was weird enough. But the second thing was even weirder.
The second thing was: Jesus fucking Christ. I think I fucking killed him.
– "-"-"THE ENTERTAINER One of the dancers from the club had called to tell her. Ex-dancer, whose stage name was Torre but whose real name was Sue Ellen. Torre didn't work at the club anymore. She'd gotten a little too fat and had been fired. So she worked at a place out in Queens now that was really the pits. Real lowlifes and bad tippers. But she knew Kid, too, and she'd heard about it so she'd called.
That night at the club, she wondered if anyone would say anything to her but nobody did. She kind of felt like talking but she didn't really know who to talk to. At some point, while she was sitting with a client, she'd said, "Someone I know just died. Fell off a roof," and the guy had said, "Yeah? Tell me about it," but she knew he didn't really want to hear about it, he just thought that maybe she was vulnerable and could use it, so she shook her head and didn't say another word.
Around one or so, Kid's friend came in. The one she always saw around and even talked to sometimes and whose name she could never remember. Kid's shadow. She watched him while he stood at the bar and had a beer and she didn't think she'd ever seen anyone quite as sad. Somebody must have called him, too. He was like some poor, friendly puppy who'd gotten his leg run over by a car and all he could do was cry and wait for someone to come help him.
She thought that maybe she should be the one to help him, then thought, What am I doing? It was the last thing she needed. Really and truly the last thing.
She watched him over at the bar. She wondered if he knew about her and Kid. He'd seen them together but she never had a clue what Kid used to talk about. Maybe he didn't know. Maybe it was okay to talk to him. She knew that he was nice but she knew if she talked to him one thing would lead to another. He'd want to come over and he'd want to touch her and she'd probably let him. But then he'd start to think that maybe this was going to be a regular thing. And it couldn't even be a sometime thing. Okay, so he was nice and certainly good-looking and his body looked like it was amazing. But he didn't have any money, that was clear. Plus, he did have that look to him, that puppy look, and the last thing she wanted around her all the time was a puppy – a poor puppy – nipping at her heels and wanting her to take care of him.
He looked up and saw her looking at him and he smiled at her, a really sad smile, but she turned away as if she didn't recognize him.
She did not want a puppy under her feet. Especially a puppy who knew Kid.
She realized she'd hardly thought about Kid at all. It was strange. She wondered what her psychology professor would say about that. She thought maybe she would ask him, but then she realized she did not want to talk about Kid with her psych prof. That would be really and truly dumb. Although the more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea. She could see herself telling him how she had known Kid and now he was dead and how he had died and that she wasn't thinking about him at all and wasn't that strange?
She didn't really believe in heaven, but she thought there was just a chance that Kid could somehow be up above, looking down and watching her talk about him to the middle-aged professor who she knew drooled over her and probably stayed awake at night thinking about what she looked like naked. Kid would look down and see that and hear about the way he'd died and how she didn't care.
She smiled at the image.
Really and truly smiled.
It would kill him all over again, she thought. Es verdad. It really and truly would.
– "-"-"THE MURDERESS She didn't think that anyone had seen her.
Well, sure, people had seen her, it's not like she was invisible. But no one had really seen her. Noticed her. Paid attention to her, is what she really meant.
That was good. She did not need to be noticed. Not with all that was happening. And certainly not with all that had happened.
She knew she shouldn't have gone to meet him. Goddamn Kid, with his tousled hair and that crooked little grin. Why couldn't she have stayed away? She'd been doing so well. She'd been on her way. And she'd been so… so damn sophisticated. Damn him for coming to see her, for begging her to see him, for telling her all the things he told her.
Just because he knew about her, knew about her past, that didn't give him the right to do what he did. Nothing gave him that right.
She felt herself getting angry again.
Then she stopped. Maybe there was no need to get angry. Maybe there was no need to be afraid, either. Kid was dead now.
So maybe it was all over.
Maybe this was the end of it.
She hoped so.
And she thought so.
But then why was she still angry? And why was she still so afraid?
– "-"-"THE MISTAKE How could he be dead? It was impossible. Impossible!
They were supposed to spend the rest of their lives together.
They were supposed to love each other and help each other and be together forever.
Kid was too good to live, that's what it was. Too good and too handsome and too pure. He wasn't perfect – oh, no, he made some mistakes. That night at the party, Kid had said that was a mistake. But it wasn't. No, no, no. It was anything but a mistake. It was perfect. Perfect and wonderful and… and…
Over.
It would never happen again. No more perfect moments. No more love.
That was always the way, wasn't it? People were jealous, weren't they? People were lonely and sad and wounded. People always wanted to destroy love, didn't they?
Yes, they did.
But this time they'd be sorry.
This time they'd be really sorry.
Just like Kid. Poor, poor Kid. He was dead. No more love for Kid, either. No more perfection.
No more mistakes.
– "-"-"THE DESTINATION One was as good as dead to her and now the other was dead.
So why wasn't she more depressed?
Perhaps because there was something eminently fair about it all. Something so bloody symmetrical.
As you sow, so shall ye reap. There was something comforting in that, wasn't there? He who inflicts pain shall have pain inflicted upon him.
It was God's way, wasn't it?
Or perhaps it was the devil's.
Either way.
It worked for her.