Michael
I’m a mess.
I can’t escape the recurring image of Andres…
Hold on, man…
I can’t… I can’t…
His eyes… His white face…
The slipping fingers…
Your other hand… Give me your other hand…
Reaching… Snatching for the flailing arm… If I can grab his wrist…
And the long, long shriek as he falls… A length of time only measured in heartbeats…
My own heart pumps too. I wipe sweat from my forehead, then I swing, raising the axe in a long arc to come down over my target. The blade slams in and with a Clop! the block of pine splits neatly, the two halves dropping one way and the other from my pine-stump anvil.
Picking up one of the halves, I set it back on the anvil, reposition myself, aim and swing again.
The work is repetitive and relaxing, leaving my mind free to work. As my heap of stove-lengths grows, the gnawing tension eases.
As I stoop to retrieve my next piece, a voice says, “Perhaps I should take up axe work myself.”
I startle, but not by much. I’d half-expected Klempner to show up. “It’s good work,” I say, “when the pressure’s high. But I thought knife-work was more your style?”
“I think any loose knives in there just now…” Klempner jerks a thumb towards the house… “… might turn up in the wrong place. James is about ready to gut that ex of his.”
“Can’t say I blame him. He’s been grieving over losing the connection with Georgie for as long as I’ve known him. It was Marlene’s doing in the first place. This won’t have improved matters.”
“And you? How are you?”
My guts somersault. I set my axe down, propping myself on the haft like an old man with his stick. “I can’t stop seeing Andres’ face as his hand slipped from mine. He was still looking up as he fell. ”
Klempner’s head tilts. He looks away, then back. “You do know it wasn’t your fault?”
“My head knows it.” I work my dry mouth. “My gut hasn’t caught up yet.”
“So, you come chopping wood?”
“It’s useful work.”
He smiles lightly. “Vicariously violent?”
I huff. “You might say that, yes. All the violence aimed at something useful.”
Klempner huffs too. At other times I might have thought it was a laugh. Not now.
“What are you doing out here?” I ask. “I’d have thought you’d want to hole up with Mitch?”
“I do. Believe me, there’s nothing I’d like more. But I need to think. James is prowling the house like the Grim Reaper looking for a new scythe. And with his daughter upstairs sleeping, Jenny’s on edge too. This seemed the better option.” He takes a long breath, then lets it out again. “Is that okay?”
Nodding up to where the horses’ hay is stacked. “Grab yourself a haybale.” Then I offer up the six-pack I keep stashed out here. “Want a beer?”
He gives me a weary smile. “Thank you. That sounds good.”
*****
James
Charlotte’s with Beth and Richard in the lounge. I don’t want her to see me like this. And with Georgie sleeping upstairs, it’s awkward. I don’t know what to say to her.
So I don’t try. Instead, I head for the kitchen where I can be alone. Splashing water over my face, I try to pretend that it’s the soap making my eyes sting. Then I sit at the table, nursing a whiskey.
Georgie…
Stannis standing over her, unbuckling his belt… Sneering… Enjoying her fear… Her tears…
“Oh, God… No… Please… You want money? My father… He’s rich. He’ll pay…”
Of course I’d have fucking paid…
My mind is churning. My gut clenching. I knock back the whiskey but I’m not truly enjoying it. My throat burns but there’s no heat inside me.
Still…
Sliding the bottle across the table, I pour another inch into the tumbler.
The door from the back whines open, admitting a cold draught, Michael and Klempner. Both look a little wary as they see me there.
Klempner hovers, as though trying to come to some decision then, pulling a chair up to the table, “James…” He reaches his hand over the tabletop, holds, then withdraws… “… I just wanted to say… for what it’s worth to you… about Georgie…” His breath smells of beer and my stomach rebels… “… I know empathy’s not my strong suit, but I do understand how you feel. When you first contacted me before Christmas and I heard what you said about Jenny being taken… When I heard Mitch screaming over the ether at me, I barely knew how to react. Then, when I saw your face as we found Georgie…”
And I’ve had enough.
“They wouldn’t have touched Georgie if it weren’t for you…” I bark. Klempner’s eyes widen as he listens, statue-still…
Michael protests… “Hey, James…”
But I have the bit in my teeth… “…Everything in this situation is about you. My life… our lives… have been completely fucked now for so long, I can barely remember what normal living feels like. And it’s all because of you. So, just Fuck Off and leave me alone. You’re the last person I want to talk to. And certainly, the last that I want to hear any kind of sympathetic crap from.”
Klempner’s throat ripples. His eyelids droop. Palms raised, he leans back his seat. “My apologies, James. I meant no offence.”
But snarling, I stalk off, out of the room. In the hallway, light spills from the next door, the lounge. I turn, heading the other way…
Behind me, Michael’s voice. “Larry, he didn’t mean that. He’s not himself…” Then, right behind me, footsteps and a hand in my shoulder.
Whirling round, I slap the hand away. Or try. “Fuck off and leave me be!”
“The hell I will. You think that was necessary?” demands Michael. “Or fair? Yes, we all know Klempner’s background, but since he’s come here he’s done nothing but help. He’s absolutely done his best. What he’s done is, in fact, well above and beyond the call…”
Something inside me coils uneasily…
Have I let the whiskey do my talking for me?
?
Maybe not…
Michael rubs the back of his head, then lowering his voice, “James, if the best that a man can do isn’t enough, then what comes next?”
The answer’s obvious. I mumble, “He stops trying…”
Oh, Christ… What have I done?
“… I owe him an apology.”
“Yes, you fucking do. And sooner rather than later.”
“I’ll do it now. Better not to let it fester.”
“Absolutely. Get back in there.”
We return to the kitchen, but Klempner’s gone. So we go to the lounge instead.
Richard and Beth both give me ‘You’ve done it again’ glances. Charlotte raises accusing eyes.
“Have you seen your father?”
Charlotte whispers, “He said good night. I think he went to Mom’s place.” Her eyes are liquid green pools. “We all heard you, Master.”
I hunker down by her. “Charlotte. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lashed out like that. In the morning, when we’ve all had some sleep, I’m going to apologise to him. Alright?”
She looks down, nodding slightly.
I tip up her chin. “Really? Alright?”
She gives me a watery smile. “Alright.”
*****