“Yes, yes,” he said. He shook the tent by grabbing hold of one of the ropes. Out came a young woman holding her baby. The man waved me ahead and I peeked into the now vacated tent, deciding it would do.
We haggled over price while the woman, who looked like his daughter, went back in and began stuffing her belongings into a threadbare carpetbag. It didn't take her long to come back out. She didn't have much-the bag wasn't even half full. I momentarily felt bad about evicting her from her home but knew that she'd be glad to move in with her father if it meant they could earn a little money. Once her father and I settled, I went in and stripped off my muddy shoes, setting them on a rock by the entryway. I stepped from stone to stone to keep off the otherwise dirt floor and hung my duffle from the center post. Then I hoisted myself into one of the hammocks and sent the entire tent shaking and ruffling.
I swatted a mosquito, angry that I'd forgotten my bug spray. Hopefully it would start raining soon, putting enough moisture in the air to keep the little bloodsuckers grounded. I swatted another one… and another. I hate this fucking place. I began to wonder if it was a good idea to come here. Surely I could tough it out for a while. I'd grown up here, for god's sake. And my family's tent was a hell of a lot rattier than this one. Yet I knew that I'd softened after so many years of living high on the KOP food chain. I'd just have to suffer through it.
I called Vlad. “Did you get the new room?”
“Yeah. I got her set up in the morgue.”
“The morgue!”
“Yeah. You don't want anybody to find her, right?”
“Shit, Vlad. I don't want her in the morgue.”
“Listen, Juno. The morgue's perfect. It'll be the last place anybody looks, and the doors have locks.”
“No, Vlad. Find someplace else.”
“But-”
“Fucking listen to me, Vlad. You're going to find someplace else. You hear me?”
“All right, boss. Whatever you say.”
“Do it now.”
“You got it, boss. Hey, are you coming down anytime soon?”
“No. Why?”
“Well, she's been asking for you.”
“What's she been saying?”
“Listen, Juno, I don't want to get in the middle of anything.”
“Just tell me, Vlad.”
“Well, she's in a real bad way. She just keeps crying, and then she starts choking like she can't clear her throat. I have to keep getting the nurses to come and take care of it.”
“Can't they give her a sedative or something?”
“Yeah, but she refuses.”
Unbelievable. “Okay, I'll come down.”
“When?”
“Fucking later, okay?”
“Sure, you bet. Just call me before you come, and I'll tell you where we are.”
“Right.” I clicked off as the sick feeling in my gut reached epic proportions. I took a few hits off my flask and closed my eyes. Visions of Niki in the morgue haunted me. I tossed and turned as much you could in a hammock. I needed sleep. I tried changing the subject of my thoughts by thinking about the case and just found myself haunted by thirteen mutilated victims instead.
I turned my thoughts to Liz, and the way her toes had massaged me. I jerked off, concentrating on her cleavage, and then closed my eyes again, wanting desperately to sleep.
I woke up an hour later and thought I'd been lucky to even get an hour's worth of rest. I scarfed down a bowl of veggies and rice that my new landlord had brought over. I tried to ignore the occasional crunch as I bit down on a grain of sand. I wondered what Horst would think of the local cuisine if he had to eat like a Tenttowner. I found a bathroom, which was really just a hole in the wooden planking built over the canal. I took a whiz and tried to forget that the food I just ate was cooked with that same steeped-shit canal water.
I made my way to the hospital, finding Vlad in maternity and paying him before I went in to see Niki. I took a chair by Niki's bed. She was asleep. I felt desperate to get her out of here, where she'd be safe from Ian, but I had no choice but to keep her here with her machines and her doctors. I left her side and made my way up and down the ward, passing out thousand-peso notes to the staff like I was one of those street kids on the Old Town Square who would just about tackle you in order to pass you a flyer. I told every one of the staff, “Anybody asks for Niki, you tell him she checked out.” I doubted it would do any good. My best hope was that Ian would continue believing that I didn't care about Niki, and that he couldn't go through her to get at me.
I returned to Niki's side. She looked worse than normal; her eyes were dark and puffy, and her complexion was more yellow than usual. I took her hand knowing I wouldn't wake her-she couldn't feel it. I was surprised by the warmth in her fingers. For some reason, I always expected her hands to be cold.
Why was she being so stubborn? Things would change when she got her spine. Things would go back to the way they were. I'd quit drinking. Okay, maybe a glass with dinner, but no more bingeing. I'd quit freelancing for the rags. I'd just get a job, a regular job, with regular pay. We could sell the house and move into someplace smaller and less expensive. I could be a better husband. I could.
“Juno.”
I opened my eyes. I was still at the hospital, still holding Niki's hand. I checked my watch-a half hour had gone by.
“You fell… asleep,” she said.
“Yeah.” I rubbed a kink in my neck. “Is this room okay?”
“Yeah.” Her tone implied a ho-hum shrug. A baby started crying next door.
I said, “I hear you've been having a hard time.”
She didn't respond.
“I know it's hard for you right now, but we can get through this.”
“And what if… I don't w-want to get… through it?”
“You won't feel that way when you get your spine.”
“And why n-not?”
“Jesus, Niki, you'll be able to walk, eat, run… You'll be able to do whatever you want.”
“How about kill my-myself?”
Anger started welling up inside me. “Dammit, Niki. Stop making this so difficult. I'm sacrificing everything to get you patched up. The least you can do is make an effort.”
“I never asked y-you to spend all… your money.”
“Our money.”
“S-still, I never… asked you.”
“What do you expect me to do? Just let you die?”
“Yes.”
“Well that's not an option. Like it or not, you're alive, and you're going to stay that way, so grow up and deal with it already.”
She stayed silent for a minute or two before saying, “You d-don't understand.”
“Don't give me that bullshit, Niki. I understand just fine.”
“No you don't… If you… did, you wouldn't… make me suffer any… more.” She was being ridiculous, once again putting on this woe-is-me crap that I'd been hearing for over two and a half decades.
“You think I don't understand? You think you've got all this secret pain. All these burdens that you and you alone have to bear. You think the whole world is living this dream life while you're the only one that's suffering?”
“If you only… knew.”
Enough. I could feel the blood rushing to my face, surging from down deep. Anger shot up straight from the knot in my stomach. I practically hissed, “I'm not going to feel sorry for you. It's not going to work anymore.”
She rolled her eyes.
“I'm serious,” I said.
She looked away.
It was always the same shit with her. I'm so tortured. You'll never understand. Like her secrets were some license to feel miserable. She kept it all inside and then beat me over the head with it whenever it was convenient. And I'd let her do it. For all these years, I'd let her do it. I'd tell myself, maybe she'll open up one day, when she's finally ready, or maybe she won't, maybe some doors are better left shut. Truth was, she did go through a lot of hell in her life, but so did I, dammit. And so did everyone else on this backwater world. Yet she always acted like she was the only one, like the hell she went through was so far off the hell meter that she didn't have to listen to anybody. Well fuck that, fuck it to hell.