Ice

Of all the things she could’ve called me, she went with dog. She’s been so good at saying the perfect thing all the time, in any situation, and then she went with dog. It took me right back to my cell, which was just four concrete walls, a wooden bench to sleep on, and no light apart from the thin sliver of it under the metal door that was kept bolted shut except when Lizard brought me the food I wouldn’t eat.

“Start eating and start fighting for me,” he’d keep telling me in that sickly sweet voice of his, which I suppose worked better on the women he was trying to break elsewhere, in other cells like the one he kept me in. It didn’t work on me though.

“Things will get better for you once you start fighting for me,” he’d also tell me. “It’s your only way out. You lived this long, you don’t wanna die now.”

Then they forced the food down my throat. It went on forever. All I wanted was to rip his throat out. But he knew that, so he kept my hands chained up.

And he just kept coming, kept making me promises in that sickly sweet voice, kept making me eat, kept making me look at his ugly face until my need to kill him trumped even my wish to not exist anymore. So I started eating on my own. Off the floor like a dog, because I had no use of my hands. And I fought. And won every fight. Like a good dog.

After that, they did unchain me and they did give me a bigger cell with a better bed and a table to eat off. But it was still just four concrete walls and no windows. It soon grew so full of my hate for them all there was no room for anything else in it. Not even for me.

Sometimes the fog of hate lifted long enough to show me that they had broken me, that I was just Lizard’s dog and that he’d kill me once I was no longer useful to him. So I kept winning the fights, because my revenge waited at the end of them, and I had to live to get it.

But I was just a beaten, broken dog long before the Devils freed me and gave me my revenge.

And she reminded me spectacularly well of that tonight, just as spectacularly well as she showed me all those other things I forgot I ever wanted while the hate was all there was.

So I showed her what she called up this time. Almost. It took a lot, yet I managed to stop the monster from coming out.

But the problem started before she called me a dog tonight. I didn’t even see her very clearly anymore by the time we got to the motel room. She’s the best thing that could’ve still happened to me, yet she’s also the one thing who could destroy everything I do still have. Destroy Roxie’s family and mine all over again.

At first, I tried hard to stay human while they kept me locked up, only letting me out to fight in a cage, but that was a pipe dream from the start. Before long, it was easier to let go of all dreams except the one of revenge, easier to become the animal they treated me like. It was kill or be killed in the cage, and I survived, got strong and mean, so I could one day make my one dream come true. Somewhere along the way I forgot what it felt like to be human. I forgot I wasn’t just a dog in human form.

She made me remember though. She showed me the man I used to be, the man I wanted to become before I couldn’t anymore. And that man I never got to be would never hurt a woman, and certainly not her, the sweetest, purest, and most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.

But he’s still just a memory, just an echo from the past, which right now tastes about as bitter as this beer I’m trying to drink.

She deserves better than me. And she deserves to be treated better by me. I’m glad I managed to remember that before I fucked her in the ass tonight. For these last few days, she’s given me something I thought I’d never have again. I can’t keep it, but I can’t just fling that gift back at her face either. What I have to do is thank her for it.

I toss some money on the counter to pay for my half-finished beer and walk out of the bar before I change my mind again. She deserves an apology and a thank you, but it’d be better if she were gone when I got back to the room. For her, for my sister, for everyone. Maybe I should be the one to just leave tonight. But I can’t do that, I made her a promise to take her to the ocean and I’m the kinda guy who always keeps his promises.

Though if I give her some more time to think about it, then maybe she’ll realize it’d be better for her if she didn’t hold me to it.

With that in mind, I pull into a gas station that’s not far from our motel. Or did I stop, because I want to get her some flowers or candy, or something else that’ll tell her how sorry I am, because I’ll probably do a shit job of telling her? But the wilted, dead from the heat flowers they sell here won’t do a much better job of that either, and all the candy just looks cheap.

I get stuck in front of the jewelry display, trying to pick something out and wondering if I should at all. I’ve never gotten jewelry for a woman before and giving her one of these earrings or necklaces will probably give her the wrong idea, but I want to bring her something nicer than wilted flowers or cheap candy.

Finally, I just snatch up one of the gold necklaces with a heart dangling off it and bring it to the register, because that’s enough thinking. If they had one with a butterfly pendant, I’d get her that, but they don’t. This looks exactly like the heart she has tattooed on her hand, but a whole one, so she’ll probably be happy with it. I hope I didn’t hurt her too bad before, but I probably did. She was crying for fuck’s sake. But women cry, it’s what they do.

Not Barbie though, she doesn’t cry just for the hell of it. And I know that for a fact, so I also know I must’ve hurt her real bad to make her cry and beg me to stop.

She’s sitting in the window, staring at me as I approach the room and that hurt is all I see. But I fucking warned her. More than once. The light is on and she’s dressed for the road—jeans, boots, jacket and the scarf that gypsy gave her. Guess it wasn’t enough to protect her from me like that crazy old fraud hoped.

“I’m sorry, Barbie,” I tell her once I stop in front of her.

The plastic bag with her clothes and stuff is all packed up and sitting on the floor next to her. She was getting ready to leave, and that makes me angry and sad at the same time. It wouldn’t be a relief if I found her gone, and I know that very clearly right now.

Yet she didn’t leave and she’s just staring at me now. I have no idea what’s going on behind those brilliant blue eyes of hers. Those sparkling, pretty eyes that still make me wish I could be the guy for her as they’ve done since I first noticed her.

* * *

Barbie

I didn’t expect him to come back. And I certainly didn’t expect him to apologize. I expected him to tell me it was all my fault and go to sleep if and when he came back. The thought that I’d believe he was sincere if he did apologize, never even crossed my mind. And I’ve been lied to a lot, so I know what sincere looks like.

He’s looking into my eyes, waiting for me to say something, but I’ll be damned if I know what. Sure, there’s literally thousands of things I could say flying through my brain, there always is at any given moment, because I’m a chatterbox, but I don’t know which one’s the right one to say in this situation.

“Were you leaving?” he asks.

I take my legs off the windowsill, but I don’t stand up, and I don’t get any closer to him.

“I was gonna, yeah,” I say.

I had decided to go, but the moments just kept ticking by, while I stayed put. After an hour, I was sure he wasn’t coming back, and I didn’t want to witness that, I wanted to be gone before I knew that he could just leave me behind. That would spoil the good memories too.

“You should’ve,” he says.

“Is that what you wanted?” I snap. “Is that why you…why you…” I wanna say almost raped me, but that’s such a big and heavy accusation, and I don’t want it hanging between us along with all the other things already there that are preventing us from accepting what I know we have—the kind of love that only comes once in a lifetime, if at all.

He sits next to me on the windowsill, but not close enough for our legs to touch. “You shouldn’t have called me a dog. I spent six years of my life living like the worst kept dog, and feeling less than one most of the time. At least they keep the fighter dogs with other dogs. Me, I was alone in a windowless room all the time. The only time I was near other people was when I had to beat someone up, or when a Spawn decided it’d be fun to taunt me. I held out as long as I could, but there’s nothing human or noble in any of that. It’s just hell on earth. I’d let them kill me, but I needed to get my revenge first. ”

He pauses, breathing heavily and looking deeply into my eyes, but I’m not sure he’s seeing me, I think he’s just seeing all those horrible things he just told me about.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Barbie,” he adds, proving me wrong that he doesn’t see me. He sees me very clearly, sees only me right now, and exactly the way I always wanted to be seen. “But it’s gonna happen. It almost happened tonight. Because they broke me.”

He’s so sure of that, but I know he’s wrong. I lay my palm on his cheek, because whatever else is going on, I need to be touching him. I’ll always need that, and I didn’t know it this clearly until this very moment.

“They didn’t break you. I’ve seen broken and you’re not it,” I say, thinking of all those women who had it way worse than me, thinking of my mother who was completely broken from the drugs and all those men she let use her body to feed her habit until there was nothing left. “Broken people don’t love, they don’t help strangers out of kindness, they don’t care about anything or anyone, they’re just numb. You’re not like that. You just lost yourself, and forgot the man you were. But you’re still that man deep down. ”

He shakes his head and moves his face away from my hand like he can’t stand my touch, like he doesn’t want me touching him. And that hurts too much.

“I’m sorry I said what I said. It’s something I’d say to men in the past, bad men who hurt me and pissed me off, and I shouldn’t have said it to you,” I tell him. “You’re a good man. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

He snorts a laugh. “You’re apologizing to me? Come on, Barbie, have more self-respect than that. I snapped because I’m not right in the head, and you can expect more of that sort of thing if you stick around. You’re wrong. I’m not a good man. I’m not even sure I’m a man anymore.”

I wish he’d kiss me, because then everything would be alright again. I wish he’d at least take my hand. But he’s not moving.

“You’re the best man I’ve ever met,” I whisper, and I was gonna go on, but he grimaces so I don’t.

“You know what I was thinking when I first noticed you in that bar?” he asks but not like he’s expecting an answer, so I don’t speak. “I was thinking I should’ve died that night when all my brothers and my father died. I was also thinking that I can die now that I’ve avenged them all. Then you crashed into my life, and things got wild for awhile, but I’m still right where I was. Not fit for this world. And if tonight didn’t convince you—”

I lay my fingers over his lips to silence him.

“You know what, Ice, you chose your fate and you did what you had to do to survive. You went into captivity to save your sister, and then you came out and punished everyone who wronged you. But now you’re free, so be free. I get it, because I chose my life too, every step of the way I chose it, right up until the moment my last boyfriend tried to sell me off to another guy and I chose to run away with you instead. And I keep choosing it, even though I’m now stuck with nothing and fighting for the love of a man who keeps pushing me away. But, yeah, we both chose this, so lets be grown up and own it.”

I didn’t pause at all, so he wouldn’t get the chance to interrupt me before I had my say. I’m breathing hard now as I try to see if my words had any effect. He’s looking at me sharply like he’s gonna say something mean, but then his eyes turn thoughtful. And the longer they stay locked on mine, the softer they grow.

“You have a point, I’ll give you that, but that’s just a bunch of words. The reality of it is what happened before, it’s what could still happen.”

I suppose he means to tell me again that the sum total of all that reality is me being better off staying away from him. But he’s wrong.

“I love you, Ice, with all my heart,” I tell him. I’ve spent these last few days getting up the courage to tell him that. It was easier to say it than I thought it would be. Much easier. I’m looking so deep into his eyes I can see all the way to the distant snow-capped horizon in them.

But he’s not saying anything back. I’m not even sure he can see me.

“I know,” he finally says. “But you’re wrong.”

“How can I be wrong about how I feel?” I say, since I expected this to go a lot differently than it has. I expected him to kiss me and tell me he loves me with all his heart too, because I know he does.

He reaches into his pocket and hands me something gold and shiny.

“I got this for you to show you I was sorry,” he says, totally evading my question.

It’s a heart, one of those you can break in two, so each of the lovers can keep their half, and exactly like the one I have tattooed on my hand. He won’t say he loves me, but he goes and buys me this? Reality isn’t what he’s saying it is, because he can’t see it, he’s hiding from it. This necklace is our reality.

I take it and snap it in half, giving him his. “Here, half of it is yours. Forever.”

He stares at it with a very puzzled look in his eyes, but doesn’t take it. So I just place it into his hand and close his fingers around it.

“You already have my heart, you’ll always have it,” I say. “You can tell me I’m wrong all you want, but it’s how I feel.”

Then I stand up and take off my jacket and my scarf.

“Now come to bed with me, so you can show me what you won’t say to me. I’m a simple girl, I don’t need words. Actions are enough.”

He pulls me back as I take the first step, wraps his arms around me and kisses me so deeply and so lovingly the ground feels like water beneath my feet. We don’t need the beach, because we already found our ocean. The words will come too.

I’ve won my argument, even if he can’t say it yet. And I didn’t lie before. I don’t need words. I need his kisses, and his arms holding me tight, and him to hold. We’ll just figure out the rest one step at a time.