Bomb: A Day in the Life of Spencer Shrike

“Art?” She laughs and then the tears spill out. “Art? It’s a f**king tattoo shop, you dumbass! I went to school for four years to study art and three years later I trace line drawings on skin. I have to cover myself head to toe in personal protection equipment because I am obsessed with the idea that I’ll contract hepatitis through some innocuous cut on my arm. Did you ever once ask me why I cover the room in plastic?”

She stops her rant to let me think about this. Have I? “I don’t need to ask, Ronnie. I know why.”

“Why? Tell me why, then, if you’re so f**king smart.”

“You hate the blood and—”

“Wrong.” She cuts me off. “That’s not why. Do you realize no one—no one,” she reiterates—“has ever asked me why I cover the room in plastic?”

I move towards her to bring her in my arms. She struggles against me but I’m so much bigger, it’s hardly a problem. I wrap her up and pull her close to my chest so I can lean down in her ear and whisper, “You cover the room in plastic to protect people, Veronica. I’ve always known that was the reason.”

She starts to cry and I just hold her close. This is an end-of-the-line meltdown my little Ronnie is having. She’s good and strung out. Bad.

“I don’t want to go there anymore, Spencer. I need this, OK? I need this so f**king bad. I can’t think straight when I’m at work. All I see is the blood. And I finally have a chance to make a real change. This banker, Spencer. He’s my chance. Please don’t ruin it for me.”

We stand there in silence for a few moments. I’m not enough for her right now, I can see that now. I can’t give her what she needs because of my own stupid mistakes. This is her personal struggle and it’s got nothing to do with me. “What do you want me to do, Ronnie?” And even though I already know what she’s gonna say, it hurts me so f**king bad when the words finally come out.

“Leave me alone, Spencer. Just go. Leave me alone.”

I swallow hard and shake my head. She doesn’t try and pull away, she gives me this moment at least. “Veronica, if that’s what you need, I’ll go. But before I do, I’d like to have my say too.” She stays silent so I push forward. “The day I saw you, my life started. My chest swelled with this feeling. A feeling I’d never felt before. When I watched you that first week before I made my move in art class, I realized something. I realized that the day I saw you my heart started to beat a whole new way. It was like all these years I had no idea what my heart was for, and then bam—you were there in front of me. And by the time I followed you to art class that day we got together, I had finally figured out what it was.”

I blow out a long burst of air, not sure I should even be telling her this.

“Say the words, Spencer,” she pleads through her soft sobs. “Because if I don’t hear them, I’m gonna explode.”

Her eyes are searching mine, pleading to make this better. Just begging me to fix this.

“It was like… it was like…” I take a deep breath. “It was like I was listening to some scratchy classic vinyl and then suddenly you appeared, and my whole world went digital. It’s like life shifted. Everything became real. You make me real, Ronnie. You started my heart. You are the missing piece of me. We’re partners, Ron. Soul mates. We are, I swear it. But—” She cries into my chest again and it stops me dead. I can’t stand to see her cry. God, it hurts me to see her cry.

“I can’t listen to the ‘but’, Spencer. I can’t. Please don’t make me listen to the ‘but’. I just want you to say you love me.”

“I love you, Veronica. I’ve always loved you.”

She looks up at me, her eyes all red and watery. “Then be with me! Please!”

Fuck, her misunderstood sadness breaks my heart. “I want to say I’m with you, baby. I’ll never leave you. But I can’t say that. Not yet.”

“Why?” She’s a mess now. Her tears are spilling down her face like mad.

She pulls away and I bring her back. My hand comes up to cup her face. I tilt her chin up so she has to look me in the eyes when the words come out. “Because Veronica Vaughn, I’m guilty. Every single thing they said about me on TV that year I met you…” I pause to try and gauge her reaction. But I have no idea what she’s thinking, so I have no choice, I just have to say it. “Every single thing they said about me was true.”

I can hear her stunned swallow and then she wriggles until I let her go.

And I do let her go. I have to let her go.

“It’s all true, Ronnie. So if you need this banker to get what you want, then go do that. Because I am this guy, Veronica. This guy right here, this guy who did all those things all those years ago. This guy is me. And you’re absolutely right. This guy doesn’t deserve you.”

Chapter Eight

I have to walk away, so I turn towards the door.

“Spencer,” she whispers.

“Veronica, I’m sorry, OK? I just need to go.” I pull the screen door open and walk though, taking the steps two at a time, and then walk briskly around the corner of her building. When I get to the alley I lean against the wall and bend over to try and calm my racing heart. “Fuck!”

She probably heard that. I stand back up and walk down the alley towards Mountain Ave, then cut over and take Jefferson back up to Maple where my truck is parked at the shop. If she stays in that apartment at least she’ll be close to me.