Friday, December 15, 2017

I

knew what to do. Get out.

Fully dressed I wrapped my hair in the tightest bun so it yanked at my scalp with the force I deserved. I wiped my eyes and saw that my face was red as I walked briskly past a mirror and came toward the door where Craig blocked me. He looked at me, eyes blinking, seeing my face change with determination. His eyes said, I don't know what to do.

I came straight up to him and clutched his cheeks with my nails. A disciplined anger rushed into my grip and my face was that of fear and determination to fix the situation we're in. I said with a biting order, "Do not say a thing. Go to your bedroom. Lock the door. Do not come out—ever—unless I say so."

He looked at me now as I dropped my firm grip from his face, with eyes that looked like they thought I had regretted a moment he had prized with all his heart. Breathing heavily, Craig whispered, shakily, "Zara, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for you to get into trouble."

I dropped my eyes and shook my head. "Don't be sorry. . ." But I wasn't sure if that was the right instruction. Jack deserved my sorrow now. Lord knows how he will retaliate. "Go, Craig," I said. My breathing turned rapid and shallow. Suddenly I realized, a premonition—something very bad, very excruciatingly painful was going to happen today. It would be all because of the open door.

I looked up at Craig, his eyes swelling like mine. When there was too much to say, and no time to say it, simultaneously we plunged in for a gripping, farewell kiss. All the pressure of the universe was in our lips, and like the Big Bang, we pulled apart, he opened the door behind him and dashed out of sight, footsteps down the hall to his bedroom. His door closed. I heard it lock. and just like that, I was alone at the open door, and I could hear loud shouting coming from upstairs, and someone said, on the fourth floor, no doubt in the kitchen, the haunting curse-- "Jack, please, breathe—it's not as bad as it seems!"