The Last Thing You See (5 page)

Harper soaked up BJJ techniques like a sponge, and I hadn’t been kidding when I told her she was fit enough to be a Marine.  It’s always tough when you do a new kind of exercise, like maybe you can run marathons and then when you get on a bike you can barely even do the same distance, but after a couple more sessions, Harper never seemed to reach that same level of fatigue as the first day.

Each week there was nothing I looked forward to more than rolling with Harper and when she suggested we go for another drink afterwards, I happily agreed.  With the amount she was paying me for lessons, it was only fair that I covered the cost of the smoothies.

She always got the same flavor, some dark green sludge called Biopure Rejuvenate that had lime, wheatgrass, and celery, among other things.  I changed my order every visit, trying to find one I liked the best.

With an orange-colored smoothie in my left hand and green in my right, I joined Harper in ‘our’ booth.

“What made you join up?” she asked.

“The Marines?”

Harper nodded, pulling her drink over to her side.

There were a couple of reasons.  I decided to go with the one that was easiest to explain.  “My dad,” I said, “he was career military and always thought I should do the same.  The Marines just so happened to have the closest office where I could sign up.”

“But now you’re discharged?”

I sucked some tasty orange, banana, and mango flavored smoothie through my straw and licked my lips, trying to think of how to steer this conversation away from the territory she was heading to.

“Yeah, last year.  You were right, the smoothies here are awesome and I think I’ve found my flavor.”

“Hey, this is my hometown, I know a thing or two,” she said.

“Quite the hometown. You've always lived here?”

Harper paused to take another pull on her straw, and her eyes never left mine.  They were a soft brown that looked so warm, so kind, that they looked out of place in a big city like this, where everybody always seemed to be clawing at each other to make their own way to the top.

I’d seen and done some awful things, the worst that war can show a man.  I’d faced a lot and been able to keep on marching, because I had to, but the way Harper looked at me made me feel weak in the knees like nothing else.

She swallowed and sighed, a flicker of some emotion crossing her face like an unwelcome memory.

“Born and raised,” she said. “How about you?  You’re ‘just passing through’, so where are you really from?”

“A small town called Warfields in Missouri.  The kind of town where nothing ever happens,” I said ruefully.

“Warfields?”

“Yeah, named because of something that happened during the Civil war.  I don’t know, I didn’t pay as much attention as I should have in that class.  On the bright side, it was all over by the time I was born.  So that’s good.”

Harper smiled and stirred her straw around in her rapidly depleting smoothie before looking up at me again.  I wished the butterflies would settle down in my stomach.

“So why end the career?” she asked.

That did it, the butterflies were dead, but she continued anyway.

“I mean, you’re obviously able-bodied. I’ve
rolled
with you now, and I thought
I
was in shape.  I’ve seen you move at, like, lightning speed to be my hero and…”

“You need to stop.  I’m not… comfortable with you calling me that.  That’s not me, I’m just some fuck-up who was in the right place that day.  I’m glad you didn’t get hurt, but that’s not what I am.”

Harper was silent for a while, taken aback by my unexpected little outburst.  I felt like the worst person in the world to have just wiped that beautiful smile off her face.  I expected she would make her excuses, leave, and that would be the end of my association with Hollywood’s favorite starlet.

Not for the first time, Harper surprised me.  “Was it a… what do you call it? 
Dishonorable
discharge?”

“No.  It was something else.  You don’t want to hear about things like that.”

“Maybe.  But, Nick…”

Harper reached across the table and her hand, chilled from holding her smoothie, slid into mine and gave it a squeeze.  Compared to me, Harper was downright delicate.  I was a bull and she was a china shop, but in that moment she felt so much stronger.

“Have you ever talked about it?  Maybe you need to talk about it more than I don’t want to hear it.  I’m a good listener,” she added tentatively.

If I looked up and saw Harper’s face, I knew I’d probably do anything she wanted me to.  I forced myself to stare at her hand in mine instead, but I faltered.  I glanced up and there she was.

There was concern, but none of the pity I feared most.  I was right about looking up though, Harper brought my walls down as well as Christie ever had, and everything started bubbling treacherously close to the surface.

“I was captured,” I said.  “That’s where most of these scars came from.”

Harper said nothing, she just waited for whatever was going to spill out as if her eyes were deep enough that all my pain could get lost in there and never find its way back.  Her thumb gently stroked the back of my hand and I told her more.

I told her how even now I wasn’t sure how it happened.  Something exploded, my friends were getting shot to shit all around me.  A bullet grazed me, something hit me in the head, and it all went black.

I woke up tied to a chair in some dusty little room, the chair itself secured to the stone wall by bolts.  That’s when I met the man who I thought was going to kill me.  He said he would, and I had no reason to think he was bluffing.

He said that he wasn’t officially part of any government or army, but the local insurgents ‘fed’ him foreign soldiers to torture.  He was supposed to let some of them go so the word would spread that we should stay out of their war... or else.

The only reason he told me all that was because I wasn’t going to be one of the soldiers that got released.  He was going to have some fun and only my mangled corpse would ever be found.

He cut me, beat me, shocked me, made me loathe consciousness, and he enjoyed his work.  But he didn’t break me.  Not until the last day.

I felt myself go pale when I thought about the last day, how he finally managed to get under my skin.  My jaw muscles cramped and shut the words in so tightly that even Harper’s presence couldn’t drag them out, and I went silent apart from the wavering breaths that I managed to suck in through my teeth.

I shut my eyes when I felt them stung by tears, but that didn’t stop them.  They forced their way through and flowed down my face as fast as I could wipe them away.

My heart felt like it was cramped and every breath was painful, as if the truth was going to make me explode like a pressure cooker.  How could I say it?

When I was in that hellhole, when I was sure I would never reach out and touch Christie again, I shut her out of my mind.  Then he used her against me, brought down my defenses and promised to give me enough scars to make sure that whatever got sent back home was an unlovable monster.

He may not have been able to work on me for as long as he wanted, but he did plenty.  I saw the way people looked at me when I didn’t cover up enough.  I heard the whispers.

Harper stood and walked around the side of the booth, not letting go of my hand until she was right beside me, and she pulled me into an embrace, stroking my hair and shutting the world out.  Her breasts pressed into the side of my head, soft and comforting under her shirt and bra, and I felt that clenching sensation in my chest begin to ease, the power to the pressure cooker turned off.

“I can’t…”

“Shhh,” she said, “enough.  Just breathe.”

It was good advice.

Nick didn’t want to be called a hero, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t one.  To go through what he did and still be strong enough to get up every day was amazing.

Over the next several weeks, he eventually managed to tell me how he got rescued.  The little outpost he was being tortured in was raided and they found him there.  It wasn’t a rescue mission. They didn’t know he was there until they stumbled across him.

He recovered, physically, but couldn’t go back into service, so he was discharged.  Every time I went to BJJ training with him and I saw the scars on his arms, or his rash vest rode up and I saw the scars on his stomach, I saw his strength.

I wanted to run my fingers over his whole body, trace every scar as if that would undo the pain that each one had caused him.  As we rolled, I felt his muscles flex and I found myself with my hand inside his jacket more than the techniques strictly required, wishing he would forget the rash vest just once, but he never did.

Nick looked more relaxed every week, like a river that had been threatening to burst its banks but was now flowing nice and calm.  His jokes came more often, his laughter easier, and it was infectious.

He was a gentle giant, probably strong enough to snap me like a twig, but I never felt safer than when I was with him.  I knew the lengths he would go to, to stop me from being hurt.

One week, the owner of the gym couldn’t let me book the room for our usual session. He had some special guest instructor coming in, so we had to come in a few hours later.  It was full dark by the time we finished, but that didn’t stop us from grabbing a smoothie, a tradition by that time.

Nick was almost all the way to our usual booth when I stopped him.  “I’ve got an idea.  Want to see something?”

He looked at me suspiciously.  “Can my smoothie come?”

“Ugh.  OK, yes, if it must.”

“Alright then.  Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

*****

Nick stayed in the car while I walked to the gate and put my key in the padlock, swinging it open so I could drive the car through.  I paused on the other side.

“Could you close the gate?  Don’t lock it, I’m just going to park over there.”

After I parked, I grabbed the remnants of my smoothie out of the drink holder and stepped out.  The city lights were laid out in front of me as far as the ocean and, by some miracle of meteorology, the stars were somewhat visible above too.  I was just climbing onto the hood of the car when Nick returned.

“What is this place called?” he asked.

“It’s the Hollywood Bowl Overlook.  These ten parking spaces service the million cars that try to park here at any given moment during the normal opening hours.  It’s a busy place, but it closes at nine, and I like it best after dark anyway.  I haven’t been up here in… I don’t even know how long now.  I liked to come here alone, but since things got so crazy that’s not such a good idea anymore.”

“You want me to go stand guard at the gate or something?”

“No, I want you to climb on the hood and watch the city with me,” I said.

Nick circled around and gingerly climbed on the hood of my car, easing himself down so as not to put a dent in it and finally relaxing against the windscreen like me, hands clasped over his stomach.  I sighed contentedly, the glow from the latest BJJ workout making me feel snuggly warm.

The city, normally so loud and in-your-face, was utterly beautiful when it was reduced to lights in the darkness.  It had been too long since I’d been up here. I didn’t realize how much I had missed it.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Nick soaking it all in, seeming to appreciate the serenity as much as I did.  It was a comfortable silence where I let my mind wander, meandering from thought to thought as if looking for an old friend.  Wary of old enemies.

Eventually Nick spoke. “How did you get a key to this place?”

“Hey, I told you this was my hometown.  I know some people who know some people.  I never brought anybody here before though.”

“It’s awesome.  I love how quiet it is.  You can see the whole city, and yet it’s quiet.”

I let that sink in for a while before turning my head to look at him.  “Does it ever get any less scary?  Those memories of being trapped?  Hurt?”

Nick’s eyes dropped from the city to his hands in front of him, where his thumbs tapped together for several seconds before he replied.  “It has, lately.”

“I wish I could stop being scared,” I said.

“About the psycho with the acid?  The police still got nothing?”

“No, it’s not that.  I mean, yeah, they got nothing, but… it’s…”

Nick looked over at me, one eyebrow slightly raised, having picked up something from my tone of voice.  Now it was my turn to look down.  A lump rose in my throat and I tried to swallow it away, but it stayed put.

Every time I took in a breath I opened my mouth to start speaking, but nothing seemed like the right way to begin.  I must have done it half a dozen times before Nick spoke.

“Did somebody hurt you, Harper?”

“No.  Sort of.”

“What are you scared of?” he asked quietly.

“I’m scared that this,” I waved my hand in the general direction of the city, then at myself, trying to encompass everything that my life was in one quick gesture, “isn’t real.”

Nick’s brow furrowed and his eyes shifted sideways towards the city lights before coming back to me.  “What do you mean?”

“Did you know I’m adopted?”

“No.”

“You didn’t Google me?” I asked, forcing as much mock indignation as I could under the circumstances.

“No.”

“Well, I am.  The information is out there on the Internet, but for some reason it’s one of those things that never really piqued public interest much.  You can never decide what the media will latch on to,” I said.

“I guess not.”

“Do you know what my first memory is?  Like the first thing I remember that I
know
happened?”

“What?”

“It’s not a birthday party.  It’s not a trip to the playground.  It’s not Mommy telling me she loves me.”

I shut my eyes, and then really squeezed them as a full-body clench seemed to force the tears out, picturing that day when I was standing there in the middle of a puddle of juice with broken glass strewn through it.  That woman with the hair pulled back in the harsh bun was leaning over me, so angry.

“Tipton Group Home.  I spent a couple years in one of those group homes, the heir-apparent to those old-style orphanages, and this must have happened when I was around three years old.  I can’t really remember what happened just before this, but I remember dropping a glass of juice and it smashed on the floor.  This woman who worked there at the time, nobody ever seemed to stay for long, rushed over and yelled something and I just started crying.  I guess I must have pissed her off before or something.  Then I remember…”

A sob shook my body as all the old fear, the
horror
, of the memory hit me again.  My throat became a wary border control agent for words, taking every ounce of effort I had to force them through between each hitching breath.

“I remember she… she said… she just looked at me and said… she said…”

“Harper.  Just breathe.”

Nick was turned on his side facing me, his hand resting on the hood of the car between us to steady himself.  I grabbed it like a life preserver and sat up, turning my body around to face him and eventually slowing my breathing to the same pace as his.

“She looked at me and said ‘No wonder your parents didn’t want you’. 
That’s
my first memory.”

The eye of the storm passed, and I burst into uncontrollable sobs again until Nick pulled me into a hug and I cried myself empty right there on the hood of my car.  By the time I was done, I felt dizzy like I was mildly drunk without any of the upsides.  My head was resting in the crook of his arm and his other hand was carefully stroking my hair, tucking errant strands behind my ear when the breeze tore them free.

“That’s the first thing I knew about myself.   I was trash, so bad my own parents didn’t even want me.  All the other kids I knew in the home got chosen by adoptive parents before me, and by the time the Bayliss family came along, I literally didn’t know anybody at all.  I don’t know what they saw in me, I just sat there not even speaking when they first visited.  I didn’t know what laughing was.”

“Harper, you’re…”

“I was so grateful to them for getting me out of there, but it sticks with you, you know?”

“I know.”

“So a few years go by and, hey, why not audition for Princess Sundancer?  They’re remaking this movie that flopped a while back, what’s the worst that can happen?  Every seven-year-old girl wants to be a fairy princess, right?”

“That’s my understanding,” said Nick.

“So I get the role, and I remember thinking 'has the director gone crazy?'  I haven’t even had any acting lessons yet, but with my two years of ballet, the director thinks I have the right look to pull off the fairy princess who gets cursed by a witch and forgets the magic word and forgets the magic dance that makes the sun shine on the kingdom.”

“Kazoosh!” said Nick.

“Ah, you saw it?”

“A long time ago now, yeah.”

“The magic word was supposed to be ‘Rizam!’ but I came up with my own magic word and the director liked it better,” I said.

“Rizam?  Blech.”

“Then the movie does alright, way better than the critics predicted anyway.  I got a few more parts, a few more, taking lessons the whole time.  Then I was in The Last Perfect Day, and it was a legitimate blockbuster, and everything changed.  Suddenly I couldn’t go anywhere without being recognized, like, anywhere in the developed world it seemed.  People scream my name, red carpets are laid out, photo shoots, interviews, autographs, live chatrooms, script readings, auditions.  It hasn't stopped since that movie.  I try so hard and now it’s like everybody wants me.”  I looked up at Nick for a second and then back down again.  “But my first memory is always there.  It’s why I’ll always be scared that none of this is real.  How could it be real when my own parents didn’t want me?  It’s all a trick, right?”

“Do you want it to be real?” he asked.

“Some of it.”

“It’s a shame we can’t choose.”

Nick propped himself up on his elbow, my head still resting on his arm, and leaned over me.  His face was dim in the darkness with the stars and moon behind him, except for his eyes that were still visibly blue even in the low light.  He was so close that I could feel the warm puffs of his breath on my skin.

“Harper, maybe you’ve been giving so much for so long you don’t even realize it anymore, but you’re about as close to perfect as it gets.  It’s not because you’re so beautiful and it’s not because you’re so talented, although you are both of those things.  It’s because you care so much about the people around you.  You can’t fake that, and it’s not a matter of how hard you
try
to care, it’s just who
you
are, you can’t help it.  Just don’t forget to care for yourself sometimes too.  I think anybody who didn’t want you in their life is crazy.  They lost out on something special.”

At that moment, of all the things in the world I wanted to be real, I wanted Nick to be real the most.  It was hard to believe I was here, at the place I usually only came alone to, with somebody like him.

There was more to him than a sexy bad boy exterior, more than the muscle-bound villain I’d thought of when I first saw him.  So much more.  I brought my hand up along his strong back, to the rear of his neck, and gently stroked there with my fingers as I looked into his eyes.

Our lips could only have been a couple of inches apart. Under my hand, I could feel Nick shivering in anticipation or some kind of self-restraint that was barely holding up under the pressure.  After pouring my heart out I felt like it was filling up with something else, something better, and a voice just kept repeating in my mind
kissmekissmekissme
.

“Kiss me,” I said.  And he did.

Nick closed the distance and I tilted my head, waiting until the last moment to shut my eyes as his lips touched mine.  I pulled him harder against me, and his hand slid up my cheek to bury itself in my hair as we kissed even deeper.

Our lips parted for a moment with a wet sound and a quick pant from me, then found each other again.  From behind my closed eyelids, Nick felt like a huge strong presence just above me.  He was the source of that something that was filling up my heart, which was pounding as hard as it ever had in my whole life.

My job made me an expert in fake kisses, and this wasn’t one of them.  This was real, I was sure of it.  I moved my hand to the bottom of his shirt and slid it underneath, feeling the hard curves of his abs, the line of one of his scars.

Our lips came apart again and I let out a shivery breath of excitement. Feeling his bare skin under my fingertips at last was magic.  Real magic that made it feel like the sun was coming up and shining on me for the first time.