Untamed (84 page)

I open the half-sized fridge and pull out a beer, cradle it in my hands on the balcony, watching life carry out on the street below.

That’s seventeen schools I’ve looked into, searched their staff listings, sat outside of watching the faces of teachers.

It doesn’t escape me, the risk I’m taking, staking out schools everyday… all it takes is one well-meaning person to notice me and call the cops, and they’ll take me in, put me under investigation.

But what else can I do?

I feel a swell of anger, kick the railing. The metal rings, shakes, thrums. Why the fuck did she have to just up and run?

Why couldn’t she wait? I would have been at her side. I would have dropped anything…
everything
then and there to go with her.

She’s carrying my fucking baby and I don’t know where she is. I can’t protect her… I can’t protect our child. I can’t help her, make it easier for her.

My family.
The only family I’ve ever had, or will ever have. Of that I’m sure.

She’s got nobody to turn to, nobody who can guide her, no maternal figure in her life to teach her what to expect. And how quickly will she have made friends she can trust here? Who can she rely on here? The comforts of online chat rooms populated by other expectant mothers looking for guidance are always cold and distant, squeezed through fiber optics.

It’s nothing
real
.

I’ve sat in those chat rooms, too, even messaged a couple of Carolines… no dice.

But Dee’s always been a paranoid person. She learned that from her father. My bet is she doesn’t go online if she can help it. My bet is that if she’s hiding, she’s doing a damn good job of it, has thought of everything.
Everything
. Dee is too fucking smart to get caught, God damn it!

The thought of what Glass is doing to his own daughter makes my hands shake. Sometimes, I wonder how stupid I’d have to have fucking been to climb into that limousine with him.

Sure, he gave me the opportunity to get rich. I’ve got several million in the bank, sitting there doing nothing.

But to rub shoulders with a man like that… I’m glad I always kept a distance between us, a gap. I wasn’t up to playing some fucking role, being his fucking surrogate son.

I
got
in it for the fights, for the chance to make something of a life that would have gone quickly nowhere. I’m not stupid, I knew what my chances were. I couldn’t even fucking spell ‘Deidre’.

No education, but I was no idiot.

I
stayed
in it because of Dee. There were times I thought about striking out on my own. I didn’t need some motherfucker calling the shots for me. It was useful, but I could have become a straight mercenary, work for the highest bidder.

Five percent of the pot? I could have commanded ten, maybe fifteen. Unheard of for an underground fighter. It would force a change to the whole betting structure.

I was that good. Could have gone pro at a moment’s notice and dominated.

But I couldn’t leave Dee. There was no way I was going to. She… she was what I was fighting for. Those millions… all that money… what the fuck does a guy like me have to spend it on? I eat, I train, I fight; it’s not expensive.

No, that was for
us
.

Perhaps I wasn’t conscious of it at the time, perhaps I didn’t understand it. But I was saving all of that for us. For our future. A future that only came to me in fuzzy outlines. A future that I couldn’t peer into, because I wasn’t sure how it was going to play out.

If only I’d planned it better. If only I’d talked to Dee, been honest with her about what I thought. But I wanted to wait until it was all there, ready for the taking. I wanted her to
know
she could leave, but not have to
wait
in order to do so.

Maybe I was stupid. How many times has she told me I didn’t need to protect her?

God damn it, maybe I was stupid! Maybe I got it wrong! Did I drive her away? Did she leave because I never committed as fully as I meant to?

Fuck.

That future evaporated, my last palm-full of water in a desert, when she took my baby and ran.

I put the beer down not even having taken a sip… I’m in no mood. I go back inside, stare at my map. I’ve sat on seventeen schools so far, each for several days at a time in case she’s just working part-time. I never saw her at any of them.

There are plenty more to go, especially out in the suburbs, nearby places like Geelong. The schools, that she wants to teach, it’s all I have to go on.

I’m full to bursting with frustration, recognize the need to burn it off before it robs me of another night of sleep.

I can’t keep going on like this, sleeping for barely two or three hours a day. It’s going to wear me out, burn me out, fuck with my mind. I don’t have the body fat percentage to keep my energy levels up forever, and I’m not eating like I need to be. I’ve already dropped weight, most of it lean mass. Throw me in a cage now against the last guy I fought, and I lose easily.

Fuck. I’m coming apart at the seams.

I change, leave the apartment, jog toward the beach then turn left toward Brighton. I take an aggressive pace, force my heart to race, force my lungs to burn. I’ve sweated through my t-shirt, and I push harder, faster.

Maybe it’s some stupid attempt to tire myself out so much that I forget about Dee tonight. But I know that’s impossible. I’ll look at that fuzzy ATM picture again. I’ll stare at it until my eyes blur out and I fall asleep on the couch.

I race by the marina, hear the metal clangs of sail strings slapping masts. I pass a hidden beach, tucked away in an alcove of stone beneath a cliff face, and there I see nesting miniature penguins, no taller than a bowling pin. I heave past the mansions that belong to celebrities and the rich, with their swimming pools and servants and rare pure-breed accessory dogs.

And then I’m spent, panting, gasping. I double over, grip onto my knees. My white t-shirt has gone transparent, clings to my skin. I go toward a bench overlooking Brighton beach. Lining the beach are multicolored boat huts. They’re painted in a variety of ways. One has a kangaroo on it, the other the colors of the local Aussie-rules team. One is painted in the colors of the Union Jack. I spy another one… the American flag.

My mind goes back to Dee. She’s a foreigner all alone in this country. She’s a woman carrying a baby who’ll have to hold down a job to make enough money to live.

I see somebody walking along the beach in the distance. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust as I’m pulled from my thoughts. Behind the person are two dogs, casually following.

Dee liked cats. That was one of the first things I ever learned about her. I grin at the memory, that cat t-shirt in Thailand. It was black, soaked up all the heat, and in that sub-tropical climate, no wonder she looked uncomfortable.

How it was
Sai
, that old village tabby cat, that finally got Dee more comfortable, that got us talking.

How much Dee changed! She didn’t just become a beautiful woman with curves that make me swallow hard. But she grew a hard skin, found a spring of compassionate self-confidence that made her the brightest person in any room, pushed back at her asshole father, and started to finally do what she wanted to in life.

It was all getting better; we were on the right path. We were going to get out together!

I look away from the person with the dogs, stare out to sea, to where the world curves around. Hunting down Dee often feels like chasing the horizon. I’ve gotten nowhere in ninety days. Each day seems to move at half-speed. Each night slower still.

I hear the crinkle of a food wrapper. It’s carried on the wind. I look toward the person by the shore, see now that it’s a woman. She kneels down, pours something into her hands and then lets the dogs eat out of it.

They’ve got to be strays. Nobody feeds their dogs like that when taking them for a walk. Maybe a snack or two, but not a handful.

I wonder if Dee would have wanted to own dogs. I don’t mind cats, but had my ideal life for us played out, we might have owned a dog, too. Maybe a rescued pit bull.

The woman stands up, and one of her hands goes to her belly. She rubs it. I wonder at it for a moment, turn my eyes away back toward the horizon and the setting sun. It’s a huge lantern coming back down to—

I snap my eyes back toward the woman. She’s still got her hand on her belly, and I see there a small bump.

My heart starts to race, blood thunders in my ears. There is no chance in hell… it could be
anybody!
How many pregnant women are there? There must be loads.

There’s no chance.

“Come on,” she says to the dogs. Her voice is carried on the wind.

Dee’s voice.

I recognize it instantly.

Then I smell a hint of perfume.

Dee’s perfume.

I recognize it instantly.

I stand up, start walking toward her. She hasn’t noticed me.

As I get closer, her features become clearer.

I see her smile.

Dee’s smile
.

I recognize it instantly.

“Dee!” I shout, but a passing car drowns me out.

“Dee!”

Chapter Thirty Four