it, too.
Tall glass buildings of downtown twinkle and loom in the distance. James stays in the left lane and keeps pace with traffic. They pass a blue Acura on the right, and Kate looks at the white, middle-aged male driver on his cell phone. He never glances her way. The world is so encapsulated now. How was she to find a partner with all of us so immersed in our tight little universes.
She looks at James. His long lashes look even longer with wetness. He’ll be gone in five minutes—the Prince Charming that never was. His beauty belies his manic behavior earlier, his battered body under his dark fleece shirt. “Promise me you’re not still suicidal.” She stares at him, searching, wonders if her voice is as small as she feels. “If you kill yourself, I could burn in hell for handing you the opportunity.”
He laughs, but grimaces, like it hurt. “You’re concern is touching, really.” His smile fades quickly. He does not address her request. He looks straight ahead and Kate is sure James is consciously avoiding looking at her.
“God, you're friend John was right .” Anger, disgust, guilt jockey for lead emotion. Suddenly the car feels stifling. She can’t catch her breath. “I'm such a sucker, letting you talk me into taking you away from friends who could have helped you.”
“You're not.” He glances at her quickly then back at the highway. “You can’t save me, Kate. And I can't save you. We’re going to have to do that for ourselves.” He glances at her again, sighs, like he gets his words cut. “Look, don’t get caught up in my façade, Kate. There’s nothing behind it. Not anymore. There probably never was, I just didn’t notice.”
“I don’t think achieving excellence is nothing. And I’m pretty sure tuning out is a typical guy thing.”
James laughs. “It may be. But I’ve been told that’s a lousy excuse.”
“What was her name?” Kate asks, even though most of her doesn’t want to know.
“Julia. But it never really was, and now it never will be. And I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Well, what about Julia?”
James shoots her a piercing glare. “What about her?”
“Don’t you care you’d be hurting her if you killed yourself?”
“Either way, I'm hurting her. So I’m alive. We can’t be together. I’m wanted for drug trafficking, escaping lawful custody…murder.” He does not look at her. “To her, I’m dead either way.”
Kate watches at him. He said ‘murder,’ that he's wanted for murder . And for the first time she feels afraid of him. James could be crazy—one of those guys who’s calm most of the time, then goes psychopath every now and again. “You said you left a mental institution in Scotland ‘without permission.’ Were you there for killing someone?”
He jaw tightens again. “I won’t discuss this. I’m sorry I mentioned it.” Quick, nervous laugh. “I wasn’t putting you off when I told you I wasn’t the best person to be around right now.” He glances at her again and sort of shrugs, wipes his nose with his shirtsleeve and runs his fingers through his hair again, but it falls back in his eyes.
All fear of him dissolves. Kate can not fathom him as evil, or even crazy. He’d just admitted to ‘trafficking.’ A drug dealer seems plausible, though not probable as a career musician. She imagined drug dealers to be hardened people. Underneath his manic behavior, James seems fundamentally a gentle man. Kate feels it to her core. “I’m not scared of you.” She blushes. Aloud it sounds taunting, defensive.
James laughs, and winces. “I’m not scared of you either, which is a first for me with a stranger in quite a while.”
“I didn’t just tell you I murdered someone.”
“I didn’t say I murdered anyone. I said I was wanted for murder.” He glances at her for an instant before he catches sight of a road sign. James changes lanes abruptly and turns off Hwy. 50 on to Hwy. 5 heading north. He takes the first
Tall glass buildings of downtown twinkle and loom in the distance. James stays in the left lane and keeps pace with traffic. They pass a blue Acura on the right, and Kate looks at the white, middle-aged male driver on his cell phone. He never glances her way. The world is so encapsulated now. How was she to find a partner with all of us so immersed in our tight little universes.
She looks at James. His long lashes look even longer with wetness. He’ll be gone in five minutes—the Prince Charming that never was. His beauty belies his manic behavior earlier, his battered body under his dark fleece shirt. “Promise me you’re not still suicidal.” She stares at him, searching, wonders if her voice is as small as she feels. “If you kill yourself, I could burn in hell for handing you the opportunity.”
He laughs, but grimaces, like it hurt. “You’re concern is touching, really.” His smile fades quickly. He does not address her request. He looks straight ahead and Kate is sure James is consciously avoiding looking at her.
“God, you're friend John was right .” Anger, disgust, guilt jockey for lead emotion. Suddenly the car feels stifling. She can’t catch her breath. “I'm such a sucker, letting you talk me into taking you away from friends who could have helped you.”
“You're not.” He glances at her quickly then back at the highway. “You can’t save me, Kate. And I can't save you. We’re going to have to do that for ourselves.” He glances at her again, sighs, like he gets his words cut. “Look, don’t get caught up in my façade, Kate. There’s nothing behind it. Not anymore. There probably never was, I just didn’t notice.”
“I don’t think achieving excellence is nothing. And I’m pretty sure tuning out is a typical guy thing.”
James laughs. “It may be. But I’ve been told that’s a lousy excuse.”
“What was her name?” Kate asks, even though most of her doesn’t want to know.
“Julia. But it never really was, and now it never will be. And I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Well, what about Julia?”
James shoots her a piercing glare. “What about her?”
“Don’t you care you’d be hurting her if you killed yourself?”
“Either way, I'm hurting her. So I’m alive. We can’t be together. I’m wanted for drug trafficking, escaping lawful custody…murder.” He does not look at her. “To her, I’m dead either way.”
Kate watches at him. He said ‘murder,’ that he's wanted for murder . And for the first time she feels afraid of him. James could be crazy—one of those guys who’s calm most of the time, then goes psychopath every now and again. “You said you left a mental institution in Scotland ‘without permission.’ Were you there for killing someone?”
He jaw tightens again. “I won’t discuss this. I’m sorry I mentioned it.” Quick, nervous laugh. “I wasn’t putting you off when I told you I wasn’t the best person to be around right now.” He glances at her again and sort of shrugs, wipes his nose with his shirtsleeve and runs his fingers through his hair again, but it falls back in his eyes.
All fear of him dissolves. Kate can not fathom him as evil, or even crazy. He’d just admitted to ‘trafficking.’ A drug dealer seems plausible, though not probable as a career musician. She imagined drug dealers to be hardened people. Underneath his manic behavior, James seems fundamentally a gentle man. Kate feels it to her core. “I’m not scared of you.” She blushes. Aloud it sounds taunting, defensive.
James laughs, and winces. “I’m not scared of you either, which is a first for me with a stranger in quite a while.”
“I didn’t just tell you I murdered someone.”
“I didn’t say I murdered anyone. I said I was wanted for murder.” He glances at her for an instant before he catches sight of a road sign. James changes lanes abruptly and turns off Hwy. 50 on to Hwy. 5 heading north. He takes the first
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