32. Diem

32

Diem

“ G et. Out. Now.” The caustic tone got Hilty moving, but he stepped on Tallus’s fallen glasses in his race to escape the office.

Tallus spat profanities as the door slammed behind the doctor. I couldn’t see past the blinding rage making my vision red. I was an inferno and wanted nothing more than to chase that motherfucking doctor down and kill him for daring to come into my house and make threats.

Somehow, I managed to maintain a sliver of self-control. Maybe it had something to do with the thrashing man in my arms.

“Put me down. I swear to god, I’m fucking cursed. If they’re broken again…” Tallus growled in frustration, bringing me back to the present. “Guns! Put me down.”

I set him gently on his feet, and he immediately fell to his knees, retrieving his frames. Holding them close to his face, he examined them. Whimpering, he got to his feet. “The frames are fucking broken. That asshole is getting billed for repairs. How does this keep happening to me?”

“Let me see them.”

Tallus flung them at my chest in irritation. I fumbled and almost dropped them. After a quick examination, I determined it wasn’t anything I could fix. He was right. They were toast.

He took them back and put them on. They sat crooked, framing his scowl. “Just what I needed. Another outrageous expense after I already made promises to Memphis I can’t keep. Why is this my life? I need a better job.” He continuously moved them on his nose, trying to find a proper balance so they didn’t list to one side. All the fiddling in the world wouldn’t make them sit straight, and he soon gave up.

The fury that had boiled to the surface when I’d found Hilty holding a knife to Tallus’s throat simmered, but my skin continued to buzz and tingle with residual adrenaline. My insides ceaselessly quivered, making my teeth chatter if I didn’t cinch my jaw.

Tallus removed and inspected the frames again, gently attempting to tweak them back in shape with no luck.

A wave of grief hit me unexpectedly. I loved the come-fuck-me-style of his glasses, but I was less concerned with the broken frames and more concerned with the blood drying across Tallus’s throat and staining his collar. The profoundness of it was a lead ball to the chest. It threatened to buckle my knees. He was hurt. Bleeding.

My sudden urge to kill the doctor reignited until Tallus looked up, wearing a look of defeat along with his lopsided eyewear.

“I’m pissed.”

“Sit down.”

“What?”

My entire focus was on the blood. The cut wasn’t much more than a paper-thin line, but my stomach soured when I considered an alternate ending to the confrontation.

“Sit down,” I repeated.

Tallus gave me an odd look and preoccupied himself with the glasses. “I have a solid theory,” he said, twisting the plastic frames.

Ignoring him, I retrieved a first aid kit from the bathroom. On my way back, I snagged an orange plastic chair from the waiting room and plunked it beside Tallus. “Sit. Down.” An edge of impatience crept into my tone.

Tallus blinked blurrily up at me, confusion written all over his face. “What? You’re not listening."

The shaking wouldn’t abate. Whether it was returning rage or residual adrenaline, I wasn’t sure, but it was joined by the steady thump of my heart beating too fast. “You’re hurt. Sit. Down.”

Tallus squinted at the first aid kit as his hand went to his throat, fingers prodding the thin cut. They came away sticky with drying blood. “Oh. I think I’m okay.”

“Tallus.” I rattled the chair. “Sit.”

“Guns…”

He saw it then, the ceaseless vibrations, the barely contained rage coursing through my veins. Concern filled his face. He sat and put his broken glasses back on.

“I’m okay, D.”

I kneeled between his legs and moved to tilt his head but drew back, unsure I had enough control to touch him without being too aggressive. “Lift your chin,” I mumbled.

He refused. Our eyes caught briefly before I looked away, clenching my teeth as tight as I could to stop the chattering. “Tallus. Let me look at it. Please.”

“It’s hardly a scratch. I’m okay. I need to tell you my theory.”

I remained unmoving, gaze purposefully averted, waiting for him to comply. I couldn’t think about theories or anything pertaining to the case. My mind was spinning. My muscles hurt from constant rigidity.

Tallus must have understood. He lifted his chin.

I examined the two shallow cuts on his neck. Nicks, really. Nothing serious, like he’d assured me. But my insides coiled tighter and tighter. Nausea filled my belly. I dug around the well-stocked first aid kit until I found alcohol wipes and ointment.

Doing all I could to bite back the flood of anger and fear that had surfaced when Tallus had been taken hostage, I cleaned the two scratches. Hands shaking, I swabbed the square gauze over the wounds as gently as possible, wiping away the drying blood where it had smeared and spread. But I couldn’t vanquish the memory. It played on repeat. I saw the fear on Tallus’s face, the pleading look in his eyes. I relived the helplessness of the moment over and over.

Next, I applied a thin layer of ointment, smearing it evenly, delicately, like he might break otherwise. Neither injury required bandaging since the bleeding had stopped, but I debated doctoring them nonetheless, wanting to do more. I wanted to fix what had happened. Erase it from my mind.

Why couldn’t I stop shaking?

Finished, I clumsily replaced the items in the kit and met Tallus’s gaze. A weak, sad smile turned the corners of his rosy lips. “You touched me.”

“I had to.”

Porcelain skin, fragile and flawless. Behind the crooked-framed glasses, Tallus’s hazel eyes filled with concern. He saw what I couldn’t hide. My utter deterioration. What was wrong with me?

“Are you okay, D?”

I grunted, looking away.

“I’m not hurt,” he said quieter. “It’s barely a scratch. Stop fretting.”

Stop fretting? Was I fretting? It felt like I was losing my mind. Barely holding on. Internally combusting. I didn’t know how to stop the roller-coaster ride that had taken me hostage ever since this man had fallen into my life.

Focusing on a spot in the distance, I asked, “What’s your theory? Tell me.”

“No. It can wait.”

“But we should—”

Tallus rested a hand on my shoulder, and my words tumbled into the abyss. “It can wait. Relax, D. Breathe. You’re not breathing.”

Because my lungs hurt. My skin hurt. My head hurt. That blasted organ behind my ribs, the one I’d encased in steel long ago, even it hurt. Everything fucking hurt.

“I need a smoke.”

“You need to relax.”

“I can’t.” If I let go of control, I would shatter… or tear the whole fucking world to shreds.

Tallus rubbed my shoulder. Squeezed. “Breathe,” he said again.

For years, receiving touch from anyone was jarring. Unwanted. It made me instantly tense and recoil. It felt ugly and uncomfortable, like a bee sting or a doctor’s needle. I was never sure how to respond when it came from Tallus. It never elicited the same root feelings. I’d stopped flinching every time he initiated physical contact, but my muscles still stiffened for a fraction of a second before calming again. I couldn’t help it. It was ingrained in my DNA. Automatic.

Why couldn’t I stop fucking trembling? Why were my insides vibrating with such ferocity? Was this part of the PTSD shit my therapist had talked about? If so, it was getting worse, not better. My blood boiled like molten lava, bleeding fire through my veins, searing the lining of my lungs and stomach. Hilty was gone, but I couldn’t shake his presence from the room. From my mind.

His intentions.

His actions.

Tallus moved his hand from my shoulder to my face, cupping my iron-tense jaw and tracing his thumb along my cheek. “You’re going to crack your teeth in half.”

I was an earthquake, bones fracturing, foundation crumbling.

“Diem.” Tallus’s voice came from far away. “Diem, come here.”

“No.”

“Come here.”

But as I was floating away, he called me back. He said my name again and again and again.

I stole a desperate glance at Tallus. He nodded reassuringly, applying the faintest pressure with his fingers to the back of my head, urging me to move toward him. “Come here,” he said again, softer.

In the next moment and without conscious thought, I moved, my ear resting in the middle of Tallus’s chest. The steady beat of his heart wrapped all around me like a comforting blanket. I closed my eyes and listened to its strong rhythmic pace.

He held me there for a long time, stroking fingers over my shorn hair, soothing and comforting. Safe. Long enough, the last bits of adrenaline and rage faded, and the internal quaking finally stopped.

***

I wanted a cigarette more than ever, but my focus changed once the ground had solidified and Tallus had explained how we might find the evidence we were looking for. Ignoring the itchy nicotine craving and the immense mountain of shame that had surfaced after the Hilty incident, I took the reins and got us moving.

The more I was around Tallus and the more he witnessed my instability, the worse I got. No amount of warning frightened him off, so it was best we closed this case and put distance between us.

We arrived at Hilty’s office by eleven. Our once-clear day had turned into an overcast night. The glow from the streetlights reflected off low-hanging clouds, casting an orange-yellow haze over the city. The air was humid and smelled of rain and ozone. A north wind brought pockets of cold air that touched my cheeks like phantom fingers, there and gone in an instant. A front was moving in. I could feel it, smell it.

The frightened doctor must have gone home to his wife after I threw him out. His car was not in the lot. In fact, the strip mall was deserted. The restaurant across the street was closed. Even the traffic on the main road was light. The Sunday night calm had set in.

Vision-compromised Tallus waited beside the Jeep. I’d parked in the shadow of the giant green dumpster used by Hilty’s office, Janek’s business, and the independent bookstore. I took a stroll around the side of the building and wandered up and down the street to be sure there weren’t random people slinking around who might see us and call the cops.

Satisfied, I returned to find Tallus balanced on the protruding metal shelf of the dumpster, where the garbage truck inserted the lift arm. Holding the lid above his head, he peered into its bowels, his features pinched with disgust.

“Eager?” I hadn’t spoken much in the last hour. Single words here and there, but Tallus hadn’t reprimanded me for the lack of communication. It was like he knew. Like he understood.

Tallus made a retching noise as he jumped down, letting the lid slam with a loud crash. “I’m not going in there. It fucking reeks.”

“This was your theory.”

“Yeah, and I know I’m right, but come on.” He pitched a face and whined, coming just short of stamping a foot. “Do you smell that?”

“Yes. Smells like garbage that has been cooking in the late summer sun for an entire fucking week.”

“Exactly.”

“Janek said pick up is tomorrow, so if you’re sure about this, we have to do it tonight. It could be our only chance to find proof.”

“And if I’m wrong?”

“Then we get dirty for nothing.”

“We?” He glanced down at his trim trousers, loafers, and buttoned shirt. “These are expensive clothes.”

“Do you own any other type of clothes?”

“Not really.” He gave me an abashed smile. With the crooked glasses, it gleamed boyishly. “But that’s for me and my future therapist to deal with. I have never denied having expensive tastes, and I’m sure there’s a twelve-step program for shopaholics, but I’m not ready to change. D? Could you…” He eyed the dumpster. “You know… Please.” His bottom lip jutted a fraction.

I grumbled under my breath.

The minute Tallus had shared his train of thought back at the office, I knew it would be me taking the plunge, so to speak. Tallus might like adventure and breaking the rules, and he might get a boner for detective work, but he was not one to get physically dirty if the job called for it.

We all had limits.

“You’re a manipulative brat.”

He gasped and clutched his chest. “You’ve been talking to Kitty. It’s not true.”

I deadpanned.

“Fine. It’s a little true, but in my defense, up until last week, I didn’t know.”

“Shut up and keep watch.” I tossed him the keys to the Jeep in case he had to make a quick getaway, and scanned the street, still grumbling under my breath because this was going to suck ass.

When there was a lull in traffic, I scaled the dumpster, lifted the lid, and glanced inside. It was full and wafted heat and a pungent, swampy odor. The impossibility of the task slapped me in the face. I was looking for two black garbage bags in a sea of black garbage bags. How the fuck was I supposed to know which ones had come from the back of Sally’s rusted Caprice? Not only that, but we had no idea what might be inside the bags we sought.

“Your plan sucks.”

“I concur. Now hop to it.”

“Fuck’s sake.” Donning the rubber gloves I’d brought, I peered at Tallus. “Are you absolutely sure about this?”

“Yes.”

Sighing, I turned back to the full dumpster and formulated a rough plan of attack.

Reluctantly, I took the plunge, knowing the bags we sought would be nearer the bottom since Tallus had witnessed the suspicious behavior almost a week ago. I tried to organize the task of searching, piling the newer bags into one corner as I dug deeper, holding my breath as much as possible. As I neared the bottom, I tore open random bags and rooted inside, quickly dismissing most when they contained the usual trash found in offices.

Hilty’s office used flex-style trash bags for the most part, whereas the supplements store used a regular kind. The bookstore used smaller white ones, so they were easily eliminated. By the time I’d ripped open more than a dozen bags, doubt had slipped in.

I shifted to the other side of the bin and searched every bag, tearing and tossing as I weeded through the ones I hadn’t already checked. It wasn’t until I was three-quarters of the way down the second half of the dumpster, intent on giving up, when I found two black bags with red plastic drawstring ties. The only two of that kind I’d seen in my search. I shredded the first one and paused.

Janek’s supplement store discarded a lot of identifiable junk. Empty bottles, packages, and expired wares that couldn’t be returned, but I had yet to come across a bag loaded with full pill bottles, all with identical labels.

Thousands of capsules rattled in their plastic jars as I dug through them, confirming I wasn’t losing my mind. All the same. All full. And in a garbage bag that didn’t match the rest, as though it had come from somewhere else.

“Tallus.”

His head appeared over the edge of the dumpster. “Find something?”

“I don’t know. Take this.”

Nose crinkling, he accepted the bag. I tore into the second one. Exactly the same as the first. I tossed it out as well. Searching, I found no others. Was that what we’d been looking for? Two bags. It had to be.

Giving up the search, I scaled the edge of the bin and jumped down beside Tallus, who was picking through the bottles, frowning at the labels, and shaking them at random.

“They’re all the same.”

“Yeah.”

“Like, all of them.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“And they’re full.”

“Tallus, I’m aware. It’s why I grabbed them.”

“Don’t get snarky.” Still frowning with a bottle in hand, he turned it to face me. “Echinacea?”

“Doubt it.”

He twisted the lid and seemed surprised to find it wasn’t sealed. Dumping a few capsules into his palm, he held them up to catch the light. “What color are they?”

“Green.”

“Is that the right color for echinacea?”

“Yes. Put them back. We’ll take them with us.”

Together, we retied the bags and tossed them into the back of the Jeep. Neither of us spoke as I drove to the office. In the covered parking garage, I put the Jeep in park but left the engine running as I opened the door. “Stay here.”

“What are you doing?”

“Getting clean clothes. I fucking stink and don’t have a shower. We’re going to your place.”

In under thirty minutes, Tallus keyed us into his seventh-floor apartment. I let him precede me so he could get the light. I hadn’t been over in a while. The last time I’d graced his doorstep, I’d been half drunk and looking for a midnight fuck.

My skin burned with the memory, and I cut my gaze left and right, scanning for signs that other men had been there, reminding myself I wasn’t special. Tallus dropped the black bags onto the coffee table and flicked on a light on a side table.

As he closed the curtains over the balcony, I recalled how often I’d sat in the Jeep far below, watching Tallus go about his nightly routine like a creep.

“Down the hall. Fresh towels are in the linen closet.”

With a clipped nod, I lowered my head and aimed for the bathroom. For a heartbeat, I wondered if Tallus would join me. He would be so bold. Sometimes, I thought he enjoyed making me uncomfortable and pushing my limits. The thought of company was both thrilling and terrifying. If he offered, I wouldn’t know how to handle it. Close quarters. Nowhere to escape. Naked and vulnerable. The roadmap of my past on full display.

Expectations. So many expectations. The cons outweighed the pros.

Yet…

Before closing the door, I peered back down the hall, anticipating him any second.

But he didn’t come. I was torn. Disappointed and relieved. How could I want both? It made no sense. I’d been warning him off for a week. It was counterproductive to encourage or wish for sexual advances when I knew I couldn’t be the man he wanted.

And yet…

No.

I closed the door and set the lock, leaning my head against its wooden surface. Good-for-nothing, useless waste of space.

Ejecting my father’s voice, I tried Dr. Peterson’s new exercise of listing positive qualities when the negative ones grew invasive.

Except, I couldn’t think of any. My father was right. He was always right. I was a good-for-nothing waste of oxygen. Better off dead.

Exhaling, I closed my eyes and waited for my heart to find its rhythm. Waited for the head noise to quieten. It took a long time. When I was steadier, when the ground was solid beneath my feet, I blew out the rest of the nervous tension. Fuck my old man. I could do this.

I turned the lock, opened the door, and came face-to-face with Tallus on the other side.

“I…” Words escaped me. My throat locked, and I stood there mute and stunned.

“Can I join you?” His voice was soft, airy, and calming.

All I could do was nod.