I would like to thank neuroparenthetical for editing this piece.
*
“Unexpressed emotions will never die. They are buried alive and will come forth later in uglier ways.” – Sigmund Freud
Arthur entered his home office early in the morning, locking the door behind him with a quiet click. He strode to the tall bookcase that dominated the wall, pulling his swivel chair along with him. With practiced ease, he climbed up, reached for a white shoebox that lay hidden on the top shelf, and descended with the box in hand. He sat at his desk, placed the box before him, lifted the lid, and carefully withdrew a sleek, six-inch, black Taurus revolver. It had belonged to his late grandfather, a reminder of the family’s troubled past.
He set the box aside and placed the revolver on the glossy Formica veneer. “Fate shuffles the cards, and we play.” His mind echoed the words before giving the gun a forceful spin. As he stared intently at the revolver twirling effortlessly, dancing round and round, he felt a growing sense of resolve. Today will be the day, he thought.
That daily ritual, a game of chance, had become a source of excitement in his otherwise monotonous and meaningless existence. The rules were simple: one gun, one bullet, one spin. If it landed with the barrel pointing directly at him, the game was over, and he would pull the trigger. However, the barrel had always seemed to veer off right at the end of all his past attempts, sometimes pointing just slightly away from him.
If not for the love and care of the few remaining people in his life, Arthur would have already ended his unease, but instead, he opted to put his faith in fate and let it dictate his future.
Gradually, the gun lost its momentum. As it neared its last turn, Arthur’s eyes widened, and he leaned forward with vigilant anticipation. His heart raced as the barrel inched closer and closer to him… only to slide past him by a few measly millimeters. Arthur grimaced in sour disappointment, and a lopsided grin twisted his lips. He replaced the revolver in its box and then ascended the chair once more, returning it to its concealed location.
With a resigned sigh, he got off his seat, pushed it back towards the desk, and made his way to the exit. As he was about to depart, a book title caught the corner of his eye, beckoning him with an inexplicable allure. He ambled over to the shelf, plucked the book from its resting place, and deftly flicked through its pages until he discovered what he sought.
A Psalm of Life by Longfellow
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
He shut the book forcefully and slammed it onto the shelf, his annoyance only intensified upon seeing his Ph.D. certificate hanging on the wall. He hastened out of the office to the kitchen, driven by a pressing need for his morning coffee.
While making his way across the apartment’s corridor, he instinctively lowered his head and clenched his jaw as he passed by the child’s room. Upon approaching the kitchen, he could hear a tense woman’s voice.
“I’ve made it clear to you multiple times,” Johanna stated firmly to the person on the other end of her phone. “I’m not in this for the money, and I’m not willing to compromise. I want them to be held accountable for their negligence, and I don’t care how much money they offer.” She angrily ended the call and threw the phone onto the counter.
It was a fancy kitchen with off-black painted cabinets. On the left was a spacious island surrounded by bar stools, a massive gray refrigerator, Johanna, and a coffee machine.
Arthur had to stretch himself, pivot, and stick to the kitchen island so as not to brush against his wife, who obstructed his path to the coffee machine. As he walked by her, his gaze swept over her curvaceous figure, which was accentuated by a well-tailored business skirt and a white blouse. Even at thirty-seven, she remained an epitome of grace and elegance, defying the expectations of her age.
Once he got to the machine, he hastened to prepare himself a cup of coffee, eager to depart the premises as expeditiously as feasible.
“We need to talk,” Johanna told him morosely, and moved away from the marble counter, revealing a pot of freshly brewed coffee.
Arthur froze for a moment and clenched his teeth. He glanced at the pot from the corner of his eye and nodded without making eye contact. He grabbed a mug and took two steps towards the pot, but just as he was about to reach it, Johanna swiftly placed her hand on the counter, blocking his path.
“I said we need to talk!” she reiterated firmly.
He nodded once more, setting the mug on the countertop, and extended his hand beyond her arm to reach for the pot.
“Look at me, Art,” she said softly.
Arthur gazed into those deep blue eyes, which he had once loved so much, but quickly averted his gaze in anguish. He couldn’t bear to meet those beautiful yet mournful eyes like he had used to.
“We can’t go on like this,” Johanna continued in a conciliatory voice as he filled his mug. “You refuse counseling, and you don’t talk to me anymore. I’m truly concerned about you. I don’t even know if you give a damn about us – or anything, anymore. If you don’t spill the beans on what’s bothering you, I’m afraid we won’t make it. We’re still young, and we could work things out, but I can’t do it alone, Art.”
Keeping his gaze fixed on the newly filled mug, Arthur lifted it to his face and breathed in the aromatic steam before taking a deep sip. With a sigh of pleasure, he took another sip, fully enjoying the rich flavor.
“Say something,” Johanna implored.” Do you still blame me? Do you hate me?”
Realizing that she had no intention of letting him enjoy his coffee in peace, the usually reserved Arthur opted to continue drinking his morning coffee in his vehicle. Without saying anything, he simply ignored her and made his way towards the front door.
“Don’t you dare turn your back on me!” She raised her voice in a fierce tone.
Arthur briefly halted, but he didn’t turn around. He simply shrugged and proceeded towards the door, holding the coffee mug in his hand.
“At least tell me if you remember what tomorrow is,” Johanna beseeched in a broken voice. “Please tell me you’ll be there.”
Arthur paused at the door, his hand resting on the handle.
“If you keep ignoring me,” she warned, “there will be consequences. Do you hear me, Art?”
As Johanna’s threat echoed through the air, he couldn’t help but think that it was not the first time he had heard such a warning in recent months. However, he remained unmoved, his expression unflinching as he opened the door and left the apartment. Little did he know that his departure had left Johanna irate, determined to teach him a lesson.
*
Despite the early hour, upon stepping into his taxi, Arthur was immediately met with the oppressive humidity, made all the worse by the fact that it was mid-August and by his proximity to the ocean. He hastened to switch on the air conditioning unit and finished his drink before beginning his workday.
For the past nine months, he had been working as a taxi driver, having purchased the vehicle after seeking a career change. He had aimed to find an occupation that involved minimal responsibility while also providing him with a degree of autonomy. His first thought had been to work as a night watchman, but Johanna had objected him carrying a firearm; thus, he had settled on driving a taxi. While he had to engage with various individuals, which he found unpleasant, he installed a partition between the driver and passenger areas and used an intercom to communicate. He also installed a small electric sliding window in the center of the partition to collect payment, only opening it at the conclusion of the ride.
The act of driving had a calming effect on him. He would drive at a slow pace, as he was cautious, and didn’t like to feel rushed. He didn’t mind when anxious customers urged him to hurry, and he deliberately avoided having more than two passengers at a time to prevent anyone from sitting beside him. Earning money wasn’t a priority for him, and he often opted to overlook potential customers that he didn’t find appealing. Some days, he aimlessly drove around for hours without picking up any passengers at all.
As he cruised down the bustling main avenue of the city, two young men caught his eye. They stood on the edge of the right sidewalk, vigorously waving and beckoning him over. The first was a lean, dark-haired fellow with distinct Latin features, while the second was a plump, compactly built African American. Both appeared to be in their early twenties. As soon as he came to a halt for them, the two young men scrambled into the back seats with gusto. Their non-stop chatter and animated gestures made it clear that they were in the mood for a lively conversation.
Before he could even inquire about their destination, the car door adjacent to him suddenly flung open, and a tall, skinny blond guy leaped inside before slamming the door shut behind him. “To the northern industrial area,” he said dryly.
Arthur blinked in surprise, struggling to make sense of the sudden influx of passengers when a loud thump resonated through the partition.
“If you want to say something,” Arthur explained to the two passengers in the back, “just hit the intercom button.”
This apparently didn’t convince them, because another, louder knock was immediately heard. Arthur had to open the sliding window.
“Yo, dude,” said the chubby guy, “why’d you put up this damn partition? It’s making us feel like trapped animals back in here. Leave it open so we can talk freely. You heard Blondie; we’re headed to the northern industrial area.”
Arthur studied the two young men in the back seat via the rearview mirror before glancing over at ‘Blondie,’ his expression betraying a hint of disapproval. Though he briefly contemplated ordering the loquacious trio to exit the vehicle, he quickly surmised it would prove to be a challenging task. Instead, he resigned himself to the situation, estimating the drive to be relatively brief, and hoped that it would transpire without any untoward incidents.
Shortly after the ride commenced, grumbles about his sluggish driving surfaced. Complaints were hurled his way, with comments like: “What’s the holdup? You racing against a snail?” or “Come on, even the old lady on the sidewalk’s moving faster than us. Pick up the pace!” Nevertheless, Arthur remained unperturbed and unfazed, and the passengers gradually quieted down and turned their attention to their smartphones.
“A Scottish philosopher,” Blondie suddenly said while attempting an online crossword puzzle. “Four letters.”
“Hume,” answered the pudgy fella. The astounded Arthur checked him through the rearview mirror.
“Geez, Chubb, how do you know all this shit?” Blondie asked, impressed.
Chubb’s response was delayed as the Latino interrupted the conversation. “Ew, check out that dude cleaning up his dog’s crap on the sidewalk. No way I’m doing that.”
“That’s why you ain’t got no dog, Tito,” Chubb teased him.
“Even if I had one,” Tito replied, “I’m not picking up its crap.”
“You gonna change your kids’ diapers in the future?” Blondie asked Tito, amused.
“Hell no! That’s their mama’s job.”
“You’ll sing a different tune when you have your own,” Arthur suddenly interjected.
“You got any kids?” Blondie asked.
Arthur’s face scrunched up, and after a pause, he answered, “No.”
“Then why are you even talking about things you don’t know jack about?” Tito scolded. “Why not spit out something smart instead, huh, Mr. Driver? Something you’re actually clued-up on.”
“Life is a constant process of dying,” was Arthur’s bitter reply.
“What the hell, man?!” Tito expressed his distress. “Forget me asking!”
However, Arthur persisted in his soliloquy. “Grief is the price we pay for love, but is it worth it?”
The group kept quiet after that.
Arthur was relieved as they reached the industrial area. “We’ve arrived,” he informed his clients. “Where exactly do you need to be?”
“Just keep going straight and I’ll guide you,” Blondie answered.
Arthur noticed that Chubb and Tito had begun to fidget in their seats and cast apprehensive glances his way via the rearview mirror. A minute later, Blondie pointed in a certain direction with his finger, “There! Turn right into that covered alley between those two buildings.”
As soon as Arthur turned his cab, Blondie ordered him to stop. Arthur checked the meter and told them the fare was nineteen dollars. Blondie made a motion as if to pull out his wallet, but instead drew a snub-nose revolver and aimed it at Arthur.
“Empty your pockets, man!” he demanded with anger. “I want your wallet, cash, and phone. Give me every damn thing you got!”
Arthur cocked his head curiously, appraising Blondie with a placid and indifferent expression, until a peculiar smirk slowly crept onto his lips, catching Blondie off guard.
“Now!” Blondie shouted desperately. “Or I’ll blow your fucking head off.”
“This could be my day after all,” Arthur said in an eerily composed tone.
“Don’t play with me, you dickhead! I’ll fucking kill you!”
“Come on, man,” Chubb urged Arthur to cooperate. “Do what he says. He means business. He’s gonna kill you.”
Arthur’s smile only grew wider. “Go ahead,” he hissed at Blondie. “Shoot! I dare you.”
The bewildered young man cast a desperate glance over his trembling comrades, before turning back to Arthur, whose steady gaze seemed to bore right through him.
“Do it!” Arthur goaded him.
Blondie and Arthur held each other’s gaze for an extended moment. Blondie’s eyes widened in terror, while Arthur’s narrowed menacingly. Despite Blondie’s grip on a gun, it could be mistakenly perceived that Arthur was the aggressor in the situation.
Arthur assessed the situation and deduced that Blondie was at a loss for what to do next.
“I’m telling you, man…” Blondie’s sentence was abruptly halted as Arthur swiftly disarmed the trembling youth, snatching the revolver from his grasp.
Arthur then turned the tables on him, pointing the gun back directly at Blondie’s forehead, his voice dripping with contempt as he sneered, “When you have to shoot, shoot; don’t talk.” He briefly examined the gun with growing amusement. “Is it even loaded? Let’s check.”
Blondie let out a terrified whimper before flinging the door open and sprinting away with all his might. The other two hastened to pursue him.
Chubb, true to his nickname, was the last to disembark from the vehicle. When he eventually succeeded in exiting, he discovered Arthur obstructing his path. Only then did he realize the sheer size and height of the man.
“You forgot to pay,” Arthur stated nonchalantly, gesturing with the gun.
Trembling, Chubb reached into his back pocket, retrieved his wallet, and presented it to Arthur. Arthur accepted the wallet from him, then thrust the revolver into Chubb’s hand and asked, “Why are you hanging out with those guys?”
“They’re my friends,” Chubb pleaded.
“Find new ones! They’re nobody’s friends. Don’t throw your life away with them.”
Chubb nodded vigorously, and as soon as Arthur looked away to focus on the wallet, he fled in a panic with the gun, chasing after his swifter companions.
Arthur searched through the wallet and retrieved a single bill. When he looked up to return the wallet to its rightful owner, he realized the terrified kid had vanished into the space between buildings. He shrugged and tossed the wallet onto the ground before climbing back into the taxi to resume his ride.
As he came to a halt at a red light, a working girl approached him and tapped on his windowpane. Lowering it, he obliged her. “Looking for some fun?” she queried in a playful voice.
Ordinarily, he would have declined without hesitation, but that was not an ordinary day. He needed a diversion to alleviate the bitterness of the day, and to fill, if only for a moment, the aching void within him. He was desperate to feel something – anything.
With wonder, he surveyed her features; his gaze lingering on the silky chestnut curls that framed her face and the fullness of her lips. Her eyes were glinting mischievously, and, despite his initial reservation, he was captivated by her charm. He gestured for her to enter the vehicle, and she complied, guiding him down a secluded alleyway flanked by two low buildings.
After explaining his desire and paying for her service, Arthur leaned his seat back and rolled down his pants. She wasted no time before diving onto his lap. As she skillfully worked her tongue, he was struck by a long-forgotten sensation: a rush of pleasure he had not felt in months. The warmth of her mouth and the scent of her perfume filled his senses, and he realized how much he had missed it. It wasn’t that Johanna wasn’t attractive or willing; he simply hadn’t been in the mood, and had convinced himself he didn’t deserve to indulge in any kind of enjoyment.
He surrendered himself to the moment, shutting his eyes and tilting his head back, relishing in the intensifying pleasure. Yet, out of nowhere, a torrent of suppressed memories flooded his mind – memories he had long fought to subdue. As his breath hastened and his anxiety spiked, he was on the verge of pushing her head away when two sharp taps reverberated from the windowpane beside him. Looking aside, he saw an officer of the law.
*
Arthur sat motionless on the hard, dusty floor of the holding cell, his body pressed against the metal bars, his hands resting on his knees. His gaze drifted aimlessly forward, unresponsive to the restless shifting of the other detainees around him. Having waived his rights to a lawyer and a phone call, the external confinement held little significance to him. The inner torment he imposed upon himself far outweighed any discomfort of the cell.
Lost in thought, memories of Arthur’s late father flooded his mind, taking him back to his solitary and introverted childhood. The sudden and tragic demise of his father had only deepened his already somber mood. Arthur’s recollection of his father was hazy, but he could vividly recall the man’s perpetually grim expression and his bouts of depression and anxiety. Though the official story was that his father had accidentally slipped and drowned in the river, Arthur couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that there was more to the story. He had persistently felt that he, too, was destined to suffer the same tragic fate as his father.
As he delved deeper into the murky recesses of his past, Arthur’s thoughts drifted to the one person who had managed to pierce through his impenetrable wall of detachment: Johanna, his university sweetheart. For a long time, he had known he had wronged her, but he felt helpless and didn’t know how to make amends. In an effort to numb his guilt, he had convinced himself that he didn’t care, but he couldn’t shake off the pent-up anger he held towards her. The intense rage simmering within him was like a living entity, threatening to consume him, and unfortunately, Johanna had borne the brunt of its destructive force.
Despite having known of Arthur’s reluctance to commit to a relationship, Johanna had pursued him with unwavering determination. He had tried to warn her that he was not cut out for family life and had urged her to stay away from him because he was plagued by the demons of anger, resentment, and depression that had haunted his family for generations.
However, Johanna had refused to take no for an answer. She had been captivated by Arthur’s towering height, razor-sharp mind, and, most of all, by his gentle and dignified demeanor. Despite any doubts or negative thoughts he may have had about himself, her love for him had been unconditional. Eventually, Arthur had come to realize that he had felt the same way about her, and they had become inseparable.
After years of persuasion, and after they had both progressed well into their academic careers, Johanna had finally convinced Arthur to marry her. Even then, he had been hesitant to start a family, citing the overpopulation of the world as his constant excuse. But Johanna had been persistent, so he had had to find other reasons to avoid starting a family: he had claimed he was too self-centered to devote his life to raising children, and that he feared his own damaged nature would be passed down to his offspring.
Johanna had tried to allay his fears by assuring him that she would take on the lion’s share of the responsibility for raising their child, quitting her job to become a stay-at-home mother and relieving him of any obligation to help. She had only asked that he be kind to their child and not interfere with her parenting. Eventually, she had convinced him to agree to have just one child.
Arthur had reacted with icy indifference when Johanna had informed him of her pregnancy. He had given her a cursory hug and congratulations before promptly returning to his previous activities, as if the news held no significance for him. Once he had been alone, a small smile had crept across his lips. In his mind, he had already decided that the child would be a boy, and he had relished the idea of teaching him chess and sharing in the excitement of sporting events together.
When Johanna had told him they were expecting a daughter, Arthur had struggled to hide his disappointment. However, after a moment’s reflection, he had realized that perhaps it was for the best. He had recognized that if they had had a son, the child would have inherited the problematic genetic legacy of the men in his family. He had also chided himself that girls could be taught chess just as easily as boys.
They had both been thirty-two years old when their daughter, Anne Marie, had been born.
A bittersweet smile crossed Arthur’s face as he recalled his daughter’s birthday.
It had been a bitterly cold winter day, and a raging storm of wind and rain had lashed against the hospital walls. The birth had been difficult and long, and Arthur had roamed the hospital corridors like a caged lion, feeling anxious and lost, on the verge of panic with concern for Johanna’s health. But finally, the long-awaited news had arrived: the birth had been successful, and they had welcomed a healthy baby girl into the world. Arthur had rushed to the delivery room and collapsed next to the exhausted Johanna, tears of relief in his eyes.
Arthur had felt embarrassed when a smiling nurse had stood next to him and handed him a bundle of towels. He had looked at her in wonder for a few seconds before the nurse had said, “Hold her” in an encouraging voice and had brought the baby closer to him. At first, Arthur had hesitated, unsure why the nurse would entrust him with such a delicate task, but with all eyes on him, he had felt obliged, and had nervously raised his hands to take the tiny bundle.
As the nurse had placed little Annie in his stiff arms and stepped back, Arthur had felt a sudden sense of awe and wonder. Looking down at the tiny face peeking out from under the blankets, he had known that his life would never be the same. Time and space had seemed to fade as his whole being had dissolved and been absorbed into that new and magical creature. At that moment, he had realized that he would no longer be able to breathe if anything were to happen to her. He had comprehended that his primary duty from then on would be to protect and cherish his adorable baby with all his might.
Arthur had gazed blankly at the nurse as she had spoken softly, urging him to release the baby so she could be returned to her mother. Despite his reluctance to let go, Arthur had eventually relinquished his grip and handed the child over.
Later, he would blame nature for the flood of hormones that transforms new parents into absurdly overprotective beings, but that had not prevented him from stepping out of the delivery room into the hallway with a broad grin spread across his face. He had felt as though he were floating two feet above the ground, weightless with joy. For the first time in years, he had been truly happy.
Despite having been granted full exemption from caring for the baby by Johanna, Arthur had been more than willing to partake in the arduous duty. He had taken a month-long hiatus from his university teaching position and had remained with his wife and daughter throughout the entire duration, dutifully tending to every household chore, plus feedings and diaper changes.
Given that he had been a light sleeper, Arthur had typically been the first to spring from bed at the sound of Annie’s cries. At times, he had found himself lingering by the crib without purpose, watching her slumber as though entranced. The depth of affection he had felt for his little one had been beyond anything he had ever fathomed.
Arthur had eagerly embraced every opportunity to bond and play with his growing daughter. Johanna had often watched them as they had played together on the family room carpet, filled with a deep sense of happiness. It had been all she had ever hoped for. When Arthur had caught Johanna off guard on Annie’s fourth birthday by suggesting that maybe it was time for her to have a sibling, Johanna’s reaction hadn’t been entirely one of shock.
During her pregnancy, Johanna had placed headphones on her belly and played Mozart to the unborn child. Once Annie had been diagnosed with absolute hearing, Johanna had taken on the task of teaching her the musical scale and chords, and Annie had always been an eager and diligent pupil.
Thanks to the investment and nurturing of both parents, it had come as no surprise that Annie had blossomed into a gifted child. She had spoken fluently before the age of eighteen months and had been writing letters by the time she was three years old.
“Professor Schopen?” A strange voice roused Arthur from his deep ruminations. “Is that you?”
Arthur turned his head to notice Detective Berkeley, a familiar face, staring at him with a puzzled look through the bars. It took Arthur a few seconds to recognize him, and when he did, his face twisted in disdain.
“I’m no longer a professor,” Arthur replied in a dismissive tone and looked away from the Detective.
“What happened?” the Detective persisted. “Why were you detained? Who brought you in?”
Arthur sat silently, his eyes distant and unfocused, trying to suppress a burst of bitter emotions. Detective Berkeley sensed his reluctance to answer questions, so he turned around and went to the desk sergeant for more information. After discovering that Arthur had no prior criminal record, he made his way to the dining room in search of Officer Locke, the one who had brought Arthur to the station.
“Hey, Gee,” Officer Locke greeted the Detective as he walked into the dining room. “What’s up?”
“Hey, John,” Detective Berkeley answered solemnly, indicating that something was not right.
“What can I do for you, Gee?”
“Did you bust someone with the name Professor Schopen in the industrial area earlier today?”
“Professor? He’s a cabbie, but yeah, I collared a guy with that name for pulling an indecent exposure in public. Why? Is he related to you or something?”
The Detective inhaled before asking, “Do you recall the incident at the Kalista last year?”
Officer Locke’s face immediately dropped as he heard the name of the place.
“How can I forget?” he replied gravely. “I was the first on the scene. The image of what I saw there will haunt me for life.”
“Well,” the Detective said, letting out a sigh before lowering his voice, “that’s the father.”
Officer John’s eyes widened in astonishment, and his mouth fell open. He blinked several times, clearly surprised, before finally speaking up. “You want me to release him, don’t you?”
The Detective nodded slowly, confirming Officer Locke’s assumption. Officer Locke reciprocated with a nod of his own before leaving the room decisively.
Stepping out of the police station, Arthur was immediately hit by the scorching heat of a world that seemed to be on fire. The midday sun beat down mercilessly on the steaming earth, creating an inferno that seared the soul of anyone who dared to venture outside. The stifling humidity made it difficult to breathe or think, with not even a hint of a breeze to offer relief.
Arthur felt trapped amidst towering buildings on all sides, as if he was lost in a giant, burning maze. The constant hum of people and vehicles amplified his distress, causing him to pause on the sidewalk, contemplating his options. He looked left and right, considering whether to hail a taxi and recover his cab from the alley in the industrial district, or to simply walk home, given that his house was only a few minutes away from the station.
“Profe… eh… Mr. Schopen.” Detective Berkeley’s voice interrupted Arthur’s thoughts forcing him to turn around.
“Hey, it’s me again: Detective Berkeley. You might remember me from last year I… ” He paused briefly, glanced down, and then continued. “Anyways, I’m the one who got you out of trouble today. I’m just hoping we don’t have to bump into each other like this again. I’m not sure I can bail you out a second time if things go sideways.”
Arthur scanned Detective Berkeley’s face for a moment, nodded once, and began to raise his hand in a gesture of gratitude, but thought better of it halfway through and lowered it back down. Everything seemed meaningless, and he realized he simply didn’t care. Exhausted from weeks of sleepless nights, Arthur shrugged and turned away, leaving the Detective behind in surprise, as he trudged towards his home, desperate for rest.
*
As Arthur stepped inside the apartment, he savored the refreshing caress of cold air on his skin, but his pleasure was short-lived, as he sensed that something was amiss. Johanna never left the air conditioner running before heading to work. If she was still at home during work hours, he knew there was a good reason.
A strange noise, like the soft creak of a mattress, echoed through the rooms, and Arthur wondered if his sunstroke was still plaguing him with hallucinations. However, his intuition urged him towards the bedroom door, where he finally uncovered the truth.
Arthur was left in awe at the sight that unfolded before him. Johanna was astride a handsome, youthful man who leaned against the headboard. While she placed her hands on his shoulders, he firmly held her waist, urging her to move more quickly.
What caught Arthur’s attention was not only the scene itself, but the fact that the stranger was entirely nude, while Johanna still had on her white dress shirt from earlier that day, though she was undressed from the waist down. The guy’s face beamed with satisfaction, but Johanna appeared solemn and unfeeling, treating the encounter as if it were a mere business transaction.
Arthur stood motionless in the doorway, eyes fixed on the astounding scene unraveling before him. Infidelity was the last thing he would have associated with Johanna. She had always been so righteous and dignified. Yet, a particular memory flashed back into his mind: one of the explicit threats she had made that morning, reminding him of the past months in which he had failed to fulfill his role as a husband, neglecting his wife’s physical needs. Suddenly, the spectacle before him seemed more reasonable.
With a hint of relief, he noticed that they had chosen to recline on her side of the bed, which was located away from the door. That seemingly small gesture displayed a certain level of consideration on her part, which he couldn’t help but appreciate. However, a hint of sarcasm crept into his thoughts as he realized that at least someone was able to enjoy themselves in the house, even if he couldn’t.
By that point, nothing seemed to matter to Arthur anymore. He was too tired, exhausted, and listless to react. With a slight pout and a weary shrug, he dragged himself over to the bed.
Johanna gasped and covered her mouth in shock as she watched Arthur climb onto his side of the bed. At first, she was convinced he would pounce on them, but what happened next left her dumbfounded. Arthur fluffed his pillow and curled up in a fetal position, with his back to them and shoes still on.
Johanna and her lover exchanged bewildered looks, unsure of what was happening.
At first, the young lover believed his life was in peril when he noticed the towering husband, but when Arthur simply lay down next to them without moving a muscle, he concluded that the couple was engaged in some sort of twisted game and that Johanna was complicit in it. His initial apprehension gave way to amusement, as he recognized the situation as a unique chance to partake in fulfilling another person’s fantasy. The notion of indulging a willing cuckold fascinated him.
In contrast, distress and sadness quickly replaced Johanna’s initial panic. She realized that her spouse had descended into such a deep and dark hole that he was indifferent even to her betrayal.
After a long and tense moment, during which she stared in disbelief at her motionless husband lying next to them, she came to the realization that he had no intention of taking any action. This realization inundated her with a feeling of cold fury and contempt. Without much enthusiasm, she proceeded to continue her leisurely ride on her paramour, all the while unable to divert her gloomy gaze from her apathetic husband.
Upon finally redirecting her gaze towards her lover, she was repulsed by the smug and satisfied expression on his face. It didn’t take long before she could no longer bear it and came to a halt, shutting her eyes in anguish.
“What’s the matter?” inquired the young paramour. “Why did you stop?”
“Leave, Manny,” Johanna uttered in a low voice.
“Oh, come on!” Manny urged, “We’ve only just started, don’t be a spoil-sport!” He attempted to motivate her by bouncing her with his hands, which were still placed on her hips.
“No! Just go!” she exclaimed in fury.
As Manny persisted in ignoring her request, she forcefully shoved his hands away, causing scratches in the process. Manny then flung her aside and stormed out of bed in a fit of rage. Standing before her, he raised his hand as if to strike her. The venomous and mocking glare she directed at him, coupled with the presence of her large husband nearby, dissuaded him from doing so, and he lowered his hand. Regardless of any game, one should never guess at how a husband might react to physical violence against his wife in their bedroom.
Manny ripped off the condom that was covering his penis and tossed it onto the floor.
“Fuck you, bitch!” he hissed before starting to dress.
Johanna sat at the edge of the bed, patiently waiting for Manny to finish dressing and leave the room. As she stole occasional glances at Arthur, who remained motionless in the same spot, she was overcome with a sense of deep despair. She couldn’t deny the fact that their relationship had likely reached a point of no return, and while she had hoped for a different outcome, she knew that hope was dead.
She was relieved when Manny finally departed and the sound of the front door closing echoed through the house. She rose to her feet, re-dressed herself in her panties and skirt, and tried to fight the tears that welled up at the corners of her eyes.
In a voice choked with emotion, Johanna pleaded with Arthur to speak up. “Say something, please,” she implored, but her words were met with silence. Growing more desperate, she raised her voice. “Say something, damn you! Do you hate me? Are you disgusted with me? Do you even care?” Her frustration mounting, Johanna climbed onto the bed, kneeling next to Arthur, and shouted, “You bastard! Say something!”
Arthur remained immobile.
With her hand balled into a fist, she struck the bottom of her palm against his arm and said in a voice broken by tears, “I hate you too! Yes, I hate you.” She repeated the action, that time with the palm of her other hand, and added, “Admit it: you hate me. Blame me for everything and be done with it.”
At a certain moment, she surrendered to her emotions and began striking his side with both hands simultaneously, shouting, “Say it! Just say it. You don’t love me anymore, maybe you never did. Just tell the truth, say you hate me, and let’s get this over with.” After that futile outburst, she ceased, her hands resting on his body, her head dropping forward as she succumbed to bitter tears.
As the crying helped alleviate some of the mental distress that had been plaguing her, and upon realizing that Arthur remained completely unresponsive to her cries, she gathered some composure to voice her thoughts. “I can’t keep living like this. I won’t. I’m leaving, Art. It’s over. I’m done. We are done.” Glancing at the anguished expression etched on his face for the final time, she rose from the bed.
After her outburst of anger and frustration, Johanna knew she had to leave. She chose the largest suitcase she could find and began to pack her belongings, pausing every now and then to wipe away the tears and compose herself. Memories surged through her mind as she made her way to Annie’s room and gathered several family photo albums and an assortment of Annie’s drawings.
Just as she was about to head out of the house, a thought struck her. She left her suitcase by the front door and hurried to the home office. Once inside, she strode to the tall bookcase that dominated the wall, pulling the swivel chair along with her.
Arthur was oblivious to the fact that Johanna had been aware of his lethal game for weeks. She had removed the bullet from the barrel of the revolver quite some time ago, and had also made sure to dispose of the pack of bullets concealed in the bottom desk drawer. Nevertheless, Johanna concluded that it would not be wise to leave the gun in his possession, since there was no one left to keep an eye on him.
She ascended the chair and extended her arms to their limits, reaching for the shoebox perched atop the highest shelf. With a bit of exertion, she secured the box and began her descent. But as she shifted her weight, she lost her balance, relinquishing her hold on the box and spilling its contents onto the floor.
Retrieving the gun, Johanna stashed the weapon in her handbag. Beside the box, she noticed a sheet of office paper folded in half, serving as the box’s bottom lining. Intrigued by a darkly rendered drawing on its inner surface, she unfolded the letter-sized paper to examine it further.
As soon as she caught sight of the sketch on the paper, her hand instinctively shot towards her lips to suppress a sharp gasp of dismay. The drawing had taken her completely by surprise, causing her face to contort in pain as tears welled up in her eyes. An overwhelming sense of sorrow overtook her.
Arthur remained frozen in the same fetal position on the bed, his hands held close to his tormented face as if in a defensive pose. Johanna returned to their bedroom, stood before him, and gazed at his beloved features with a painful sense of empathy. Her heart ached with a desire to comfort him, but she felt helpless in the face of his suffering. She feared that staying any longer would drag her down with him into the abyss of despair.
With a heavy heart, she delicately placed the unfolded letter-sized paper near Arthur’s chest. She gave him one last sorrowful look before quietly slipping out of the room, closing the door behind her.
*
As soon as Arthur heard the front door close, he felt a sharp pinch in his heart, but he didn’t care. At least that’s what he tried to convince himself of. Seizing the opportunity to be alone, he shifted his position, causing the crumpled paper beneath him to rustle with a crinkling sound. He looked down disinterestedly and noticed the paper compressed beneath his chest. He moved aside and extracted it.
He was about to toss the paper onto the floor, but something caught his attention. With a hint of curiosity, he paused to examine the sketch on it. Suddenly, his heart skipped a beat, and a feeling of horror overcame him, causing him to bolt out of bed as though he had been scalded by boiling oil.
Frantically muttering “No! No! No!” and clutching the paper with a trembling hand, Arthur scrutinized every detail of the pencil drawing before him. His eyes widened in disbelief and his heart constricted with acute pain as he gazed upon the disturbing image. “No! No! No!” he repeated – desperate pleas, rather than denials.
The drawing depicted a human figure in a childlike style, with a joyous circle for the head, a long line for the body, and four diagonal lines extending outward for the limbs. Two capital letters, “DD,” were unsteadily scrawled beneath the image.
Arthur’s body trembled with an intense agitation, his hands grasping the paper tightly. He teetered on the brink of ripping it to shreds, but his will faltered, and he couldn’t bring himself to do it. The paper crinkled under the pressure of his fingers, and he squeezed it even tighter, closing his eyes as he writhed in agony. When he finally opened his tear-filled eyes, he gazed at the paper with deep and profound sadness, his head shaking slowly from side to side.
A radical idea suddenly struck Arthur – a way to cope with his new and unbearable suffering. He carefully placed the paper on the bed and dashed frantically towards the home office.
“No!” he yelled, as he burst through the door. His eyes immediately fell upon the empty shoebox lying on the floor with its lid discarded nearby. Collapsing to his knees, he snatched up the box and feverishly checked to ensure it was empty.
“Please, no,” he whispered in despair, releasing the box and rubbing his head with both hands. He felt like he was losing his mind.
Since their apartment was on the first floor, a desperate leap from the balcony was not an option. Arthur scanned the room, feeling as though the walls were closing in on him and the whole universe was conspiring against him. He couldn’t bear to stay there for even a moment longer. Rising to his feet, he rushed towards the front door, desperate to escape.
Johanna sat in her car, parked in her designated spot below the towering apartment complex. Although the engine had started, she remained immobile, consumed by a new wave of regret and sadness. Leaving was impossible, yet staying was equally unbearable. Fresh tears cascaded down her cheeks.
As she looked around, she noticed that Arthur’s cab was missing, leaving her curious as to its whereabouts. Suddenly, a man bolted out from the entrance hall of their building, striding along the pavement with stiffened arms and tightened fists. It was Arthur; his frenzied mumbling and unsteady movements suggested he was not in a sound state. Johanna’s heart sank, as she anticipated trouble. Without delay, she disengaged the handbrake and trailed after him.
Arthur swiftly arrived at the main avenue, taking a sharp turn to the right, causing oncoming pedestrians to veer out of his path to avoid collisions. Oblivious individuals engrossed in their phone screens received a jolting tap on their shoulders from the inattentive and towering figure. Arthur continued to stride forward with unwavering and resolute steps, unperturbed by any obstacle that came his way, as he hastened towards an unknown destination.
Worried about Arthur’s well-being, Johanna followed behind him at a slow pace, causing a minor traffic jam on the busy avenue. The honking of impatient drivers behind her made it clear that she could not continue like that for long. As soon as she found an available parking spot, she hastily pulled in, ignoring any legal implications.
Without delay, Johanna leaped out of the car and sprinted towards Arthur, who was moving at an alarming pace. Her gut warned her that Arthur was in danger, but she couldn’t determine where he was headed. She made a firm resolution to keep a close watch and not lose sight of him.
It was a scorching mid-August afternoon, and Arthur trudged onward, driven by an inexplicable urge to keep moving through the bustling streets of downtown. He had no idea where he was headed, but he knew he couldn’t stand to be in a confined space. The suffocating urban maze of metal and concrete closed in on him, and he needed to break free and venture further out of the city.
The searing heat caused streams of sweat to trickle down his forehead, soaking his shirt collar, yet he paid no attention to his physical discomfort. His mind was consumed by a fierce inner turmoil, struggling to keep agonizing memories at bay. Despite his best efforts, the traumatic experiences relentlessly resurfaced – wave after wave of grief and longing, each one increasing in intensity, which threatened to engulf him in a sea of emotions.
For months, he had constructed an immense dam around his soul, but now he sensed the first cracks forming, and he knew that the dam would soon crumble. Time was running out, and he needed to flee from everyone and everything before the dam burst open, unleashing an uncontrollable deluge.
As he barreled down the sidewalk, a woman pushing a stroller approached him. Seeing the baby in the stroller clapping her hands and smiling at him ignited another jolt of painful memory. He could vividly see her sitting in her baby seat with her cheeks smeared with apple puree. He had been waving a spoon full of it above her head like an airplane flying in the sky.
“Okay baby girl, here comes the airplane. Open wide, and… whoosh! Yum, yum! Good job!”
“Bibi!”
“No, sweetie, I’m your Daddy, not Bibi. You already call your mom ‘Mama’. Can you please say ‘Da-dee’ for me?”
“Bibi!”
“Okay, let’s take it slow. How about ‘Dee-dee’?”
“Didi.”
“Yay! Good job! Now, let’s try ‘Da-da’.”
“Bibi!”
“Oh, man! How about ‘Didi’ again?”
“Didi!”
“Alright, ‘Didi’ it is then. I can live with that.”
“Didi! Didi!”
“Why are you grinning? You little rascal!”
From that point on, he had gone by the name Didi, and the girl had also been called Didi, in accordance with the curious custom of parents to use their own nickname when addressing their child.
On that hellish August day, a broken man halfway trapped in his own mind trudged along a busy avenue in the cursed part of the city. Each leaden step brought forth an inevitable memory; each one was more agonizing than the last. He longed to escape the storefronts; a furniture store window sparked a memory of him and Johanna cuddling on their family room sofa, with little Annie squirming between them. The toddler had placed her tiny hand on her mother’s waist, trying to push her aside.
“When you grow up, little lady,” Johanna had joked, “you’ll have to find your own man.”
“My Didi!” the toddler had replied assertively, hugging her father’s waist. “Didi is mine!”
“Your little brat is very possessive,” Johanna had teased Arthur, laughter bubbling from her lips. “I wonder who she got that trait from. I’m afraid I have some serious competition here.”
Johanna’s heart was beating heavily as she struggled to keep up with Arthur’s long, deceptively rapid strides across the searingly hot pavement. At times, she broke into a light jog just to match his pace. Her face was flushed red with heat, and her sweat-drenched hair clung to her skin. She had avoided walking through that part of the avenue for almost a year for a very good reason, but now she had no choice if she wanted to keep a close eye on him.
Johanna came to an abrupt halt as Arthur suddenly stopped in his tracks and turned to his right, casting a look of disgust and contempt at a shop window. With an anger-twisted face, he raised a trembling fist as if he were about to strike the glass, but he quickly lowered his arm and resumed walking.
Johanna followed closely behind, her heart throbbing with anxiety until she reached the same spot where Arthur had paused. She, too, halted, shutting her eyes in anguish before reopening them and turning her head to look up. Her heart cringed at the sight of the store’s sign, reading “Kalista.”
***A year earlier***
Johanna and four-year-old Annie stepped into the clothing store, relieved to feel the cool air inside after enduring the scorching heat outside. “We’re here,” Johanna told Annie. “We’re going to get Daddy’s birthday present. His birthday is in two days.”
“Can I pick out Didi’s gift, Mommy?”
“I already picked out the gift, sweetie. We just have to pick it up and wrap it.”
“Why didn’t you bring me along to pick out the gift?” Annie asked with a pout.
“Because you were at daycare, honey. But I’ll make it up to you by getting you something nice here, okay?”
Annie nodded enthusiastically.
After picking up Arthur’s gift, Johanna and Annie made their way up to the second floor of the store to browse the children’s department. As they strolled through the aisles, Johanna couldn’t help but notice a sleek designer suit jacket for women that caught her eye. She walked over to check its price and was promptly approached by one of the sellers.
“Excuse me,” Johanna inquired, “do you have this jacket in a size eight and in black?”
“Absolutely, ma’am,” replied the seller with a smile. “I’ll get it for you right away.” She disappeared between the racks and quickly returned with the requested size and color.
Johanna let go of Annie’s hand and proceeded to try on the jacket while Annie took the opportunity to explore the nearby racks.
“Please stay close, Annie,” Johanna reminded her daughter, but Annie’s absentminded nod was just that; she continued to wander off until she reached the railing that overlooked the lower floor. The metal bars were cold to the touch, and Annie’s fingers curled around them, her gaze fixed on the colorful display below.
“Annie, come here, sweetie,” Johanna called out, but Annie stood her ground, lost in her own world. Johanna hesitated, but decided to let Annie be since she was still within sight, and the railing appeared secure.
Meanwhile, Johanna donned the jacket and posed in front of a nearby mirror. “It looks perfect on you,” the seller complimented.
Just then, a sudden, loud crash resonated throughout the store, accompanied by the sound of shattering glass and the heart-wrenching scream of a terror-stricken customer.
Johanna’s head snapped towards the railing in dread. “Annie, where are you?” she cried out in panic. She rushed frantically towards the railing, and peered over its edge. What she saw was a sight that no parent should ever witness.
Her piercing scream of horror ripped through the air, sending chills down the spines of all who heard it. It was a sound that would haunt them for years to come.
After a thorough investigation, it came to light that safety regulations mandated that balusters adhere to a maximum spacing of four inches. The reasoning behind that precaution was to avoid any potential hazards, especially for young children who are susceptible to slipping through or becoming ensnared. Kalista’s balusters, tragically, were spaced more than six inches apart.
Annie was laid to rest on a torrid August afternoon, leaving Arthur grief-stricken as he stood in the cemetery and watched the blazing sun. The idea that the sun could continue to burn so intensely while his beloved Annie was gone was unfathomable. How could the world carry on without her?
The loss of Annie had left a void so profound that it felt as if a piece of him had been violently wrenched away. Arthur’s heart throbbed with a searing ache that seemed almost tangible, akin to a sharp knife plunged into his chest.
Overwhelmed by sorrow, helplessness, and despair, Arthur found himself incapable of bidding farewell or delivering a eulogy for little Annie. He was unable to speak, cry, or process his emotions, and only his bloodshot eyes betrayed the inner torment that was tearing him apart. He had been determined to protect Annie at any cost, even if it had meant annihilating the entire universe. Yet, in a cruel twist of fate, it was the universe that had shattered him to pieces.
It was only when Annie’s body was lowered into the ground that Arthur finally broke his silence. “Don’t put her in there,” he implored, “it’s too dark. Annie’s afraid of the dark. Don’t leave her all by herself!” His agony was so intense that he attempted to follow Annie into the grave, and it took six people to restrain him. He begged to be buried alongside her, but his wish was not granted.
On that sweltering summer day, a single fiery orb burned the heavens while two human flames burned with an anguish that seemed to consume them whole.
Arthur and Johanna were left shattered and dysfunctional after the funeral. Johanna remained inconsolable, and frequently visited Annie’s grave to sit and converse with her. Meanwhile, Arthur retreated into himself, consumed by an impenetrable silence that only intensified as time passed. He refused to speak about his late daughter or hear anything related to her.
Despite both spouses seeking therapy, Arthur was only able to attend two sessions, during which he remained largely silent. After a two-month hiatus, Johanna resumed her role as a manager at the research institute, but Arthur found it impossible to lecture in front of large audiences and resigned from his position.
As Johanna watched Arthur wither away, she felt powerless and isolated. She blamed herself for their daughter’s demise and had a sense that Arthur held her responsible as well, even though he never explicitly stated it. With their relationship strained, even intimacy between them was loaded with charged emotions. When they attempted to make love, sorrow, guilt, and a sense of unworthiness overwhelmed them, making it impossible to follow through. After a few failed attempts, Arthur gave up altogether.
Even though Johanna tried to persuade Arthur to seek help and move on, he remained lost in his grief, growing more isolated and withdrawn with each passing day. It was clear to Johanna that Arthur was slowly unraveling, and she feared that he was teetering dangerously close to a breaking point from which he might never recover.
***
Johanna followed Arthur as he strode across the crosswalk and entered a refined residential area of exclusive homes, leaving the bustling main avenue behind. She couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his mind. He could have taken a right turn long ago, towards the sea, given that they were walking parallel to it a mere two hundred yards away; she didn’t know if that was a choice – to not die in that particular way – or another indication that he was lost within himself. She herself felt no choice but to continue following him. Despite the lengthy walk, it was apparent that Arthur remained upset, his hands stiff and his fists clenched as he walked briskly.
Arthur felt a certain sense of relief as he approached the low-lying houses, and he quickened his steps even further. He knew that it was the final residential area on the outskirts of the city, beyond which lay a vast, tranquil, and, most importantly, uninhabited dune.
An elderly woman exiting her yard was taken aback by the sight of the towering, sweaty stranger approaching her, with disheveled hair and clothes and muttering to himself. Arthur, on the other hand, remained oblivious to her presence and failed to make way for her on the sidewalk, regardless of her age.
Johanna was left bewildered as Arthur marched past the final house and ventured into the vast dune that lay beyond the city limits. She observed how he was struggling to walk in the deep sand, hindered by his inadequate footwear. As she reached the edge of the sand, she stood hesitantly, contemplating taking off her low heels. However, the blistering sand made her think twice, forcing her to trudge through it with her unsuitable shoes, each step a struggle against the merciless terrain.
Although he lived just a short walk from the beach, Arthur couldn’t bring himself to visit for over a year. The mere sight of the vast blue ocean was too painful a reminder of Annie and the heartache associated with her memory. Playing by the shore had been her favorite pastime, and the ocean’s vivid color matched the same shade as her sparkling eyes – her most cherished hue. Even there, with the ocean stretching across his entire right peripheral vision, he made a conscious effort to avert his gaze from it.
As Arthur gazed into the distance, he noticed a massive sand hill standing forty feet tall and topped with a lone palm tree. Without apparent reason, he began sprinting towards it. After grappling with the steep incline, he eventually reached the summit. Gasping for breath and feeling restless, he stood beneath the palm tree and surveyed his surroundings. Now that he had stopped moving, he couldn’t ignore the vast expanse before him.
The ocean was a magnificent sight to behold; its vastness and grandeur stretched out before him. The crystal-clear waters shimmered brilliantly under the sun’s rays, almost blinding in their radiance. Gentle waves caressed the shore, creating a soft and soothing rhythm that echoed throughout the beach. The sand stretched out like a golden carpet, inviting one to take a leisurely stroll. On the far-off horizon, a stunning display of azure and yellow hues exploded into the sky, looking more like a painted masterpiece than a part of nature. In the face of such beauty, he couldn’t help but feel a profound sense of awe and reverence.
The words of his favorite thinker echoed bitterly in his mind. “Beauty is the visible and outward expression of an inward harmony of the soul.”
How can there be harmony in a soul filled with everlasting ache and sorrow? he fruitlessly countered.
Despairingly, he looked up at the blazing sun, vainly hoping for a supernatural sign to rescue him from his misery. He then looked back towards the infinite expanse of water. The ocean – which had always embodied the beauty and splendor of the earth – was now to him nothing more than an endless ocean of pain.
As Arthur fixed his gaze on the towering ocean wave approaching the shore, a vivid memory was triggered, transporting him back to a time that felt both distant and yet still so vividly present. In this memory, he found himself standing in waist-deep water, with Annie perched on his left hip. “Look, Didi,” she had pointed with excitement, “a big wave is coming!” He had turned his head to spot the approaching surge, and as it had grown closer, he had secured Annie with his other hand and lifted her high above his head. The wave had soon crashed over them, followed by the sound of jubilant cheers echoing through the air.
Looking up, Arthur had seen his daughter beaming with excitement, her face adorned with sparkling droplets of water. Annie had spread her hands out to the sides, flying like a bird above the sea. Arthur had spun around, savoring the sight of his daughter’s angelic form glowing in the sunlight.
Annie had gazed down at him, her hands slowly descending as if to caress his face. He had bent his arms, bringing her closer to him. She had worn a wide, beaming smile as her fingers had tenderly brushed over his cheekbones. He could vividly see her beautiful eyes looking at him adoringly.
“Didi,” she had murmured, “my Didi.”
Arthur shook his head, slick with sweat, trying to rouse himself from a nightmare he couldn’t escape. Tears he had held back for so long welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision. He glared up at the cursed sun, beating down on him mercilessly, its fiery rays searing into his skin, flesh, and bones. Finally, it was too much for him to bear.
A murky wave of rage and despair broke through the fragile dam he had constructed over the past year, washing away everything in its path. Arthur tilted his head back and threw his hands up, his fingers splayed like claws, as if to tear the treacherous sky asunder. Inhaling deeply, he opened his mouth and let out a guttural scream of agony that echoed across the barren landscape, as if the very earth was shaking with his pain.
Johanna stood near the sand hill, her heart heavy as she watched Arthur unleash a thunderous roar into the atmosphere. His prolonged scream pierced through space, resonating to the farthest corners of the universe. Seeing Arthur’s vulnerability made her feel deep empathy for him as she observed his contorted body wracked with pain, his back arching and his arms clenched tight. “Let it out,” she whispered compassionately. “Let it all out, Art.”
Arthur screamed until he had no air left in his lungs. Then, he crumpled down and leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees as he sobbed inconsolably. The floodgates of his pent-up emotions burst open, and all the tears that should have flowed a year ago poured from his eyes in a cascade. His body kept convulsing with each soul-stirring sob until he paused, startled by another scream that shook the surroundings. At first, he thought it was his own echo, but he soon realized it was not. As he turned his head to the right, he noticed a figure of a woman at the foot of the hill.
Johanna had not anticipated it, but Arthur’s gut-wrenching scream had shattered something within her, causing her emotional dam to break as well. She released a spontaneous scream of agony as a colossal wave of emotions washed over her, shaking her to the core.
With a piercing scream, she crumpled to her knees and clutched the searing sand in a tight grip. Her body lurched forward, unleashing a guttural cry of despair towards the merciless earth that had snatched Annie away from her. When her lungs were finally spent, she gasped for air and let out another anguished scream, before dissolving into a torrent of raw, visceral sobs.
Out of nowhere, a comforting hand settled on her shoulder, gently caressing her. She looked up to see a figure standing before her, but her tear-filled eyes made recognition impossible. Another hand then held her arm and lifted her up effortlessly. The figure cradled her face in their hands and tenderly wiped away the tears with their thumbs. Gasping, she realized it was Arthur.
His soft, hazel eyes gazed at her with compassion, and his expression conveyed a mix of love and sincere concern. For the first time in a year, she recognized the man she loved so deeply, the noble and thoughtful man she believed she had lost forever.
“I’m sorry,” she choked through her tears. “It’s all my fault. I should have looked after her. I should have protected her.”
Arthur shook his head and drew her into a comforting embrace. “Please don’t blame yourself, Jo,” he said in a consoling tone. “It wasn’t your fault.”
For a while, they wept in each other’s arms, seeking comfort in the solace of their embrace.
After collecting their emotions, they made their way back towards the city, their steps slow as they clung to each other for support. Lost in their thoughts, they walked in silence, alternately sniffling and wiping away tears. As they reached the residential neighborhood’s sidewalk, Arthur finally broke the silence with a sudden question. “Who was that guy from earlier?”
Johanna blushed and grinned shyly. “He’s a new intern working for me,” she said.
Arthur’s face showed surprise as he asked, “Isn’t that against the rules?”
“It might be, but I don’t care,” she replied, as they resumed walking. After a brief pause, she elaborated, “Being a bereaved parent has one upside – you stop caring about mundane things. So what if they fire me? After my heart was shattered and I lost everything, I fear nothing! And don’t forget that we are rich, or about to be. Kalista’s insurance company is offering us millions, but I’m not settling. I don’t want to make it easy on that contractor whose trial is still ongoing. Regardless, I doubt Manny’s the type to tattle.”
“You haven’t lost everything, Jo,” Arthur reassured her. “I’m still here.”
“Well, I didn’t know that until twenty minutes ago. And the way you’ve been acting over the past year didn’t exactly give me a reason to think otherwise.”
“I’m sorry, Jo,” Arthur said sincerely, and after some reflection, added, “You should settle. The contractor has a family to support, and we need to move on. Sentencing him for life won’t bring Annie back.”
Johanna was lost in her thoughts until Arthur’s sudden question interrupted her once again. “So, did you have a good time with Manny?”
Johanna looked at him mischievously and said, “Yeah, for like two minutes until you barged in.” Her witty comeback made them both burst out laughing.
“When I first saw you climb on the bed,” Johanna said, “I thought you were going to kill me, but instead, you just lay down. That was so weird, yet cool in a way.”
“It was, wasn’t it?” Arthur said playfully.
“Totally, but it’s not something I want to share with my grandkids.”
They fell silent after that, both realizing the sad reality of the unlikelihood of having grandchildren.
“So, what’s your story?” Johanna asked after a while. “Why did you come back to the house during the day, and where did you leave your cab?”
Arthur’s face flushed with embarrassment as he realized he needed to explain himself. “This morning,” he admitted, “I got busted for public indecency in the industrial area up north.”
Johanna’s eyes bulged in shock.
“I got head from a working girl in the cab,” Arthur added sheepishly.
Johanna glared at him. “How many times have you done that?”
“It was my first time,” Arthur responded, looking dejected.
“If you wanted to get off, you could have just asked,” Johanna said reprovingly. But when she saw the sadness on Arthur’s face, she changed the subject. “How did you get out so quickly?”
“The detective who worked on our case recognized me and helped me out. I guess he felt sorry for me or something.”
They walked in silence for a while, until Johanna smiled mischievously and asked, “So, how was she? Did you have a good time?”
Arthur smiled in spite of himself. “Yeah, for like two minutes until some fat officer barged in.”
Their laughter started as a chuckle but quickly escalated into uncontrollable hysterics, forcing them to hold onto each other for support. Passers-by cast curious glances at the eccentric pair, but Arthur and Johanna were too consumed by their amusement to take notice.
After regaining their composure, they continued their leisurely stroll down the bustling shopping district, embracing with their heads leaning against each other. They alternated between laughing and crying, smiling and wiping away tears.
Upon recalling something, Arthur suddenly asked, “What did you do with my grandfather’s gun?”
“Oh, it’s in my handbag,” she replied, trying to stifle a giggle.
“How did you find out?”
“You took it out of our shared safe. You know I have jewelry in there. It’s hard to miss such an object disappearing.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you took it. I would’ve used it today. Leaving me Annie’s drawing and running away was cruel.”
“Maybe so, but it did finally get you out of that awful pit you dug for yourself. And besides, you wouldn’t have been able to use it anyway. I made the bullets vanish months ago.”
Arthur’s head snapped towards her, his eyes wide with astonishment. But as he caught sight of the mischievous, contracted smile on her lips, a chuckle escaped him, quickly followed by more uncontrolled laughter.
A gentle evening breeze caressed their faces as they finally reached Johanna’s car. Once inside, Johanna started the engine and turned the steering wheel all the way to the left to make a U-turn, but Arthur reached out and grabbed the wheel. Johanna gave him a questioning look.
“I need to see her,” he said worriedly.
“You can see her tomorrow at the memorial service,” Johanna replied.
“I need to see her,” Arthur repeated, his tone heavy with emotion.
Johanna nodded understandingly and drove towards the cemetery.
*
Johanna stood outside the cemetery gates, her eyes fixed on Arthur sitting in the car, his face etched with concern. With a reassuring gesture, she motioned for him to join her. Despite his hesitation, Arthur eventually emerged from the car, his steps faltering as he made his way towards her. Sensing his unease, Johanna reached out her hand, offering him the support he needed.
A year had passed since Arthur had last set foot in that dreadful place, the very site that had left a gaping hole in his soul. Intense, bitter memories of that horrible day resurfaced as he struggled to hold back his tears. Johanna interlocked her arm with his, and together they walked slowly through the well-kept paths of the cemetery, making their way to Annie’s grave.
Arthur gasped in surprise as he spotted Annie’s tombstone in the distance. It was the first time he had seen it. Johanna had spared no expense, commissioning the best tombstone maker to create a black marble headstone, complete with a prominent portrait of Annie.
Upon seeing his daughter’s angelic face for the first time in a year, Arthur was overcome with intense emotion. The image on the headstone filled him with infinite and uncontainable longing. With hesitant steps, he approached the tombstone and, upon reaching it, dropped to his knees and leaned in close. With a shaking hand, he gently caressed the portrait.
“Didi,” he murmured, “my Didi.”
He tenderly pressed his cheek against the smooth headstone, letting his tears fall freely as he spoke softly to his beloved daughter. “Annie love, it’s me, Dad. I’m here. I came to see you, baby girl. I’m so sorry. I know I should’ve come to visit you sooner, but couldn’t. I miss you more than words can express.” His voice cracked with emotion, and he paused to take a shuddering breath before continuing.
“How I wish I could hold you one more time, and tell you how much I love you.” His eyes closed in anguish. “I would give anything, anything to see your smile again, to hear your laughter. I would give anything for just one last hug, my sweet little Annie.”
Johanna stood by Arthur’s side, her hand tenderly stroking his shoulders as he poured out his heart. She shared his pain, feeling the weight of his grief bearing down upon her own heart. Overcome by emotion, she sank to her knees beside him, her hands resting gently upon the hard surface of the footstone.
“I’m so sorry, my sweet Didi,” Arthur lamented. “I should have been there for you, to protect you and keep you safe. I let you down, baby girl. Please forgive me.”
With that, he collapsed onto the footstone, his body wracked with sobs of agony and sorrow. Johanna soon followed. Together, they wept for the one they had lost, and for the pain that would never truly go away.
After mourning for what felt like an eternity, and after Johanna also poured her heart out, Arthur straightened up, turned to Johanna with a tear-streaked face, and said, “I don’t want to end up as a constantly tearful old man.”
Johanna raised her hands to cradle Arthur’s face, wiping away his tears with her thumbs as she spoke. “We can’t avoid crying, Art, but we’ll also laugh. We’ll cry and laugh; cry and dance; cry and keep on living. Annie would want us to keep going. As long as we have each other, we can get through this.”
“What if I can’t handle it?”
“Well, in that case, you can always go back to the dune and scream your lungs out. I’ll come along with you.”
A brief chuckle escaped both of them before Arthur nodded in agreement. “Let’s head home, Jo,” he said. “I could really use a bath.”
“Yes, me too. I’m covered with sand, sweat, and tears. Do you want a ride to the industrial area to get your cab?”
“Forget the cab, I’ll talk to Professor Marx tomorrow morning. He told me I could always come back when I was ready. And besides, I don’t have the car keys. I think I left them at home. And we should hurry; I left the front door open.”
They both chuckled again.
*
Johanna stood beneath the warm water, luxuriating in the soapy lather on her skin, when she heard the shower door creak open behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she caught sight of Arthur standing there, his naked body glistening in the steamy mist, a shy smile tugging at his lips.
“Is it alright if I join you?” he asked.
Johanna grinned, feeling a thrill run through her body. “Actually,” she said, “I could use a hand with my back. Mind?”
“Of course,” Arthur replied, stepping into the shower and taking the soap from her. He worked the soap into a rich lather and began to gently massage Johanna’s back, his hands strong and skilled.
As he finished with her back, his hands roamed to explore other parts of her body. Johanna moaned as he cupped her breasts, his touch sending shivers down her spine. She turned around and they kissed passionately, their bodies pressed together under the hot water.
Following their passionate make-out session, they washed up hastily before rushing to their bedroom, both eager to explore each other further in the cozy comfort of their own bed.
Arthur and Johanna lay in bed, their eyes fixed on each other. A mixture of yearning and nervousness was evident in their gazes. It had been so long since they had made love that they both felt pressure to perform well. The shared thought that their coming together was the final test for renewing their marital bond only added to their anxiety.
Arthur entered her slowly, pausing for a moment once he was fully inside. Johanna nodded, encouraging him to continue. They made love gently and patiently, only breaking eye contact for tender kisses. As they quickened their pace and approached climax, guilt and a sense of undeserved happiness inundated them once again, causing tears to well up in their eyes. They didn’t succumb to those negative emotions, though, and continued despite the ache.
Although their first orgasm in a year was short and mild – almost disappointing to them both – it marked a significant milestone in restoring their relationship – one they would cherish in their hearts forever. After a brief rest, they started a second round with more energy. By the third round, their inhibitions were completely gone and they engaged in passionate, unrestrained sexual activity. They clawed and bit at each other, leaving marks that lasted for weeks, but they didn’t care.
Nine months later, their daughter Elinor D. Schopen was born.