I strode down the hall and kicked open his door, switching on the light.
He was curled in bed in his boxers, sheets tangled around his legs. He had two posters tacked on the wall, a bird’s-eye view of two naked teenage schoolgirls entwined on a forest floor, and a movie poster for The Big Lebowski.
“Up,” I said.
I waited until he’d sprung on top of his bed to strike his stomach with the cane. He doubled over.
Cassie’s blank face filled my vision, head lolled back, so vulnerable, so opposite the sharp strength she had when she clipped her keyboard to its stand, when she noticed I couldn’t reach something and flipped it toward me, her steady eyes as she listened to me telling her about Frankie’s last moments. The idea that Johnno’s pranks had sucked the core out of her, when she had done nothing to deserve it, blocked out the pain in my leg. I felt the urge to build something for her, to use my hands, to break anything in her way.
I came down on Johnno’s back, his bony spine and ribs poking through his skin.
Once, twice, until he was down on the bed again.
“Number one, if you ever get near my family again, I will kill you. That’s a promise.”
In my periphery, I could see Johnno sneaking his hand under the bed. Once he had his hand on the gun, I stomped down hard, feeling bones crack. I picked up the pistol.
“Number two, I’m not paying you another fucking cent. I’m done.”
I cocked it near his yellowish ear.
“Understood?”
Johnno didn’t answer, breathing hard.
I pressed the barrel on Johnno’s knee. “You know I’m willing to take off your kneecap. I said, is that understood?”
“Yes, you fuck,” he said, his voice muffled by the sheets. “Now get out.”
I wasn’t about to risk the gun going off, finishing him for good, sending me into further purgatory, so I unloaded the cartridge. As soon as I did, Johnno went for my right leg, sending searing waves of pain through my body.
Before he could gain traction, I brought the gun back and whipped the front of his skull.
“Agh!” Blood spilled from his nostrils, from the cut on his head. It was a beautiful electric red. He brought a hand to his head, rolling in agony.
I backed out of the room using my cane, gun poised.
My chest was heaving as I got into Rita’s car. I started the engine, reversed with a squeal, and watched Buda get smaller in the rearview mirror as the little pine tree air freshener dangled in the breeze. Sunshine crept through the cool air.
When I saw the exit for the Texas State Cemetery, I took a detour. The radio played that Bowie song “Space Oddity.” I turned it all the way up, up to Cassie-level volume, until I reached the gates.
My hands started shaking. The buzz had started to wash off, the clarity. I’d never beat someone so viciously before.
I moved from the blank concrete of the highway to the quiet, green oasis. Frankie’s grave was smothered. Yellow roses, white roses, daisies, carnations, chrysanthemums. Probably his mother’s doing. I cleared a small path, so I could see his name.
“Hey, Frankie.” I stood next to the obelisk. “I miss you, man. I’m sure you’re having a good time wherever you are. And you’re right, Lugia is the best Pokémon.”
I sat down.
“Cassie’s doing well. She’s surviving. I don’t know what caused you to put so much faith in either of us, but I’m glad you did. I think about you all the time. Especially lately. You had such a good head on your shoulders. You would have helped a lot of people.”
I realized I had been pulling up grass as I spoke, and now I had two big handfuls. “Sorry,” I said to all the souls, and let the blades catch in the breeze.
“I think I have feelings for Cassie,” I said, testing out the way the words sounded.
Feelings for Cassie. They sounded good, like a song title.
“We kissed,” I tried again. That sounded even better. We. What was I saying?
Only Cassie came out of the silence. Her black hair. Her honesty. Her voice. Her intelligence. The place where her thighs touched. The face she made when she was on the computer. The purpose I felt when I was near her. Even if it were my job to listen to her sing for the rest of my life, I would.
“What am I saying, Frankie? You’re the emotions expert.” I stood up and touched the top of the headstone. I guessed maybe I should speak to the woman herself.
Cassie
I woke to Mittens breathing in my face, waiting. I’d had the strangest dream. I was standing in my living room across from the futon in the late morning. The sun was shining warm through the windows that looked out on the front yard. My potted plants were gone, and instead, stalks and leaves had sprouted out of the cracks in the floorboards all around me, vines climbed up the walls, flowers drooped, resting on my bare feet. Somehow I had planted this greenery, and it was supposed to be here, warm and comforting around me.