I took the sandwich and eggs back out to Rose, and tossed the eggs to her.
“Why don’t you scramble these for me. You remember how I like them. Right, Rosie?”
She planted her foot forward and hurled the eggs at me, but her aim was a little wild and they sailed over my head and splattered against the wall.
“I don’t know if I agree with yellow over there,” I said.
Rosie dropped into a chair making funny animal sounds. I sat down and started eating my sandwich, taking time to chew it carefully. When I was finished she was still making those sounds. That was the thing with her and Mary, they sure loved a good cry.
“Did you sleep with her?” she asked, looking up at me.
Her eyes were shining like mad, and a grin a mile wide was stretching her lips across her face. I realized the animal sounds weren’t the result of her crying. She had been laughing.
“The girl in the picture,” I said uneasily, “is your daughter. She hired me to find her birth parents. When I came here last week, I hadn’t made the connection between Rose Martinez and my Rosie Murphy. I guess I made it right before you answered the door.”
She nodded. “You did sleep with her. You want to guess who the father is?”
She started laughing again, those same damned animal sounds. Softer than before, but they cut right through me. Of course I knew who Mary’s father was. I knew as soon as I had seen Rose last time and made the connection with my Rosie Murphy. I must have known, at least at a subconscious level, that day Mary and I were together and I got sick. I’ve gone over the dates a dozen times since then and nothing else is possible. Mary may look a lot like Rose, but if you squint real hard you can see some of my features in her.
“Well, anyway,” I said, “she-your daughter-wants to see you.”
“I don’t want to see her.”
“Rosie, she’s a sweet kid. What harm would it do to talk to her?”
She shrugged. “It’s a free country. If you bring her here, I’ll talk. You can bet on that. I’ll tell her about her father. I’ll tell her all about you. How you killed my husband out of pure spite. How you ruined my life on a whim. How you’re nothing but an empty twisted psychopath. Don’t worry, I’ll have a nice chat with her.”
She stood up and spat at me. I took out a handkerchief and very slowly wiped off my face, taking deep breaths as I did so.
I put the handkerchief away and smiled at her. “Rose, you’re not thinking clearly. If you were to say things like that, well, I’d have to tell her how killing Walt was as much your idea as mine. Where would that leave you?”
“I don’t care,” she said softly. Her face relaxed, and I could see she was still beautiful. “It’s about time I told the truth and stopped worrying about your lies. The truth hurts, doesn’t it, Johnny? You want to know something? I almost feel sorry for you.”
“Yeah, well, don’t tell me you didn’t want me to kill your husband,” I said, feeling a sneer twisting my lips.
“N-No!” she stammered. “I didn’t want you to!”
“Oh no?” I opened my eyes wide. “You sure didn’t seem all that upset after it happened. The next day you were all over me, hugging and kissing me like crazy. I guess we all show our grief in different ways, but I sure never saw your way before.”
“I didn’t want him killed! I never said anything like-”
“A real angel of mercy,” I said. “Cut the crap. I did you a favor and you know it. You told him about me because you wanted what happened. You knew, didn’t you, honey?”
“No! I told Walt about you because I thought we loved each other. I didn’t know you were just using me.”
“I wasn’t, Rosie. I did love you.”
Looking at her with her face unclenched, I could remember why I used to sneak around to get a piece of her. She still had those soft brown eyes that could melt butter and lips that would give any man ideas. I let my eyes fall down to the rest of her and felt my heart skip a beat. The dungarees she was wearing didn’t hide much, and I could see her body still had a wonderful compactness about it, the type that used to keep me busy until sunrise, and sometimes long after that.
I wet my lips. “I’ve missed you, Rosie. Sometimes I think giving you up was the biggest mistake I ever made. Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant? It might have been different if you had.”
She didn’t say anything.
“Do you ever think of me like before?” I asked, keeping my eyes on her waist, thinking how nice she’d look if she’d just take those pants off.
“I’m tired, go home. I don’t want you here. Please, just go.”
“Rosie, this isn’t right. We should try to work things out.” I walked over to her. “Maybe it’s not too late for us. Maybe we could make it right this time.”
She turned her head away and I put my hand under her chin, turning her face back towards mine. I reached down to kiss her and there was a whirl of motion and a searing pain over my eye. I stumbled back and grasped my forehead, feeling a warm stickiness spreading across my hand.
I couldn’t see anything except a redness, and it wasn’t blood. I stood frozen, afraid to move a muscle, afraid of what I’d do if I let myself move even an inch. A pounding in my ears was trying to deafen me, but over it I could make out the sounds of someone rustling about and then the loading of a shotgun.
I could hear footsteps running towards me and then Rosie’s voice in a high-pitched scream begging me to try something. I wanted to. It would have made everything so easy. All I had to do was move an inch, just say a word, and it all would’ve been over. I sure wanted to oblige her, but I didn’t move.
I guess life isn’t meant to be easy. When another weight is rolled onto your back, you just have to shoulder the burden and keep moving. But sometimes it’s so damn tempting to lie down. Sometimes you just want to close your eyes and stop the weariness.
The red haze that was blinding me drifted away. Blood had dripped into my eyes, making me wince, but through it I could see Rose holding a shotgun. The barrel was doing a snake dance in front of my face.
“Move, damn you! Try something you dirty bastard!” she screamed, tears lining her sweet, pretty face.
Well, as I said, I wanted to oblige her. I really did but it wouldn’t have been right. I turned from her and walked towards the door.
She screamed at me. Even as I was turning the ignition in the car she was still going at it. When I was a block away I could still hear her.
I looked in my rearview mirror and saw that she’d done quite a number on me. The skin was torn from the middle of my forehead to above the eye. Blood still trickled down, giving me a red streak across my face.
I stopped at a drugstore and bought disinfectant and bandages. I asked the girl working behind the counter if she had a mirror, and she told me I could use a bathroom in the back.
I cleaned out the wounds and applied the disinfectant. I couldn’t keep from swearing-it stung like hell. I needed several bandages to cover the scratches and I grimaced seeing my face all puffed out and looking like a piece of raw steak.
I was lucky the crazy bitch hadn’t scratched my eye out and I had no doubt that’s what she intended. For a moment I thought about how it would serve her right if someone kicked down her door and broke her neck. No one could argue that she deserved it. The only problem, though, was that it wouldn’t stop Mary from finding out about her. If something like that were to happen to Rose now, well, that would be as bad as anything else.
As I was leaving I thanked the girl for the use of the bathroom. She looked at me with some concern and asked if I shouldn’t see a doctor.
“I’ll be okay, thanks,” I said. “How did you get those cuts?”
“Walked right into a stone wall.” It wasn’t until I got to the airport that I was able to remove the grin from my face.
Chapter 18
