The Devil Take the Blues--Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Frank

It didn’t work.

I had brought Angelo all this way for nothing. The empty joint was haunted, and I had nothing more to offer. No other cards. No other tricks.

And my damn harmonica was still missing.

The gaping, yawning silence was as black as the cosmos I drifted through. Such solitude in leaving. That was perhaps the greatest sting. Forever the traveler, forever the discoverer of new worlds, yes, but I alone was the one who left. Everyone else stayed. I just needed someone to stay.

I couldn’t take this anymore. I needed to see Agnes. Not Beatrice. I had tried thus far to help her, in my own way. In Agnes, I recognized someone whose aching heart rivaled my own.

I set off toward her house.

*

Beatrice

After I left Frank’s joint, I looked everywhere for Shirley, utterly torn between finding her and keeping Agnes safe. Every step I took echoed in my mind, drummed against my brain: was I making the right decision? Did ever move I make bring me closer to perdition?

I searched her house, the hospital, every single store in town, down by the river, and even the cemetery. I was walking along the road when I spied my upside-down blue bottle that I had plunged onto a stick when I had first summoned Frank. The crossroads between here and the next town.

I glanced up and saw Angelo walking toward me. His eyes looked haunted, as though he had seen something awful, something truly horrific. I ran to him.

“Well?” I asked. I searched his face for clues. “Did you find her?”

With him looking like that, I expected the worst.

He only gazed blankly at me. That was when I noticed the blood staining his shirt. “Angelo,” I gasped. I lifted a hand to his stomach. “Are you bleeding?”

He stepped away and shook his head. “No. No, I didn’t—I didn’t find my…but I found...” He turned away and bent over, his hands clutched to his knees. He gagged and his body convulsed, but nothing came. I rubbed his back, and he straightened up. “I found something else. Someone else. He—I think it was a he—wore a hood. Klan member.”

The hex. The curse. It had worked. Relief coursed through me. Seven months I had worked, spent sleepless, tracked down any possible way of stopping the inevitable. Sweet toxin in my veins. The absolute certainty that now nothing could touch Agnes. She was safe. She wouldn’t die by a man in a mask because that man was now dead. She was free.

And so was I.

“But why do you look like you saw a feu-follett?” I asked. I raked my gaze over him. The blue bottle glinted in the sunlight. A loon cried over us.

Angelo’s knees shook. “Remy Dupont was attacked. Gator got him. I don’t know—he just…he just—” He hiccuped. “Got his leg below the knee. I took him to the hospital. They weren’t going to take him, at first. There was so much blood…”

We only had one hospital in town. The Negro hospital was thirty miles away.

“He’s there now.” The look in his eyes was horrible; he saw nothing and everything at the same time. “But my gran is still missing.” He buried his face in his hands.

My heart broke for Angelo; I knew what it meant to fear losing the one you loved the most.

“Angelo, you need to go to the police.”

He shook his head. “Useless.”

“At the very least, you need to tell them you found a dead body.”

Again, the barely perceptible shake. “I can’t.”

I took a breath. Part of me wanted to march straight to Agnes’ house to make sure she was alright. To see her with my own eyes and feel her with my own hands and inhale her scent, but part of me needed to see Frank. To look him in the eye and make sure we were square. That the deal was off. My heart lurched in vicious triumph. I had beaten the Devil at his own game. Now all that was left was for him to return from whence he came.

But the sight of Angelo standing there, like one of those horrible zombis that were rumored to exist in the deep recesses of the swamp horrified me.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll tell them about the body.”

I could do that for Angelo and maybe make it right somehow. Foolishness. I couldn’t save the situation any more than I could save my sister, but I didn’t know that then. I was high on hope, blitzed on release, intoxicated on promises kept, promises fulfilled.

Every high has a crash.

Frank

The spiderweb glistened in the filtered sunlight through the woods. The hourglass shape on its abdomen stood out in bright scarlet, and the pearly strands of its symmetric web were perfectly poised between two branches. I found Agnes clutching a tree branch, bent over double. Time was a funny thing. I knew everything that would happen, and yet, I didn’t. We were all on a fixed track but free to move about the cabin.

“It’ll pass soon enough,” I said. “I’m sorry for my part in it.”

Agnes glanced over her shoulder. “Frank,” she gasped. “What are you doing out here?”

“I wanted to see you.” I paused. “Just let go. It’ll be all right.”

Agnes’ eyes filled with tears. “I can’t,” she said, even as she sank to her knees. Her legs trembled too much to stand. “I cannot abandon her. Not like he did to me.”

I bent down and rubbed Agnes’ back. “You won’t.” I paused. “Now, I am a creature driven by curiosity more than anything. Who?”

“I can’t do the same,” said Agnes, panting. Her face was white. She cried out.

“What happened?” he said. “Talk—it’ll keep your mind from the pain.”

“Will that work if it brings bigger pain?” Agnes reached between her legs. When she withdrew her hand, it was covered in blood.

“I supposed the only way to know is to try.” She sank to the ground, and I wrapped my arms around her, then gently rocked her. It made up in some small way for what I had to do. That was what I told myself, at least. Deer watched the strange scene as they chewed grass.

Agnes swallowed. “He left us. We were starving. It was after the flood. We were eating nothing but calves’ brains and raw chicken eggs.” Agnes cried out again, her screams ringing through the forest and startling the nearby deer. They fled.

“That’s it now—just let go of it. It’ll be over soon.”

“I can’t.” Her voice rose no higher than the cough of a dove.

“What did he do?”

Agnes’ dress was soaked in blood now. It was nearly time.

“He was a musician, but he couldn’t give up drinking. Even when we were starving, he couldn’t stop. One day it got so bad that he brought all three of us out to the woods. He left us with just a hunk of cornbread. I clung to Beatrice’s tiny hand. I said, ‘Daddy, don’t leave’ but all he did was turn and walk away. All I could see was his back fading into the distance.”

Agnes gave a final cry, and the soul inside her slipped away.

I continued rocking her gently, back and forth.

“He was too drunk to realize that we could make it back. We stayed out in the forest for a night, then I led us all back to the house. He never did anything like again.”

The spider crept across its web.

I reached into his pocket and took out a flask. I proffered it to Agnes.

A frown creased the scar on her brow even deeper.

“Go on,” I said.

Agnes took it and sipped carefully. Nothing but cool water slipped past her lips. She drank deeply.

As she passed the flask back to me, I said, “My father was a son-of-a-bitch as well.” I took a sip, and nothing but cool whiskey slipped past my lips. “Vile hypocrite.”

Agnes was weeping softly. “This is all my fault.”

I took another drink. “Your father?”

“No. Tim.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I insisted. I wanted a child so badly. But he didn’t. But I insisted. I thought that if I was pregnant, then he would stop running around. But he made me drink something. Something to make me lose her.”

“If that were true, he would stop sleeping with other women because he loved you.”

?“It was a mistake,” she whispered. “He swore it was his last time that he would see her. He loves me. I know he does.”

“Indeed. And I suppose this—” I gestured to the bloodstained dress. “is another display of his love?”

“He has not abandoned me. I won’t abandon him.”

“It’s a funny thing about abandonment. My father threw me out when I was very young, and quite frankly, very stupid. Recklessness of youth and all that. But what I learned through years of wandering on my own was that abandonment was perhaps the best thing that could have happened to me. No need to go into details, but let me say that I realized that it was better to be alone than to live with someone toxic in my life.”

“But you still run.”

I stared at Agnes. Those four words expanded in me as spicy food does in one’s mouth—softly at first, then the intensity caught me off guard. “Why do you say?”

Agnes smiled. How was it possible to smile at a time like this? “Someone who’s always traveling? Never staying in the same place twice? You don’t have to run from loneliness, you know.” Agnes tucked in her arms as if she were a child. “Sometimes all you can do is let it envelop you, let it sit with you for a while. You’re never really alone, in that way.”

I shook my head once, hard. “And you? Are you brave enough to face a life without the one you want? The one who hurts you?”

I extended the flask to her again. “Let us say that this is filled with a poison. Would you give it to Beatrice to drink?”

“Never.”

“Then why do you insist on drinking it yourself?”

Agnes remained silent. Before she closed her eyes, she stared into the distance. “Mama?” she whispered.

I bent down and began to pick her up.

“No, no.” She gripped his shirt in her fists. “I can’t leave her.”

“You cannot leave what never existed. We will come back to bury her.”

Agnes smiled softly. “You cannot bury what never died.”

Gently, I carried her out of the woods. Gently, I would lay her in the bathtub, would fetch buckets of water for her. I would help scrub the blood and dirt from her. Finally, I would lay her in the great bed. For a precious little while, we were alone, together.

I tucked the blankets around Agnes and swept the hair from her eyes. If my heart was a guitar, her words had struck a chord, resounding, and they utterly destroyed me. Perhaps she was right; perhaps I had been running all this time and no longer needed to. If only I had my harmonica. As I pressed Agnes into the bed, my teeth ground together at the sight of her bruises. I turned to look for the one who had did this.

It didn’t take much. He was standing in the doorway.

“What the hell—” he began.

“Exactly,” I responded, my all-too-human blood rushing through my eardrums. Even the very sight of the man sickened me. He had held Agnes under his thumb for so long, and now it was time to end it.

Plus, he had stolen my harmonica. He had taken everything from me, would take everything from me. We stared at each other, our heartbeats matching the other in a crazy, arrhythmic dance. Here was the reason I had truly come to the Earth, the reason why Beatrice fought so hard against the darkness, against the shadow.

Evil isn’t the enemy.

But God, it would feel good to punch it in its face.

“What the hell are you doing with my wife in bed?” said Tim.

“Lay down your false objections, your chagrined chauvinism. You care nothing about the soul of this woman, only what she can give you, what she can do for you. You seek to control the world, but you cannot even control yourself.”

Tim’s eyes drew to slits. He rolled up his sleeves. “This is a mighty fine house,” he said. “I would hate to ruin anything in it.”

“I agree. This house has stood for more than a century. It’s got a lot of history in it. Why don’t we step into the fresh, morning air and admire the natural beauty of the outdoors?”

Tim didn’t move. To move would be to turn his back.

“After you,” he said. “It’s not often I allow someone who fucks my wife to go first. But then, in the South, the gentlemen allow the ladies to lead.” He raised his hand.

Do you think I cared one single, solitary scrap that he insulted my manhood? Of course not. I am not a man. I am nothing. Only shadow, a wavering in the air.

“And the dogs follow their masters.” I walked out of the room; when I passed him, the air fizzled between us.

Calmly, we walked down the stairs. Calmly, we stepped onto the porch, its creak and groan, mimicking what Tim would do henceforth.

Once we had cleared some five feet from the house, we stopped. The magnolias drifted their honeyed aroma over us. The wind whispered its eternal secrets. A butterfly flitted toward the graveyard.

Then Tim swung.

I dodged, leapt back.

Tim jabbed again, and I grabbed his arm and slugged him across his square, chiseled jaw.

The crack burst through the air. He caught me off guard in my moment of triumph and managed to double punch me in the stomach, one two.

Gasping, I shook it off. The thought of Agnes suffering, the thought of what it would mean for Beatrice kept me going. Enraged, I flung myself at Tim, and tackled him into the grass. Pain bloomed whenever his fists struck, but I relished it, for each punch he landed, I gave him a double share.

Then he managed to hit my lower back, and the pain was so bright that I couldn’t think for a moment.

That was when I lost it. I was no longer the cool cat that I had prided myself to be. I was wild, savage, unable to think more than the seven inches that separated Tim and I. My rage was white, yet black with purity, the absolute security of knowing that one is in the right. I’m sure Tim felt the same, defending the honor of his wife. Or at least, that’s what he told himself. We tell ourselves all sorts of lies to get the drug we want. And this was a drug both of us loved. I my chaos, and Tim his demons.

“Stop!” Agnes’ voice was hoarse. “Frank, stop!”

When neither of us gave her any acknowledgement, she ran back into the house, and I felt all the better that she would not watch me kill her husband.

Because I was tempted. I didn’t care about the rules just then. Rules were made to be broken. That’s why I loved the blues, jazz, the music that took what was established and smashed it to beautiful, broken pieces. Tim was the one thing that stood in the way of Beatrice’s happiness. With him gone, she could rest easy, knowing her sister was safe.

It was then, in the midst of wracking pain, fury, and the need to continue that I knew Agnes was right. I did not have to run from loneliness; it would always be there, an old friend. I would never be alone, because it would always be there. So what if I would lose Beatrice? Her happiness was all that mattered.

So I began to squeeze his neck, just as he had squeezed Agnes. Let him see what true fear felt like. Let him feel powerless. Only the threat of existential prison kept my hands from snatching his life. I remembered the higher purpose, the order of keeping the rules. This time, they would be kept.

Two sets of hands yanked me off.

“No!” I screamed. “Let me go!”

The toady of Beau, Johnny, smiled down at me.

“We got a call about a disturbance,” he said. “Even if Agnes hadn’t, half the neighborhood heard your hollerin.’”

I was breathing heavily and made no move to get free. My quarrel wasn’t with these men. Yet.

“Thank—you—” gasped Tim. “I intend to press charges. Thank you, gentlemen for coming.”

Johnny looked askance. “Sorry about this, Mr. Tim, but I’m gonna have to take you in as well. Law says when two’re fighting, they both gotta be brung in.” He adjusted his hat, which was about a size too big for him. “And I wanna do a good job as acting Sheriff.”

Tim’s fallen face was a lemon drop on my tongue.

“Agnes?” he said. “You called them?”

Agnes couldn’t look Tim in the eye. “You were going to kill each other.”

They placed manacles on my wrists and shoved me into a car. Tim they let ride without the embarrassment of steel bracelets.

The ride was a short one to the station. The minimum number of days we had to stay in that rusty, smelly hole would be sufficient to keep Agnes safe. He would be in jail. Perhaps I had not killed Tim, but this would ensure that the curse would be broken. And I had not broken my rules.

*

Agnes

I couldn’t do it anymore. Life, that is.?

No way out, there’s no way, can’t go on like this.?

I couldn’t stay with Tim. I knew that. It had taken me these long, agonizing months to come to that realization. I was stubborn. I was not a quitter. I had seen my grandparents get married and stay married, even if they both became so miserable that they were swallowed up and wrinkled with it. It had taken me so much to just get over the shame of failure, the utter hornet sting of embarrassment to know that the people in the town would talk until the cows came home about me and Tim. How they would blame me. Surely half of them must have seen me go into the courthouse.?

But I couldn’t take it anymore. Not after what he did to our child. My child. Maybe it was the size of a bean, maybe it wasn’t anything but a flicker of an idea, but it had been my bean, my flicker, and he had made me lose it. He had hurt someone I loved; that was more painful than what he had done to me. He could hurt me. Oh, I could stand all sorts of pain, because I loved him, and the thought of losing him was a stone in my heart, made my whole chest cave in on itself. My love for him was bigger than my pain.?

But not someone else’s pain. I couldn’t stand the thought of him hurting someone I loved. So I couldn’t stay.?

But I couldn’t leave, either. The judge had done slammed the door in my face, and I had nowhere else to go. I couldn’t tell Beatrice. Why couldn’t I just admit that I needed help??

What good would it do? Tim would still be in my life. No matter where I went, he would always be there. I had no skills, had barely graduated high school. I wasn’t smart. Too dumb to be a typist and too ugly to be a whore. No matter where I went in the town, he would always be there, smiling and asking after me. He would never let me go.?

Maybe Frank could help. Maybe you could borrow some money from him.?

And do what? I found my feet directing themselves toward the river. Keep on borrowing money for the rest of my life? Go from depending on one person to depending on another?

No. I could not do that. I was tired of being sad, tired of feeling the limitless weight constantly pushing me down. When I woke up, my heart was already racing. I was tired of my stomach constantly in cramps, my palms damp for no reason other than a sense of dread that would not leave me alone. It felt as though hounds were chasing me, would chase me all the way to hell.?

I’m sorry, I thought. I tried my best. I really did.?

Who would love me after Tim? Who would want to? I wasn’t anything but a used, bruised, broken thing. Who had use for such deformed creatures??

Beatrice is strong; Beatrice would be able to go on after I…

I stood at the river’s edge.?

It was so close. So inviting. It was a beautiful day, the sunlight making the top of the river sparkle. The rounded edges of the hills were layered with such color as I had never noticed. Pale, straw-yellow grass, dun earth, beautiful gray rocks. How could anyone think that gray was a dull color? How had I never noticed such beauty before? It gave me the last bit of courage I needed. I would simply walk in, filling my dress with stones and never leaving. Perhaps they would not find my body. That would be good. Beatrice didn’t need to see me fat and bloated with death and decay, worms in my eyes and green around my mouth. I wanted Beatrice to know that I loved her so very much, but there was no way out.?

I thought back to when my father left. I had never felt the loss of anyone so keenly as that of my father.

I can’t choose much, but I can choose when I die.?

I crept to the water’s edge. Heard it gently tapping on the bank, so soft and musical, a steady drum telling me to come, come, come.?I stuck a foot in. The water was cold. Beautifully cold.?I didn’t need to say goodbye. Goodbye would only hurt.?

And then I saw a snake slither on the surface of the water.?

I jerked my foot back. Stumbled. My heart was in my mouth every second I saw the diamondback swim down the river. I was as frozen to the earth as ancient ruins.?

I hated snakes.?

I fell back into the sharp, poky grass. My heart continued to hammer. I couldn’t go into the river now. I could die by drowning, but I couldn’t abide the thought of being bit by a snake and writhing in pain, waiting for death to take me.?

Suddenly, I started laughing. It shot out of me like a shotgun blast. My body was wracked with spasms. My sides ached, which only made me laugh harder. Tears were rolling down my face, from something I didn’t even know how to describe. I lifted her face up to the sun. I grasped fistfuls of the grass and threw them at the sky.?

“Damn you!” I yelled at the sky. “Damn you!”

If God were to strike me down, well, then let him. I had always heard that the Lord wouldn’t give her more than I could bear. Well, apparently, I had reached the absolute limit, because I couldn’t bear snakes.?

My heart hurt so much, but my sides hurt worse as I continued to laugh. Finally, once I subsided and all that was left was small hiccups, I knew what I would do. Maybe it wouldn’t make a difference. Maybe I would never be able to get rid of Tim in my life, but I had to find a way out.?

Apparently, God did not want me to die. It was a clear a sign as any I had ever had in my life. Normally, people begged Him for a sign, something as clear as the moon or a billboard along the highway. Normally, He did not respond.?

It wasn’t what I wanted; but it was what I needed. I stood up, ready to finally tell my sister the truth about my husband. Whatever shame I would face was bound to be better than death by a diamondback.?

Beatrice

“I assume you’ve come to pick up your husband?” asked Maude.

I stared at the woman who stole from the collection plate every Sunday. “What?”

Maude and I were in the entryway of the parish jail. Only one lazy fan swirled above us, pushing the same empty air around in circles. “I assumed you knew that he was picked up for disturbing the peace. Along with your brother-in-law.” Maude grinned, and the sight of her gray teeth sickened me.

“No, I—I came to report that a body has been found in the swamp. And…a woman by the name of Shirley Freeman is missing.”

With all the haste of nails growing, Maude picked up a clipboard. “When did you last see this woman?”

“A few days ago. Why was Frank arrested?”

She shrugged. “Apparently them two got into a fight. What does the woman look like?”

“She’s old, maybe eighty or so, dark skin—”

“Oh, she’s a Negro woman.” Maude stopped writing. “We don’t have the resources to go tracking down every missing Negro.”

Anger surged in me, but I didn’t know where to place it or which problem I should deal with first.

Agnes. It always had to be Agnes.

“Just take me to my husband,” I said.

Maude pushed herself up and led me down a hallway. “It’s strange,” she murmured. “Haven’t seen Beau in a few days. Johnny has been doing a fine job, but…” When we were in front of Frank’s cell, Maude said, “You have ten minutes.”

Tim was in the other cell, looking like death on a griddle. Frank didn’t look any better, so I asked, “What happened?”

Tim just shook his head and stayed silent. Frank chuckled. “Nothing to fret about ma chère. Just a man protecting someone he loves.”

“Frank,” I hissed. “The deal is off.” I glanced at Tim, not knowing how much to say in front of him. “The hex worked. They found a body of man with a hood. The man who would have…” Tim just stared ahead, and I didn’t want to aggravate him further by mentioning that someone had been out to kill his wife. “Why are you still here?”

Frank spread his hands to take in the cell that smelled of rat droppings. “As you can see, I’m currently stuck in jail.” He too, gave Tim an odd look, but I chalked it up to whatever fight had broken out between them. “If I were you, I would attend to your sister. She may have been poisoned.”

I lifted a hand to my mouth. “What? How do you know? Poisoned how?”

“You’ll have to ask her.”

It was a good thing there were bars separating us because I wanted to slap Frank until he bruised. I prayed to God to forgive me for abandoning Shirley, and I ran as fast as I could to Agnes’ house.

*

I walked into my sister’s house without knocking. When I entered, Agnes was not in the living room, so I searched each room, until I found her in the main bedroom packing a valise. The radio was playing softly in the background. The hem of her dress was wet, which I thought was strange, but I did not ask.

“Agnes,” I said. “Are you—” Then the valise struck me.

“Are you leaving?” It was early afternoon. The clouds had started to build, huge castles in the sky. Soon, it would be night, then midnight, but I didn’t have to worry about the dark now. Agnes was safe.

Almost immediately, Agnes began crying.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry for what I’ve done. For what I tried to do.”

I rushed toward my sister. The first, faint stirrings of a deep fear. “What do you mean?” Did she poison herself? Was it accidental?

But my sister, the person who I loved most in this world, who was part of my very soul, did not reply to the question. Instead, she said, “I have to leave Tim.”

“What?”

Agnes sank onto the mattress. I wrapped my arms around her. She was crying softly, and I had to ask her to repeat when she said something unintelligible.

“Tim…hurts me. He’s…put his hands on me.” Agnes turned her face away. “Among other things.”

Anger, swift, hot, and righteous flowed through me. The thought of him in jail. All of Frank’s words…suddenly sounded different.

A man protecting a woman he loves…

“Agnes…”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m so sorry.” She cried harder.

How could she apologize? I was the one who felt guilty. Tim had been hurting her all this time, and I had not known. I was too blind with protecting her from outside forces that I had forgotten that evil could exist right beside us. It existed in all of us, brought out when we allowed it. Ultimately, I had failed. I had wanted to save my sister from death, but I had failed to protect her from harm. “No, Agnes, no.” We cried as we held each other.

“It didn’t start out this way. He didn’t do it at first. It started so small, and I thought he would stop. He always said he would change. I thought it was the stress. I blamed myself.”

For a long while, the trees creaked outside, the wind picked up, thrashed against the windows, howling with misery, and neither of us said anything. The radio switched to a commercial.

“So I have to leave. I don’t know where I’m going to go.”

Relief, pure and mountain air-sweet, coursed through me. Agnes would be safe; it had been my one goal for so long, and now that I had it, I did not want to leave this room. I didn’t want her to leave. I would go with her. Wherever she went, I would protect her.

But we had no time left for deliberation. The commercial filtered through, the very end.

“…trust Tim Stevenson. He’s got a plan to make America the shining beacon of glory it once was. He’ll clean the streets of liquor, Mexicans, Catholics, and Negroes alike. Tim Stevenson for Mayor of Azoma. Endorsed by the noble Ku Klux Klan,” said the radio.

My heart pounded harder than it ever had in my life. “What did that say?” I whispered.

“It’s Tim’s political ad. He’s had some luck with it.”

The Klan. Every single piece began to fall together. Frank had tried to tell me in so many ways.

Your brother-in-law has paid handsomely for a 10th anniversary showing.

The man’s voice from beneath the hood the night of the raid. I recognized it now.

Tim would be the one to kill Agnes. All this time I had searched for my sister’s murderer, and he had been right beside me all along.

My world was crashing around me, and all I knew was panic.

“Plus,” she continued. “I think…I think he killed Beau.”

“Agnes—you’re right. You’ve got to leave. Now. If he killed once, he’ll kill again. He’ll kill you too.”?

If I knew why people did the evil they did, then I could have saved Agnes. I would understand Frank. He talked about the shadow, how evil is not the enemy, but I knew it was.

She shook her head. “He would never do that. Not to me. Besides, he’s in jail.”

Even now, my sister would not believe that someone who hurt her was capable of hurting her more.

“We need to buy train tickets. Right now.” I glanced at the grandfather clock. Crouching lion.

“What if you go to the station? I’ll pack,” said Agnes.

I shook my head. “Absolutely not.” I was not letting Agnes out of my sight.

“Please? It will save some time. Besides…I need to be alone. I want to say goodbye.” She looked around the house. “To everything. To him.”

A terrible sensation seized me. A premonition. “Agnes.” I grabbed her hand. “Whatever you do, do not go to the jail. Do not say goodbye to Tim. He doesn’t deserve the slightest explanation from you.” I would process my anger later. It was deep, it was frightening and terrible to behold. But my racing heard told me that I had to focus on my sister. I had focused on the evil around her, instead of focusing on her.

Agnes looked down, her blonde hair framing her face. “But I love him.”

“Then write him a letter,” I hissed. “But don’t go anywhere near him.”

“Alright…alright.”

I hugged her, but when we drew apart, she cupped my face. “Please let me alone for a little while? Go, pack a bag. I’ll be here.”

Reader, you will hate me for being stupid. That you’ve made it this far through story shows that maybe you have a shred of empathy left for me. At that moment, I would have done anything to get her to leave, so I promised to be back as soon as I could.

I never should have let her out of my sight.

?

*

Frank

Tim and I were separated by a stretch of hallway, in cells directly across from each other. He was still hopped up on rage; my body hurt, and the swelling in my face made me not want to gaze into a mirror; how often does the swelling of pain make us not want to face what’s right in front of us?

Maybe it was because she was separated by bars three inches thick, but she did not appear as scared as I knew she was. But he could no longer reach her. He could no longer touch her.

When he saw her, his face lit up.

“Agnes, baby, I’m so glad to see you,” he said, reaching for her through the bars. “You’ve come to see me.”

Agnes did not reach for him. “Tim, you deserve some explanation. You were my husband, after all.”

“Were? But—"

Agnes’ body still ached where he had hit her. The bruises were gone, but her body still felt each blow. It pain wasn’t sharp; it was a deep, throbbing pain, the sort that makes you gasp and wince just to remember it. A sort of calm had settled over her, even as her body betrayed her by making her stomach flip.

“I still love you. I might not ever stop loving you. That’s why it hurts so goddamned much to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye? What the hell are you talking about, woman?”

“You’ll always be a part of me. No matter what happens.”

The slow change of his face was ice cream melting into goo. “What?”

Agnes swallowed, as if she could push the words right back down her throat. “I’m come to say, to say—” her knees wouldn’t stop shaking. Her dress trembled.

He’s behind bars, he can’t hurt you, he won’t hurt you anymore.

“I’ve come to say that I’m leaving you.”

Tim made a choking sound. “You mean…what do you mean?” He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“We can’t…we can’t go on like this.”

“Agnes, you’re not making any sense. I love you. I need you.” He reached again through the bars, but Agnes didn’t move.

“Tim, I’m sorry. But this is for the best. I’m here to ask for a divorce.”

“Baby, please don’t say that, you don’t mean it, we can fix it. I can change. I’m only here, because he—" and he shot a look at Frank a gun would have been proud of— “started it. I promise I’ll stop. I promise—”

“Tim, I’m tired. I’m so tired of empty promises. I’m so tired of feeling like I’m less than the dirt you scrape off your boots. Of not having control over my own life. Of hurting.”

“You don’t love me.”

Agnes nearly took a step forward. I saw her body sway.

Steady, Agnes. Don’t fall for it.

“Tim, of course I love you. I love you so much, and this hurts so much to do…”

“Then don’t do it, love. Stay with me. Agnes, you don’t mean it.”

She looked at him. Really looked at him. What did she see? Did she see the man, as handsome as ever, even with the shiner on one eye, blood on his shirt, and dust in his hair? Did she see the man she had fallen in love with, her smooth-talking, adventurous, funny, ambitious man?

Or did she see the one who had hurt her, the creature that was formed by centuries of pain before him, cycles of violence that might not ever end? Or did she see the little boy he once was, the little boy that cried in the dark, alone, afraid?

“I do. I don’t know what will happen. But I’m going to leave town for a while. This is for the best.”

Tim was crying now, which made her wince. “Agnes, don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.”

“Goodbye, Tim.” Then she turned and began to walk toward the exit.

“Agnes? Agnes! Come back!” Tim’s voice was hoarse. “Don’t you leave me! Don’t you leave!” He pounded on the bars. “Let me out! Goddammit, someone let me out! Agnes!”

“Have some dignity, man,” I said. “It’s the only thing you have left.”

“You, shut the fuck up! Agnes!”

Tim pounded on the bars until his hands ran red with blood.