Джордан Шор - The Search

The bar of soap connected with his wrist, and the razor blade cut deep into his flesh and skin. Jack dragged the soap all the way down to his elbow. The skin opened up, layers of fat and tissue unfolded rapidly, and his blood colored the hot water red.

The view was horrific.

Jack closed his eyes and tried his best not to think. His threshold for pain was high, but the pain was much worse than he’d anticipated. The numb skin didn’t make much difference; the sharp pain was still unbearable.

That excruciating pain.

Don’t think. Nothing good ever comes from thinking.

Focus on something else.

Jack Green counted the tiles on the walls, first horizontally, and then he counted them vertically. For each number he chanted, his body temperature fell. Despite the hot water, he was still freezing, and he’d never felt as cold. Eventually, his head started to tilt and drop forward, but just then, a familiar smell woke him; the smell of urine and blood.

Jack turned his head and looked at the toilet, and toward the smell of his own urine on the floor. And in his state of drowsiness, he could actually see his mother sitting on the toilet, staring back at him with a look of disappointment. Now, he felt overwhelmed with regret.

What have I done? I had one life, and now I’ve wasted it.

Jack tried his best to move, but he was too weak. It was too late. He was going to die in that bathtub, drowning in his own blood and remorse. The salt on his tongue reminded him of his mother, and how he’d pleasured her out of guilt. The guilt of merely being born, and thereby ruining her life.

Before she gave birth to him, his mother was thin and beautiful, and desirable to men. But her body was ruined the day she gave birth to him. Men had stopped paying attention to her. She’d sacrificed her beauty for his sake, so she could grant him a life. A life that came with a price. Jack had ruined her for other men, and leaving her with only him. It was just the two of them; there was no one else.

As Jack’s life slowly faded away, and just before the final image turned black, and just after Jack took his last breath, his mind mustered one last thought before he drifted off into eternal darkness.

The very last word he thought of was “Pamela.”

Tuesday afternoon

It’s just a coincidence , she reminded herself.

As expected, her flight to Los Angeles was a pleasant one. Flying was one of the things she enjoyed most in life. The plane crash didn’t change anything; she wasn’t afraid of flying now, and she never had been. She knew the odds were in her favor, and the risk of ever enduring a plane crash was remarkably low. Not only would she keep on flying, but in the near future, she would fly more than ever, and explore the world from a new perspective.

The irony brought a smile to her face.

She’d spend the money she would receive from the airline on the actual airline. Therefore, the airline wouldn’t lose any money. They’d simply gain an additional passenger, and she would merely occupy an empty seat. No one would lose their jobs because of her settlement. On the contrary, because of her future spending on air travel, people’s jobs were more secure now than before, she argued.

Of course, she wouldn’t spend all the money on traveling. A large sum of her settlement would go to finally purchasing an apartment—in Los Angeles.

She cut to the front of the taxi queue.

“Excuse me, sir,” she said, and held up her crutches for the man to see. “My foot is killing me. Do you mind?”

“No, of course not,” the man replied. “You go ahead and take the next one.”

“Thank you, sir. That’s very noble of you.” She looked at the man once more before she entered the taxi. “You, my good sir, are a true gentleman.”

She had no trouble remembering where she was going. She knew the address by heart.

She noticed her reflection in the rearview mirror. Suddenly, she felt overwhelmed with joy. She was finally going to see him again. The long wait was over. How long she’d dreamed and fantasized about this moment. She’d been chanting his name for the past five days, and now the time was finally here. Her perseverance had prevailed. But then, just as quickly, she felt nervous about meeting him again, and nervous about what to say.

What if he’s angry with me? I’ve been gone for such a long time.

As she got out of the taxi in downtown Los Angeles, she felt the warm breeze on her arms, and it reminded her of how relieved she’d felt to learn that her jacket had been lost in the fire. The police had assured her that her jacket had gone up in flames and was forever lost—and so was the blood on the sleeve. The blood from when she’d smashed his head with a rock. She’d never indented to kill him, but she was so angry with him for crashing the plane. Despite all his training to safely land a plane on water in case of an emergency, he’d still managed to screw it up. Even if the Great Slave Lake was almost the size of an ocean, he’d still managed to miss the landing.

After the crash, the idiot kept shouting her name, and at that point, she was still angry at him for trying to engage in a conversation with her at the airport, even though she’d specifically told him never to greet her in public. She had explained to him how vital it was people never understand that they knew each other.

But on the other hand, she had obviously overestimated Isaac Gregorian’s intelligence, and she would have had to dispose of him sooner or later. The investigators were apparently under the impression that the Imam had inflicted the injuries on his skull, so in the end, everything had turned out for the best.

It’s all just a big coincidence , she chanted, while she kept smiling.

Now, alone in the elevator, she waited to reach the top floor, her eyes fixed on the mirror. She was mesmerized by her reflection. She smiled when she suddenly realized she still wasn’t wearing any makeup. But then again, why would she wear makeup? It wasn’t as if she needed makeup—or a bra, for that matter.

I’m perfect the way I am.

She moved closer to the mirror, still mesmerized by her reflection. Her lips almost touched the surface, but just as she was about to merge with her own image, the sound of the elevator door opening made her jolt. As she stepped out of the elevator, she recognized a familiar face. The old woman looked up and then greeted her with a smile.

“Welcome to Hernandez, Stein and Lebowich,” the old woman said. “How may I help you today?”

“I was hoping to see Mr. Hernandez,” she said. “I’m a former client of his.”

“And what is your name, if I may ask?”

She felt slightly insulted that the receptionist didn’t recognize her. Even though two years had passed since they had last seen each other, their final conversation then was a memorable one. The receptionist had lost her appetite that day. A story about a hamburger with a rat tail had seen to it. But on the other hand, it was probably better the receptionist didn’t recognize her, given that the lawsuit against the restaurant eventually ended with her being convicted for attempted fraud.

Once convicted, she knew she could never file another legal complaint against any other company. However, if she just happened to be on a plane with a suicidal captain, then her criminal record wouldn’t be used against her.

It’s all just a big coincidence, Geronimo .

At first, she hesitated, and she almost blurted out Julie.

“My name is Angela…”

And not Pamela , she thought and laughed internally.

“…Summer,” she added.