S. Harper - Cursed

Her words, crushing, brutal, echo in my head. I feel empty. I’m so immersed in my unhappiness I don’t know Zack has come up behind me until I feel his arms slip around my waist. I want nothing more than to turn around, bury my face in his chest and remain forever locked in his embrace.

But that’s not going to happen.

That can’t happen. I’ve already seen to it.

After we’d made love, after Zack drifted off to sleep, I got up, showered, and dressed. I scrubbed out the shower and sink, rinsing away any trace of me, of my scent, of my perfume. Then I raced down to the kitchen to clean the dishes, toss away the empty food containers. As soon as I heard the shower running upstairs, I went back up and stripped the bed, put on fresh sheets. The ones that smell like me are now spinning in the washer.

I’m prepared for questions.

Questions that he’ll soon forget asking.

He nuzzles my neck, sending shivers racing up my spine.

When I don’t move, don’t respond to his touch, Zack puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me to face him.

“Are you all right?” he asks. “You’re dressed. And the bed’s made.” He waves a hand toward the house. “You cleaned up the kitchen. Are you leaving? I was hoping you’d stay.”

I look into his face, press my palms into my thighs to keep from reaching up and pulling it closer, to keep from kissing him. Instead I release a sigh. “I think I’d better be getting home. The week is finally catching up with me.”

His head tilts to the side, his gaze intent. “Are you sure nothing’s wrong? We’re okay?”

“Absolutely,” I say, my voice full of reassurance. “I could sure use a cup of coffee before I go, though. I hope you don’t mind, I made some.”

He smiles, a slow, sweet smile. “Running low on caffeine? Come on. Sit down. I’ll pour you a cup.”

I reach out and take his hand. “Let me get it.”

He takes a seat at the dining room table. I feel his eyes on me while I gather cups, spoons, creamer from the refrigerator, and the sugar bowl. I place them on the table, then make the trek back into the kitchen for the coffeepot. The pot feels unbearably heavy in my hand. I pour the bitter brew into his cup and watch the steam rise and dissipate.

He adds the sugar and cream to his coffee and gives it a stir. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Never been better.” I force a smile, then on impulse, lean in and cover his mouth with mine. The kiss is soft and sweet and takes my breath away. “This is real, isn’t it?”

Zack cups the side of my face in the palm of his hand and traces my lips with the pad of his thumb. “Yes. Are you positive I can’t persuade you to stay?”

The certainty in his voice, the tenderness in his touch makes my heart ache. If I let him persuade me to stay, we’ll both be lost. There is no denying it. I can’t pretend. I’ve fallen in love with Zachary Armstrong. What’s worse, I fear he’s falling in love with me. Liz is right. I need to fix this. I can’t let it continue.

I won’t let it continue.

I wait and watch as he takes a few contented sips of his coffee.

Then, because I can’t bear the thought of watching the transformation, I leave the table and wander back outside.

The moon, although not full, is still high and bright in the sky. The ocean sparkles beneath it. The air smells of salt. Some things never change. Tears sting my eyes, but I stubbornly wipe them away. I did what I had to do.

Zack’s chair scrapes back from the table. I steel myself for what I know is coming. He comes outside and joins me at the wall that separates the back deck from the beach. We are side by side, arms folded on the wall, not touching. He’s brought his coffee with him.

“Beautiful morning,” he says.

I close my eyes for the briefest of moments. I can hear the difference in his voice already. No intimacy, no closing of the space between us except for a friendly shoulder bump. “Quite a week, huh?”

“Yes. It’s been quite a week,” I say, trying to keep the emotion out of my voice. “It’s late. I think I’d better get home.”

Zack smiles. “Past your bedtime?”

“I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

I glance over at him. Neither did Zack. But he doesn’t remember. His memory of what happened between us last night is gone. Like so many others, it’s been replaced by new ones. Safe ones. I wonder what scene is playing in his mind right now.

He takes a last pull of his coffee, sweetened with sugar and a spell to guarantee his security. Zack sets the cup on the sea wall. He drapes an arm casually over my shoulder. “I’ll walk you out.”

When we’re at the car, he opens the door. “See you at the office on Monday.”

He waits until I’ve secured my seat belt and started the engine to turn back to the house. Then, with a wave, he’s gone, disappearing through the front door and pulling it closed behind him without a parting glance my way.

I sit for a moment, staring after him. The empty envelope in my jacket pocket crackles when I lean forward to release the emergency brake. I take it out, crumple it, and toss it on the passenger seat. Loneliness like the cut of a razor slashes at my gut. I wish Liz could cast a spell that would make me forget these last few days. But she can’t. I tried using magic before, to forget other tragic losses, or as Demeter would call them, mistakes. Remembering is part of my punishment, the penance Demeter exacts. I can feel the goddess watching, feel the chill of her smile of satisfaction that I will remember every moment Zack and I spent together. That I will remember how Zack felt inside me and how my body responded to his touch. But worse, I will remember how good we were together. I will think of it every time I look into his eyes and see reflected there not love, but the casual concern of one coworker for another. Mirroring that indifference will be torture. Suddenly I can’t breathe. I roll down my window.

Air rushes in, so cold it burns my skin. I close my eyes. I know what this means. Demeter is here. Her voice comes to me as frigid as the web of ice that now covers my windshield.

“You did the right thing, Ligea.”

Demeter stands on a sheet of ice between Zack’s front door and the car. As she walks toward me, frost spreads across the ground, following her like death’s shadow. Her cobalt eyes are as unforgiving as ever, but her sword is sheathed.

“How many more? How many more will I have to save?”

“Until I am satisfied. And I will be watching you, watching you with this man.”

“It’s over between us.”

Demeter smiles. “For now. He’s different. You and I both know it.”

My phone buzzes. There’s a text message coming in. But the tears clouding my vision prevent me from reading it. When I look up, Demeter is gone. I squeeze my eyes shut, count to ten, then look again at my phone. The message is from Johnson.

Sorry to interrupt your weekend, I read. But there’s a girl missing. We need you to come in.

I get ready to reply when Zack’s front door opens. He’s rushing toward me, coat in one hand, cell phone in the other.

“Glad you haven’t left,” he says. “Johnson sent me a text.”

“Just got one, too. Looks like we’ve got a new case.”

“Never a dull moment or a day off.”

“Regretting that transfer yet?”

Zack shakes his head and buckles his seat belt. “Nope. Hey, a little luck, your special skill set, and my combination of strength, guile, and boyish charm, we might even solve this one.”

To Zack I say, “Let’s go, partner.” To myself I repeat the words I always say at the beginning of every case.

Redemption could be one rescue away.