John Locke - Lethal Experiment

I smiled back.

I wanted to say something, like, “that’s an adorable little puppy you’ve got there, Miss”—but I knew Kathleen would recognize my voice, and I hadn’t heard hers yet.

Now that I was standing here I didn’t mind breaking Tom’s heart. He was young, he’d get over it. And he’d know it was for the best, he’d be able to see it in Kathleen’s eyes: she and I were meant to be together.

I stepped closer, positioning myself directly behind Kathleen. I closed my eyes and inhaled her fresh-scrubbed scent and remembered the day I snuck into her home in North Bergen and waited on her bed while she showered. On that occasion, just before making love, I thought to myself, when I look at her I am reminded of all that matters . It was the day of Sal’s party in Cincinnati, and we hadn’t left New York yet. That day she came out of the bathroom, smelling the same way, pretending not to notice me. Then she jumped into bed and practically devoured me.

Addie turned back to me for a second look. Not because she recognized me, but because most people are so shocked by her face, their first reaction is to look away. I didn’t. Instead, I lifted my hand and mouthed the word, “Hi.” She gave me her full-wattage smile and I almost choked on the lump in my throat.

For a tough guy I was having a lot of trouble with this.

I felt a tear collect in my eye, wimp that I am. It slid down my cheek, where my scar used to be, the one Addie and the other burn kids traced with their fingertips the day I met her, the same day I met Kathleen. See? Like I said, the three of us were meant to be together.

I wiped the tear from my cheek. I’d wait until they ordered their ice cream before saying anything. That way I’d get to hear Kathleen’s voice. I knew if I could hear her voice just once, everything would be all right.

At that moment Kathleen turned to face Tom, leaned her body into his, and said, “I love you so much.”

III

I’ve always lived my life by the theory we’re all just a phone call away from a life-changing event.

But it doesn’t have to be a phone call.

It could be a guy like me, standing in an ice cream line, a guy who suddenly gives up his place in line and starts walking away, a guy who hears a small, raspy voice say, “Goodbye,” and knows that voice will stay with him the rest of his life.