Sequel: Requiem of Revenge ›
When Three Becomes Two
Goodbyes
Mike’s PoV
I dropped the phone onto the receiver, unable to hold onto it any longer. Was this going to be the end? After finally settling down in life, was I going to lose it all? For the sake of a wife and two children that weren’t even my own? Could I give that up for my friend?
I was afraid of the answer, and almost considered calling back to tell Billie I wasn’t so sure anymore. But it was too late. There was no time. If—I hated to think ‘we’—took too long getting to this power plant because of my inner debate, Marcus might give up and kill Adie, along with Joey and Jakob, and all would be for nothing. Billie had asked me whether or not I wanted to go, but I didn’t really have a choice.
Brittney was in another room, and so was Estelle. They would never know it was going to happen. I wouldn’t let them until it was all over, and I was…
I didn’t dare to think the word.
Perhaps it would be easier for them that way. They wouldn’t let me go if I told them. Neither one of them would understand why I had to do this. I couldn’t trust myself to even say goodbye, to make up an excuse as to why I was leaving…I felt so guilty knowing I was going to leave behind my wife and daughter without letting them know, without even kissing them farewell one last time as a memory to carry me through to my death…
Numbly I walked through the house to the front door. Was this what Tre felt like as he left our hotel room that day two years ago, knowing he was giving his life up for the very pinnacle of his existence?
Already I felt like a ghost, moving swiftly and silently through the empty hallways; it felt as though I could scream and no one could hear me, as though I had no substance. I didn’t matter any more, no more than a pig matters as it is slaughtered for food.
Except…
I passed by my daughter’s bedroom door. Without thinking, I pressed an ear to the wood. Slow, deep breathing came from inside. Estelle was asleep. She might not wake if I just snuck in to see the face I had helped create one last time…
A sudden lurch of recklessness overtook me, and I gently opened the door. There on the other side of the cramped bedroom was my daughter, a small frown on her face as she slept. Was she having a nightmare, perhaps?
Tears began to streak down my face, and I fought to keep my sobs inside so I wouldn’t wake her. I leaned down, remembering so many times when Estelle was younger and I had kissed her goodnight. This time, though it was a permanent goodbye. With shaking lips, I finally managed to softly touch my daughter’s cheek, trying to put all the love of a father in one single motion. But no amount of actions would ever show the sorrow I felt at leaving my daughter behind. They never would. I quietly whispered two words as I put one leg out the door, looking one last time at the face that, in so many ways, resembled my own.
“Goodnight, Stella.”
Fifteen minutes later, I arrived at Billie’s house, still feeling empty and distant. It was funny, really, how you never appreciated your own body. It kept you alive every second of your life, valiantly working for you…And then you would die, pulled away from all that you took for granted…
A dark silhouette greeted me at the front door, a dull stream of light coming in from behind it. The light was blinding after spending a quarter hour in a dark car.
“Are you ready?” Billie whispered.
“I never was ready.” I replied, leading him to my car.
When we were coming back from the hospital, from the funeral, from the hotel, the car had been impenetrably silent. Now, however, the silence was louder than ever.
I dropped the phone onto the receiver, unable to hold onto it any longer. Was this going to be the end? After finally settling down in life, was I going to lose it all? For the sake of a wife and two children that weren’t even my own? Could I give that up for my friend?
I was afraid of the answer, and almost considered calling back to tell Billie I wasn’t so sure anymore. But it was too late. There was no time. If—I hated to think ‘we’—took too long getting to this power plant because of my inner debate, Marcus might give up and kill Adie, along with Joey and Jakob, and all would be for nothing. Billie had asked me whether or not I wanted to go, but I didn’t really have a choice.
Brittney was in another room, and so was Estelle. They would never know it was going to happen. I wouldn’t let them until it was all over, and I was…
I didn’t dare to think the word.
Perhaps it would be easier for them that way. They wouldn’t let me go if I told them. Neither one of them would understand why I had to do this. I couldn’t trust myself to even say goodbye, to make up an excuse as to why I was leaving…I felt so guilty knowing I was going to leave behind my wife and daughter without letting them know, without even kissing them farewell one last time as a memory to carry me through to my death…
Numbly I walked through the house to the front door. Was this what Tre felt like as he left our hotel room that day two years ago, knowing he was giving his life up for the very pinnacle of his existence?
Already I felt like a ghost, moving swiftly and silently through the empty hallways; it felt as though I could scream and no one could hear me, as though I had no substance. I didn’t matter any more, no more than a pig matters as it is slaughtered for food.
Except…
I passed by my daughter’s bedroom door. Without thinking, I pressed an ear to the wood. Slow, deep breathing came from inside. Estelle was asleep. She might not wake if I just snuck in to see the face I had helped create one last time…
A sudden lurch of recklessness overtook me, and I gently opened the door. There on the other side of the cramped bedroom was my daughter, a small frown on her face as she slept. Was she having a nightmare, perhaps?
Tears began to streak down my face, and I fought to keep my sobs inside so I wouldn’t wake her. I leaned down, remembering so many times when Estelle was younger and I had kissed her goodnight. This time, though it was a permanent goodbye. With shaking lips, I finally managed to softly touch my daughter’s cheek, trying to put all the love of a father in one single motion. But no amount of actions would ever show the sorrow I felt at leaving my daughter behind. They never would. I quietly whispered two words as I put one leg out the door, looking one last time at the face that, in so many ways, resembled my own.
“Goodnight, Stella.”
Fifteen minutes later, I arrived at Billie’s house, still feeling empty and distant. It was funny, really, how you never appreciated your own body. It kept you alive every second of your life, valiantly working for you…And then you would die, pulled away from all that you took for granted…
A dark silhouette greeted me at the front door, a dull stream of light coming in from behind it. The light was blinding after spending a quarter hour in a dark car.
“Are you ready?” Billie whispered.
“I never was ready.” I replied, leading him to my car.
When we were coming back from the hospital, from the funeral, from the hotel, the car had been impenetrably silent. Now, however, the silence was louder than ever.