Skarlet Parker: The Twisted Snakes

Mike walked through the door at around 6pm, an unusual skip in his walk, it made Skarlet wonder how close he and Eva actually were, soon pushed aside, it was none of her business. Her eyes slipped to his arm, now covered by blue linen, darker patches, she sighed and looked away, almost laughing when he spoke in a sing song voice. “Hey, hey, hey!” She smiled, sometimes, just sometimes you stop wondering, you then start knowing – and Eva, was gone.
“Hey Mike,” She came out of the kitchen, though the kitchen lead into the living room, they liked to pretend they were the kind of dumb and hearing impaired people in Friends, they couldn’t possibly speak to each other in the kitchen when it was separated from the living space by – gasp! - AIR. He'd noticed, a smile at the humour.
“So, what time is class?” He referred to TaeKwonDo. He set about unbuttoning his white work shirt. Mike, usually the time keeper of the house due to his position in the household – ergo, the only one doing anything at the moment, was surprisingly bad at recalling the times of their evening routines. Skarlet sighed and turned just as Mike had thrown his shirt onto a chair back and was stretching.
“Sho-my God.” She gulped, unable to stop her eyes as they traced over his torso. Surprised by having lived with the man for several years with never so much as an incline as to what was under his shirt. The answer, apparently hand crafted muscle she had somehow never expected to be there; her eyes would shift, she suddenly found herself wondering how she'd live if he wasn't there. She gulped, cleared her throat and answered, her eyes not moving. “Half seven, you should know that by now.”
“Probably.” He laughed and noted she'd been staring, he didn’t replace the shirt, instead looked for food in the kitchen; sticking with the dieting choice, an apple. Probably an subconcious act, he scratched his arm.
“You sure you'll be okay to train?” She looked to see him give her a confused glance. “Well your arm.”
“Oh, that? Yeah, its just a little irritating, worst of its gone.” She nodded, noting he'd probably for the first time ever openly lied to her, an unbelievable lie. She knew the worst of a burn like that would not be over for a couple of weeks. She'd thought of taking him to see a doctor, but he hated doctors, hated hospitals, she wasn't his mommy and who would pay for it anyway? Her thought trail was cut off. “I'm going to shower.”
She nodded, though she probably hadn't heard what he'd said, certainly hadn't caught on until, almost certainly to prove a point (and stop running water) he removed his trousers, showing off a pair of tight, blue. Superman boxers, ass hugging, package showing tight, she looked away quickly, her cheeks flushed red. “Okay, the point is taken.”
She heard him laugh as the bathroom door closed.
She wasn't sure if she was happy or annoyed Mike liked showing off his body, she'd seen him wear vests before training, or running – his new weekend chore. He had the figure, its just, so did so many of your average assholes you saw on the street – the type who thought they could get any girl because of their muscle. She shuddered, Mike wasn't like that, at least she hoped he wasn't so forward in his pursuit of casual sex. She heard as he stopped running the shower, it was old and noisy and well, metal bottomed. Apparently Mike had been meaning to replace it – yet no attempt had been made to get round to it.
She decided to say nothing on the matter, not as she was the one who'd quit her job. Instead she picked up his clothes and put them in the kitchen sink, running water. The contemporary way of washing clothes; at least it was when your washing machine broke and you had no money. She poured in some soap and scrubbed the blood from the white sleeve. The bathroom door opened, she heard footsteps as Mike approached. “Is that my dobok?” She knew he had nodded toward the freshly washed, dried and ironed pile of white and black fabric that sat on the table.
She half turned to check. “Yow!” Her list of made up words today were accidental and unexpected, Mike picked up the uniform with just a towel around his waist, a small and purple towel which was not so well made, nor was it new, nor thick. A warm feeling settled in her stomach and he eyes involuntarily closed “I meant yes.” a soft exhale followed.
“I figured.” he laughed and retreated to his room, walking past her in such a way she got the perfect glance at his arm. His door closed and she stepped away from the sink, she turned on the TV, the Gilmore Girls was the first show she came across.
“Ahh the perfect family stereotype.” She sighed out loud, she would have shared her sarcastic information with Mike, had he been in the room. He'd then probably have mumbled about the crap on TV and they'd have laughed. Sure there were no prying eyes, partly due to her company being in his room, and due to the show she'd chosen (always a good deterrence) she changed into her dobok in the living room, tying the black belt around her waist tightly. She put their armour together by the door, filled her water bottle with Tropicana, the empty bottle went without thought back into the refrigerator and she conducted light stretching, an exercise which grew harder the longer she took away.
Mike appeared some time later, a fresh bandage over his arm. He grabbed a bottle of water he'd put to cool earlier, spotting the empty Tropicana bottle, making a lot of noise about putting it into the bin. When she seemed to take no notice, with irritation filling his voice he spoke to her.. “Did you finish the Tropicana?”
“Yeah.” She didn't make eye contact with him.
“You knew and didn't put it in the bin?”
“I'm sorry.”
“You chose the only time I don't like juice.” Michael seldom drank anything but water at training, his argument, you counteract the calorie loss and you drain your body of natural fluids. Health. Freak.
She was pleased to know that after a loud slamming of the fridge door he was calm again, never annoyed at her for long – else a patient person and he hid it all. He stepped toward the door and looked at her. She stopped her stretching and nodded. “We cool?” His way of saying, we can go. She shook her head and ran toward the bathroom grabbing his inhaler and a small leather bag handing them to him smiling. The only thing she truly cared for, Mike was a severe asthmatic with type ! Diabetes, she took no risks when it came to his health in the dojang.
“Right are we ready now?” The irritation again, he didn't like to be babied.
She nodded and didn’t mutter the sorry he'd hoped for, it would have been superfluous and she never apologised for caring. As was their usual game in the parking lot, Mike unlocked the Chevy and put the stuff into the car, jingling the keys as he climbed into the drivers seat, Skarlet already sat comfortably in the passenger side. The car, as usual didn’t start on the first try, nor the second and struggled the third. She remembered the first time they had troubles with it, Mike had, as always made the best of a bad situation and said “It's so advanced even the simple things are complex.” It had made her laugh, now it was tedious – she still laughed at that.
Their club 'Spirit Fighter' was in southern Lake, the only place Skarlet liked even nearly as much as their one point five bedroom flat. The dojang was smart, up to date and clean. The mirrors were set back and lighted, the visible walls painted white, with gold and black Korean decoration, the floor – always sparking, was wood, Master Xin liked to do things old school, if you wanted mats he said, go to kindergarten he said. Making Mike laugh.
Tonight’s class, Mike told everyone – He assisted sometimes, a great teacher with amazing patience - was sparring. The news was presented with a smile on his face, sparring was after all his favourite part of the sport, he had no area at which he was better, he had to settle for enjoyed the most. She recalled his muscle layout and smiled, it was no wonder that kicking people would be his favourite part of the sport. Once warmed up, in Mike's words 'officially boiled' they were dismissed into groups to stretch and practise.
Mike and Skarlet, as always, worked together, along with the worst pair in the class, Richard and Emma, as they faced each other, Skarlet and Mike offered each other an eyebrow raise and respectful nod as Richard uttered the life changing words 'I hope you don't break a nail.' Emma laughed at his terrible joke. She saw a look in Mike's eyes, one she'd never seen, it went just as quick, replaced by a cool calm, again something she'd missed before now. So distracted by the emotional change she almost missed the vital command. 'Sejak!' Korean for begin.
Richard came in with a turning kick, followed up by a back kick. She recovered quick blocking the third kick and sending a crescent kick to his head. She risked a glance toward Emma and Mike Emma was losing, badly.
In round two, things heated up, as Richard mocked once more, this time Mike as his opponent she heard her friend, usually calm utter a threat, she wasn't sure what he'd said but she was sure it wasn't pretty. As Richard moved in, taking an illegal and, had it impacted, potentially lethal shot to Mike's solar plexus she saw him fold in half and Mike's foot connected with his abdomen before finishing him off with an axe kick to the head and an inner crescent to the cheek. The class stopped at Master Xin's command and Mike was side lined and warned – sternly. She watched as Master Xin and several others carried Richard off. Skarlet glanced at Mike, he offered her a shrug a sacrifice clearly worth making.
He wasn't out long, ten minutes before he was helping kids again.
After the class, three of the younger members (one eleven, 1st Kup, one seven, 5th Kup and one five, 10th Kup) stopped them before they left the dojang. Smiles on all their faces. “You two did well, considering you've been out of class.” The youngest one showed excitement and even persuaded Mike to show off. He cartwheeled, landing on one leg before automatically back-flipping - he sprung of one leg and landed on two. A clear party trick, and hit with the girls Skarlet figured as she offered him an eye roll and left the building. She hated it when people showed off.

Once back at their flat, Skarlet said nothing of her friends 'act' at the dojang, she simply locked herself in the bathroom and showered. By the time she'd done Mike had made dinner, eaten his and taken his medication. He showered just after her, returning to see her sat on the sofa, her Harley Quinn t-shirt and a pair of his shorts, closer to knee length trousers on her she looked up and smiled. Hagan Das and a Buffy marathon made her a happy Skarlet. She hutched over and made room for Mike on the beige sofa, old warn and looked suspiciously like to sofa his parents once had. He sat next to her, leaning back, the occasional glance at the ice cream. She smiled as she heard him whisper. “Oh sweet temptation” almost, but not quite, inaudibly.
“I wanted to say thanks.”
“For?”
“Richard.”
“Meh.” A noise which meant nothing really, Mike sometimes said it when he didn’t want to speak or he didn’t think it was worth talking about, by this he meant there was nothing heroic done, moving on. He added a quick cheek scratch to emphasise his point.
“No, he deserved it.”
“Many people deserve it Skarlet, that doesn’t make it okay.”
She begged to differ. She scooped more ice cream onto the spoon and watched it for a second, about to move the spoon, Mike's hand made the fastest move she thought it ever had, disarming her of the spoon and stealing the ice cream from it. He swallowed, his eyes closed, savouring it. “Hey! You're not allowed-” She broke off and smiled.
“What ice cream?”
“To steal my ice cream.” She laughed and stole the spoon back without thinking. She ate more, occasionally feeding some to Mike, he looked at the tub longingly, on one occasion she thought she'd caught his eyes on her and not the ice cream. She'd shook off that thought quickly, no point sending him mixed signals, he wasn't interested in her, no that would probably be too good to be true. With that came the 'what if' thought she sometimes had, the image of the both of them in ten years time, two kids and a big house, a wedding ring on her ….. that thought vanished, she never let it harbour, the false hope was not worth it. She glanced over, his eyes were closed and he relaxed, clearly tired. She nudged him. “You working tomorrow?”
“Naw.”
Her thought was really crushed, she wondered again.
“Oh?” She must have sounded surprised.
“June and Jon are having ovens fixed, closed for the day. My lecturers are being nice, no work-”
“You do music.” She laughed “What work could you possibly have to do.”
There was a moments silence and then, a cold and dry, non-committal “Yeah.” She looked at him curiously, that was the tone he gave when he lied to her – about the burn for example, he'd not been prepared to add tone, emotion or commitment to his answer, if she didn't know better, she'd have thought he was lying, yet she couldn't work out what he'd lie about. He had work or he didn't and he wasn't the type to skip a class, shift or an assignment for anyone. Not even Skarlet.
It wasn't long before the silence became too much, they'd not spoken in twenty minutes, the occasional glance toward one another had been it for communication. She stood and stretched. “I'm gonna go to bed.” She feigned a yawn and looked at him.
“Oh, alright babe, night.”
“Don’t call me that.” She laughed slightly but back came her thoughts, ten years from now. She questioned, then wondered, did he say these things without thinking? Did it seem natural to him? She smiled that that thought, then the one came along where he was winding her up. She sighed and hugged him briefly. She gulped as he moved closer, their cheeks brushed and she momentarily sensed his urge to kiss her, he pulled back and looked away. She detected more Irish than Californian in his accent when he spoke next. “You sleep well now.”
With that the TV was off and he was heading toward his room, the door slammed and she laughed. Maybe he wasn't gay afterall.

At midnight he was still painfully awake, sitting on his bed; he'd tried everything, watched a movie, read a book, tried both at the same time. Listened to music, written a song. He'd even broken out a College textbook or two, nothing had helped. His mind was too occupied for sleep. Occupied on a woman, one he couldn’t get out of his head no matter how hard he tried. She slept across the hall and still, he couldn’t see enough of her to ever satisfy his need. Michael McDonough had been with his share of women, he'd tried relationships, close friendships friends with benefits, casual sex... All but whoring, none of it worked. His heart was taken and had been for five years. Now was the time he should act on it. He sighed and switched the light on, endeavouring to put his books away before checking on Skarlet and possibly acting on this heart caused insomnia.
He heard a knock on his door opened it and saw Skarlet, hair messed and tear streaks on her face. “Hey, what-” She walked into his room without invite and looked around. She'd never seen his room before, it was small, well kept and quite far from how she'd expected it to be. He had all the essentials, a computer, a printer, a phone, books, his reading glasses, his guitar and a note pad. She looked at his bed, a single, no covers on the duvet she sighed and looked at him. “Skarlet are you okay?”
“No, I want company, I woke up. Bad dream.” She watched as he cleared the books off the end of his bed, she caught a few of the titles and raised an eyebrow 'Criminal Law in Oregon' 'Federal Law, United States and Abroad.' and 'Contracts and Wills, the legal advice guide.' She didn't question, not even when she saw the Oregon University logo on the spines and pages.
“Sleep in here.”
“What about you?”
He shrugged and sat on the edge of the bed as she laid down. He watched her for a few moments, about to move when she pulled him and wrapped her arms around him, next thing they knew, both were asleep in each others arms.

She awoke early the next morning, she climbed out of his bed quietly, letting him sleep and wandered to her own room. Her sheets were crumpled and no longer smelled fresh, instead their scent was damp. That was how much she'd cried last night. She grabbed her clothes and went to the bathroom, locking the door she conducted her regular morning wash and dressed in a white t-shirt, red zip hoodie and blue denim shorts, she thought of donning a blue or red cap, but didn't, they messed her hair. By the time she left the bathroom Mike was up, dressed and in the kitchen. Damn shower, she'd hoped he'd have a lie in, as he deserved. She silently noted the leather case on the counter, and that his sleeve was rolled up, he was applying cream to his arm. She said nothing only watched, he looked up, jumped and rolled his sleeve down, thus confirming her knowledge. People who burn themselves when cooking don't cover their injury like he just did, people who think its a weakness do, meaning it wasn't his fault. Secondly, people who accidentally burn themselves, don’t have the shape of a snake on their arm, meanng it was probably deliberately done.
A scary thought crossed her mind; was he protecting her? From what?
“You hid that quickly.” Impatience in her voice.
“I'd done cleaning it.”
“You haven’t bandaged-”
“It doesn’t need it.”
“Uh-huh.” She walked to the first aid box taking a bandage and his arm, wrapping cling film around his arm before putting the bandage over it. “It'll heal quicker, besides you wont have cotton stuck to your arm.” she recalled the blue linen yesterday. She made breakfast and mentioned nothing of the night before, and no more on her friends state. She was getting tired of the deceit, the best thing to do was not to mention any of it, not even question why a music student would need books on criminal law.
She watched as he ate breakfast, she wasn't hungry and rarely ate in the morning. Mike had to, she ensured he did, despite his mother telling her not to, something about travelling habits and it was better her son grew independent. She looked up as Mike spoke. “You want to come into town with me today?”
“I thought you had the day off.”
“I do. I just wanted to know if you wanted to grab a coffee, maybe you can get some new clothes, or shoes or something.” Was he hinting? Did he not like her fashion sense? They had so little money to spend, why would he be offering to buy her clothes and coffee? He could see a doctor for his arm, get his prescriptions renewed with that money, she glanced at him sceptically, he must have caught it. “Or we can buy Jacob's birthday present.”
“Yes it's Jake's birthday, sure I'll come.” She saw her friend wince as she cut his brothers name down from its full version to what he liked to be called. Mike wasn't one for calling his older brother what he wanted to be called, or making things all that easy for him at all. They were brothers, not friends. She'd over heard Mike talking to his mother once, saying that Jacob was in many ways his best friend, he'd never change him nor their relationship for the world. Although she feared much had changed since then, if they were happy she'd not complain nor interfere. She had a lot to thank them both for.
It wasn't long before they were in town, they'd walked in, part of their new exercise, er, regime . They'd gone to Starbucks, shopped for some clothes, for CD's, DVD's and games, for Jacob and she'd worked out with the remaining money buying food and supplies for the flat – the supplies included a prescription or three and some bandages, all behind Mike's back when he was buying the CD's. She smiled and thought up a design for a name badge which would say 'hello Ms Organised.'
It was then her phone rang, she answered. “Hello.”
“Is this Skarlet Parker?” She recognised it immediately, the caller was using one of those machines that disguise the voice.
“Whose this?”
“Call me W, are you Skarlet Parker?”
“Guess so.”
“Then we need to meet, Paisley, train station, half an hour. Alone.”
She was about to reply to W with a swift couple of swear words, he'd disconnected. She sighed and gave Mike the bags, telling him she had to go, no need to make up an excuse, he understood and then she left. Occasionally she wished she could take him with her, but rising his life was never really worth it. Tough guys tended to pick on innocents, it got them more leverage.