Fire & Water (9 page)

“None? No contact at all?”

“He sends fat checks every birthday and Hanukah. I never cash them. That’s how we talk. He talks with money. I talk by rejecting it. Not exactly father and son of the year.”

“So, the gun. Do you make a habit of shooting people?” My heart hammered against my ribs.

“That was by far the dumbest thing I ever did. My dad is unbelievable. But I wouldn’t have intentionally shot him.”

“And the psychiatric treatment?”

Jake paused. “I was pretty troubled. After that I broke the connection with my dad. Burt became family. That’s what I needed to do to have a good life.” Jake reached and took my hand, rubbing my knuckles with his thumb. “My family is—I hope this won’t spoil things for us.”

An image of my mother’s body flashed into my mind—small and fragile, lying in the satin-lined casket at St. Anne’s. Knowing that she’d killed herself felt like a shameful, sorrowful stain on what I’d always thought of as my ideal family. “Nobody’s family is perfect. I guess yours is just on a grander scale, huh?”

Jake pulled me close. Every part of me softened as I took in the soapy fragrance on his skin. His face was newly shaven, and I missed the stubble that had grown while we’d holed up at his place. I pulled off his glasses and set them on the coffee table. His mouth found surprising locations of excitement: under my chin, on each temple, and at the hollow of my throat.

A sudden burst of light flashed, followed by a growl of thunder, knocking out the power. The house went dark, and Dinah Washington’s voice wound to a stop. The room radiated with candlelight from every corner and the flickering glow from the fireplace. Ben Casey’s tail thumped a slow rhythm against the floor.

Firelight glowed amber on our skin as Jake unbuttoned my shirt. He cupped my breast in his hand, the warmth of him penetrating deep into me and the cavern where my heart drummed in more and more rapid response to his touch. His lips, his tongue, searched my skin. Soon I found myself naked in the firelight, but without any urge to cover myself.

Hungrily, I opened his shirt, then the buttons on his jeans, glad to see that he was as aroused as I was. Both stripped of our clothing, we melted together in front of the fire. I pleasured in the textures of him—the layer of feathery hair on his chest, the firmness of his thighs. I loved the sound of his panting, a sign of his eagerness for me. “Wait,” he said, gasping just a little. He pulled my mouth away from him. “I have to slow down a little.”

He laid me back, tucking my hands under each of my hips. “You first. Let me take care of you.” My body responded to his touches with shudders of pleasure. Lightning flickered in the distance as if we were creating it.

As my breathing quieted, I watched the rise and fall of Jake’s chest. With a smooth motion I rolled on top of him, my legs astride. Our bodies found their synchronized rhythm, our eyes fixed on each other. In the glow of the candlelight his face was a twist of bliss and anguish. His moan drifted into a soft sigh until all tension left his body.

Together we lay, entwined as one form, our bodies distinguishable only by the contrast of his olive skin and the near whiteness of mine. The pop of the fire and the rain against the roof were the only sounds in the room. Jake laughed. “We look like a marble rye,” he said as he looked down at our bodies.

“What the hell is a marble rye?”

“Don’t tell me I’ve found myself a real live
shikse
? Do you mean to tell me you’ve never had a marble rye?”

I shook my head.

“Oy,” he exclaimed, donning his old Yiddish accent. “A marble rye is such a marvelous thing it cannot be explained. It’s only to be experienced. A beautiful mixture of rich brown rye and creamy white challah woven together, dark and white, in a braid. Just like you and me here.” Jake began tickling and kissing me until I could take no more. “I need a bite of this creamy white bread,” he said, biting me gently. Suddenly he stopped his silly play and looked up at me. “I can’t remember when I’ve felt so happy.”

I pulled him close.

“Oh, yeah,” Jake said, then rose from the pallet we’d made on the floor. “I gave everybody presents but you.”

I leaned up on one elbow. “I think you just gave me a pretty nice present.”

“That was for both of us. This is for you.” He slid the box he’d been balancing when he’d arrived across the hardwood floor.

I wrapped myself in a blanket and lifted the flaps on the box. Inside rested the earthen bowl filled with smooth, dark stones that had been on his hearth. He lifted the heavy bowl and placed it on my hearth. I pressed my hands against my heart, unable to speak. I lifted one of the cool stones, running its smoothness against my cheek.

“Don’t get all choked up,” he said, his eyebrows twitching. “It’s just a bowl of rocks.”

I pulled him toward me, overwhelmed with feelings I couldn’t name.

Jake pushed me away from him.

“What?” I asked. “What’s the matter?”

“You wouldn’t happen to have a bed anywhere in this joint, would you?”

We laughed together, and I realized Jake had been here for hours but hadn’t stepped more than ten feet from the front door. I led him by the hand into my bedroom, where the candles I’d lit hours ago still glowed, each an island in its puddle of melted wax.

* * *

The morning sky, exhausted from its nightlong tantrum, shone brightly through my bedroom window, casting white quadrangles onto the rumpled bed. I slid from beneath the covers and pulled on my robe, then went to find Jake. Already I was familiar with his habit of staying awake after I’d fallen asleep and rising before I did. I heard the soft snap of the door latch and turned to see him coming in the front door, followed by Ben, whose head hung low as he walked.

“Morning,” he said, smiling. He carried a cardboard tray with large cups of coffee and a paper bag.

“How long have you been up?” I asked.

“Most of the night. You inspired me. Just had to get to my studio for a little while, but I figured I owed you this.” He pulled a large loaf of bread from the bag, dark and light woven around each other. “Marble rye. From Max’s Deli.”

“But—”

“Don’t ask. Just enjoy.” He ushered me into the kitchen, where the table was already set with placemats I hadn’t seen in years and a single gardenia blossom was floating in a cereal bowl.

I looked around the room and saw that the bouquet he brought had been placed in water glasses all around the kitchen.

“Come on, the bread is still warm.”

I sat at the table. He tore off a large hunk of bread, spread a little butter onto it, and tucked a piece of it into my mouth, filling me with its rich, yeasty flavor.

“It’s not quite New York,” he said. “But it comes close. In honor of our sexy union, I think that marble rye should be our official bread.”

“How could I argue with that?” I took another bite and a sip of my coffee. “You remembered cream and sugar.”

Jake touched the rim of his glasses with his index finger. “I’m studying you, Dr. Murphy. Not a detail has escaped my bespectacled observation.”

As I chewed, I looked over to where Ben Casey lay on the kitchen floor. His rib cage rose and fell with his rapid panting. “Did you bring Ben with you to your studio and the deli?”

“Sure,” Jake answered. “He needed to get out and you were still zonked. We hadn’t gotten much sleep, so I thought I’d keep Ben from waking you.”

My chair moved behind me with a screech. “Did you run him?”

“’Course not. He just rode in the car. He was with me the whole time.”

I felt the first flash of anger I’d felt toward Jake. “You shouldn’t have taken him. He’s been really sick. Mary K would freak.”

I felt the dog’s nose, expecting its cool wetness, only to find it warm and dry. His tongue lay long and limp, touching the floor. His leg twitched, and he seemed unable to lift his head. “Did he get wet?”

“Kat, it’s not even raining any more. I wouldn’t—”

“God, Jake!” My brain scrambled for what to do next. “He’s not right.” I jumped to the cupboard where we kept Ben’s medicine and pulled out the syringe. I pulled the plunger, filling the vial with morphine, then flicked it until the bubbles were gone. My fingers found the pulsing artery on the side of his neck. “It’s okay, boy,” I whispered as I pressed the plunger.

I grabbed the wall phone in the kitchen and began dialing every number I knew, looking for Mary K while Jake looked on in horror and petted Ben. My hands flew through pages of the phone book until I found a listing for The Lex, her favorite bar. “Yep,” the bartender said. “She was here last night. Stayed late but was by herself. I think she left at closing time.”

Jake fell to his knees beside Ben. “Maybe we ought to take him to the vet.”

“No,” I snapped. “She wouldn’t want that. We’ve been just making him comfortable. She just doesn’t want him to be in pain.” I lay down on the floor, placing my head next to Ben’s gigantic face. “Hold on, buddy. She’ll want to say good-bye to you. Please, please hold on.”

Jake scooped Ben up into his arms, grunting under the dog’s weight, and set him on the couch. My mother’s quilt lay under him, its threadbare patches mimicking Ben’s weariness. We spent the morning there, the three of us—waiting. I kept my eyes on the door, hoping to see Mary K.

* * *

Hours later, I rested my head on Ben’s unmoving body.

“What should we do? Should we take Ben’s body to the vet?” Jake combed my curls with his fingers.

“No,” I sniffed. “She’ll want to see him. Why don’t you go ahead? Weren’t you supposed to meet Burt today?”

“I don’t care about that. I’m so sorry about Ben. I didn’t know he was that—”

“We’ve known his time was close for a while.” I watched death in the hospital every day without crying, but I couldn’t hold my tears as I ran my fingers through Ben’s coarse fur. “I think it’s better if you go. She’ll want to be alone with him. She wouldn’t feel comfortable—”

“I’ll call later. If you need me for anything, call. Okay? He’s a big dog. If you need any help, you know, taking care of him.” He kissed my cheek and patted Ben. “Wish I’d known you longer, old man.”

I sat alone with Ben’s body. I tucked the quilt around him and stroked his fur. I was afraid to leave the room, afraid that Mary K would walk in and find Ben all alone. I tried to squash my anger at Jake. Though he’d meant no harm, he’d been impulsive and presumptuous taking Ben out without asking. I had grown to love that dog in the nine years we’d lived together, but as much as I loved him, I knew Mary K’s feelings for him were immeasurable. He was her family.

Finally, at nearly noon, the front door opened. Mary K stood silent at the threshold, her eyes fixed on Ben’s body draped in front of me. Color drained from her face and she let her rucksack slip off of her shoulder, onto the floor.

“I tried to find you,” I whispered. “I guess you already turned in your pager.”

I stood. My urge was to rush and hold my friend in my arms, but with Mary K it was always better to read her for cues when it came to affection. She passed me and sat on the edge of the couch near Ben’s body. Resting her head on his shoulder, she buried her face in his fur.

“It was quiet,” I said. “He just got quiet and slipped away.”

Mary K said nothing.

“He was with us all evening,” I said, filling the miserable silence. “He walked in with Jake this morning and just laid down on the kitchen floor—”

Mary K sat up in a shot. “With Jake. What was he doing with Jake? Did he take him out in the rain?”

Instantly, I regretted mentioning Jake. “No, no. It stopped raining by then. Jake just took him out to his studio and to get breakfast, and—”

“You let Ben out with a stranger! How could you?”

“Jake’s not a stranger,” I said, trying to keep my voice level. “I was asleep and he just took him for a ride—”

“I asked
YOU
to watch him. Not him. If I’d wanted Ben out in the cold, I’d have fucking taken him with me. Jesus, Murphy.”

“I’m sorry, but Jake took very good care of him. He really liked Ben, and he—”

“How do you know he liked Ben? He knew him for ten minutes. Ben should have had his last hours with—” Mary K gulped, her lips forming a grimace. “He shouldn’t have been out. If he hadn’t gone out—”

“I’m so sorry Ben’s gone.” I reached out to touch my grieving friend. She jerked her arm away.

Mary K’s eyes stared straight into mine. “Just shut up.”

I was prepared for Mary K’s grief, but her anger hit me like a cannonball. “I’m sorry about Ben. Jake and I—”

“You’re not getting this, are you? I don’t want to hear about Jake. Jake Bloom is a pampered prince. A playboy. Probably a whack job. And now he probably fucking killed my dog.”

“What’s the matter with you?”

“Let’s see, aside from my dead dog, I don’t know.”

“We’ve known Ben was going to go soon for a long time. Why are you taking it out on Jake? He couldn’t have been nicer to Ben. Brought him treats and stayed with him until the end.”

Mary K lifted the cellophane bag of treats and flung them across the room. They scattered like hail on the wood floor. “Fuck Jake Bloom!”