Contract Over

I didn't expect him to respond, but maybe somewhere in his dreams he heard me. I watched him as he slept. His cheek was red and he was still sweating. Why was he being so cryptic about being sick?

I continued up to our loft bed. I hadn't realized how every single move I made had been with him in mind for years. Each decision I made could be evaluated differently. Was I being too loud in bed? Had I offended him in some obtuse way? Was he getting all that he needed out of this arrangement? Now, none of that was my concern.

I didn't have to be here for a moment longer. Not if I didn't want to, anyway.

As I was laying in bed trying to figure out what just happened with my dad, I heard Bram coming up the stairs. When he got to the top he came closer to me. He didn't look well, naturally.

"Who was that on the phone?" he asked. There were small catch-lights in his eyes from the lamp on the nightstand as he searched my face.

"My father."

"What did he say?" he asked.

"He said he got the money and the debt is paid. Your dad has it."

"Are you sure?" He cleared his throat.

"That's what he said," I replied.

"Well, I don't think it's going to be that simple."

"What do you–"

Instead of explaining, Bram went back downstairs. I could say I expected more, but that would be a lie.

***

The next morning, I woke up alone. When the smell of his coffee wafted up to me, I sat and watched him from above. I could see him pouring some for himself.

His hands were shaking but he couldn't blame it on caffeine; This was his first cup of the day. I had washed the cup he had in-hand earlier. While sitting at the island, he pulled on his thick raven-black hair.

I watched him put in earbuds, then swiftly collect his laptop and bag.

"Bram," I began, but he was out the door. I called him once more, whether he heard me or not was unclear. When I glanced out the window, it looked like it was going to rain, again. I was so sick of being in the dark with this stuff.

I hopped onto MChat. Maybe he'd talk to Reed_B.

"I'm not sure what to do," Bram led with.

"About what?" I typed back.

"She wants to separate. Our arrangement is over." He was worried about us parting, after all.

I was puzzled, wondering why he was insisting it was me who wanted to separate. Technically, I guess it would be me who was ending things, or at least my dad.

"Damn, that seems sudden," I wrote with a surprised emoji. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yeah, me too. I'm not sure what I'm going to do."

"Well, keep on and power through." I had picked up on a little bit of generic language while using MChat. I wasn't sure what else to say.

"No, bro. It isn't like that."

"What is it like then?"

I saw the word "typing" in italics. My heart was pounding.

"I didn't realize how I felt about her until now."

I stared at the words on the screen. At first I felt prideful, happy, and relieved. Shortly after, sadness, confusion, and anger devoured the positivity. Why not just talk to me? I had been willing to work on things the entire time we were together.

After I gathered myself from my mini meltdown I asked, "If you could say one thing to her, what would it be?"

"That's a tough one," he wrote, then continued. "I'd say, I'm sorry. I think that's the best I could do. It doesn't come close to how bad I feel, though."

I had to think carefully through my next response. Whatever I chose to say may be the last thing I said as Reed_B.

"I don't think it's ever too late to say you're sorry. No matter how bad it seems."

I waited as he sent me a couple of thumbs up emojis and then logged off.

***

It was night by the time Bram arrived home. I was sitting in the dark, staring into space when he unlocked the door and entered. When he snapped on the light, my presence startled him.

He wasn't startled because I was there unexpectedly but from fear of being confronted with the truth: that I was never his to begin with and if there hadn't been a contract, we wouldn't have ever been together. Then, he'd have to talk about how he felt, which was terrifying to him.

I watched him carefully close the door. It was strange seeing him trying to be quiet or maybe even gentle. I studied every movement as his eyes did not leave mine. He lowered himself into the recliner across from me.

"Why didn't you talk to me about this today? I've been waiting and now it's late," I complained.

"I was busy, but I did get some news. I spoke to Rusty and it's true. We're no longer bound. His lawyers have already worked it out for him. I've got a copy, but--" He stopped himself. "Well, I just don't know if that is going to be enough to get out of this."

"What?" I asked.

"Alexandra, my father ..." he trailed off but then looked me directly in the eye. "You've met two of my brothers face-to-face. They have opinions."

"Yes, Rusty is a 'prick'."

"That's an understatement," he muttered. "You know, you were right when we were out in the woods. He's a bad person and I am just like him."

I was silent waiting for him to continue. I didn't believe Bram was a bad person. Underneath his indoctrinated, cold exterior was a kind-hearted person who wanted to experience the world. But would he ever allow that part of him to surface and take a breath?

"I'm not sure that's true."

Bram sat down on the couch next to me. His eyes were getting bloodshot in the sclera.

"He's not going to let it go that easily. There are reasons he set this up. I think he saw it as a guarantee that your dad was a loser and he'd never pay–"

"Regardless of whatever Rusty thought of my dad, he has his money now. That means we are done. He can't make us stay together anymore," I said.

I continued by asking, "What do I need to sign to end this?" Lifting his head, he abstained from speaking. As his eyes roved over me, I saw what this meant to him. Not only was he afraid, but he was experiencing grief. "You don't want me to sign it, do you?" I asked.

As those words left my mouth, I saw Bram's face go white. An unexpected wave of chills wracked him and I could hear his teeth chattering. I retrieved a blanket for him from the spare room. Once I was back, I sat beside him and wrapped it around him.

"You're right, I'm sick," he admitted. His voice sounded thready and gruff.

"Yeah, no shit," I whispered with a laugh. I was surprised when he cracked a weak smile. "You know what it's from, don't you?" I asked him. He nodded, hanging his head, momentarily.

Suddenly, we heard a loud concussive bang, then some glass broke. The abrupt emergency paused his dizzy spell and Bram threw off the blanket, forcing himself to recover. I watched him run outside fearfully following him. There was smoke coming from the distance.

We could hear sirens. It was dark outside, and we could see the red lights flickering off various buildings. Mixed with the emergency siren wails was the growing surge of something else.

At first, I thought it was wind, but then in the distance I could see people running. The sound of synchronized humming rose in volume.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered.

"What?" I asked.

"It's what I told you about."

"You've never elaborated– "

I was cut off as the base alarm began to sound. The floodlights blasted on and the field was visible for miles down to the woods. As we watched, I could see what, at first appeared to be a person sprinting, but then Bram turned to me.

"Nimble," he whispered urgently. "Quick! Get inside."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Because there are too many. We need to regroup."

A loud crash and then an eruption blast rocked under our feet. Bram pushed me inside, then he shut all the lights out. I could hear stomping around and more glass breaking.

I watched him open the coat closet. He pulled out two suits on hangers then rushed over to our breaker box in the closet. I watched as he pressed a red half inch high button. When he punched it, I could see something materialize outside of our house.

"What was that?" I asked but he didn't answer me. He handed me a head-to-toe black outfit, goggles, gloves, boots, and my M4 carbine. Then he sat on the couch and began taking his clothes off.

It had been a while since I had seen him without clothes. As I observed, he stared up at me and asked, "What the hell are you doing? Put that stuff on!"