Chapter 64

POV Clayre

I grab Dior as soon as I enter the apartment again. This little furball has literally won my heart, and having her with me tonight will make me feel less lonely. I squeeze her in my arms until her annoyed meow comes out in a high pitch. I get a bowl for water and another to put the food Barbie insisted on sending along. I head to the bedroom, set everything up, and then snuggle under the blankets. Dior comes closer, starts kneading a corner with her paws, and lies down. Her yellow eyes half-close, and she purrs happily, just not more than me, confirming that the bastard really cares about me. Not that I had doubts, after all, what we’ve shared was intense, but I was afraid to keep believing and suffer even more. It seemed easier to hate him or convince myself I was hating him.

Jack has two great powers: the first, to make me furious, and the second, to make any anger, hatred, or hurt dissipate like smoke. He’s like that, an extension of what I feel in matter, in human form, something comparable to a palpable desire. With him, everything is amplified and becomes disjointed, yet it’s as if our feelings make sense. Maybe getting involved spoiled the already bad relationship with my mother, or maybe it just highlighted what was never there between us, the love.

I turn off my mind by putting on my headphones and fall asleep shortly after, with the sound low and calm.

***

I open my eyes groggily at some point during the day. I was mentally exhausted, and with Dior's presence, I felt comforted. I search for her on the bed and find her curled up behind my head.

"Good morning, Dior, today we have a visitor. I need to clean everything, or my dad will get worried, thinking I'm depressed, and yes, I am, but he doesn't need to know."

***

POV Jack

I spend the day checking the sales numbers from the previous month and confirm that I alone consumed the equivalent of a thousand dollars in thirty days.

"Okay! I was really in a mess, but this can’t happen again. I just don't want to be a reckless alcoholic like my dad. It’s true that he went through a tough time in his life when he felt nothing was worth it anymore, and as an example, I can’t be like him. I need to be sober and reclaim my golden star."

The bar shift is starting, and I hear Every Breath You Take by The Police playing. In every line, in the melody, I find everything I felt when I was forced to suppress my emotions. On the outside, I seemed cold, but on the inside, I couldn’t breathe, which is why every day I felt the need to watch over Clayre.

I still do.

Fighting against your own thoughts is like fragmenting your soul; eventually, you go mad. But knowing that I can hold her in my arms again has softened this unhealthy obsession.

Someone knocks on the door and enters. I see Kal, holding a shot of rum in his right hand.

"Your conscience is bringing the only shot you’ll have today."

We laugh together, and I shake my head.

"I don’t intend to drink today."

"You need to."

I tense up and exhale impatiently.

"Shit! Who's there?"

"The father of Clayre, complained about the name of the bar and then said he needed to talk to you."

"Alright, give it here, I really need this." I tilt the shot glass to my lips and feel the liquid courage slide down smoothly.

"Let him in!"

"Okay, boss!"

Kal leaves, and I start organizing the endless papers on the table. Gerald enters minutes later, with a grim expression, carefully analyzing everything. His eyes move across the photos on the walls, the small bar in the cabinet, until they land on the papers I’m holding in my hands, which I place in the corner of the table.

"So this is where my daughter worked?"

"Yes, this is it!"

He scratches his chin, walks over to the chesterfield sofa, and sits down.

"Drink in Hell, my God, look where my daughter ended up. I kept her inside the church, taught her, explained things to her, and you corrupted her. I want a shot of whatever you have there."

I get up, go to the bar, and serve him a shot of one of the best whiskies I’ve made.

"Here!" I hand it to him and sit in the armchair on the side, watching him gulp it down in one go, showing signs of being nervous.

"Did you come here to talk bad about me, or did something happen?"

"This whiskey’s not bad, maybe you really are good at this." He compliments briefly, but continues,

"I’m going to talk to Liana. I called the hospital, and she really didn’t show up, not even today. This has turned into hell on earth. I don’t know what to think, I don’t know how to act, I don’t know if I support my daughter’s sin, if I force her to follow my rules, or if I check myself into a psychiatric ward to regain my sanity."

"Can I give you some advice?"

Gerald raises an eyebrow and smirks sarcastically.

"You think I’ll take advice from a man like you?"

I stare at his face, and he backs off.

"Alright, just say it already," he says awkwardly.

"We’re human, we all make mistakes, but we never act out of malice, so I don’t understand your difficulty. You raised your daughter all these years, you know her heart better than anyone, and still, you condemn her for making a mistake? Seriously? I’m tired of these stupid judgments. Yes, we were attracted to each other, yes, I made a mistake kissing her twice when I shouldn’t have, but I was man enough to end it and understand what we were feeling. I didn’t reveal it before because Clayre asked me not to, because she was afraid of how you would react, so in the end, are you going to let your anger speak louder? Are you going to force her to live the way you want? That’s wrong. I won’t be with Liana, and I’ll wait for your daughter, whether it’s tomorrow or a year from now, I don’t care, I’ll still be here in my hell bar, waiting for my saving angel to return, and I know she will. You know it too, deep down, that’s what bothers you."

Gerald lowers his head and takes a deep breath.

"I do know my daughter better than anyone, and if there’s one thing she’s never been, it’s malicious or wanted to hurt her mother. She always sought love."

He stands up frustrated and shoves his hands into his dress pants pockets.

"Could you come with me?"

"Me?" I reply, surprised.

"Yes, today I’m going to press her to understand why she never wanted to assume the role of mother. I’m tired of pretending I understand, especially after spending years taking care of and explaining something to Clayre that wasn’t mine to say."

"And since we’ll have a child together, do you need me to threaten her?"

"Yes, tell her you’ll get custody of the child and that I’ll testify in your favor in the process. Even though I didn’t raise Clayre, I feel there’s something more. She seems like one person, but when the two of you are together, it’s different. I need to understand all of this. How many times did she bring up the past with you?"

"None, every time she avoided it, and Clayre said she did the same with her!"

I think for a few seconds and don’t hesitate to go with him.

"I’ll go! One more thing, I found out that Liana was very close to a man who robbed me. I’m sorry to say, but she’s worse than you think. I’m tired of being the nice guy."

"Jack!"

"Relax, I’m not the devil, at most a condemned soul." I provoke, and he remains unyielding.

"Let’s go!" I grab my car keys, and we head out.