Drowning in the East River (25 page)

"New York."

Jacqueline sat down in one of the chairs. She looked over at him, a flashing him an intimate smile. "I've been spending some time with Mr. Freeman, and I feel like he'd be a valuable member of our group."

David's eyes quickly shot around the room, not entirely sure where to look. He shifted in his chair, glancing over at Jacqueline. A sense of relief washed over him as she reached over from her chair and grabbed his hand inside hers, giving him fingers a snug squeeze.

"Who tattoos?" David asked, seeing a tattoo wand and ink set up in the corner of the room.

"Me," Aidan replied. His eyebrow raised in subtle surprise. "Interested?"

"I am," David said, digging in his pockets. He pulled out the paper he was looking for and handed it to Aidan. "Would you be able do that?"

The design was a symbol Jessica had carved on the inside of her door, back when she had lived with her family. She had said that it was a symbol for strength from her home county. He had kept the rough sketch she had drawn for him before he went overseas. The scrap of paper had began to yellow with age, and there was a permanent crease down the middle where it folded in his billfold.

"I wish you didn't have to go," Jessica wiped at her nose with her handkerchief and looked up into his eyes. She cracked a small smile as she bit back a sniffle. "You know, desertion is always an option."

"Not for me," David replied. He chuckled softly, breaking eye contact with Jessica. Another moment of staring into her eyes was liable to break him. Around them, the dock was sleepy in the early morning. A few sailors drifted through the fog which rolled off the East River in thick, misty bursts. He wound his arms around her waist and gently corralled her body into his as he shifted his eyes back onto her. "You know you wouldn't want me to do that."

"I know," Jessica said. She sucked in a deep breath, and busied herself playing with the lapel of his drab, olive green uniform. She started over, attempting to collect herself. "I know... I just... I don't want to loose you."

"You won't," David replied, toying with the black ringlets of hair framing her face under her hat. “I promise, Jess…”.

Jessica cut him off sharply, "Don't say that!"

"What's wrong?"

"Don't promise," Jessica said, forcing a smile across her face. He could see her fighting back the emotion welling in her eyes. "Just come home."

"I will," David said, enveloping her in a hug. "I will, Jess."

After a moment, she stood up from the hug. "I have something..." she broke eye contact, digging through her clutch. She pulled a folded piece of paper out of the tiny bag. She bit her lip as she continued. "Promise you won't laugh."

"What is it?" David asked.

"Something I want you to have," Jessica said, handing him the piece of paper in her hand. "It's just something small. It's not very good...".

David busied himself unfolding the thick paper, thankful for an excuse to keep his quivering hands busy. "What is it?"

"It means strength," Jessica said as he looked at the green and gold symbol she had carefully drawn with shaky hands. "It was carved on some ruins where father grew up. I've always thought it was powerful. I want you to keep it with you..."

"Always," David said, kissing her gently

Aidan smiled as he studied the piece of paper. "I think that's possible. Take off your shirt and have a seat."

David sat down on one of the simple wooden chairs, resting his chin against the rough wooden back support. He draped his shirt in front of him.

"Where do you want it?" Aidan asked, sitting down next to him. The wand was clutched tightly between his fingers as he looked over David's bare back. He took a deep breath and downed a shot glass of brandy, steadying his fingers.

David pointed to the back of his shoulder blade.

"Hope you're okay with needles," Aidan said with a soft chuckle.

David leaned forward and closed his eyes as he felt the stinging pain of the experienced tattoo artist setting to work. He focused on breathing deeply, inhaling the smoky air deep into his lungs.

"Are you all right?" Jacqueline asked, he could hear her set her glass down next to her and lean forward. Even with his eyes closed, he could see her dark eyes studying him.

"Fine," David replied. He tried to exhale quietly to hide any semblance of pain in his voice. He wanted to look tough. He looked up and took a quick puff of his cigarette.

"How have things been, Jacks?" Aidan asked, breaking the tired silence of the room as he continued working. Every few seconds, he shot a quick glance in her direction as he continued his work. "Since I haven't seen you in almost two months."

David looked over in time to see her crack a small smile.

"I've been rethinking everything," Jacqueline said. She sat forward in her seat, wringing her fingers excitedly in front of her. "I believe we need to rework the structure and message behind the movement." She reached into her bag and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She paused long enough to light one before she continued with verve. "I'm not entirely sure we are getting our point across with the way we're handling things. We need to dictate the story we want to tell. Right now, we're content with letting them set our path."

David did his best to focus on her words, really listening to what Jacqueline said seemed to help numb out the pain.

"You're the first one to tear down what the other groups do," Aidan said, playing devil's advocate.

He looked over at her, his eyes shining. His expression was playful, and their body language said they verbally sparred with each other often. Watching their interactions for even a few minutes, David could see the obvious sexual tension between them boiling beneath the surface. Aidan continued. "Wasn't it you who said that we can't overpower them, we have to beat them at their own game?"

"Trying to be better then them hasn't been furthering shit," Jacqueline replied, her tone almost coldly logical in response. "We have people trying to negotiate while they..."

"Are murdering children in the street," David jumped in. He looked up from where he was cradling his head on the back of the chair. He hadn't learned the girl's name, but her blood still stained his fingernails. Two weeks of washing his hands hadn't been enough to clean the evidence from his nails.

"Exactly," Jacqueline said, after a beat of silence. She was looking across at David, seemingly surprised at the sudden and blunt nature of his comment. "David was on the High Street during the massacre."

"My apologies," Aidan said, shifting his glance back down towards David. He shook his hand as a pained expression flashed over his face.

"No need," David said.

He brushed a strand of hair back from his eyes and tucked his hands in front of him and out of sight under his chin. "I'm still alive. There are a lot of people who aren't so lucky."

"He tried to help Eileen Moran." Jacqueline said, her voice dropping a sympathetic octave. David could see her fingers nervously playing with a cross hanging around her neck as she continued.

"It wasn't good enough," David said, his tone simple and to the point. He squeezed his eyes closed, forcing the image of the dying girl from his head. His eyes snapped open as he refocused on the crowd around him. He repressed a shiver which shot through his muscles. "The wound was just too serious."

"I heard how you stayed with her," Aidan said, his voice sympathetic. He stopped for a moment, pulling back the tattoo wand to look down at David. The slightest hint of emotion built in his voice as he continued, "I live around the corner from her family. I know they're grateful."

"She was dying in front of me," David said, stopping abruptly. His eyes flashed, starkly clear in the hazy mood of the room. He glanced back over his shoulder at the tattoo. His voice was cutting as he continued, "I didn't want to let her die in the middle of the street. I couldn't let that happen.”

"All this scar tissue," Aidan said, still working on his back. He stopped and looked up, raising an interested eyebrow as he continued. "You in the war?"

"France. They always say your life is supposed to flash before your eyes," David said. He looked to his right, making eye contact with Jacqueline. He rubbed his temples gently, trying to massage away a throbbing headache. "I don't remember anything like that happening. I heard the call, took three steps up and over the trench, and then...nothing. Everything went black."

"What happened?" Alice asked, sitting forward from where she was smoking in the corner. She was young, maybe fifteen or sixteen. She looked over at him as she took a deep drag on her cigarette. Her mousy brown hair was pulled off her neck in a quick ponytail. She had lined eyes, and despite her young face, her old eyes gave him the distinct feeling that she had seen a lot. She stopped, realizing how her question must have sounded to him, "If y' don't mind me asking, of course."

Jacqueline stood up, "I need some air. I'll be right back." She dabbed her nose with a handkerchief as she glided towards the door. She was almost silent as she stepped outside into the foggy day.

As Jacqueline shut the door smoothly behind her, David turned, seeing Aidan also watching her. As the two men made eye contact, Aidan busied himself finishing the black edging around the tattoo. "Are you two...?" David asked, his eyes following Jacqueline's path out the door.

Aidan shifted his glance up to David's eyes, "We were," he said, focusing intently on the tattoo. He furrowed his brow, stopping only to wipe a layer of sweat from his forehead. Despite the cool air which had taken refuge over the city, the steam radiator in the old factory was working overtime. He licked his lips. "But it's ancient history. She's not interested in much of anything."

"I don't know about that," David said, wiping a layer of sweat from his own forehead. His voice stumbled in a sense of relaxation, the pain gradually morphed into a strange sense of relaxation. He tried to stifle a yawn. "She seems to like you."

"Whiskey?" The other girl asked. She held up an aged bottle.

"Please." David said, flashing her a small smile.

She poured three fingers into a small glass and slid it back to him. David threw back the drink, the alcohol hitting his empty stomach like a ton of bricks.

Aidan stopped and sat back in his chair, lighting a cigarette. He sat the wand on a small side table. He spoke slowly, considering his words carefully. "We had a... thing for about six months last year. She was the one that called an end to it."

"Did she say why?" David asked.

“No. I'm assuming she never mentioned it," Aidan said, taking a long drag on his cigarette. He looked around the room, keeping an eye for Jacqueline to make a reappearance. He glanced at David and raised a suspicious eyebrow. He chucked softly as he continued. "Watching the two of you, I would assume you're pretty close right now."

"She hasn't said anything," David replied. He looked over his shoulder at the now finished artwork. The skin around the ink was red and inflamed, the beat up skin wanted to start bleeding. Aidan gently blotted the tender spot with a bandage. "She just told me that you were one of the few people she'd trust with her life."

Aidan sat back, a somewhat sad smile crossed his lips. "That means a lot."

Both looked up as the door from outside opened. Jacqueline stepped inside, she rubbed her arms briskly, trying to bring back circulation. "What did I miss?"

Aidan stood up, brushing his hands on his pants. "I think we were going to talk over some of the plans."

David sat up, gingerly grabbing his shirt from where it was draped over the chair.