Yesterday's Gone (Season 5): Episodes 25-30 (20 page)

Perhaps it was a defense mechanism meant to keep them from being hurt by a woman. Mary imagined that guys probably had to grow thick skins, dealing with denial as often as they did. Maybe all that rejection tempered their romantic sides.

Desmond was sweet during their short-lived romance following the events of October 15, 2011. Even so, he had still seemed to bury most of his feelings. 

But this Desmond wore his unapologetic heart on his sleeve and didn’t care if Mary laughed. It was as if he’d watched the world’s chickiest flicks, made it a point to find out what women wanted to hear most, and was going all out with Mary.

She thought of something he’d said the other day, how she “completed him.” Like in stupid
Jerry McGuire
. Mary had laughed when he said it, thinking he was just messing with her. But then he asked her what she was laughing about, and insisted that he’d never seen the movie.

She couldn’t believe it then, and still couldn’t believe he’d never heard the expression now. His utter earnestness only made Mary think he was cornier.

She giggled, remembering his total lack of a clue.

“What?” 

“Nothing,” she said. “Just not used to people saying such sweet things to me.”

“Well, you should be.” 

The old Mary might’ve barfed, then smacked the guy who said it and ordered him to stop screwing with her.

But Desmond, she could tell, meant it.

“Ever since Luca brought me back to life, I’ve decided that I’m not going to let my thoughts die on the vine. If I feel something, I’m going to tell you. I don’t want to leave this world with things left unsaid, or regretting what I wasn’t brave enough to do.”

“That’s sweet.” Mary traced her fingers along Desmond’s strong arms.

He touched her lips with his fingers then ran his thumb down over her chin, staring into her eyes. “Would you rather I keep these things to myself?”

“No.”

“Good, because I don’t think I could if I wanted.” He paused, then, “There’s something else I’ve been wanting to talk about, but I’m not sure how to broach the subject.”

Mary knew what he wanted to say before he brought his warm palm to her nervous stomach. “You said you lost our baby, and that the doctors thought it was stress. Of course they couldn’t have had any idea what sort of stress you’d really been under.”

Mary said nothing, putting her hand on top of Desmond’s. She hated talking about their never-born child. Just like she hated contemplating something bad happening to Paola — 
again
.

“It’s not your fault.”

Mary felt a surge of emotion, and was unable to stop the words before they left her mouth.

“I
know
it wasn’t my fault, Desmond. I’m not an idiot.”

It came off worse than Mary had meant it, but at the same time, she didn’t want to take her words back. She wasn’t even sure why she was angry at Desmond for wanting to discuss
their
child, but couldn’t deny her brewing rage.

She tried to pull her hand away from his, but he grabbed it. “I never said you were an idiot, Mary. And no, you shouldn’t feel guilty. But I know a part of you does. That part of you that wants to be Super Mom and protect her family with a lioness’s ferocity. And you are that mom, Mary. You are the strongest woman I’ve ever met. But I know you hate what happened, and feel responsible.”

“
You’re
going to tell me what
I
feel?” she asked, even though Desmond was entirely right.

Tears began to roll down her cheeks, which only made her angrier.

Mary got out of bed, walked to the adjoining bathroom, and closed the door behind her. If it had had a lock, she would’ve used it. 

She sat on the toilet, peed, then kept sitting, crying and feeling stupid.

After several minutes of weeping and blowing her stupid nose, the door pushed open and Desmond appeared with his understanding expression to infuriate her further.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he said. “But you need to forgive yourself.”

Mary stared at the tile floor.

Desmond turned to leave.

“You’re right.”

Mary didn’t look to see if he’d turned back around. She could sense him there, waiting for her to continue.

“I did … I do blame myself. I know it’s stupid, and that I
shouldn’t
. But who else am I going to blame? Aliens? God? It’s not like either gives a shit what I think. And neither can bring our baby back.”

“So with no one else to blame, you blamed yourself. It was something you could at least allow yourself to feel. Right?”

Mary nodded. She said, “Jesus, you really need to stop watching so much Dr. Phil,” then broke into a much-needed laugh.

Desmond came to Mary, hugging her as she sat on the toilet.

She stood up and followed him back to bed.

“Can we just lie here? It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it anymore, but I just can’t. Not right now.”

“Anything you want.” 

She turned away, allowing him to spoon her and melting into his body and warmth. 

Mary had never felt like someone who needed a man to complete her. She did better without Ryan than with him, and had learned plenty in the months since their return from the other world. She had learned how to fight, how to survive, and most importantly, how to protect her daughter. But there was comfort in a strong man beside you, and grace in having someone know you well enough to lie in silence with your truest self.

**

They woke to the sound of Paola at the bedroom door.

“You two alive?”

“Yeah!” Mary laughed, looking at the clock: 12:13. 

“Oh wow,” she whispered to Desmond, then turned back to the closed door. “We’ll be out soon. Just had a late night.”

“Okaaaay then,” Paola said, retreating from the door, probably grossed out at the thought of her mom having sex.

Desmond slipped his hand between Mary’s legs and gave her a wicked smile.

She whispered, “No, she’s right out there in the living room,” and slapped his hand away.

“Oh, come on, she already thinks we’re doing something in here.”

His hand slid up to her breasts as he leaned in and kissed her neck.

Six minutes later Mary was biting her lip to keep the low moans from rolling out too loudly while Desmond muffled his grunts. Staring into her eyes he panted, “Should I pull out?” 

“No,” Mary whimpered, pushing her head up from the bed to meet Desmond’s lips. 

They kissed as he filled her. 

* * * *

CHAPTER 9 — MARINA HARMON

As Acevedo drove them to Salty’s Pool Hall to find the man known as Beef who may or may not still have the vial, Marina found herself staring out the window, trying not to speak her mind. 

Better to keep quiet, not let Acevedo know she was becoming increasingly disillusioned with him. Marina thought of the man in the dark’s warning, to not trust the priest. It wasn’t as if she could invest her belief in a shadow-shrouded man whom she couldn’t see, particularly when the threat against them called itself The Darkness.

Yet Marina couldn’t get over the truth that Acevedo had shot two men in cold blood.

“Something on your mind?” 

Don’t say anything. Just tell him you don’t feel well.

Marina ignored her inner counsel.

“Why did you kill them?”

“Because they were a threat.”

“No, they weren’t. Was the guy in cuffs a threat?”

“They both were.” Acevedo turned to meet Marina’s eyes. 

His pupils burned at insanity’s edge, yet the rest of him seemed perfectly in control, his voice as calm as his gestures. 

“How?” 

Acevedo returned his eyes to the road. “Because we need to find the vials. We couldn’t risk Andrew warning Beef we were coming.”

“He said he hadn’t seen him. And you could tell by the way he looked at our vials that he was telling the truth.”

“Doesn’t matter. We can’t take any chances. Retrieving the vials is the only thing that matters right now. Do you understand me?”

“So, what? We’re going to go around killing anyone in our way?”

“If need be.”

“No, no, no.” Marina stared at the priest. “I will not be a party to you murdering innocent people. I won’t help you. I didn’t sign up for this.”

“Neither did I, sister. You think
I wanted
this? Do you think
I wanted
these damned things in my life? I was happy before your father came into my life. I was doing God’s work, and making a difference to my congregation. But then he brought this hell into my life and destroyed everything.”

“What do you mean?”

Acevedo stared through the windshield, his calm facade finally cracking. Shaking his head, he said, “Forget it.”

“No, I want to know.”

He turned to her, eyes welling up, jaw clenched, “Well, I don’t feel like sharing. Let’s just say your father damned us both. And now we’re the only ones standing between these aliens and the end of all that we know. So pardon me if I don’t get worked up over the loss of some spoiled rich asshole and his bodyguard. It’s a small price to keep the world breathing.”

Marina stared out the window, lost for words. 

This
is a man of God?

They arrived at Salty’s just before dinnertime, and parked outside.

“So, what are we going to do? Go in and ask for Beef?” Marina’s first words in a while felt odd on her tongue.

She tried not to laugh at the absurdity her life had become in the last three weeks. She was about to enter some seedy pool hall with a killer priest in search of a “chemist” named Beef so they could find a vial of alien life. 

Her personal world had become a surreal parody of what people already believed about her church.

“Pretty much,” Acevedo said as he killed the engine and loaded his gun.

“Aren’t you worried about police or anything? They’re going to trace those bodies to you, right? Hell, there could’ve been hidden cameras, filming the whole thing!”

This fresh fear terrified Marina; she would be on camera as an accomplice to two executions.

“Oh, my God, they’ll see me on the video!”

“Maybe, but I’m sure your fancy lawyer guy can get you out of trouble. He could say I kidnapped you or something. But if we don’t tend to these vials, cops will be the least of our worries. Understand?”

She nodded. 

“Good, let’s go.” Acevedo got out of the car.

Marina followed.

Salty’s Pool Hall was the sort of place where hope went to die. Its best days looked they had been back before the bar had last changed its decor, or its jukebox selection, judging by the hair metal assault on their ears.

Despite the early hour, people packed the pool hall and filled it with the scent of desperation: people looking to forget, score drugs, or get laid, or perhaps all three.

Acevedo led Marina to the bar. The bartender, a stout guy in his thirties with a friendly, chubby face said, “Hey, what can I get for ya?” 

Acevedo slipped a fifty dollar bill onto the bar and slid it toward the bartender.

“Looking for a guy named Beef.”

The bartender looked down at the cash, then back at Acevedo and Marina, as if trying to figure out if they were police.

The bartender shook his head. “Don’t know anyone by that name.”

“Listen,” Acevedo smiled, “we both know that you know who I’m talking about. I just need a word with him. Nothing that’ll get you in trouble.”

The bartender returned his eyes to the money, then shook his head again. 

Acevedo reached into his wallet, peeled off another fifty from a thick stack of bills, and laid it on the counter.

“Who’s asking?”

“My name is John White, private investigator. Seems Beef has come into some money from a dead relative. I’ve been asked to find him.”

The bartender looked down at the money again, clearly tempted. But then shook his head. “Sorry, can’t help you.”

Acevedo kept his eyes on the bartender for another long moment, then gave him what looked like an unfortunate nod. He took his money, then approached the jukebox, yanked the cord from the wall, and murdered the music.

The entire room turned toward Acevedo, angry brows and white knuckles wrapped around pool sticks.

“Good, now that I have your attention. My name is John White, and I’m a private detective hired to find someone you all know as Beef. Seems our friend has come into some money from a dead relative. I’d like to find him so I can collect my cut. Whoever helps me first will get a share of my spoils. I’ll give you two grand right now, hard cash.”

Marina stared at the people in the bar, watching as they considered Acevedo’s offer. Hushed whispers rolled through the room. She couldn’t believe that he’d turned a hostile crowd receptive, and wondered if anyone would step forward.

Marina supposed it depended on whether Beef was a low-level dealer or someone with power. If he were powerful, she didn’t think two thousand dollars would be enough to buy a rat, unless he was a competitor.

“Anyone?” Acevedo asked.

Marina’s heart pounded as she waited for someone to step forward, but the crowd remained silent.

Acevedo sighed. “Anyone?” he repeated to the still-silent bar. 

Still no response.

Acevedo returned the money to his wallet and headed out of the bar. “All right, your loss.” 

Marina quickly followed.

Outside in the sunshine, she said, “Wow, you’re terrible at this, huh?”

He winked at her, a sly smile creasing the priest’s lips.

“What are you up to?”

“Notice anything while we were inside?”

“Like what?”

“The windows are all painted red on the inside, so you can’t see the parking lot.”

“OK, and your point?”

“Just wait.”

Acevedo walked to his car, leaned against the driver’s side, pulled a yoyo from his jeans pocket, and started walking the dog. 

“A yo-yo?” Marina could barely hide her smile.

“I stopped smoking twenty years ago and needed something to do with my hands.”