Tunnel of Love Pt. 01

More or less, he kept his mind clear of dark thoughts. But inside him, at the wall, the barbarian army was ready. The breach had been widened. At the sound of a horn, the army would march.

As Mike was leaving the gym, a girl crossed his line of sight—a cute girl. She was wearing a skimpy outfit that left little to the imagination. Mike's eyes lingered on her for a moment. It was okay, he believed, to look—for a moment.

Jennifer probably does it too.

At the wall, a horn sounded.

Suddenly, Mike's stomach felt bad again. This time, though, it didn't feel like he was falling. It felt like he had been stabbed. He had already passed the check-in desk, but he turned around and addressed a young attendant there.

"Hi...I, um, found a sweatshirt that isn't mine in my laundry at home. I think I might have accidentally picked it up here. There was a name written on the label—'Coltez.'"

"Hmm," said the employee, "let me check our system..."

Please no. Please no.

"Yes! Yes, I see a Coltez. James Coltez."

The knife in Mike's stomach twisted and ripped him open. He looked down, expecting to see his guts spilling out onto the floor. Slowly turning towards the doors, he weakly replied.

"Right...ah...I'll bring it in next time...leave it...here for him."

In fact, there would be no next time. Mike was never coming back to this gym...assuming he could even get out. He felt like he was losing blood; like he was losing a pulse.

Summoning his every last ounce of boy scout discipline, Mike managed—only barely—to get into his car without fainting. He sat behind the wheel, eyes closed, tears streaming. The barbarians were pillaging him now.

It got late. Mike dreaded going home, but he couldn't stay away either. The outside world no longer seemed any safer.

I wish I could just disappear. Make it like I had never existed.

Mike opened his eyes, hoping his wish had come true. No, he was still in the car. As he shook his head in disappointment, his eyes fell on candy wrapper, coiled up in a little waste holder.

Mikey.

No, he thought, he could not fade from the world—Mikey needed him. Maybe Mikey could even save him. Mike headed home.

* * *

Entering the house, Mike noted the contrast between the despair he felt now and the euphoria he'd felt upon arriving home the previous night. How as soon as they'd closed the door, they'd lustily attacked each other...

The thought brought on the worst feeling yet in Mike's stomach. He hurried to the nearest bathroom.

Oh god, have I been getting sloppy seconds all this—

Reaching the toilet just in time and dropping to his knees, Mike threw up. Violently. Again and again. When he had nothing left in him, he dry heaved.

Eventually he collected himself. He washed his face. The face in the mirror, starring back at him, was pale and slack.

Mike stumbled downstairs and collapsed on the sofa. Later, he would not remember turning on the television, finding the game, and turning off the sound. Physically, mentally, and emotionally spent, he sat there—delirious—in absolute silence.

In his delirium, an image came to him. He was standing in the rubble of a wall. The wall was not totally destroyed, but the breach was wide.

He looked at the rubble, wondering if the wall could be repaired. He wanted peace again. Weary but determined, he started piling the fallen stones.

Whatever it was, maybe it's over. She quit the hospital. She quit the gym. She's been glued to me every since. Maybe she broke it off the night the kid died. Maybe I shouldn't say anything; maybe I should just let it go.

The stones he could rearrange, but something was missing: mortar. Mortar to hold them together. Where was the mortar? What was the mortar?

"Mike?"

Someone was calling his name. It sounded like a woman. It sounded far away.

As Mike started to emerge from his dazed state, he heard footsteps on the stairs. Someone was coming—in a hurry.

"Dad! Dad!"

Mikey burst into the room. He didn't turn on the light. To Mike, however, it seemed like he shone with his own light.

"Dad, it was awesome! Timmy and David..."

While Mikey launched into a description of the day's events, seemingly oblivious to his father's state, Mike stared at him. He had been overrun by barbarians times before, long ago. Then, he'd had little but his self-discipline to sustain him in the face of the onslaught.

Now, I have Mikey. No matter what happens with Jennifer, I will still have Mikey...

And Mikey will have me. No matter what, I will never leave him.

"Hey, dude," Mike said hoarsely, "are you going to give me a hug, or what?"

Although Mikey was ten years old, his old man could still get a hug out of him now and then. As they embraced, Mike felt tears welling up. Then, he felt a flash of something that he hadn't felt all day—anger.

Anger wasn't one of Mike's demons. Sure, Mike could get angry, but his anger was like a pet tiger that was mostly tame. Once and a while, he'd let it out—maybe even feed it—but he could always get it back in its cage. Anger had not been his natural reaction to the day's revelations. But something struck him now, as he held Mikey.

This isn't just about Jennifer and me. We have a child. Did she ever think about what consequences her actions might have for Mikey?

Jennifer called Mikey upstairs. Mike said goodnight to him and gave him a kiss. Mikey bounded up the stairs, leaving Mike alone again.

His anger—now out of the cage—triggered a memory of the last time he'd sat by himself in the house, worrying about Jennifer. It was that last time that she volunteered at the hospital, the night she came home late. He remembered how distressed she'd been, how oddly she'd acted, and the horrible thoughts that had crossed his mind.

I thought maybe she'd been assaulted. Maybe I was right. Maybe he tried to...oh no, maybe he did and that's why...oh my baby...

Had someone peered at Mike at that moment, his eyes would have looked like those of a tiger.

Funny, until now I haven't really thought about...him. If Jennifer's betrayed me, it's not like revenge on him is going to make anything better. But if he attacked her, hurt her...if she was a victim...

Sitting there in the quiet darkness, Mike embraced the tiger. It was better than the barbarians, to be sure. But eventually, as he'd always done in the past, Mike put the tiger back in its cage.

Victim? She lied to me about Susan. But...damn, I don't know what happened. Not exactly. I wonder...can I live with that? What if every day of the rest of our lives would be like last night?

It seemed unimaginable that what Jennifer had done—what he thought she'd done—could happen again. Yet, what she'd done was already unimaginable. Why couldn't the unimaginable happen again?

Mike thought about the image of the wall. About the threat that remained on the other side. About the stones, and what was lacking.

The mortar. The mortar is trust.

Without trust, could the wall be repaired? How could he trust, if he did not know the truth?

"Mike?"

Jennifer was in the room. He'd been so lost in his thoughts, he'd not heard her come downstairs.

"Baby," she said, "is something wrong? Are you okay?"

As Mike turned his head towards her, lyrics of a song came to him:

So tell me what I see
When I look in your eyes
Is that you, baby
Or just a brilliant disguise?

"Honey," Jennifer pleaded, "you look sick!"

Tonight our bed is cold I'm lost in the darkness of our love

"Mike, please tell me what's wrong!"

God have mercy on the man who doubts what he's sure of

Mike knew what he had to do. He cleared his throat.

"You tell me, Jennifer."

Jennifer looked scared.

"Tell...tell you what, baby?"

Mike flinched at the term of endearment. After a long pause, he answered her.

"Tell me what's wrong! What went wrong. With us."

Jennifer blanched. She trembled.

"Mike," she said weakly, "I don't understand."

Yes you do. I can tell.

Before his eyes, Jennifer was falling to pieces. It confirmed everything. Until this moment, he'd hoped against hoped that he'd been wrong. Now all hope was gone.

"I'm the one who doesn't understand," Mike whispered.

"So why don't you tell me...about James Coltez."