Page 11 of A Breath of Life
We watched as the team stabilized him, transferred him to a gurney, and raced off to the nearest hospital. The police arrived during the chaos and required Tallus and me to give statements. Thoroughfucking statements. I hated the police with every fiber of my being, so it took a world of patience and Echo’s calming influence to translate what had happened.
We explained how Echo had alerted us to the incident, how we’d seen someone run off into the night, likely the attacker. No, we couldn’t identify them. No, we didn’t know if they were male or female, black or white, old or young, short or tall. No, we didn’t know what they were wearing.
We knew nothing but the aftermath.
When asked about the gentleman’s condition upon our arrival, we explained about his stab wound, his bloodied face, and his struggle to breathe. We did not relay his desperate request that we search his pockets and dispose of whatever was in the soft leather pouch. I wasn’t a fan of cops, and the man’s demand had felt ominous. Call it a hunch, but I suspected revealing those details to the police would somehow bite me in the ass.
Eventually, the officer gave us his card and drove away. By then, our food was likely congealed and inedible, and our peaceful night was ruined.
Somber, we aimed for home. At the mouth of the alley was a garbage bin. I fished the pouch from my pocket with every intent of throwing it away as the man requested, but Tallus caught my arm and stopped me.
“Wait. Aren’t you going to look inside first?”
I should have said no, then maybe everything that followed wouldn’t have happened, and we could have continued our lives in safe, blissful ignorance.
But I’d never been good at saying no to Tallus.
3
Tallus
Diem refused to check the leather pouch while on the street, insisting we take it home to see what it contained, convinced the police would circle back and catch us with something that wasn’t ours. He was confident that when the gentleman’s senses returned, he would report that we had robbed him.
The incident in the alley left Diem tense and edgy. He walked home faster than I could keep up, no longer holding my hand and commanding Echo to stay at his side where she couldn’t sniff everything in sight. His patience was gone.
At the apartment, he busied himself getting Echo’s dinner, slamming plates around, and unearthing the containers of Chinese food from the paper bag. Most were crushed and leaking from having been hugged so tightly against my chest during the crisis.
I wasn’t hungry after witnessing a man almost die in an alley, but Diem heated the food and pretended the mysterious leather pouch he’d tucked away in his pocket didn’t exist.
“Can I see it?” I asked as he slopped food unceremoniously onto two plates.
“Eat first.”
“I don’t want to eat first. I want to know what’s in the bag that the guy was so determined we find and throw away. Aren’t you at all curious?”
Diem dropped the serving spoon, braced his hands on the counter, and bowed his head, audibly breathing through his nose in the way he did when he was trying not to yell. His back rose and fell with each steady inhale and exhale, but regardless of his efforts, a deep rumble emanated from his chest.
Echo glanced from her meal, peering at Diem with concern. She heard it too. His stress was elevated, and it was her job to calm him. Abandoning her food, she moved to his side and leaned her weight against his leg, pawing the air and glancing up at the distressed man with her golden, love-filled eyes.
“I’m okay, Echo. Go eat your kibble.”
She refused until he scratched her ear and reassured her once again. Even as she moved back to her dish, she continued to check on her charge. She didn’t believe his words any more than I did.
Still facing the counter, Diem rubbed a hand briskly over the mop of thick hair he’d grown for his nana’s sake as he blew out a sharp breath. An evening dealing with dying men and cops was not how Diem preferred to relax, and I shouldn’t have been pushing him. He needed time and space to decompress, but I couldn’t quell my curious nature. Not knowing was eating me alive.
Another long minute passed while he stood unmoving, staring at the food he’d plated.
I was ready to tell him to forget it when, without a word, he slipped two fingers into the back pocket of his jeans and withdrew the pouch.He tossed it onto the counter with a grumbled, “Have at ’er,” and took his plate and fork to the table to eat.
I stared after him.
Echo stared after him.
Diem sat and shoveled food into his mouth without showing any sign he enjoyed or even tasted it.
I hated that our night had gotten so turned around, but this was the nature of the beast. Diem’s moods were fragile and easily influenced by stressful situations. He dealt with them as best he could, but it put a strain on our relationship when I couldn’t break through his walls.
Sighing, I added an extra egg roll to my plate and took it and the mysterious leather pouch to the table, sitting across from Diem, who still hadn’t said a word.
