Page 44 of Promise and Punishment

Parker

Ihated this green door. I hated how its paint chipped and how its gold knob had lost its luster. It felt used; tainted by the oil of hundreds of hands, from hundreds of moments, by those who had come and gone; of Gemma, of when she was small, to when she was here with Alejandro, to me and now. I hated it. But most of all, I hated how it once made me feel, so impossibly helpless.

I closed my fist, delivering three loud knocks to its top corner. She must have known I was coming, considering she broke the rules.

A few seconds passed, and the sound of shuffling feet stopped on the other side of the door. She was hesitating, and I knew she was watching me through the peephole, but I was adamant about seeing her, transparent enough that she’d know not to fuck with me today.

The lock clicked as she slowly opened the door, revealing the same old darkness that always lurked behind her. “Parker?” Claire asked, speaking as if I had disturbed her.

“We need to talk.” I replied, standing at least a foot and a half taller since the last time I was here as a kid. I didn’t need to peer up; instead I glared down into those gaunt, grey eyes that once horrified me as a child.

“About what?”

“Our agreement.”

“It’s still good. I have no problems with you.”

“You may not. But I do,” I added sharply.

“I don’t need to explain myself to you.” She began to shut the door, but I immediately wedged my foot between it, my weight and strength far superior to the push of her small body. She looked up, annoyed.

“Don’t make me get the landlord, Claire. I’d really hate to break into my own apartment.”

“Stop,” she spat. “This is my—”

“Enough,” I warned. “You own nothing, you have nothing. It’s my name on the lease, it’s my name on the bills. You’ll open this door, and you’ll talk to me. Do you understand?” I tried to be civil, not wanting to scare her, but she was making it so goddamn difficult.

I was already so fucking tense, so angry and disappointed with so many of the bad decisions I made. I embarrassed myself last night, and I embarrassed Gemma. I had fought so hard to keep her safe, to keep her protected from an idea that was manifested within this very apartment. And for what? For it to go wrong, to be wrong? I was done with it, done with talking, done with assuming. I was going to listen to Gemma, I was going to give her what she needed, and last night she made it clear, what sheneededwas for me to trust her.

“Now open the door.” I stated, removing my foot so Claire could close it, and release the chain. She opened it back up, revealing reminiscent smoke and shadows.

“I should ask if you’re thirsty,” Claire turned her back as I stepped inside. “It’s already warm outside.”

“I don’t need anything.”

“Not even water?” she asked, avoiding me as she fished a mug out of her murky filled sink. I didn’t answer, my focus penetrating her back as she flipped on the facet handle. Everything was the same, untouched from years that had come and gone. Same T.V., same couch, same ugly kitchen, and shit-colored carpet. It had all the familiarity of a nightmare, the kind whose patterns and characteristics went unchanged like some haunted time capsule. “How about a beer?”

“Nothing,” I reiterated.

“You sure? Men love beer. And that’s what you are, right? A man coming over to assert himself?” She turned with the cup in her hand, taking a sip. I half-expected it to be the jelly jar I once drank out of, but it wasn’t; still, the anticipation of it made me nauseous.

“I’m here because you broke our agreement.”

“You said that already,” she snatched a pack of smokes on her way to sit down. “I didn’t bother Gemma.”

“You did. And now, I’m bothered. I told you I’d pay for your medication; I told you I’d pay for your rent. Your job was simple, to keep your problems to yourself.”

“It wasn’t as bad as before.” She removed a cigarette from the carton and placed it between her lips.

Bad as before?She was referring to when Gemma stopped her internship with Gerard to help her out. Claire was never good at keeping a job, and the one she lost four years ago had a bigger impact than expected. She couldn’t cover the cost of her meds without her previous insurance and was forced to take something less effective. That’s when everything went wrong, and somehow, it became Gemma’s problem again. Gemma was here for weeks at the time, until magically, Medicaid approved the right prescription, only, itwasn’tmagic. It was me, fronting the bills, sorting the paperwork with the landlord as well, making the arrangements to have Claire financially stable and self-sufficient.

I would have done it sooner had Gemma told me, but she was always good at keeping secrets. I couldn’t blame her, I’d always done the same, not only about my promise to Claire, but about Alex, especially with his relationship with Natalie and theDJ out in Bushwick. I made it sound so vague to Gemma before, that Alex was just violent, avoiding how it all tied together. I said too much last night but didn’t say everything.

“Not as bad as before?” I asked. “We had an arrangement. I pay for everything, and you focus on yourself. You were supposed to leave Gemma alone, and you were only supposed to call her to check on her. You were supposed to do what mothers typically do. Not dump your fucking problems on her. She’s not your therapist, she’s not your doctor. I made this easy for you, Claire, and what was my one stipulation? You take your fucking pills.”

“It was a mistake.” She lit her cigarette and took a quick drag, her hoarse voice deteriorated over the years. Her nonchalant response ignited so many feelings in me, like how she was unbothered by the fact that our agreement was broken.

My promise meant everything. And hers? It meant nothing.

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