Push(78)

I taught David how to shoot, and I even gave him his first gun. He taught me how to make my own picture frames and how to use a laser level to set up my shows. We were good together, yes, but it was clear that we were not good enough. Somehow it always seemed as if he was unsatisfied. As if he was always holding himself in. We were going through the motions of being together without ever truly connecting. But, like I said, love is for pussies. It was never going to happen.
Robbie called me a few hours ago to tell me that David showed up at his apartment this morning. He used his maintenance key to let himself in, and then he proceeded to calmly wreak havoc on the apartment. David didn’t lay a hand on Robbie or even speak to him, but he did rip the kitchen cupboards off their hinges and smash some of the merchandise Robbie was stowing. Then he told Robbie that he had one day to clear out his shit and leave town because Carl was evicting him. Robbie’s been selling stolen electronics out of the apartment for the past seven months, and David’s known about it since he came to fix the water heater one day and saw a bunch of car stereos and at least a dozen laptops on the floor.
David’s no dumbass. When he saw Robbie f*cking me, he must have gone straight to Carl to tell him about Robbie’s little sales operation.
After Robbie’s phone call, I texted David and told him that we needed to talk. He told me to meet him here, on this bridge, at eleven o’clock sharp. I was supposed to come alone, but after hearing about what David did this morning, there was no way I was coming here by myself. Robbie said he would come with me, but he agreed to stay out of sight unless there was a problem. And now, Robbie is on the ground in a pool of his own blood. He came running when he saw David grab my arms and pull them behind me. Robbie swung the first punch—it was the only one that he landed.
Robbie is motionless now, and I look down at him, wondering if he is still alive. David is sitting on top of his body, and when he looks up at me, I can see the anger searing through him. It is unbelievable—I can feel how angry David is. I can feel the King of Control utterly losing his shit. Because of me.
He stands and kicks Robbie’s side hard, and Robbie lets out a small cough. Then David is nose-to-nose with me, asking me in a quiet, malicious tone exactly how long I have been screwing Robbie. I tell him it doesn’t matter. It was just f*cking. It didn’t mean anything. The look on David’s face tells me that I had better say what he wants to hear. That self-preservation is a must if I plan to walk away from this. Lies may be the only thing that will save me.
I tell David I love him—which I don’t. And that I am sorry—which I’m not. And that what happened with Robbie was just a one-time thing—which, clearly, it wasn’t. Lies, lies, lies. As I am spitting out the words I think he wants to hear, David smiles at me. I think my lies are working. I think I might actually walk away from this. But then David leans down and puts his face right up to mine. He asks me if I think he is a f*cking idiot. He knows I don’t love him, and he knows I’m not sorry.
I can feel the anger shooting through his body again. His hands grasp my shoulders tightly, and his breath deepens. His face is infused with fury, and this time it is aimed at me. I don’t move because I think that if I do, my body will wind up on the ground right next to Robbie’s. I’m going to have to find a way out of this. I wish I had one of my father’s guns.
I quietly ask David what he wants me to say. “Don’t f*cking say anything,” he whispers to me. “Just do what I tell you to do.” He takes his hands off my shoulders and tells me to turn around and look at what I made him do. Look at the bloody mess I turned Robbie into.
When I turn around, I see Robbie lying on the ground behind me. His head rolls to the side, and he exhales another little blood-soaked cough. Then I hear David’s heavy breaths and his backpack sliding down off his body. I should run. I should leap over Robbie and run like hell. But I can’t. I can only look down and silently beg his now unconscious body to keep breathing.
I squat down and touch Robbie’s face. It is hot and slick with blood. I look at his closed eyes and consider moving my palm over to his mouth, to confirm that he’s breathing. But David grabs hold of both my wrists and drags them behind me. The force of it knocks me forward, and my cheek pushes against Robbie’s chest. David’s knee is on my back, and he wraps something around my wrists, tying them together. When he pulls me back up to standing, I can feel the blood from Robbie’s shirt trickling down my face. I can taste it on my lips. It is the taste of my own guilt.
David pushes me over to the side of the bridge so that my toes are up against the edge, just beneath the knee-high guardrail. He has a hold of my upper arms, and as I look down through the dark at the water below me, David lets me go and bends over. I think for a second that he is going to pick something up, but then I feel his backpack on top of my feet. It is heavy, and a few seconds later, he has secured a strap to each of my ankles with a zip tie. What is happening? I think again that I should be running away. That I should be kicking and fighting him. But by the time my fear sets in, it’s too late.
David stands back up and whispers into my ear that he is going to push me off this goddamned bridge.
“Don’t,” I tell him. “Don’t do this. Let’s just walk away from this. I will go, and I won’t come back. You’ll never see me again, and Robbie, he’ll go, too. I promise, David. I promise.”
He is smiling at me now, looking both smug and justified. He’s taken charge of the moment, just like he always does. He moves behind me, and then his hands are flat against my back. I feel him push me forward, and my upper body tips over the guardrail. As I fall forward, his hands slide down my legs and lift my heavy feet, flipping them over the railing with force and causing me to tumble over the edge. The wind sings in my ears and when I hit the water, I think about Robbie and I feel ashamed.