The Bottom Shelf Review

There was something in James’ eyes when he walked into the kitchen that morning, something that made me realize it was the beginning of the end. It was a Sunday. “I don’t know how much longer I can go on like this,” he told me and looked away. I frowned at him. “I keep having these dreams,” he said. “Horrible dreams where we get caught.”

“They’re just dreams, James,” I said.

“Maybe,” he sighed. I think he ran his hands through his hair although I can’t remember, he always did that when he got nervous. “But people are talking.”

“Let ‘em talk,” I said. He wouldn’t look at me. I knew he was right. I should have known from the beginning that it was foolish to believe we would have a happy ending.

This is not a love story, but that’s not to say it was loveless. I loved James. I loved him, I loved him, I loved him. And I still love him. I love him even now, on my knees in front of Christ on a cross thinking about the day I met him and the way I knew instantly that he would be the one. I can still taste metal in my mouth. I can still hear him whimpering please, please, please. It makes my stomach turn. I meet Christ’s desperate gaze and put my hands to my forehead, begging for forgiveness I know I don’t deserve. I think about the way James’ hands felt brushing my hair out of my face and then I can’t help myself because he’s in my head calling me beautiful even at my worst: dark red staining my clothes and under my fingernails and falling from my lips to the cold floor.

If only my heart were as small and empty as I want to believe it is then maybe these things I’ve done wouldn’t hurt so much. Maybe I would be able to get over James.

Yeah right.

Back in the kitchen I watched James hold his head in his hands. I knew the right thing would have been to get closer to him, but I had stopped trusting myself by then. The thing is if James was a man then I was his dog. I’m loyal, I keep his secret and he keeps mine, but my teeth are sharp and I can be mean and I have bitten and I’ll do it again. James was never afraid of me though, even when I held his bottom lip between my teeth I looked into his eyes and I could tell.

I wrapped my arms around my ribs and stared at my bare feet. I told him I loved him from across the kitchen and when he said nothing back I stormed out the screen door.

Tuesday night. We killed a man three hours ago. A hitchhiker named Paul. He wanted a life south, something about going to Vegas. He died on the side of 287, an hour outside of Helena. James pretended something was wrong with the engine and when Paul got out to help him James whipped around and shattered his skull with a flashlight. I watched from the passenger seat for a little bit before I got out too. I couldn’t help myself

James likes blood, but I love it. I hate the way flesh between my teeth feels like electricity under my skin. If I think about Paul too long it makes me feel a little dizzy. That could have been me. It’s something we don’t talk about.

I’m staring at myself in the bathroom mirror. I used to be pretty. My eyes are red like my lips. Everything is so red all the time. I wipe my chin with the back of my hand and rinse Paul’s blood down the drain and turn off the ceiling light.

James is laying on his back on the bed. His eyes are closed but I know he’s awake, I can see him tapping his foot along to record that used to belong to his mother playing in the corner. I crawl on the bed on top of him and lean down so my lips touch his nose. He’s so goddamn handsome. Sometimes when I’m this close I swear I can hear his heartbeat but I don’t really know, could just be my imagination.

“I love you, Mary,” James says.

I close my eyes and lay my head on his chest, listening for something I can’t find. “I love you too.”

“You make me feel like a real person. You make me feel like I’m good.”

It scares me sometimes, how gentle James could be with me like I hadn’t just watched him kill a human being.

I don’t remember falling asleep but when I woke up he was holding onto me. The record had stopped playing by then. The world was quiet, with the exception of the cicadas. There, in James’ arms, I became someone else. Someone more like me, or maybe the girl I wanted to be. Sometimes, when we’re laying in bed at night, I want to know about the girl I am when he dreams of me. Am I sweet? Am I gentle? Are my teeth as sharp? That night I dreamt we were normal people. I dreamt we met in a supermarket. We fell in love between plastic packages of raspberries and bright green apples. I wanted to tell him about it in the morning but he was gone when I woke up and by the time I saw him I had forgotten about it until now.

Summer in a place like this is always unforgiving but this year is worse. James says he’s never seen a season this bad. I’ve got my arms around him on the back of his appaloosa. Beneath us the grass is brown. The wildflowers are wilting. Everything is dying. I feel sweat fall down my back. The weatherman on the TV this morning said it would be a high of 105. No rain, still. Days like this make me wonder why anybody would stay here, and then I remember James is the only reason I’m staying and I hold onto him a little bit tighter. I think sometimes love makes you do things that don’t make sense.

Last night I threw an empty glass at the wall and watched it shatter. I pretended it hit James in the head. I don’t think that’s love. I love James, but sometimes I can hardly stand him.

I feel the sun on my scalp, I can feel it burning my shoulders and the back of my arms. It’s all a little bit too much.

There’s a spring a few miles from the house, he told me about it this morning while I sat on the floor between his legs and he braided my hair. “It’d be nice on a day like today,” he said. “Used to go there with my brothers when we were kids.”

I swallowed and waited for him to say something else, but he never did. In all the months I’ve known James I could probably count on one hand the amount of times he’s brought up his brothers. I know there were two of them, and James was the baby. I don’t know what happened to them. I think I’m too afraid to ask.

The spring is on the other side of a treeline you can only see from the edge of the property line. The water is dark green. It’s like a dream. The water is cold and makes my toes curl. I don’t have a swimsuit so I take off my clothes. The hair on my arms stands up. The shade almost makes me cold, something I haven’t felt in a long time. I can feel James’ eyes on me. I look over my shoulder at him and watch him watching me.

“What?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Nothin’,” he whispers.

I walk into the water until my feet can’t reach the bottom and then I go underneath the surface. Without thinking I open my eyes. My hair looks black. Everything is blurry. I blow air out of my mouth so my body sinks and I feel my back against the ground. Then I see James swimming above me. The sun behind his head makes him look like an angel. I want to laugh but I can’t breathe so I push myself up. Between the branches and leaves the sky is so blue. I met James on a day like this, one without any clouds in the sky.

The water is a relief. “I wish everyday could be like this,” I told him a little while later while I was floating on my back and he watched from the grass.

“I know, I know.”

I feel like I do when I’m with him in my dreams. I feel like a normal girl, but there is always something just below the surface. I can’t get rid of the feeling. When I was younger I used to be able to go longer in between, but now I’m twenty five and it’s only been a few days and its almost too much.

I’m so hungry.

“Do you want to go into town?” He asks like he can read my mind. “Find you something to eat?” I nod.

Over and over and over again. It never ends.

We’ve done it before. I go into a bar and catch somebody’s attention, man or woman, doesn’t matter because they all taste the same, and lure them into James’ truck. He likes when I bring a woman out. He likes the way they scream. I can see it in his eyes, the way his pupils explode. We’ve done it a million fucking times, and they always fight back but nobody has ever gotten away.

James is tearin’ town gravel roads back to the house, one hand on the steering wheel the other over the gunshot wound in his stomach. “Damn it!” he shouts. “Damn it! God fucking DAMN IT!” I can’t speak, I have nothing to say and even if I did I would keep it to myself. He’s terrifying when he’s nervous. His dog is barking in the front yard when the house comes into view. The sun has disappeared. The sky is gray. The cows are laying down. I stay in the truck for a minute before I follow him into the house. I don’t know what I expected. Holes in the wall, broken chairs, pieces of glass.

He’s crying on the kitchen floor. He looks pathetic but I can’t look away from him. I’m so tired, I just want to go to bed but I sit down across from him. He breathes in deep. It’s so quiet in the house.

I still haven’t come up with what to say. Is there anything to say? I lean into him so our foreheads are touching, and then suddenly his arms are around me and his head is on my chest. I feel his fists clutch onto the fabric of my sundress.

His body shakes as he cries. “I’m so scared, Marianne,” he whimpers.

“I know, I know,”

“I love you,” he says.

I close my eyes. “I love you too.”

“I’m sorry.”

I want to tell him not to apologize, that he’s all I ever wanted.

“I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything,” he tells me.

“Me too,” I say. For the first time I realize I can feel his pulse. He’s the most alive he’s been in weeks. I’m not thinking. My lips are on his neck. I want to kiss him. I want him. I need him, I need him, I need him.

“I don’t want to be like this anymore,” he whispers.

How do you think I feel? I want to ask but then there’s a loud boom. Thunder. I look up at the ceiling and count in my head.      

One… two… three… four… five… six… seven… eight… nine… boom!

The rain that everybody has been praying for all summer is tapping on the tin roof.

James throws his head back and laughs. It’s a broken, horrible sound. “Fuck,” he hisses. “It hurts so bad, Mary.”

“I know,” I lie. I can see the ending before it happens.

He takes a sharp breath. “Oh my god,” he whimpers. “I wanna die,” he says softly.

“No! You are not- fuck! You’re going to be okay, James. James, look at me,” I say and I grab his chin but he can’t keep his eyes open. “JAMES!” I yell. “James, please!

We look into each other’s eyes at the same time. What I see: a man that will die soon.

What he sees: a girl who is hungry.

I don’t remember what happened next, what came after when he tucked my hair behind my ear and asked me to do the one thing I promised myself I would never do. I did it though. I would have done anything James asked me too if he asked me nicely. And he was a terrible man, but oh my god he was so good to me.

I get off my knees at the church and swallow. It’s time to go.

There is nothing left of James Howard except for the girl who loved him.