Bad Glass

Taylor seemed at a loss. She extended her hand, to put it on Terry’s shoulder, but the old man shook his head and pulled away. A broad smile spread across his face, and I could tell that it was a massive effort on his part, casting aside all that gloom, trying to appear jovial. “Hell, maybe it’s all a sign of my success. Under my umbrella, people get strong enough to leave. I’ll think of it like that, okay? I help them, and they get strong enough to make a go of it on their own. Hell, just look at you!” He held his hand out toward Taylor, palm up, like he was presenting a beautiful piece of art to a gallery of viewers. “You’re looking great. Are you happy?”

Taylor smiled and cast me a sly glance. There was a touch of blush in her cheeks. “Yeah, I’m doing well. But you’re the one who set me on that path.”

Terry smiled. And this smile seemed effortless.

“I guess you’re here to see Weasel?”

“What?” Confusion warped Taylor’s face, and she jolted back in surprise.

“I assumed that’s why you came. He’s been here for three days now.”

“I thought you were done with him. I thought you refused to let him back.”

Terry shrugged. “I’ve mellowed in my old age, I guess. The rules just don’t seem as important …” He shook his head. “Anyway, he’s your friend, and Johnny pleaded for him.”

“Jesus Christ, Weasel,” Taylor hissed to herself. Then she turned back to Terry. “And why the fuck are you listening to Johnny?”

Terry didn’t reply.

“Fine,” Taylor said. She closed her eyes for a moment, and as I watched, the anger faded from her face; once again, there was nothing but caring, warm emotion, though perhaps not as warm as before. “No, Terry, why we’re here, what I want to know … do you have Devon spying on my house? Are you keeping tabs on me?”

Terry let out a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, that’s me,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d catch on. I’ve had him stopping by once or twice a week to tell me how you’re doing. It’s all innocent, though. Nothing nefarious. I’m just trying to keep track of my favorite girl.”

“And you’re paying him for this?” Taylor asked. “You’re paying him to spy on me?”

“Not much—just some food, some pot—and if you’re worried about his character, I’m not making him report anything too personal or bad. I just want to know how you’re doing, if you’re in trouble, if you need help.” He flicked a finger in my direction. “He told me about Dean last time he was here. He said you seemed happy.”

“When?” I asked, jumping into the conversation. “When did you see him?” I was excited. This seemed like a miracle to me. Finally, here was the answer to a mystery, an explanation that actually made sense, that didn’t get lost in a jumble of magic and religion.

“A couple of days ago,” Terry said. “Just after Weasel moved in.”

“And where’d you get the radio?” I asked. “How’d you wire up the tunnels?”

Terry met these questions with a look of confusion. It seemed genuine. “Radio? Radios don’t work here. And tunnels?” Terry shook his head. “No. No, I don’t go near any tunnels.”

I looked over at Taylor, and she returned my gaze, confused. I hadn’t told her about the radio and the wires. After a moment, she offered me a halfhearted shrug. “Maybe it’s something Devon did on his own. Maybe it’s not important.”

I shook my head. No, that wasn’t it, but I didn’t bother trying to argue. Taylor hadn’t been there. She hadn’t followed the wire down into the dark; she hadn’t seen the vast network of tunnels. There was no way that that didn’t mean something. And there was no way Devon could have done it all on his own.

“Where’s Weasel?” Taylor asked Terry. “I want to see him. I want to make sure he’s okay.” She cast me a nervous glance, looking for my reaction. But I didn’t react. There was just no energy there, no anger. Not anymore. Weasel wasn’t a threat; he’d never been a threat. Taylor could like me and still want to help her friend, even if that friend had tried to fuck me over. I could see that now. I guess I was getting more secure in our relationship.

“He’s in the tower, down in the basement,” Terry said. “I don’t know if he’s there right now. Frankly, I haven’t seen him since he moved in.”

Taylor stood up and made to leave.

“Don’t be angry with me,” Terry said. “I didn’t mean anything bad. I just want to see you safe. I want to see you happy.”

Taylor nodded. “I know, Terry,” she said. “I’m happy. I’m safe. But it’s you I’m worried about.” She bent down and gave him a kiss on the forehead. And then, in a quieter voice: “But don’t spy on me. Don’t you dare! I don’t want to end up hating you. Okay?”

“Okay,” Terry said, once again flashing that exhausted smile.

Then Taylor turned and walked away.

Taylor left through the front door. I followed her to the threshold, then paused, turning to look back into the room. Taylor continued on without me.