Now that the netherworld had swallowed her tempestuous baby right in front of her very eyes she had no more doubts. Something, somewhere, perhaps on the other side had him marked. That much was certain. She thought about his tender embrace. She thought about the hurt he had caused. His drunken affairs were too much to bear. Swinging his fists about. Stumbling to the floor in a drunken stupor. Red faced and pale, hanging on to a thread of his own sanity. Something had him.
She thought about the ways he always made her smile. He was a double-edged knife. He was the rush of peaks and he was the death and decay of valleys. To Fallon, Domingo was second to none for a spell – so, his vanishing came coupled with a sense of relief.
When will he be back? Will he be back? Maybe he transported somewhere else temporarily. How would she ever begin to explain this phenomenon to her mother. To her kids? The question had burned in the back of her mind for days. Her interactions with Shasta would only confirm this sense that Domingo had been possessed by a demonic entity. Her curly brown hair and bright blue eyes spoke for her with loads of understanding. “In a world as crazy as this, it would be foolish to think that there’s anything less than a spirit realm.” She’d say. You can’t have all of this stuff, you know, miracles, black holes, and babbies being born every minute. You can’t have of that without a spirit realm.”
”Holla at your girl.” You do the right thing. “He was dead to you anyway wasn’t he? Or soon to be?”
Fallon sat on the end of her bed contemplating the seven years of their relationship. Each round on the merry-go-round had its highlights. The late nights, the drunken romance, the parties, the mystical interventions.
”I know he was headed down the wrong path”. She said. “It’s still tough, though. He had this way about him. She smirked. “Did I ever tell you about the times he fell, fully-clothed, into a bathtub full of water? It happened twice in the same month!”
Shasta laughed. The tone of the conversation shifted from humorous to serious.
How about the time we drove to the city? The boy was livid for no apparent reason. He wouldn’t shut up about his life being cursed.
He said that “after all this is over I hope you realize what you’ve done by creating this detour.” It didn’t resonate with me at the time but now that he’s gone it’s pretty clear – He believed that I was a detour on his quest for a perfect life.
He said that I had everything he ever wanted in a woman, it was just too much to take – my “baggage” he called it. My children are not baggage. I would say. But that never sank in. He was prone to thinking that someday, the kids would just vanish…. Become a “non-issue” he would say. Now, it’s him that has vanished.
He was always so worried about the future. He said that “with each new day brings a fresh new hell”. God he could be so dramatic. Especially near the end. Yep. It was on that NYC trip when I got a glimpse of what he meant . He showed me what he meant without even trying. I say that because it was like a dream when we went there. Honest to God…. It was like scenes from a movie. I mean…. He was angry most of the time, agitated. He was squirrely. Acting like his pants were on fire. On the trip there, we stopped to get gas in Jersey. He nearly bit off the gas station attendant’s head. The guy didn’t deserve it. He was just trying to do his job but Domingo just kept staring at the guy saying “what the fuck do you want” and “do you have a question for me? Don’t you know English? What is your fucking question?“
Then in the car he was like: that guys from some some other country like Dominican Republic or some shit… You are way more New York than him you just don’t realize it.”
“Tough words” said Shasta. I guess Domingo had a lot of NY pride pent up inside of him. Doesn’t mean he had to be a jerk”
“That was only part of it. Things got weirder after that. I mean…. As soon as we got there, there was trouble. There was this bomb that went off in the street in Chelsea…”
“A bomb? Like the kind that explodes and goes boom!?” She motioned with her hands in the shape of an expanding sphere.
“Yep. The kind that explodes and goes boom!”
“Oh my God! Do you mean a pressure cooker bomb like the one that they arrested that guy for? …Back in… back in…”
“Back in December.” Replied Fallon matter of factly.
“Before it went off we literally saw it on the street outside of our hotel.”
“You saw the bomb?” Said Shasta, fizzing with surprise.
“Yep. Domingo even pointed it out as we were walking to the hotel… this random pressure cooker on the sidewalk… and said “oh look someone’s making hot chocolate.”
“It’s like…. It’s almost like it was waiting for us.”
We went into the hotel and when we came out there was nothing but sirens and smoke everywhere. The street was filled with ambulances and firefighters, and police trying to secure the area. We were stunned. Not sure what happened yet we went up to the bar to meet his friends and there it was on the evening news – a bomb had exploded in Chelsea! Seven injured. No one killed.”
“Oh my gawd”. Replied Shasta. I had no idea you were THERE when THAT happened. That is so crazy!”
“Gets crazier”. Replied Fallon. She rocked on the side of the bed for a minute then sprang to her feet. She stood side by side with Shasta looking at her through the reflection in the large vanity.
“He told me after the fact that everything that happened that night was once promised to him by someone.”
Shasta’s eyes lit up with surprise. “How could it be? I mean… promised?”
Their eyes broke from the reflection to meet once again.
“Yep. He said that when he was in ninth grade they had a transfer student from some other country like Albania or Armenia or something (his words). The guy was angry about a lot of things and quite antisocial. Apparently Domingo teased that guy a bit. That guy got angry and vowed to one day find Domingo and get revenge.
Dom said he’d never forget that boy’s face. He said he’d never forget the way that boy made him feel. He said he didn’t normally feel afraid of anyone.. I believed him. Seemed like Dom had met up with a real nut. Some force of terror. Maybe even a terrorist. Someone that would take it to the grave.”
And he never did forget that boy’s face.
Even after two decades Domingo knew it deep in his gut. The face on the evening news pinned to the ground. The man who built the explosive pressure cooker. The transfer student from Armenia – these two were the same person.
