#lftm

  Martin Brenner dreamed so deep, he woke in a pit every morning. Fingers shifting to feel for one caress of that supple skin. Tread into black locks. He wished sometimes that they never chopped it off. 

  She truly looked like a siren with black silk spilling over her warm bronzed shoulders. Eyes glowing even in the dark. A rich brown. Almost honeyed like amber. Lucy was warmth and she was fire and he longed to hold it within his palms. Watch it spill and burn this entire town down.

   That would have been breathtaking. 

  But, Brenner couldn’t have that. So, he smothered her. Pressed her like coal until she was a sparkling diamond instead. It was for the best. 

  So, he dreamed and tumbled. Woke before a smaller house, but it looked loved. Something out of a fairy tale in black and white. Surrounded by a lush garden of marigolds. Beautiful even if they’re all grey. 

  A place where the sun was always high framed with a white picket fence. Neighbors who smiled so wide they might crack. Waving in sync. Robotic in how they navigate.

  Martin always carried a coat and briefcase. Dons his expensive Italian suits. Taking in this perfect world of black and white. Same at the funny sitcoms he secretly enjoyed. Wondering if Lucy likes them too. If she’d curl up with him and watch.

  Steps took him up toward the door. Always unlocked. 

  “Honey,” Martin offered to the air, “I’m home.”

  Hold for laughs.

  And there she was. Materializing out of the kitchen with a wide painted smile. A little cinched polka dotted dress. Even a frilly apron. So pristine and untouched by this world. Martin figured the dress was a forest green only because he knew it was Lucy’s favorite color.

  “How was work, dear?” Lucy never stopped smiling at him. That much was always static. Hands reached for his coat to hang it up. She didn’t wait for an answer and slipped into his arms. Kissed him on the lips like she’d been waiting for his return all day. And she had.

  “Just fine.” Martin grasped her hips. Kept her pressed there flush.

  “My husband. Fighting all the bad guys.” She cooed. Another peck. “Dinner’s almost ready. I made your favorite. And I didn’t burn it this time.”

  Hold for more laughs.

  Lucy always made his favorite. 

  She went to the doorway, posed a little like a mannequin.

  “Kids! Your father’s home!”

  Steps rumbled down the stairs. Two children lined up in front of Lucy. Matching mechanical grins on their doll faces. 

  Martin recalled their names.

  The girl. Amanda. Dark brown hair and blue eyes. She must be about eight. Little spitfire. And her younger brother. Five years old. Martin. They called him Marty for short. Brown hair and eyes. Shy.

  “Daddy!” The children jumped at him. Holding so tight like they might fade at any second. And they would. Lucy was all smiles at the sight. Protected by these four walls. They were safe here.

  “Go wash up for dinner now.” She ushered them off, taking Brenner by the hand. A wedding ring sparkled same as the pretty pearls round her neck. “I made a surprise for dessert. Can you smell it?”

  “Is that cherry?”

  Lucy giggled. 

  “Isn’t it divine?” She shrugged and pulled out a pan. Some chicken and dumpling recipe his mother used to make. The pie came next. Piping hot in the window to cool. Glistening and lush. “That’s what fear smells like.”

  “What?” Brenner had started to roll his sleeves up. Eyes snapping. Lucy clasped her hands. Her face must have hurt with that grin plastered. 

  “I just said it smells so good, I could ruin my appetite right now. Couldn’t you, honey?” She gushed. 

  Hold for laughs.

  They gathered as a family. Looking around at these gifts. Happy. Sharing a perfect meal in a perfect little dollhouse. The child playing with them loved them too much. 

  “If you don’t eat your carrots,” Martin had to point at his son, “you won’t get dessert.” He smiled too like it was half a joke. Marty stuffed himself full and pie was served. “Don’t forget to thank your beautiful mother.”

  “Oh, stop.” Lucy playfully smacked the hand from her hip. “I’m just happy to have a beautiful family.”

  Martin could swear he tasted this rich meal. Succulent cherries hot on his tongue.

  The rest of the night was clockwork. Get the children ready for bed. Storytime with daddy. Plenty of soft kisses goodnight. Lights out.

  Lucy lotioning herself at the mirror in a little pink nightie. Martin’s mouth on her shoulder. Kissing her dizzy until she was up and in bed. Mounting him in nothing but those pearls. Them trying to stay as quiet as they could because the children were sleeping. Her tuckered body falling in next to him, spent. Blissful.

  “We could have another baby.” Martin suggested. “Another little girl.”

  “I always liked the name Jane.” Lucy mused. Haunted, he peered at her there against the pillows. Naked skin dewy and soft. “You look like you've seen a ghost, darling.”

  “You know what’s going on, don’t you?” His head lifted to see her clearly in the dim lamplight. “You know this isn’t real.”

  “Of course, it’s real, baby.” Her hand touched his cheek. “I’m real. Feel that?”

  “You can’t love me.” The stinging thought welled his eyes.

  “But, I do. I always will.” Lucy kissed him all better. “Do you feel it? Do you love me too?”

  “Yes.” Brenner pulled her impossibly close. Lips trailed over her neck. “I love you more than anything.”

  “To the moon and back?” Lucy melted into his frame. Sighed.

  “Yes.” Martin had gasped it because he wanted it all so bad. This dream. This love. Felt Lucy in his bone marrow. That fire. A crack.

  Lucy’s skin broke like glass. A mirror fracturing out. Martin felt her sag back into the bed.

  “Honey, I don’t feel well.” A little porcelain doll breaking to perfect pieces. Ashes seeping out instead of blood. “Can you hear that? It’s a symphony playing just for us.” 

  “No, Lucy, you stay right here. With me.” Brenner brought her into his arms. Felt her quiver and shake. The horrid sound like nails on a chalkboard when her skin broke apart.

  Lucy’s never able to stay.

  Hold for laughs.

  It broke his heart every single time. Seeing her shatter.

  And he knew it was all on him. Everything. He did this. He broke her. Lucy trembling to ashes. Sinking between his fingers.

  Hold for laughs.

  The children are always shattered in their beds too. Safe and sound from him and this world of rot.

  Brenner felt his chest filling with cries. With screams and bellows to stop the torment. It all became ashes and he mourned it. Even the marigolds. 

  It shouldn’t ache this profoundly. Martin Brenner with his pressed suits and pristine hair. The world to save upon his shoulders. Floating through science and logic. He could have let Lucy Garland go that day in his office. Could have let her blossom.

  He doesn’t regret it. The greater good demanded all the sacrifice. He told himself that like a mantra. Lucy had to burn and become something greater.

  But, when she looked into his eyes and lied so politely…

  Nothing in his life hurt like her sweet deception.

  He cannot love in full and she will never be his. Even if she sinks into his arms willingly. It’s all painted like those damn sitcoms.

  Hold for laughs. Scream instead.

  The dream’s ending was the same too. Lucy weeping softly. In the garden burying a pie dish with a bloody beating heart inside.

  Martin never has the chance to figure who the heart belongs to. But it’s the only splash of color in this muted, artificial world. Lucy cried over it and brought the ruby red into his dreams. 

  Waking, Brenner gave a start. Breathed deep to capture life again. 

  Felt around.

  Lucy would not be here.

  Sometimes he dreamed of her naked and holding that knife above him.

  It felt better than nothing. Maybe he had that coming for carving her out of marble against her will.

  Brenner turned in darkness and smelt the perfume even still. The torment he brought this world turned back at him the day Lucy Garland walked into his office with those starry eyes. 

  He didn’t blame her, he deserved to die. Martin always knew that deep down. He owed Lucy a life debt and she would collect one day down the line.

  Martin Brenner only hoped she’d hold him as the end came. Saving the world was a thankless job.

  Liked to think maybe he earned that much. One pair of warm arms and a heart beating in his ear. Dreamed that something in Lucy could love him back just for a second. One perfect second where there were no ashes between either of them. Maybe she could forgive something and sleep better after too.

  There was true hope in his soul that she could. This love. It would grow. Rot. Spread. Kill.

  He dreamed something prettier for both of them.

  It was only fair. When he laid his head down, the dream would come again like a silent monster. Make a fool of him because he still believed in it every single night.

  And the only courtesy he could do was hold for the damn laughs and let Lucy Garland slip through his fingers. Smell her perfume and cherry pie again because she was a craving he’d never lose.

  Not until she killed him.

  Sometimes when Brenner walked the path in that perfect black and white world and looked at those swaying marigolds, he knew she already had. Martin would remember to thank her for it one day soon.

   They made for good conversation when El visited the station once. Not like there was a dress code for the secretary, she was always put together. Colorful and saccharine through all four seasons.

  Today, the fans blew her skirts and perfume all about. Filled the station air with her. Jim readied to drop a file on her desk and caught lashes fluttering up to see his eyes. Hair blown out perfectly against a little desk fan for a look that was pure Hollywood. She stood out under dull lighting, skin bronzed and glittering brown eyes you could sink in.

  And how he resisted.

  “Something for me, Chief?” It wasn’t until a manicured hand tugged at the papers that he realized he’d been hovering there like an idiot for a good minute. “I’ll file it. Still waiting on Callahan’s report.” She tucked her hair, oblivious, and stood to turn to the row of cabinets. Bending over to organize it properly away in the correct place.

  Everything was just so. Neat. Straight as an arrow. Often she stilled to put items in their correct places. Straightening pens an inch apart exactly or adjusting supplies upright. Like she was forcing a messy world to make sense.

  “You finish the-?”

  “Just typed it.” A flick of her wrist plucked a paper up from the typewriter, offering it. Mauve painted lips spread to smile. One that dazzled his boys. “Next one won’t be long.” Jim exhaled out his nose. Took it.

  “Thanks.”

  He hated her dress.

  Hottest week of summer and the air conditioning goes out, meaning battle stations. Every ceiling and desk fan on full blast. Few of the guys brought standing ones from home.

  Papers threatened to fly all over were it not for Lucy smacking anything she could down as a weight. Staplers, pictures, apples. Shiny like her damn dress. Nothing was out of place on her watch.

  “You ever see the movie Seven Year Itch, Chief?” One of his officers had said later at the moment Lucy gasped to stop files from tossing upon Callahan’s desk.

  A whoosh of air threatened the delicate balance. She planted his nameplate down at the same time hands slapped a swell of forms from flying away. Her skirt had flown up tender thighs to expose the garters holding nude stockings briefly.

  Gulp.

  “Would you quit acting like an animal?” Jim whacked the officer’s legs off his desk. “Mrs. Gillespie called again, all yours.” His guy huffed and plucked a hat up to go.

  “You saved my day, Lucy.” Callahan’s nervous laugh caught.

  “You owe me.” Lucy tapped the papers together and offered them. Jim poured himself another full coffee. She stood up and crossed through the sea of desks back to reception. Eyes followed the splash of color. “Handyman should be here in an hour. Unless one of you boys wants to impress me?” Two officers actually shot up to go downstairs hoping to fix the damn AC.

  “Shouldn’t make bets like that, they’ll kill the rest of the power.” Jim had one elbow up on a file cabinet, sipping.

  “Does that mean an early day for us?” She busied away to sort the in and out stacks upon her desk.

  “Afraid those rules don’t apply to us.” Jim shifted when her perfume swept him at the fans beckoning. Beautiful by Estee Lauder. Only knew because he bumped into her buying it at Starcourt a few weeks ago. Ran away after some small talk. “Don’t like it here?”

  “Like it plenty.” Brown eyes made a slow journey to see him over her shoulder. “Never a dull moment.” Jim’s lips quirked at that. A ways behind him, Powell was fiddling with the radio to let music pour over the rustling sounds of fans against pages. Lucy reached for her own mug and Jim caught a bead of sweat trail down the back of her neck.

  “Any left in the pot?” She said.

  “Davis snagged the rest.”

  “Fresh pot it is, then.” Lucy blinked up at him looking flushed.

  No pink in her cheeks despite the heat.

  Jim crossed away to Powell’s desk when she instead began another batch of coffee. Picked up the pot and felt a dull electric sensation pulse through fingers. Gave it a quick wash and waltzed back in. Lucy set it in place and stared momentarily as if the next step was forgotten.

  That same prickling flooded the length of her spine. Heat itched over her scalp as boys chattered behind her. Jim leaned against a short counter and chuckled at something she didn’t catch. Fingers flexed. Picked up a spoon to fill the paper filter. The prickling became heavier. She inhaled deep, leaned into the fan next to her. Swayed a little upon heels. Waves rolling along a distant shore.

  A hand came up to rub her neckline. Felt for the thudding pulse there. Shifting dark, styled locks of hair away.

  Jim’s eyes lifted at the movement of her skirts. The following stillness that took her over. Lucy wasn’t as loud as she dressed, but she was always moving. Even at her desk. Shifting about. Twirling hair. Clicking nails. Fussing with file after file. Rearranging anything and everything.

  The rustling and radio became one sound. A shrill bellow like a gust of static. Lucy spooned coffee grounds. Once. Twice. A clatter caught Jim’s full attention. The silver spoon hitting the tile with powdery grounds scattering the toes of her shoes.

  “Lucy?” He began, setting his mug aside when the few officers in turned as well.

  “S-Sorry...” The word slurred longer. She bent down, only got halfway before her hand came up to a pounding temple. Like something struck her. Lucy shot up so fast, she barely caught herself wavering back. A drunken sort of movement. Both arms gave a tremor.

  “Lucy!” Jim sprang forward this time. A big arm curled around her spine, brought her shaking body into his frame. One elbow instinctively pushed at his chest. Fingers came up to tug her collar in a confused motion.

  “Spilled.” She said with little awareness, eyes hooded.

  “I’ll call-”

  “Grab a soda from the fridge.” Jim snapped the order before Powell could get the phone. “Now!”

  “But-”

  “She’s a diabetic, she needs sugar. Do it.” The harder command made him move quick.

  “Lemme go.” Syllables weaved together awkwardly. Lucy felt around herself. Smacked up at Jim holding her upright. Her head twitched with every rattle of bones. Limbs stopped listening. Synapses sent messages all directions that were ignored. Flesh could have melted off bone and muscle. “Lemme go!” Sweaty and irritable, she blindly pushed at Jim who only brought her tightly against the hard lines of his chest.

  “Chief.” Powell clicked the can with Callahan hovering to help aimlessly.

  “Lucy, drink this.” Jim almost had the can shoved out of his grip. Crisp soda splashed the floor.

  “Got it...I got...it.” She skidded. Dug her heels into the tile. “Cookie. M-My purse. Ngh, lemme go!” She’d drop if he released her.

  “Soda is better, drink it.” Jim forced the can to her lips while she whipped around. Arms curled to her chest until her body was near convulsing. Fizzy soda slipped between her lips, dripping to stain the dress. An ugly force pushed at her body. Lucy slowed, fingers curled around Jim’s wrist as she choked and drank some. Coughed and flopped up until it bubbled out her nose. “There, you go. Give it a second.” Jim was delicate, the way he helped her back into a stuffed chair with her legs all jelly.

  “Towel.” Callahan came next. “Should we call someone for her?”

  “Ngh...” The word didn’t come so Lucy shook her head fiercely. Childlike. Hand still wrapped around Jim’s wrist when he gave her another long gulp. Coke sloshed down into her stomach. Lipstick smeared so he traded the can for a towel to blot her mouth. Brown eyes fluttered open again, heavy. She felt Jim’s pulse and took a deeper breath. “Fine. Don’t call. Ju...Don’t.”

  “Give her some air.” Jim got his guys to back off. “Luce, are you with me here?” She swayed out and narrowed on him. Let him pat her forehead with the towel. A thumb wiped just under the swell of her bottom lip. Fixed the color that smeared there. Jim’s eyes locked on her, mouth parting. A lazy smile crept upon her expression. Jim’s arm was still firm around the curve of her limp body.

  “No one’s ever called me, Luce,” she rasped instead, “if you can believe it.” A scoff caused his own lips to lift. Blue eyes flickering.

  “No one’s ever gone into hypoglycemia in my station.” He’s countered.

  “Usually wait till I clock out.” She gripped at him and stole the towel to look at her dress, splotched in dark spots. “Aw, shit.” The word puffed so soft, he barely heard it. Never heard her curse. Lucy seemed to realize it. “Sorry.”

  “No, I...” Jim felt her fingers slip from him. Stared down at his hand before he offered her the Coke. Lucy pressed her lips at him but took it without argument for another drink. The towel rubbed against the wet spots, almost pathetically. He picked up on her growing discomfort. “I can drive you home or something. You want to change.”

  Lucy was still scrubbing herself with an annoyed look, slowing to glance up with pink cheeks. Every officer who was staring snapped away from them.

  She frowned.

  Anything to get away from those eyes peering as if she were helpless.

  “Fine.” The sour note struck Jim so he didn’t immediately pull her up. Let Lucy push herself to stumble into him. “I’m fine.” Jim’s hand neared her back, but didn’t make contact. Just carefully ushered her to reception to grab her purse. Still lightheaded, she slowed again and sighed. Took his offered arm. They got to his car and the sun blared. AC blasted when he started up to go.

  “Where’s home?”

  A beat.

  “Left up there.” Came the quieter reply. “I live on Elm.”

  “Sure you’re-”

  “Listen,” she cut in, “that doesn’t happen… I mean, it does, but not that bad like it did. Haven’t had an episode like that in a few months actually.” Fingers fussed to get her hair back into place.

  “Well,” Jim swallowed and tried to be lighter, “good thing you’re in a station full of Hawkins’ most observant police officers.”

   His sincere way of making her feel not helpless scorched.

  “Oh, are those their titles? All the napping and poker games between calls instead of finishing reports I have to beat out of them.” A brow raised, purse clutched close to her chest.

  “Wouldn’t fit on the badge.”

  “Ah.” Lucy turned her head to look outside with a smile. Hesitated. “Thanks, Jim. For, uh...”

  “Don’t mention it.” He gripped the wheel to turn.

  “The slapping at you and anger is, uh, part of it.” She offered mutely. “Get confused in the shuffle and...it’s scary. I never want to feel that damn helpless. Stupid fits. All because one organ is broken and that organ dictates the rest of them. Feed it insulin, too much kills. Feed it sugar to balance, too much kills. Big joke if you ask me, can’t make up its mind.” Lucy didn’t chuckle that time. Didn’t smile.

  “We’ll keep the fridge stocked. Soda. Juice. Whatever you like to balance.” He said. Turning to see her eyes lift. “You don’t have to go hiding in that ratty bathroom to test yourself or take shots, you know. Desk is fine. Not like the boys will get queasy.”

  “Bunch of tough guys.” She licked her lips, pulling a mirror down to wipe smeared eye makeup away. “Won’t happen again... This is me up here.” She pointed to a house.

  “Don’t promise that, just take care of yourself and we’ll pay attention to whatever signals you put out.” He parked.

  “Oh,” Lucy faced him with searing eyes again, “where you not before, Jim?” A hum vibrated her throat. Shy and still going in for the kill. Jim’s breath caught and she looked truly amused, batting those insufferable, dewy eyes before getting out.

  “Lucy.” Jim stilled. A long, luxurious beat between them. A warm bubble bath to sink into. Neither succumbed long enough.

  “Yes, Jim?”

  Nerves plucked.

  “Sorry, about the dress.”

  “I didn’t like it that much.” She smiled fuller at him, too soft about it.