The Innocent Life of Valerie Vale

Ripped Apart

Ripped Apart

‘I went to see an old friend of ours,’ said Jack, as he looked down at Alex. Alex was seated behind his desk. He was writing a letter and appeared to be busy but Jack knew he had his attention. Jack always had his attention for even as a drunken mess his words, his thoughts and his insights carried tremendous value. Jack saw the world as it truly was – the complexities of life, unravelled by experience and regret.

‘You went to see the saint?’ asked Alex. He knew by Jack’s tone exactly who he was referring to. ‘How is the old man?’ Alex hadn’t seen Fr. Vianney now for a long time. He had slipped from his mind like a forgotten myth.

‘As he ever was,’ replied Jack, reflecting upon the reclusive nature of Vianney’s soul. ‘Still living on the periphery, hiding from the world and from life itself.’

‘An apt description,’ said Alex as he looked up, ‘reminds me of someone else I know.’ Alex disapproved of the way Jack lived his life. That one night, so long ago, changed their relationship forevermore.

‘He had a lot to say,’ said Jack, ignoring Alex’s remark, ‘that slayer... his name is Raul and he’s a dangerous sort.’ Jack knew Alex needed to be warned. West Lanton was his responsibility now.

‘I heard about him,’ replied Alex, ‘he had a run in with a friend of ours down in Miami. Dreadful place that, too much sun. Needless to say, it didn’t end well.’

‘Apparently he’s been working for Caine,’ said Jack, watchful now of Alex’s reaction. Jack was aware of the history that Caine and Alex shared. It was Alex who tried to have him killed – it was he who unleashed the wolf. Would things have played out any differently had he been still in charge? There was no way to know.

‘Is that right?’ Alex replied. He tried to look busy again but he knew where Jack was leading. He saw Jack as a retired man, who sporadically concerned himself with issues of command – a reminder perhaps of better times.           

‘But...’ added Jack, ‘you are on top of the situation?’ Jack knew Alex needed his occasional perspective. Alex had once been quick to act. Now he was more thoughtful, but still he lacked Jack’s years of experience. Both men had seen war, but Jack was the one who understood it – what it was to its very core.

‘Jack, don’t think you can come into my house and order me around,’ Alex warned, ‘things aren’t like they used to be. Blame yourself for that.’

‘So you still hold me responsible for what happened,’ asked Jack, ‘even after what I did for you.’ That night long ago saw two men and two hearts, ripped apart. A moment that echoed the twisted path and the divergent route each chose through life. Alex, wrapped in management. Jack, tangled in disillusion.

‘After what you did for me?’ said Alex in anger. ‘I’ll always blame you,’ he added as he tried to remain calm, ‘it’s the way it has to be.’ Alex paused for a moment as he reflected upon the past. What bitter memories they were. ‘You brought Sarah into my life,’ he said, ‘and where is Asha now?’

‘I know Alex,’ Jack replied, ‘and I know things will never be the same between us. In fact I don’t want them to be.’

‘No they won’t,’ Alex agreed, ‘that night changed us both. Sometimes I can hardly bare to look at your face.’ Alex glanced down at his letter and read the words without truly taking them in. His mind was far away now.

‘It makes me sad,’ admitted Jack as he studied the face of his once best friend, ‘to see what you’ve become.’

‘Then that makes two of us,’ Alex replied without emotion. ‘Now go pick a girl Jack, get Grant to sort it out, have a dance on the house and call it a thank you.’

‘The last thing I want is a dance,’ said Jack. Now he was angry too. ‘Don’t try to buy me off as if I’m some kind of cheap informant. I brought this to you because I still care,’ he added with honest intent.

‘Do as you wish,’ said Alex without looking up, ‘just leave me be.’ Jack, like Alex, was now tired of the conversation. He warned Alex and that’s all he had ever intended to do. It was in his hands now.

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