It'd been a long time coming for Georgie. By 17, he managed to kill some cats and dogs, some forgettable on the streets; graduating to his own parents. Clyde was at a loss. He knew the police were coming for Georgie. And Georgie knew it too. Clyde knew all along there'd come a time when he would have to see him through a pane thicker than his bedroom window.
"I'll be alright, babe."
"No, you won't."
Clyde refused to meet his gaze; afraid that he'd ignore the scared eyes and lower his own to the bad attempt of a reassuring smile.
"I'll be alright." Georgie tries again, reaching for Clyde's hand but Clyde can't stand the repercussions of a touch like that.
"I won't let them take you. I'll make sure they think it was only me."
And why would Georgie do that?
Clyde can't help but wonder why he feels relieved by the offer. The countless offers. The countless times Georgie took the blame, the beating, the berating. Does this beautiful white boy know there's a way for him out? That the "now-orphaned teen with a troubled past" is enough for his blue eyes to look more lonely than cold in a mugshot. Does he know that he'll witness the intricacies of Clyde's brain matter in this café if the police knew it was him?
"You had to do it," Georgie says.
He did. In his mind, he did. Even for all his urges to subdue the surges in his fingertips, Clyde had to kill Georgie's parents. He had to stop Mr. Tucker's bat that made a howling whistle every time it hit the air; the thunderous thud as it hit Georgie. Clyde had to stop Mrs. Tucker too, who stood there savouring the reprieve from her own battings. Clyde couldn't forget that Georgie's parents weren't like his own; that they indeed were more different than the colours of their skin. He couldn't forget that Georgie with his own hell, made sure graves were dug to keep Clyde out of trouble. All he knew then was the crowbar he held tightly, secure and familiar. He knew the secret key for the backdoor, the sound he was sure was the breaking of Georgie's sixth rib since they began secretly dating.
***
"Stay with me, Clyde" Georgie says, now sitting beside me, arms around my waist in the only part of town that never stared. The part of town his dad would never have found him. I hear the sirens too, so faint they don't sound real yet.
"I need you to stay with me, baby." A sob forces itself in his throat. Anyone watching probably thinks it's the end of young love, maybe because of infidelity, or college or maybe because people like us will never see eye-to-eye, brown-to-white. They'll never see the martyr saving a killer from himself.
Of all the choices I should make today, I choose to stay. I choose to hold his hand while the weight of this starts to break him down. I choose to let him make his own choice just so it affords me more.
Kerine Wint is a software engineering graduate with more love for books than for computers. If she's not busy reading and reviewing, she's writing stories, recommending foreign/global media, running a podcast and making content all over the place. Find her work here or follow her on Instagram and Twitter.
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