The Deal

Hank exploded on to the roof, the door swinging out and hitting the adjoining wall. The hinges shook, doing their best to stay in place. 

“That bitch!” He didn’t shout, but there was still so much rage in his voice.

He paced upon the gravel as the afternoon sun began to set behind the buildings to the west. Back and forth, angrily muttering to himself with the occasional audible expletive. 

He stopped, looking out over the skyline. His mind racing over all the things he wanted to do, all the ways he wanted to hurt her. She needed to feel all the pain that he felt, maybe more.

“I hate her.” He growled.

Startled, Hank heard someone clear their throat.

“Sorry - I didn’t mean to scare you.”

It was a young man, sitting in one of the chairs that Hank had brought up for him and Kathleen, his soon to be ex-wife, to watch the sunsets, the stars or just the nightlife of the city. 

She rarely did. It was either too hot, or too cold, or the fumes from all the cars, or whatever excuse she came up with. Ever hopeful, he never brought the chairs in.

Speechless, Hank just stared at the man. He was wearing a gray sport coat, with a white button down shirt, blue jeans and black snake skin boots.

The man stood and offered his hand to Hank. “I’m new in the area, and just wanted to see what things looked like from up here. I apologize if this is off limits.”

Hank slowly took his hand, wrestling with betrayal and this stranger that had decided to violate the one place that he goes to clear his head and try to find peace. “No. You’re fine.” Hank lied. “I just had a pretty shitty day.”

Slightly concerned about his language in front of this stranger, He was too stricken to worry about 'proper etiquette'.

“Sorry to hear that.” The man had a very relaxed way about him, his voice very soothing. “My name is Vincent.”

Trying his best to seem friendly-ish with something resembling a smile, “I’m Hank.” The weight of the day was still menacing him. “Look, my fault. Not many people come up here. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” He started back toward the door. “I’m gonna go.” 

“Don’t leave on my account.” Vincent said. “I’ve had some shitty days too.” He walked over to the pair of chairs and sat down. “I know you don’t know me, but sometimes those are the best people to talk to.” He sat down. “I don’t really know you. You don’t really know me.” He reached under the chair, and pulled out a couple beers. “… and these aren’t going to drink themselves.”

This was such a difficult moment for Hank; to be filled with such anger, yet have someone show him the kindness of listening, with the bonus of a beer.

Hank walked back over to the chairs where Vincent sat. His eyes went back and forth to the beers and Vincent’s eyes.

Vincent smiled, took one of the beers, twisted off the top and offered the other to Hank.

Taking the beer, Hank sat down.

Vincent opened his own and took a drink.

Both men sat in silence, staring out over the skyline, taking the occasional drink. Hank was obviously agitated and couldn’t help but fidget as events replayed in his head. The gravel would shift with each fidget.

Vincent peered over at at Hank and caught his eye. “Up for talking about what’s got you all riled up?”

Hank closed his eyes and exhaled. “About a week ago, I caught my wife cheating on me with a friend of mine.” The words were spoken as if Hank were trying to still convince himself it happened.

“Oh …” Vincent sounded surprised. “… man. I’m sorry.” The words full of sympathy.

“Don’t be.” His face was a mixture of hurt, shame and sadness. “I loved her.” He stood up abruptly, taking a few steps. “I wanted to fix it, ya know.” His words were coming more and more rapid. “I wanted to know what I did? Did she not love me anymore? What did I do wrong?”

Vincent shifted in his chair. “You don’t have to talk about this. I wasn’t expecting-”

Hank turned to face him. “No. It’s fine.” Sitting back down in the chair, he took another drink and continued. “She asked to come over today, and I thought maybe we could talk this out … but she brought a moving van to get her stuff.” He wiped his nose with his sleeve. “My wife ran off on me … and she ain’t coming back.” He looked at Vincent with a pathetic smile.

Hank was gripping his bottle pretty tight, as he turned his gaze back to the buildings across the way. “I wish she could feel what I’m feeling.” He took a drink. “I want her to suffer, to hurt … the both of them, to feel what I feel.”

He snapped out of it with a worried smile at Vincent. “I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I’m just upset.”

“Don’t apologize.” Vincent said, as he put his hand on Hank’s shoulder. “You’ve got every right to be mad.”

They embraced the quiet as the sun began to set lower and the night sky took shape.

Hank set his empty bottle down on the gravel, and heard Vincent open a couple more.

Hank smiled.

“Hypothetical-” Vincent said casually. “If you could get back at them … and you wouldn’t get caught … ?” He gestured with his shoulders, asking the question.

“What?” Hanks said with an uncertain chuckle. 

Vincent sat up and leaned forward. “She took your love for granted, easily could have just walked away, but her intent was to leave you with pain.” He took another drink. “Makes sense to want to get back at her.”

Hank closed his eyes and looked down.

“How did you find out?” Vincent asked.

Hank took a deep breath and held it for a moment. “I walked in … was hoping to surprise her … heard something from the bedroom …”

Vincent shot up, facing Hank. “In your own home, your bed?!!”

Ashamed, Hank nodded.

Turning away with his hands on his hips, Vincent took a couple steps. “I can see why you’d want to hurt them.”

The weight of the moment hung in the air.

“Hank, …” Vincent began as he sat back down in his chair. “… I know you don’t know me, and I want you to know that I don’t normally do this, but I’m trusting you … can I do that?”

With a touch of embarrassment in his voice and a slight smile, Hank nodded. “With everything I’ve unloaded on you? I feel obligated.”

There was an uncomfortable moment of Vincent just staring at Hank. 

Concerned that he wasn’t trustworthy, Hank was worried Vincent would change his mind.

Vincent exhaled and looked out, into the night. “What if I told you that my line of work is solving people’s problems … in some cases, permanently.”

Hank’s digested the words and the implication, and went from irritated to angry. “You think this is a joke?”

Vincent slowly shook his head no, while Hank continued.

“You think this is funny! … I just had my heart ripped out … and you, you want to just pile on?!! He shouted.

Hank made for the door, anger in each step.

“I can do that …” Vincent said. “… rip their hearts out.”

Hank’s steps slowed still facing the door.

“And no one would ever know.”

Hank turned and saw the seriousness on Vincent’s face.

“Is that something you really want-” Vincent asked. “…to take revenge on those responsible for all this?”

In that moment, Hank could only see her riding on top of him, the sounds of pleasure she made. He remembered the hope that he had in his heart when he opened the door and saw her standing there. The devastation he felt when she let the movers in, when he watched them drive away from their … his window.

The pain spoke for him. “Yes.” It was barely a whisper and seemed to hang in the air for an eternity.

Startled by the sound of two more bottles being opened, Vincent invited Hank to sit back down.

Walking slow and apprehensive, Hank walked back over and sat down, his head low. 

Vincent tapped Hank on the shoulder with the newly opened beer. 

Hank took it with a nod of thanks, still not looking at Vincent.

“How did we get here, Hank?” Vincent asked.

“I really don’t know.”

“What did she say?” Vincent nudged Hank’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “Why did she say it happened?”

Hank was quiet for a moment as he sifted through his pain. “She … she said that she needed more.” He glanced at Vincent. “She said she wanted to live, that I didn’t have any passion.”

Vincent stared intently.

“She said I kept her at a distance, that I wouldn’t let her in.” Hank looked at Vincent as if pleading his case. “That wasn’t true! I loved her. She knew me better than anyone.”

“… and she ripped out your guts and stabbed you in the heart.” Vincent countered. “Why would you let her do that to you?”

Hank shrugged. “Isn’t marriage about making compromises - sacrifices?”

“Kinda seems like see got the better end of that deal.”

Again, Hank’s head hung low.

Vincent stood up and faced Hank. “But surely it didn’t start there, right?” He knelt down and looked Hank in the eye. “This started before her … didn’t it?”

Hank was confused.

“She wasn’t the first one to bring you pain like this, right?”

Scrolling through his rolodex of hurt and betrayal, he settled on a particular memory. He slowly brought his hand to his mouth as he recalled a time from before.

“I was back in school. My best friend’s girlfriend got mad at me for something, some joke I made at her expense. Far from the worst thing I had ever said in her presence, but it set her off.” He paused. “We had a lot of the same friends, so she dropped an ultimatum … her or me.” He smiled, tears beginning to form in his eyes. “They all chose her over me.”

Vincent’s eyes were sympathetic as Hank continued.

“I tried to stand up for myself.” He wiped the tears from his eyes. “I confronted her. I told that it was pretty shitty of her to do this.” He looked to the sky in frustration. “Most of our friends criticized me for making it worse, agitating her.”

Hank sat back in the chair and exhaled. “I continued to apologize … and eventually she forgave me.”

Vincent stood up and cocked his head, surprise in his voice. “You apologized.”

Hank nodded sheepishly.

“She … forgave you.” There was frustration in Vincent’s voice. 

He stepped away and put his hands on his hips. Trying to understand, he asked, “Did you ever think that you needed better friends?”

He looked at Hank as if waiting for an answer.

Hank just shrugged. “I just didn’t want to be alone, ya know … I wanted to be accepted.”

“By them?!” Vincent raised his voice. “Why?!!”

Hank took a long drink and rested his elbows on his knees. “I never had a good relationship with my dad.” He looked to his right as the lights in the distant buildings became more prevalent in darkening sky. “I’d hear about other kids and their dads.” He shrugged. “I wanted that … I never had that. Pretty sure my dad didn’t like me much.”

Vincent seemed to relax a little. “What makes you say that?”

“I’m pretty sure he told me a few times, said exactly that … called me soft, too nice, sensitive.” The glare in Hank’s eyes was not for Vincent, but for the man being remembered. “It could have been the times he hit me or the various punishments … those also could have been hints.” His voice began to tremble. “I was never good enough, always putting me down … I hated that he hated me so much … and I never knew why.”

Hank put his hands on his head and took a deep breath. “I just wanted him to love me, ya know.”

Vincent took a drink. “Kinda feels like you overcompensated.” He began to walk back toward the chairs. “Because the man that helped bring you into this world didn’t love you, you spent so much of your life begging for people to like you.”

Vincent motioned for Hank to join him. 

Hank made his way over emotionally spent from reliving so much pain.

“You sacrificed the life that you could have lived for the acceptance of others.” Vincent put his arm around Hank. “Does that sound right?”

Hank seemed to be running over what Vincent said, his memories, the choices he made. He hung his head and nodded slowly.

Vincent looked Hank in the eye. “Sounds like the person responsible for your current situation … is you.” 

The weight of this truth sat on Hanks shoulders. “Yes.” The word seemed to seep out.

The two men stood in silence for a long moment.

“Did you ever think … if you didn’t give a fuck what other people thought, your life could have been different?” Vincent casually stepped in front of Hank.

As Hank started to speak, Vincent held out his hand, fingers spread.

Unable to to speak or move, Hank hovered just above the ground. His arms and legs were spread out like those pictures in medical books.

“We had a deal, and Hank, I’m going to be one of the few people in your miserable life not to let you down.” Vincent stood upright and confident.

He got up close and looked Hank in the eye. “I’m going to take your life.” The words were spoken softly.

Paralyzed, Hank wore terror on his face.

“I encourage you not to be mad or sad.” Vincent spoke while circling the suspended Hank. “You could consider this a kindness. You have been torturing yourself most of your life, begging the unworthy to give a shit about you … when it should have been you, giving a shit about yourself.” Wearing a look of contemplation, he looked Hank over as if to reassure himself that he was doing the necessary thing. “I bet there’s a part of you right now wanting to apologize to me … the one about to usher you into death.”

“Self-inflicted trauma has become your existence.” Vincent walked to the edge of the roof. 

Hank floated along with him.

Vincent spoke without making eye contact. “It won’t be painful. Your soul will be gone before your body hits the ground.” He placed his hand behind the small of Hank’s back. “If it’s any consolation, she won’t make a dime off your death … It will be deemed a suicide. Insurance doesn’t pay in those situations … and she’s going to blame herself for this for the rest of her days. I see depression and addiction issues in her future.”

Hank’s eyes looked over at Vincent. He managed a small smile.

In that moment, Vincent took Hank’s soul. The lifeless body dropped to the edge of the roof and toppled off.

Vincent had almost made it to the door at impact. As he heard tires screeching and the screaming, he held out his hand again and all the bottles disappeared along with any trace that he had ever been there.

Distant sirens could be heard as he shut the door, heading to his next appointment.