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Bob takes a deep breath, and exhales. He’s hoping she won’t think it’s a sigh. Nadia’s walking with him and it warms him in a way the coat he’s wearing never could, the heat spreading from his chest until he can feel it in the tips of his fingers. She’s good at talking without saying anything or digging too deep and he’s been used to having her voice filling the gaps between them, but they’re three blocks out from her house and she hasn’t said a word.
The jangle of Rocco’s leash and the crunch of their shoes on the sidewalk are the only sounds that punctuate the silence between them. He wishes she would say something, anything, even if it’s telling him to get lost.
Nadia digs her hands into her jacket pocket, pulling out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. She lights up and takes her time inhaling. Bob bites his lip and glances at her, then quickly back to Rocco.
“You really scared me.” The words rush out of her as swiftly as the smoke does. “I thought you were going to come after me.”
The warmth in his chest leaves in an instant. How can he explain it to her, that he was doing her a favour getting this guy off their backs, away from them for good? He thought he’d made it clear that night in the bar. Or does she think he’s just as much of a lowlife as Eric?
“I'm sorry,” he fumbles with the leash and winds it round his hand, “I’m sorry. You should not have seen that.”
Maybe Marv was right, maybe he’d wasted too much time waiting for his life to begin, letting stuff happen around him until he’d backed himself into a corner and the worst outcome was inevitable. Only it’s his name over the bar now, not Marv’s.
“I frightened you,” he mumbles, “that was not okay.”
Nadia shoots him a rueful glance. “I've gotta say it you know?” she says, “I've gotta say it, because if I don't then I'll always be looking over my shoulder, always wondering.”
It’s not really cold enough to warrant it, but she still hunches over and pulls her jacket more tightly around her; holds herself in, away from him. Man, he thought his self-imposed penance after shooting Richie Whelan was punishment enough, but having what you want be right in front of you but just out of reach? That is purgatory.
“I wanted to get away from that life, believe me.” Bob doesn't know which words will appease her, so he says the ones that are sitting on his tongue waiting to be spoken, “I thought I would, but now I'm stuck with these guys.”
But if he's honest, what kind of life could he make outside of this one? He just tends the bar. That's all he knows how to do, all he’s good at: tending bar and, sometimes, dealing with problems that can only be solved with a gun. He knows what he’s done, feels the wrongness of it deep in his bones. You’ve got to name your sin before you can leave it behind , he tells himself, what good is this penance if he can’t even name it. Killing people , the thought is clear and sharp and cuts him open, I'm good at killing people .
Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.
“It's Bob’s Bar now, right?” Nadia’s voice interrupts his train of thought, “Seems like you did alright out of it.” He can feel her slipping away from him, can hear it in her voice. Nobody sees you coming, do they Bob? Torres was right. Nobody sees him, except Nadia. She sees him and doesn’t walk away, but she knows enough to stay just out of his reach.
Forgive me.
“Nadia, it's not what I wanted to happen, I didn't know they'd do that.” He says it as much to convince himself as anything else, because he knew deep down what was happening that night, knew how it would unfold before it even happened. He may not have pulled the trigger on Marv himself but he knew that when he shot Eric, Marv was as good as dead.
He was stupid to make himself vulnerable like this, it had started a chain reaction that ended with him shooting Eric and chained even more tightly to the Chechens than before. But then what could he have done? Marv was going to fuck him over without a second thought.
“I can be that guy when I have to, the guy that’s good at shooting people,” Nadia turns to look at him, “but I don’t like it.” I don’t feel like I’m him when I’m with you , he wants to say, being with you makes me forget he even exists .
They’ve turned for home now, it's still windy and Nadia pulls the hood of her jacket up to cover her head, stray wisps of hair unfurling around her cheeks. It's a deep blue and the way it frames her face makes Bob think of that statue again. Mary with the crack along her neck. Mary, Mother of God. Pray for me now.
Nadia closes the gate behind her and turns around to lean over it, towards Bob. She smells like laundry detergent and lavender, clean and sweet, and he wants to press towards her but she’s so small and there’s Rocco’s pawing at the gate that’s between them and getting the leash in a tangle.Their hands sit side by side on the gate, she shifts a finger so it’s touching his, it’s cold like the statue. Nadia with the crack along her neck. His breath catches in his throat.
“Yeah, um yeah, I’ll call you.” Bob nods, turns abruptly, and starts to walk home.
“Bob!” Nadia calls, leaning further over the gate waiting for him to turn around.
“What?”
When he looks back she’s still holding on to the gate. He watches as she pauses, as if to say something, then leans back, looks away. Does she want to tell him he can come inside, that all he has to do is ask? If only she’d just say that he can come back tomorrow and they’ll walk Rocco and she’ll let him do penance at her gate until she’s ready to open it for him. He needs her to say it.
“...Nothing.”