Parents, Chapter 1 ~ Neglected, part 2

Outside stood a tall, clean cut young man with wavy blonde hair carefully parted and combed back.  He wore fashionably small, wire rimmed glasses in front of blue eyes.  His face was that chiseled, Clark Kent type.  He was well built, probably worked out, and was wearing a blue sweater vest over his white shirt.  The sleeves of the shirt were rolled up to the elbows, revealing muscular forearms covered in a fine layer of blonde hair.  He carried books and notebooks under one arm.

“Who are you?”  He stared at Russ with shock and obvious disdain.

“I thought,” Russ said acerbically, “Liseli had told you all about me.”

“You’re Russell Markson?” Casey Duncan exclaimed, raising one eyebrow.  “Oh.  Well.  I’m very sorry.  I was expecting someone . . . different.”

“There are pictures of me in the apartment,” Russ spoke slowly.

“Oh really?  I . . . I must not have noticed.”  The blue eyes looked over his shoulder, searching for photos or Liseli.

“They’re in the bedroom.”

“Oh.”

Russ crossed his arms, not too skinny themselves after the summer he’d spent in Vahtaro.  In order to get close enough to the temple to steal the artifacts he’d spent weeks pretending to be part of a prison work crew, working on building a wall by hand, carrying or carting heavy stones hours on end.  He’d contributed to building a new wing for the temple, and robbed it of most of its idols.  By the time they figured him out, he’d disappeared into another world without a trace.  It wasn’t an honest living, but it was a living.  It paid for Liseli’s college education.

Not that Liseli knew any of that.  Not hardly.  She thought the money all came from gifts Adayzjia bestowed on him.  Only part of it did, really.  College and living expenses were expensive and even though Adayzjia insisted that he come through Alisiya every now and then to claim a gift (she kept saying they’d earned it, though he didn’t really see how) he found he liked the danger and challenge of self-sufficiency through theft.

Really, he just took stuff that people didn’t actually need and was sitting around in temples or tombs.  There were so many superstitious people in the worlds.  Still, better to not mention it to Liseli, she’d probably disapprove.

Duncan, annoyingly, did not turn and flee from Russ’s best, most threatening, I’ve-killed-before-and-I’ll-do-it-again look.

“Well.  Is Liseli home?” he asked.  “I’m Casey Duncan, by the way, though I gather you knew that already . . . .”

“She’s dolling herself up for your little date.”

Duncan paused with his mouth open.  Russ watched him, waiting for his response.  “You haven’t been around,” Duncan finally said quietly.

Russ nodded curtly.  “Usually a good time to steal a guy’s girlfriend, I’d say.  Though you’re the expert.”

Duncan shook his head.  “I wasn’t sure you even existed, you know.  You seemed like the kind of boyfriend a girl invents when she wants a guy to keep his distance . . . or maybe is just afraid of admitting she doesn’t have a boyfriend because then she’d have to explain why ‘no one wants her,’ the way she sees it.  I’ve been giving it a lot of thought.  I kind of hoped that was the case, and I’m not afraid to admit that I’ve been trying to show her why someone does want her.”  He lifted his chin with a touch of arrogance.  Obviously the proud, preachy type, Russ thought with disgust.

“But here I am,” he said, standing as tall as he could.  He noted with a little satisfaction that even in his bare feet he stood about two inches taller than Duncan.

“Now, yes.  Liseli says you attend Claymoore and only visit here when you can make the trip,” said Duncan, but in a doubtful tone.

“Yeah.”  Russ nodded.

Duncan smirked.  “When I was wondering if you were real I looked up the student register at Claymoore.  No Markson.”

“You’re a nosy bastard, aren’t you?”  Russ scowled.

“Maybe.  But now that I see it wasn’t Liseli making that story up, as a concerned friend of hers I do have to wonder where you are when you’re not here.”  Duncan made no attempt to hide his hostility.

Russ didn’t answer.  What a dickhead, he thought.  Automatically thinks I’m lying to Liseli and he’s gonna be Mr. Saves-the-Day and expose me.

“Well, that doesn’t matter right now, I suppose.”  Duncan shrugged.  “I came over here to see Liseli.”

“Like I said.  She’s getting ready.”

Duncan looked dubious.  “So then she’s still coming to the library?”

“She wouldn’t miss it,” Russ said through his teeth.

Duncan grinned at his sardonic tone.  “Well.  That’s what happens when you leave them alone, Markson.  A lady can figure out who really cares about her.”

I could dump your body where no one who knows or cares about you will ever find it.  “Maybe,” was all Russ said.

“Definitely.”

Russ heard Liseli coming, and didn’t make any reply.  When she walked up she exclaimed with forced surprise, “Russ, why haven’t you let Casey in?”

“His head wouldn’t fit through the door,” Russ replied, turning to look at her.  She appeared as fresh as if she’d never cried in her life, and was carrying her books, her story manuscript still prominently on top.

She pushed out a laugh, but shot a dagger-filled glance at him.  “Well, it’s alright, we’ll be leaving now anyway.  Casey, you really didn’t have to come check on me, you know.”

Duncan shrugged, smiling.  “I thought I would walk you to the library tonight, instead of just meeting you there and walking you home.”

Russ bristled, sure the last part was for his benefit.

“Oh, that’s sweet of you.”  Liseli rewarded him with a bright smile.  “It is starting to get a little dark already, isn’t it?  September’s almost over!”

“How times flies,” Duncan replied inanely.

“Yeah.”  Liseli turned to Russ.  “The library closes at ten, and we usually get a bite to eat after that.  But I’ll be home by eleven, if not earlier.”

Stop her, a voice in the back of his mind demanded, but he couldn’t think of a way.  “Alright.  I’ll see you,” he said stiffly, conscious of Duncan’s smirk.

“Bye.”  She stepped out onto the porch, and Russ watched as she and Duncan walked down the street side by side.

Shit.

---

Russ watched television without seeing it.  He stared catatonically at the screen while torturing himself with images of Liseli and Duncan together, doing everything from studying English to talking about him to making out behind the bookshelves.  His eyes flickered briefly as he entertained himself with images of a bloodied and broken Duncan under his hands.

Or maybe the tribal peoples of Mulcyna would appreciate a fine Anglo-Saxon specimen for their winter “festivities” this year?

He’d almost become the victim of a ritual killing for the second time in his life, last year, when he’d made the mistake of showing up like a gift from the gods to . . . give back to the gods?  He’d never really figured it out, but it hadn’t mattered to him, when faced with the idea of being tied to a pole on a high cliff during the dead of winter in a climate that was probably arctic year round.  Luckily he had been able to untether himself and get the hell out of there before frostbite or hypothermia set in, though he did spend some time recovering from pneumonia . . . .  In this very apartment, while Liseli fussed over him.

Other times he just watched the clock.

At about quarter to ten, he couldn’t take it anymore, and jumped up from the sofa, slamming the television off.  It was raining out, and he searched around the apartment for an umbrella, but couldn’t find one.  He had a jacket in his backpack though . . . .  But no, he’d put it in the washing machine.  In fact, it was still there, since he’d forgotten to put it in the drier.  Shit.  He pulled some dry clothes out of the bureau drawer and peered out the window at the rain pattering down underneath the streetlights. It was only a ten-minute walk, he reasoned, and left the house in a windbreaker he dug out of the closet.  The zipper was broken so it wouldn’t shut, but it would have to do.

He jogged along the sidewalk with his head down, holding the hood up.  When he got to the library on campus he paused, uncertain as to what his plans actually were.  She said they’d go get a bite to eat, and be home by eleven, but he was . . . curious . . . to see what they actually did when they left the library.  So he decided not to go in and be seen, instead positioning himself behind a large oak tree to the right of the main doors.

At ten o’clock on the dot they came out, Duncan holding an umbrella over the both of them, the bastard.  Liseli had to walk close to him to stay dry, but perhaps, Russ thought, “had to” wasn’t exactly the case.  They strolled by his tree without seeing him.

“I think I might go straight home tonight,” Liseli was saying.  “Russ is waiting for me.”

“He doesn’t seem to worry about you waiting for him,” Duncan said diffidently.

Liseli’s hair swung as she looked at him, but Russ couldn’t make out her expression.  “Casey, I appreciate your concern, but I told you—”

“I know.  I just don’t see why we have to cut our evening short.  After all, you told him we’d be getting dinner.  So let’s get dinner.”

“Yeah.  But I just realized that there isn’t any food in the house.  Actually I should probably run to the store for—”

“He can get dinner for himself if he wants.  Let’s just go to St. Somewhere’s as usual, okay?”

“Well . . . alright.  He could use some more time alone to think, anyway.”

Casey sighed.  “Does this have to be about him?”

“Of course it does,” Liseli answered immediately.

Their voices faded away as they continued on in the rain.  Russ realized that he was clenching his fists, and forced himself to relax.  So at least they were just going somewhere to eat.  He considered, briefly, just going to the store himself and getting something to eat.  Now that Liseli had mentioned it, he hadn’t eaten since scrounging for crackers . . . .  But no.  When they were far enough away, he moved out from under the tree and followed, shoving his hands into the pockets of the windbreaker and folding his arms to keep it closed.  He kept his head down and the hood up.  Maybe Liseli thought they were going to the St. Somewhere Café, but he didn’t trust that rat bastard Duncan any farther then he could throw him.  Now there was an idea.

When they got to the café and went in, Russ sat down at one of the outside tables.  The tables were in front of the building on the sidewalk, and he could see in through the glass windows.  On second thought, he pulled one of the chairs away from the table and positioned it next to the large trash bin by the window.  The umbrellas on the table were closed, and it was drier under the awning.  He put himself by the edge of the window, hoping the trash would hide him.  It was chilly and he was wet through; the cheap, porous windbreaker doing more harm than good.  But he leaned his head against the wall and stared at Liseli, sitting with her legs crossed at a table inside, smiling at Casey Duncan.