The question, Blaine said to himself, is not whether or not I love her, but how much do I love her?
It felt stuffy inside the van, even with both the front windows rolled down. Blaine sat in the passenger seat, Phil Hamm next to him, wedged in behind the steering wheel. In the back sat the other man, the African, whose name Blaine didn’t know.
*Enough to do something that could make her hate me? Enough to do something that will make me hate myself?*
A cloudy, ugly day, threatening rain yet withholding it, as if in a tease. Overcast but hot, stifling hot. A trickle of sweat ran from Blaine’s sideburn down his cheek. He’d worn his glasses today; he hadn’t bothered to put in his contacts.
*Commit a crime to cover up a crime.*
“You sure this is the place?” Hamm said, giving Blaine a sideways glance.
“I’m sure,” Blaine answered.
*But is it still a sin if you do it for the right reason? If you do it for love?*
“Where is she, then?”
Blaine felt sick. He felt like he wanted to cry.
“Maybe she left,” he said, trying not to let his voice betray him. “All I know is, this is where she lives, or was living.”
Hamm nodded. “Long as you’re sure.”
*This is your fault, Maribelle. You brought this on yourself. Now I’m the one that has to do damage control.*
They’d parked on the gravel strip alongside the old cemetery, the one that from the looks of it hadn’t seen an interment in several decades. A poor man’s graveyard, a black man’s graveyard, full of weeds and forgotten. Across the lot they could see the drainage ditch, the entrance to the runoff tunnel.
*You put your ass on the line for that monster. Now I’m going to have to cover it. And it’s going to cost me.*
“I showed you the place,” Blaine said. “Just like you told me to. Why can’t I go now? There’s nothing more I can do.”
“Sure there is,” Hamm said. “The old bitch knows you, knows your pretty face. She’s less prone to get skittish if it’s you she sees first.”
*It’s going to cost me a decent night’s sleep, for how long God only knows. Maybe for the rest of my life.*
“I can’t do this,” Blaine said.
“Sure you can,” Hamm said. “Just think about the alternative. Caged heat time for little Maribelle, remember?”
*Going to cost me being able to look at myself in the mirror, ever again.*
“Why do you care, anyhow?” Hamm said. “She’s just some old bag lady. An’ crazy as shit, you said.”
“She’s a Human being,” Blaine said.
“That’s debatable,” Hamm said.
*Going to cost me my soul?*
“Human beings find Human life, any Human life, to be precious,” Blaine said.
“Yeah,” Hamm said. “Right. How valuable is she to you, livin’ down here in a tunnel, eatin’ outta garbage cans, fightin’ with rats over scraps. Nobody gives a shit. You don’t either. Might as well admit it.”
“This is different.”
“You flush shit down the toilet every day,” Hamm said. “This ain’t no different.”
“It is to me.”
“One life has no greater or lesser value than another.”It shocked Blaine to hear the other man speak. He had thus far said nothing. Blaine turned to look at the black man. “But if one life is sacrificed to save many lives, it is then justifiable.”
