by Hamel, B. B.
They followed me. They’ve been following me. And they finally caught up.
Fuck.
“You okay?” he asks. “You just got pale.”
“I’m fine.” I sip my coffee. Annie chews her bacon and watches me with her big blue eyes. “I’m just tired is all.”
“Yeah, sure. That couch isn’t the best.”
I force myself to smile. “It’s not bad.”
“You sure you don’t want anything else? Seriously, I was about to make pancakes.”
“I’m fine. I shouldn’t take up more of your time. I should… head back. Clean up.”
“All right. You want help?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Fine.” He watches me carefully. “I’ll fix that window.”
“Oh. Okay, thank you.”
“I’ll try to do it later today, but it depends on what they’ve got at the hardware store. If you want, you can stay here again tonight.”
“No, that’s fine. I’ll be okay.”
“You sure?” He arches an eyebrow. “You don’t look fine, Kim.”
Annie just keeps chewing.
“I’m okay.” I push back from the table. My coffee teeters, nearly spills. I stop it and feel the heat hit my palm. I pull my hand back fast. “I should get back.”
“Sure. I’ll be down later to look at the window.”
His eyes don’t leave me as I walk away. I look at Annie and force a smile. “Bye, Annie.”
“Bye-bye,” she says.
I push my way through the back door and hurry to my little house.
I don’t want to go inside. I really, really don’t want to. The thought that they were in there, going through my things, fills me with dread.
But I’m done running. I got a job, I got a place. I even kissed a man last night… a gorgeous single father, a former cop.
I won’t be safe anywhere. I know that, always have known it. I might as well stick around here and make my stand. Maybe… maybe I can fight them off. Or scare them away. Or maybe I really should call the cops and tell them my whole story.
I’m shaking my head as I step inside. The mess hits me all over again and I have to stand there for a long moment, taking it in.
But I force myself to move. I get changed and take a shower before I clean up. I start in the kitchen, move into the living room, and finish with the bedroom. I put things back, fix what I can, throw away what I can’t. I salvage as many of the plants as I can but some of them are done for.
Damn them. I hate them so much.
I end up sitting on my bed, so angry I can barely breathe.
I hate them for this. I hate them for chasing me across the country. I got away, I got out, and I don’t want to go back. But they just keep coming, the bastards, the fucking bastards.
I close my eyes. I can see my mom, wearing all white, smiling at me. She laughs as she puts flowers in my hair. The others are there too, smiling and laughing and singing. They’re dancing around me and I’m wearing that white dress. Kerry and Melanie are there, Bryan is there, Michael is there. They all look so happy, so free.
That was ten years ago. Things changed.
I push the memory away. I can’t let myself go there. It was so long ago and nothing ever lasts.
Not even paradise.
I lie down on my bed, head on my pillow, staring at the ceiling. I shift my weight, turn to my side, and put my hand under my head.
And feel something.
My pulse spikes. God, I feel it, just under the pillow.
I take it out.
A piece of paper, folded over.
I close my eyes. I think I might get sick.
He used to leave me notes like this all the time. Little handwritten notes under my pillow. I used to love them so much. I used to live for them. Every note was a gift from heaven. I kept them all, collected them. I’d take them out and read them over and over, no matter how mundane.
Before I left, I burned them all.
Now, there’s a new one, slipped under my pillow.
I unfold it and force back a sob.
The familiar handwriting. God, that handwriting. Slanted but neat and orderly. Every word in its place.
Come home, my wife. Love, Mark.
I rip it into pieces, walk into the bathroom, and flush it down the toilet. I watch the note disappear into the sewer.
“Fuck you,” I say, crying now for real. “Fuck you, you fucking asshole.”
I’m shaking with rage and fury and shame. I hate myself for letting him get to me like this but he always knew how. He always knew exactly what buttons to press and when.
I want to think about Erik. I want to think about his hands in my hair, his lips on mine. I want to picture what he could do to me, taking my body, making me feel good for the first time in so long. It’s been so, so long since I really felt alive and happy and good.
This note, that name. I ran so fast and far from them both, but they followed, and now they’re here.
“Fuck you,” I say again, getting myself together.
“Kim?”
I nearly scream. I force the fear back down inside of me.
It’s only Erik.
I splash water in my face. When I’m done, I only look like I’ve been crying a little bit.
I find him by the back door with a pane of glass, tools all around him, taking measurements. He looks at me and frowns. “You okay?” he asks.
“Fine.” I nod at the glass. “That it?”
“That’s it.” He smiles. “They had just what I needed. Lucky, right?”
“Lucky,” I echo.
“Anyway, I’ll get this done now. Annie’s down for her nap.”
“Thanks so much. And… I’m so sorry about all this.”
“It’s okay. Not your fault.” He smiles at me, so handsome, so kind.
“I’m going to take a nap too, if that’s okay.”
“Sure. You don’t want to stand around watching me work anyway.”
I bite my lip. I actually think I might like watching him work, but I don’t say it out loud.
“See you later.”
“See you.”
I walk into my bedroom and shut the door. I climb into bed and cover myself in blankets.
As much as I want to talk to him, I can’t face the world right now.
That note, those words, keep swirling in my mind.
He’s back. He’s back and he wants me.
But that bastard can’t have me and never, ever will again.
6
Erik
Things go back to normal, more or less. I push Kim to call the local police, but she refuses, and eventually I just drop it. Nothing else happens, and when a week passes, I more or less forget all about it.
The only thing I don’t forget is that kiss. I keep thinking about it every day. I wake up in the morning and I wonder where Kim is, what she’s doing, if I could go see her… taste her. I’m pathetic and I know it, but I can’t help myself.
She woke something up. It stirred inside of me and now it won’t fucking stop stirring. I haven’t felt this in a long time and I wish it would stop.
It’s just me and Annie now. I can’t afford distractions. I need to fix this house, work as much as I can, and raise my daughter. That’s my life now. I don’t get to kiss a pretty girl. I don’t get to flirt with her, tease her, make her laugh. I don’t get to spread her legs wide and lick her top to bottom.
Fuck. I can’t let myself fall into these fantasies.
I’m trying to get one of those stupid little daydreams out of my head one evening. Annie’s in bed and I’m in the kitchen, getting close to finished. I’m putting in the countertops, getting them set, when I hear the noise out back. At first, I think Kim’s playing loud music, but she never plays loud music.
And then I hear a shout.
I walk fast to the back door, wiping my hands on my jeans. I throw open the door and the voices come louder now.
“I said no.”
Kim’s voice and she doesn’t sound happy.
A man responds, a low rumble. I’m not sure what he says. I walk toward the house and slow as I spot Kim out front, her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes wide with…
God, is that fear all over her expression?
The man is tall. Not quite my height, but still tall. He’s well-built but I can tell he’s older. He’s wearing a white shirt, plain and simple, tucked into plain jeans. From behind, he looks like any other older guy, maybe a little bit fitter than most, but still. Just another ordinary dude.
The expression on Kim’s face is pure terror, though. Her back’s against the door and her arms are crossed like she wants to protect herself.
“I said go away, Mark,” she says loudly. “Please. I want to be left alone.”
I get closer and she spots me now. There’s more fear, but a little spark of something else.
Hope, maybe.
“I’m not going anywhere,” the man named Mark says. “You know that as well as I do.”
“Excuse me,” I say loudly.
The guy turns, eyes narrowed. He’s a decent-looking man, handsome in an old sort of way, with deep lines and dark brown eyes. His hair’s trimmed short and pushed back, and he has a clean, neat salt-and-pepper beard.
“What can I do for you, friend?” he rumbles at me.
“I’m Kim’s landlord,” I say. “I live just up there. I heard some shouting. Is everything okay, Kim?”
“No,” she says. “This guy… he won’t leave me alone.”
“This doesn’t concern you.”
“You’re on my property, so it does concern me a great deal.” I cock my head at him. “She said she wants you to leave her alone. So why are you still here?”
“You don’t know what you’re dealing with.” He reaches out suddenly and grabs her arm. She wrenches herself away.
“Get off me!” she practically screams.
I walk forward. “Back off,” I say.
He glares at me. “You need to go back inside.”
“And you need to back off. If you touch her again, we’re going to have a problem.”
He hesitates. I come closer. I’m bigger and younger, and he doesn’t know it, but I’m probably better in a fight. I’ve been in more than a few as a cop and I was a boxer in my youth.
And I really don’t like men that touch women without their fucking permission.
He takes a step back. “You’re making a mistake.”
“I don’t really give a damn what you think. Get off my property right now. If I see you here again, I won’t be kind next time.”
He looks at Kim. “I’m not going home without you. So do what you need to do and pack your things, girl.”
“Go away.” She stares at the ground. “Just go away.”
“See you soon.” He turns and strides off without another word.
I walk over to Kim and put an arm around her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m… oh, god.” She buries her face in my chest and I hug her tight. “I’m so sorry.”
She cries and I hold her tight. The guy is gone, disappeared around the front of the house. For a second, I wonder if I locked the front door, but I know I did.
I hold her for a long minute before steering her back to the house. I get her inside, sit her down at the kitchen table, and make her some tea.
She’s trembling. I mean, actually shaking from fear. I don’t understand it, not one bit, but I have an inkling of what I just saw.
I know she’s running from something. And I’d bet a week’s pay that something just caught up with her.
I put the tea down in front of her and sit. She’s pulling herself together, taking deep breaths and letting them out slowly.
“Thank you,” she says, taking the tea.
“You okay?”
“I’m okay.” She sips it and sighs. “Shit. I’m so sorry, Erik. I didn’t know…”
“It’s okay.” I put my hand on hers. She flips it around and takes my fingers, lacing them into mine.
“I didn’t mean to bring that here. I didn’t know he’d come.”
“Who was that?”
She looks away. “He’s a guy. From my past.”
“I gathered that. Mark?”
“Yeah, his name’s Mark. I’m… I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” I hesitate a second. “Are you safe? Be honest.”
“I don’t know,” she admits.
“Was he involved in what happened to you last week? The break-in?”
She nods her head, looking miserable. “I should’ve told you.”
“It’s okay,” I say, although she’s right, she should’ve.
“It’s not, not really. I should’ve said… I mean, I don’t want the police involved. I don’t want anyone involved.”
“I know, I get it.” I hold her hand tighter. “What does he want?”
“He wants… me, I guess. He wants me to come back home.”
“Is that your father?”
She makes a face and takes her hand away. “God, no. He’s more like… I don’t know how to explain it. I don’t think I want to explain it.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to, it’s just… you’re going to look at me different.”
I shake my head. “I’m not sure I will.”
“You will.” She frowns at me, her pretty green eyes shining with tears. “You really will. Believe me.”
“Okay,” I say. “Maybe I will. But is that so bad? I’ll be seeing you for real, at least.”
She snorts a little. “You won’t like it.”
“Let me decide that.”
I watch while she sips her tea. She considers for a long moment, not saying anything. But finally, she just shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m not ready.”
“Okay.” I touch her hand again, unable to help myself. That spark is still there, despite all this weirdness. I can’t seem to help myself around her. “Should I be worried about him coming back?”
“I don’t know,” she admits. “I think probably.”
“Then we should go to the police.”
“Please, no,” she says, eyes pleading. “Please don’t. I can’t do that.”
“Kim. You’re clearly terrified of this guy. Why can’t you go to someone that might help?”
“They’ll complicate things.”
“Are you not telling me something I need to know again?” I press.
“Yes… I mean, no. Sort of. It’s not really bad. I’m not a wanted criminal or something. It’s more… it’s more personal.” She bites her lip and looks away.
I’m frustrated. I want to know what she’s hiding but it’s obvious that she doesn’t want to say. I can’t tell why, not yet at least. But clearly that guy out there was someone from her past, someone important. They know each other, probably know each other well. He was talking to her like he owned her, and she was so afraid that I thought she might scream.
That’s not a good dynamic. I’ve seen that dynamic before, a long time ago, out in the city. That’s the way hookers looked at their pimps. Fear, loathing, disgust, love. It’s all there. I saw it all the time in those girls, the way they talked about their pimp like he was the best, strongest guy in the world, and the worst.
I can’t tell her that though. I don’t think that was her pimp out there. I think it’s more complicated than that, but I won’t press her if she really won’t talk.
“Look, you can stay here again,” I say. “You can sleep on the couch for as long as you need.”
“Really?”
“Really. At least for tonight. We’ll figure out what to do in the morning.”
“Okay.” She sighs. “Listen, can I ask something else from you?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“I need a shower.”
I laugh a little. “I can take care of that.”
“Sorry, I just got back from the diner and I can
still smell waffle batter in my hair.”
I grin at her. “My favorite smell.”
She smiles back.
“Come on,” I say, getting up. “Let’s take you upstairs.”
She follows me up. I get her a towel, show her the shower. She thanks me and shuts the door. I hesitate outside for a second, not sure why I’m not just walking off. I should check on Annie and get back to work…
But when I hear the water turn on, I know she’s in there, her clothes coming off. I want to go to her, kiss her, touch her wet skin. I want to taste her again, goddamn it. That pretty fucking girl, despite the trouble she’s brought into my life, drives me insane.
I force myself downstairs. I get back to work, setting in the countertops. She takes a long shower and I almost forget about her, losing myself in the work. At least until she comes downstairs wrapped in a towel.
The counters are done. I’m standing there, admiring them with a smile on my face, when I hear her. I turn and stop in my tracks.
Just a towel. Nothing else. Her hair’s wet and her eyes are big, but she’s not crying.
“I realized I don’t have any clean clothes,” she says. Her voice is barely a whisper.
“I see that.”
“I thought maybe…” She trails off, bites her lip.
She can see the way I’m looking at her.
“You want to borrow something,” I say.
“Yeah.”
“We could do that.”
I step closer to her. She doesn’t move. I come closer, closer. That fucking towel is barely covering her body, her smooth, beautiful skin, her curves. Shit, I can’t help myself, and she’s not pulling away.
No, she’s looking at me with those big, pretty eyes, and she’s thinking the same thing.
“Or we could do something else,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.
“Yeah? That’s that?”
I stop inches in front of her. I put a hand on her hip, feeling her soft body underneath the fabric. She bites her lip and stands there as my other hand goes to the little knot above her breasts that’s keeping the towel up.
Slowly, I unroll it. She stares at me, mouth open. The towel drops to the floor.