by A. J. Downey
I smiled faintly and shrugged again, looking around. There was a lot of random junk in the garage behind and around the truck, same as I’d spied in the loft inside. This place needed a lot of work.
“You good if I head into town, do some shopping?” he asked.
I kind of frowned and looked around, giving a weak gesture with my hands, not sure how to express my question if it was all right if I were here on my own. He seemed to get it anyway, though.
“Just stay in the cabin or on the property. Don’t go in the river past your feet, the current is strong and there ain’t no one around to help you if you get dragged under.”
He had straightened up and was wiping his grease-stained hands on an old red rag. He looked me over and said, “I think its best you stay out of town, but if there’s anything you want, make a list. I’ll grab it for you.”
I chewed my bottom lip. There were some things I wanted, but nothing I was willing to ask for. I gave a weak shrug and his keen green eyes, so unlike my own, swept over me.
“You good?”
I nodded, a bit too quickly.
He said, “Power’s out in the cabin; I need to get some fuses. Place is super old-school. That’s why I was trying to get the truck running, so I could make a proper supply run. Nothing ever really goes as planned out here. Usually you gotta adapt and make do. That’s half the fun of life out here.”
I looked around and he smiled.
“Have a look around. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
He left me standing there, taken aback that he trusted me not to run or disappear… Well, it was that, or he knew there was literally nowhere for me to go. I shivered despite the too-warm afternoon sunlight and ducked into the garage to look around. I hated not being busy, and if I was lucky, this place might provide me something to do.
As I suspected, the pile of junk in the back was a gold mine of home improvement things that just had yet to be utilized. Including a giant box with a mammoth roll of screen! There were other things back there too, things I could use to make things a little cozier upstairs, like pots for plants; there were plenty of things around the woods and river that were edible, I was sure of it…
I went upstairs to check the loft which was where I found, buried behind boxes and pots and pans, the true treasure – at least to me.
I smiled to myself. I could do a lot with this place, a little at a time. I mean, if I was allowed, but to be honest… I didn’t exactly have the ability to ask permission. But, beg forgiveness? That, I could do. That, I was an old hand at. It all came down to how brave was I willing to be?
9
Narcos…
Kch-thwack!
“Ah!”
She sounded like she had hurt herself. I didn’t like that. I didn’t like that, at all. I slid the armloads of groceries onto the dining room table and rushed out the back door to find Si shaking out one hand, the other one occupied by an industrial staple gun. I frowned, confused, and then the rest of the scene caught up with my brain and I chuckled.
“You know, the screen gets stapled to the outside of the porch.”
She frowned slightly and shook her head, and I hung mine and lightly punched to door frame a couple times to keep from laughing at her. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.
“It’s true, and I got some ladders down in the garage. I was planning on making some improvements around here. Starting there seems like a good bet.”
She nodded and waved a hand at the open door, stepping down from the dining room chair she’d co-opted for her mission.
“Can’t get the electric up and running until the day after tomorrow; fuses had to be ordered, so we’re slumming it tonight. I grabbed some stuff that didn’t need to be refrigerated.”
She nodded and set down the staple gun on the porch railing, and I pushed the back door wider.
“Sorry, it’s gonna be hot sleeping, again tonight.”
She shrugged and went to the grocery bags and started to snoop. I watched her, my arms crossed, as she pulled oranges and then a jar of peanut butter out of the bag. It was getting dark out, but I realized she had thought of that already, setting the things she’d plucked from the bags down and lifting a tin of lamp fuel up from behind them.
“What am I supposed to do with that?” I asked.
She pointed to the kitchen counter. There was a lantern and a couple of hurricane lamps she’d found somewhere.
“You wanna make sandwiches while I light these up?”
She nodded and went to the sink and turned it on. Nothing came out, and she shrugged.
“Ah, yeah. Need electricity for the water, we’re on a well out here.”
Her shoulders drooped and she wrinkled her nose.
“Sorry. We’ll get the screen up, I’ll get the truck running, and maybe we can wash up down by the river. Best I can figure for now. There’s a couple gallons of drinking water, at least.”
She peeked into the bag she hadn’t looked in yet and nodded, then turned, taking her spoils into the kitchen.
Well, all right, then. I guess we had our jobs to do.
She moved around the kitchen, quiet as a church mouse. I never really got that saying ‒ I mean, what made mice living in churches quieter than any other mice? I filled the two hurricane lamps and the one old-fashioned copper lantern she’d scared up from somewhere and got them lit.
I divided them up around the living quarters. One above the kitchen sink, one on the dining room table, and one on the rickety bedside table, which, admittedly, was probably a bad idea. I needed to shim that damn thing up.
“Watch that side table, it’s shaky as hell,” I warned her and she nodded, giving me a look like Thanks but, what would I be over there for?
I’d never looked at her long enough to realize just how expressive she was. Of course, I’d been playing the part of a good little street-rat foot-soldier, and I wouldn’t be caught dead lookin’ at the president’s ol’ lady. Now, though? No more games. No more disguises. I was just me, and she was just her.
She paused and gently set a plate with a peeled orange and a peanut butter sandwich on the table. I went over and took a seat and she set another one down in front of her. She looked self-conscious as she took a seat near mine, and I said, gently, “You don’t have to sit near me if you don’t want to.”
She startled and looked at me wide-eyed and innocent, but I could see right through it. It killed a part of me that she thought she had to do that with me, protect herself; try not to ruffle my feathers… I understood it, but it didn’t kill me any less.
“I’m serious, you’re not a prisoner here. You’re a witness, and I’m a cop. I’m here to keep us both alive. Bonus points that I get to fix this place up. There anything else you want to do other than the screen?”
She chewed a bite of her sandwich slowly, carefully, her eyes searching my face, trying to decide. She finally nodded, slowly, carefully, and I cocked my head.
Too fast, I had moved too fast, because she jumped slightly.
“What else?” I asked.
She shook her head, and I didn’t want to push it too much too fast, so I let it go for now.
“Okay, I’ll just get that screen up for now. When I go back into town, I’ll pick up some citronella candles.”
She waved her hand in front of me and I looked up. She got up from the table and went out the back door and to the end of the porch, just around the corner. She came back toting an apple crate that looked almost too heavy for her and I raised an eyebrow. I got up and took it from her, and she closed the back door behind her. I set it on the dining table on the last free corner and scowled down into it.
“What is this stuff?”
She pulled out a bottle and I held it out, squinting in the dimming light. “Citronella oil.”
She moves some things around to show me empty mason jars and a big ol’ block of wax.
“You want to make your own?” I asked.
She nodded.
“
Do you know how?”
She nodded again.
“Let me guess, you need electricity.”
She waffled a hand back and forth and pointed down.
“There’s stuff in the garage?”
She nodded.
“Knock yourself out,” I told her. “Just grab my attention if you need any help or heavy lifting done.”
She cocked her head, and I smiled at her, chuckling.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
She smiled then, and it was almost as if a truce had been declared. We sat back down to finish our meal and I said, “You were busy when I was gone, huh?”
She nodded and a secret little Mona Lisa smile painted her lips. I liked it. I was hoping I’d get to see it more.
“Good deal,” I muttered. “Place could use a woman’s touch.”
She smiled a little bigger, but wouldn’t look at me. I was hoping if I let her boss me around some, turned her loose to go a little buck-wild on the place, that maybe, just maybe, it would relax her some. I didn’t deserve her trust, but I was hell-bent on trying to earn it.
There wasn’t much left to do after dinner. She put things away around the kitchen; I got a trash bag out from under the sink and packed away the shopping bags and some odds and ends she didn’t need that were in the bottom of the apple crate.
She was resourceful, I’d give her that. I’d also give anything to know her story. How she got with the likes of King in the first place.
I lay in bed that night, the soft glow of the lamp illuminating her back as she lay hunched and curled on the too-small couch. I’m telling you, it was a deep, satisfying pleasure just watching her shoulders rise and fall with her deep and even breathing. King had fucked up with his cruelty, and I couldn’t be happier about it. He could have just as easily made it quick, and blown her head off, which would have given me plenty to send him up for life, but wouldn’t have done anything for poor Si.
I still wrestled with my part in her suffering. I tried to justify it to my own mind, but I couldn’t. There was no justifying what I’d done to her, in pounding the nails home through her delicate hands, but it was either that, or one of the other guys would have. The guilt was a constricting thing that’d like to choke me, keeping me awake long into the night, until I simply got up with the first blush of dawn.
She wanted the porch screened, I could do that for her. It needed to be done anyway. I quietly went out the back and down to the garage to set up what I would need, letting her sleep as long as possible.
I figured at least one of us could use the rest.
10
Everleigh…
Ka’chack! Ka’chack! Ka’chack!
Each sound came in rapid succession. It wasn’t exactly the sounds I’d expected to wake up to, but honestly, it could only be one thing. I got to my feet, and assured, the day before that the boards in the cabin and on the porch held no loose nails and were all worn to a satiny finish, padded barefoot to the back door. I stepped out into the morning sunlight streaming through the portals left between the roof supports on the porch to see Whi – Narcos on the other side, as if floating in midair, stapling screen to the very same supports.
Ka’chack! Ka’chack! Ka’chack!
“Morning,” he grunted, and climbed down the ladder to move it over.
I leaned out one of the areas yet to be screened and waved down to him. He chuckled and moved the ladder, climbing back up. He reached for the roll of screen, which he’d rested inside the closed-off porch rail, and I helped as much as I could.
“Thanks, but I’ve got it.”
I let go and stood back while he stapled it first along the support, then along the rail, then along the top and finally along the next support, closing the back portion of the wrap-around in.
I smiled. I was excited. With this done so swiftly, as soon as he went to town I could leap on phase two of my little master plan.
Ka’chack! Ka’chack! Ka’chack!
Ka’chack! Ka’chack! Ka’chack!
“Mind getting me one of those gallons of water?” he asked and I jumped a little, coming out of my daydream, and nodded rapidly. I went into the cabin and retrieved a big quart Mason jar from the cupboard above the sink. I poured it to the rim and took it out to him. He downed half of it in three or four large swallows and handed it back.
“Thanks, if you could hang on to that for me and give it back when I need it, that would be helpful.”
I nodded, and just kind of stood around while he completed the last half of the back porch. He had me hand him the water at the corner and polished off the glass. I kind of shook it back and forth to ask if he needed a refill. He wiped the excess from his beard and mustache and shook his head.
“No, thanks, I’m almost to the bank here. I’ll come around the front, here, and get the screen door from the garage and hang it at the end of the walkway. This went a lot faster and easier than I thought it would. I wish I’d done it a while ago.”
I smiled and made a motion of eating and he nodded.
“Some of those muffins would be great.”
I went around and back inside and fetched them and my own glass of water. We sat on the porch in the shade of some trees along the side of the little cabin. He put his back against the wood between the railing supports, and I put my back against the cabin itself, the jug of water and plate of muffins between us. I munched happily as he considered me, and finally he said, “All it took to make you happy was putting some screen up, like really, that was it. That’s kind of amazing.”
I shrugged. Not really, not if he hadn’t wanted to do it. I think that’s why a lot of relationships had a tendency to fall apart ‒ couples not really listening to the intent or meaning behind little requests. Then again, we weren’t a couple, and, frankly, never would be. I mean, how we could be, after he’d nailed me to a tree, was a little beyond me. Was he attractive? Sure, I’d always found him attractive but I’d also thought King was handsome and look at what he had done… he was supposed to love me and he had given the order.
I smoothed my hands over my skirt, my palms suddenly sweaty, the wounds in my hands aching, though I couldn’t tell if it was from my train of thought encouraging them or if they were legitimately hurting at the moment.
“They hurt?” he asked, eyeing my hands.
I waffled one of them back and forth some and he caught my eye with his.
“May I?” He held out a hand, palm up, and I tucked my hands in my lap, shaking my head. He sighed, a heavy disappointed sound with the weight of the world in it, and nodded.
“I get it,” he said shortly, and drained his water jar. He stood up and threw a leg over the railing, climbing back onto the ladder.
I didn’t know why, but I felt… bad… for hurting his feelings. Which was crazy, considering he was the one who nailed me to a tree a little more than a week or so ago. Maybe two? I didn’t know. The days had begun to blur together at the hotel, the walls closing in on me.
I liked it much better here.
Here I could breathe, there were trees and sunlight. The sound of the river was soothing, and the knowledge that nobody knew where I was or could find me was the most comforting thing of all.
I got up and cleared the dishes. I couldn’t wait for a hot shower. He’d said ‘tomorrow’, but if I had to, I would clean myself up camping-style and rinse off the worst of the sweat and dirt in the cold river. It would be nice to at least have soap, but I don’t think he’d bought any.
I figured I’d better start a list for when he went back into town. I couldn’t expect him to think of everything, could I? Just the thought of writing anything down made me nervous, but I bucked up and made the list.
Just as I finished, I realized there was no more sound of the staple gun biting into the wood, and to be honest, I was glad it was staples and not hammer-and-nails. I shuddered at the thought.
“Hey.”
I jumped.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I’m going t
o get to work on the truck, try not to wander too far, okay?”
I nodded and he ducked back out the back door, which I had left standing open since the porch was screened in. He went out the screen door at the end of the porch and clattered down the stairs and I felt my tense muscles ease with his absence.
I shook my head to clear it and picked up my apple crate with its candle fixings and went out onto the porch. I plucked up my courage and followed him down the stairs, setting it on the old metal desk full of tools, odds, and ends in the garage.
“Need help?” he asked.
I shook my head no, and picked up an old metal pail by its wire handle to go look for some plant life goodies nearby.
11
Narcos…
“Silence!”
I waited, the light breeze rustling the trees, the sound of the river water rushing over stones the only answer to my call. I frowned, worry gnawing at my gut, and I cupped my hands around my bearded mouth and called again.
“Silence!”
One of the shrubs at the edge of the clearing rustled and she came around it, dirt streaking the front of her white skirt, her long hair tangled and with at least one leaf in it. I watched as this wild woman picked her way gingerly across the bare earth in her equally bare feet, the bucket she’d taken brimming with dirt and bits of green.
“What have you got there?” I asked.
She held out the bucket, beaming and I looked inside.
“Are those leeks?” I asked.
She waffled her hand back and forth and I raised an eyebrow. She rolled her eyes at me and I had to laugh.
“Guess I’m going to have to trust you aren’t going to poison me.”
She nodded and it was as matter-of-fact as she could make it.
I shook my head and said, “I got the truck up and running. I’m headed into town. Did you make a list?”
She chewed her bottom lip and finally shook her head. I cocked mine and said, “I know we need more food, but what else?”