by Katy Kaylee
“It’s a good thing I got blown up, then.” Grunting what might’ve been a laugh had I more energy, I glanced over at Tony as he stretched his leg out with a hiss. The thing had almost been torn to shreds- unrecoverable- but he got a new titanium femur and fibula and hadn’t lost his toes. The left side of his body was still held by slings and braces, and it’d taken him five weeks just to be stable enough to travel back home.
“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to shoot someone as bad as I want to shoot this guy, and I’ve never even met him. I mean- Delainne is the worst liar I’ve ever met, and with everything that happened at the store this morning…” Blowing out a hot breath as anger bubbled up like tar in my chest, I flopped my head back while my best friend just grunted again. “She says we’re not dating, but I don’t know what else she considers fucking, living together, and essentially being a live-in maid and babysitter. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this… we agreed to lie through a proposal at a wedding- not lie to Maggie.”
“You should point it out to her that people who are unsure about being in a relationship will usually evacuate the premises, Eric.” The bland response wasn’t unexpected, and Tony took a deep swig of his beer before continuing. “If you proposed to her at Teagen’s wedding, then why bother figuring out if you’re dating, anyway? Just fuck her brains out and tell her it wasn’t an act. She’s young- I get that- but there’s no point in skirting the fucking issue, Eric.”
“I’m not doing that, Tony.” The denial slid out of my mouth venomously, and Tony shot me a duh, I don’t believe you look that tightened my chest.
“I’m taking Maggie out tomorrow, since I couldn’t get her a gift- and you’re gunna fuck her brains out and confess. I’ve known you for 25 fucking years, Eric. The minute that Maggie isn’t there to stop it, it’ll just come spewing out. That’s how you’ve always been.” Tony drained his beer, and I sat, silent, as he carefully sprawled across the end of the sofa. The U-shaped, leather piece of furniture was probably more comfortable than anything he’d had a in a while, but I shook the thought away.
He had a point; Tony and I were best friends growing up, and we went to war together.
“Whatever- don’t take my advice. I don’t care. Close the curtains before you go upstairs.” Sighing heavily, I pushed myself up on sluggish legs to shuffle towards the windows, and I couldn’t resist peeking outside. The sun was still high in the sky, and the day wasn’t even three-quarters the way over, yet. Peering down the street and either sidewalk, I pursed my lips tightly as I searched for anything out of the ordinary.
For once, I wish I’d made a better effort to get to know my neighbors. Shutting the thick curtains with a jerk, I left Tony to sleep off the 14 hours in the air before heading for the stairs. Maggie’s bedroom door was cracked, emitting a faint glow, and I slipped into her room to find her absolutely knocked out. She hadn’t taken a nap in at least 2 years, and it only impounded the fact that today had been hard on her.
Heading directly across the hall, to my bedroom, I gently, quietly shut the door behind me before unfastening the buttons on my shirt. On my bed, Delainne sprawled on top of the comforter, and I grabbed the throw blanket off my rocking chair. She was so deeply asleep that she snored lightly, and she didn’t move a single muscle when I covered her up. Conditioned air set a nice temperature, and I pulled off my shirt before climbing in bed next to her.
Delainne didn’t move, her light snoring tugging at the corners of my mouth as I searched my bedside drawer for the tv remote. The television was on mute, but the picture was bright from how dark and depressing my house had become. Blinking hard, I glanced down at the woman by my side, and her pearly, soft skin glimmered from the flickering lights mounted on the opposite wall.
She’d dyed her hair dark brown to bleach blonde; she hid her freckles with such perfection that it couldn’t have been something she’d just learned. More often than I cared to admit, it was hard to remember that she was only 19 years old. She looked it, especially right now, and I rested my hand on the flare of her hip and pursed my lips tightly. At some point, someone had taught her to use makeup to make her look older, to hide her physical flaws. At some point, someone had pointed out how mature she was, and how nice it was that she could handle herself at such a young age.
But everyone had a breaking point, even if they didn’t know where it was.
Delainne
“-ainne… Delainne, sweetheart- wake up. You’ve been out for over 16 hours, Delainne.” My eyelids popped open at the soft call and gently shake, and I gasped as my brain kickstarted into action. Flying up to sit, I inhaled sharply as goosebumps pocked my arms and chest. My head throbbed dully, but it was easily ignored when I caught sight of Eric looming over me from the side of the bed. “I’m sorry- I wouldn’t have woken you up, but there’s some things we need to talk about. Tony just left with Maggie.”
“I’m fine.” My voice scraped against the back of my throat, and I gulped down the cotton in my mouth. Strong, iron bands hooked around my back and under my knees, and Eric held me to his chest with a weak grunt. Holding my breath, my heart thundered as he wandered leisurely out of his bedroom, and strong rays of mid-morning sun illuminated the hallway.
“Tell me about what happened with Greg, sweetheart.” Stiffening at the demand, my widening eyes flew to Eric to find his jaw ticking and his own pupils tight. “Tell me everything since the minute you met him.”
Sauntering down the stairs as I gathered my thoughts, Eric was blessedly patient and considerate to the unfiltered disgust that roiled my stomach. Pursing my lips tightly, I twiddled my fingers in my lap as my mind went back to that fateful date.
My father took me out to dinner- which in itself was odd- and it only got worse as the night went on. He introduced me to his girlfriend, and he tried and failed to explain that he still loved my mom. What he ended up saying was that my step-mother was just a stand-in, essentially, and it’d been kind of freaky at the time how okay with that she was.
“Greg was late because his friends wanted to play video games, and he lost track of time. When he got to the restaurant, it was very obvious that he didn’t bother to shower, hadn’t combed his hair- hadn’t brushed his teeth or anything that day.” My skin crawled at the memories that beat against my eye sockets, and Eric sat me on the counter over the dishwasher quietly. “For me, it was disgusting… he ate his finger-food dinner with his actual fingers, and he talked after chewing but before swallowing. These things were just things that I thought were gross- that I still think are gross… Like- you’re supposed to eat chicken fingers with your fingers, but…”
“Anyway- after about an hour, my dad tells me that he and my step-mom are talking about getting married. Greg also didn’t know about it, but he immediately asks if he and his mom are going to live with us. They say they don’t know. He asks if he’ll have to change schools- they don’t know. He asks if he’ll still be able to see his friends- they don’t know that, either. Greg was really concerned over it all, and he stormed off to the bathrooms. My step-mom asks me what I think, and I asked her… did she really like my dad, or was she just marrying him for money? She said ‘no’, and that they weren’t marrying because they were in love- they were friends, and they were lonely. That was all. She would do the things with me that my mom couldn’t, but she’d never replace my mom.”
“She’s a good woman.” Eric’s observation only pulled a half-hearted hum from me, and I reached to rub my face roughly. His rifling for a pan in the bottom cupboards filled the kitchen for a long moment, and I smiled grimly before speaking up again.
“She’s my step-mother. I love her in a way- with a potency- that I couldn’t with my mom. She was there for me when I was being bullied, and when I was asked out by a guy. All in all, I could never understand why Greg turned out the way he did when she’s such a wonderful person. I guess, her husband left her for someone younger around the time my mom died, so… but- Greg himself was always… off. Since I fir
st saw him, I never stopped thinking that I didn’t want to be in a room alone with him. When my dad invited him and my step-mom to live with us seven months later, I actually started locking my bedroom door.”
“My dad said that it was just because we didn’t know each other, at first. I believed him, you know- because it’s plausible, and it’s probably attributable. After my dad and my step-mom got married a year later, I started noticing that my door would be unlocked, or my hairbrush wasn’t the way I’d left it.” My abdomen tightened, and a cold sweat broke out on my back as the hairs on the nape of my neck stood up. Staring intently at the tiled floor from under furrowed brows, I sucked up a shaky breath as the stove gave a few, faint clicks. “He’s a year older than me, and I could never prove he was in my room. My father believed me, to an extent, and started giving me more responsibilities at work to keep me out of the house. At one point, when I was 15, I only went home to sleep. One night, I woke up and Greg was standing over me… t- touching himself.”
“Oh-h- my step-mom was mad. I’d never seen her get so mad. She slapped Greg across the face- she was that mad. She kicked him out and wouldn’t let him back for almost a week. She installed cameras in my room and in the hallway that only she had access to. My dad didn’t get into it because she had it handled- she’s a woman, so she can handle it better- whatever reason he had. I always thought that Greg was bitter because I had a good relationship with his mother, but he had virtually no relationship with my dad.” A dark shiver lodged between my shoulder blades, and I exhaled slowly and laced my fingers tightly. My chest constricted, putting a strain on my lungs and heart, and my clammy palms stuck together. “I felt like, even back then, moving out was a bad idea, but I wanted to try it anyway. So, I did… and Greg broke in and put two cameras in my bathroom and one in my bedroom. I called the cops because it was literally my second night there, and I had a feeling it was him because nothing was stolen…”
“Seriously? How dumb is this guy?” The scorn in Eric’s tone rang in my ears, and I couldn’t help my lip twitching upwards or my huff of a laugh. “What did the cops do?”
“They checked and found the cameras, but there wasn’t a way to tie them to Greg, so I couldn’t do anything about it. I talked to my landlord, and he told me that as long as he had access, I could put in a security system. About three months later, Greg showed up at my apartment and asked to talk. When I told him to go away, he told me that my dad hurt himself and was in the hospital. It was just to get me to open the door- I blocked his numbers and stuff from my phone- and he tried to get into my apartment. He kissed me- said he loved me and that he had for a long time- and I called the cops again. He ran away, and there wasn’t much they could do. That night, I got on the transcontinental. I took a couple of busses, and I ended up here.”
“… He’s dangerous, Eric. He’s dangerous because he’s so… inconspicuous. Every girl he’s ever dated has said at some point that he kind of creeps them out for whatever reason, and they break up really quickly. I thought, initially, that he was just one of those guys that wanted to say they had sex with a virgin, but there’s no way he wouldn’t know I’m not one anymore. And, yet, he’s still after me.” My story came to an end as Eric shuffled over to the refrigerator, and I sighed heavily even while dense weights lifted from my shoulders. Reaching to run my hands through my hair, I closed my eyes and forced myself to take a deep breath. “When we went to that dinner, I didn’t know what to expect, so I wore a little makeup. There were bullies, you know- some girls told me my freckles were ugly, and it had an impact. So, Greg never knew I had freckles until the night he went to my apartment. He left me threatening voicemails, talking about how I’d lied to him for the past six years- how I was a fake slut, and I should be honored that at least he wanted me. I turned it off, got the one I have…”
“Where did you live while you were working for Donald, Delainne?” Eric was loud- as if he’d only just thought to ask- and I lifted my gaze to meet his. “You were able to get that job, which means you had a mailing address.”
“I lived in a cheap motel room. I wasn’t sure how long I’d be staying, and I do have money… but I don’t have enough to be a bum for a long time. It was close to the warehouse, and Donald was admittedly sympathetic. The people that run the motel were good, too, and they let me pay cash every other day since I didn’t know what was going to happen. I got a P.O. Box, and applied for the warehouse job, and then… I got told to fill in, and saw Greg, and met you, and that’s… that’s pretty much it.” Shrugging as Eric pulled out eggs and bacon, I cast him a slight smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “No one knows where I went- even my dad. I bet he’s worried- I bet Greg told him he’d search for me, and my dad looked at my debit card statement, and that’s how Greg found out I was here.”
Eric
An hour passed by on pins and needles before I found something to say to Delainne’s anecdote. I’d cooked and she’d eaten, and I’d even done the dishes before a thought popped into my head that somehow made it out of my mouth.
“When I was overseas, I met a little girl that was married to a terrorist.” Talking about my time deployed sent a spear of discomfort lodging in my chest, and I inhaled a shaky breath. When I blinked, I could see that little girl’s beautiful, blue eyes shining out beyond her burqa. “She was, like 14. It was during my last tour, a few months after I found out Sasha was pregnant. I had nightmares about that girl for so long because she tried to run away from her husband- who was supposedly over the age of 50- and he tortured her on camera.”
“Like, I was 25, and Sasha was 23 when she died. We’d fight about why she didn’t get another abortion, or what she expected of me. I wasn’t going to fuck my career up for her. I didn’t love her- I didn’t even really want to be with her. I wouldn’t have tried to have any sort of relationship beyond the necessary for Maggie if she’d lived. While I was overseas, she’d rail at me that I got her pregnant, and then I left her alone…” Scoffing lightly even as guilt soured my taste buds, I shook my head as I leaned on the counter in front of the stove. Delainne’s gaze bored into the side of my face, and I clenched and released my fists at the barrage of memories. “She literally ruined my life because, for some reason, she grew a conscience. Then, Sasha had the fucking audacity to die and leave me alone with this fucking mess.”
“One of the last phone calls we had was right before a mission to raid this Jihadist stronghold. Sasha was crying, telling me everything was my fault- that she got let go from her job for being sick all the time. Pregnancy wasn’t kind to her. She screamed that she wished she’d gotten an abortion- that it wasn’t worth it- that I was a fucking asshole for not giving her the old ‘I’ll disappear if you keep it’ speech… I fucking snapped.” Shame smeared my chest, making it hard to breathe, and a harsh bark of laughter forced from my tight throat.
“I told her that she could’ve fucking listened to pretty much every one of her friends, her mother- me, even my parents- who all told her that keeping Maggie was a bad idea. We had sex a couple of times every eight or ten months, but that was pretty much the extent of it. I never hung out with her or anything. I told her that if she wasn’t such a slut or had realistic expectations, she wouldn’t be miserable and alone. In front of my entire company, I told Sasha that if she expected me to deal with her because of a decision she made, she could fuck off. Then, I hung up. The next time I heard about her was getting the call that she died of a hemorrhage. She bled to death giving birth to Maggie.”
“I hated her for a long time. Like I’ve said before, she wasn’t a bad person- she was just immature and reckless. She didn’t think things through, and Maggie is the perfect example of that. I found out about a month after she died that she wanted to move in together- she had a checklist. She wanted to talk to me about taking a desk job, and we’d try to be the perfect, little family. She thought that because she got pregnant- not on purpose, I don’t think- that things would work out for us… that because she wasn’t try
ing to trap me or some shit, that it’d be fine.” Glancing over at Delainne’s stoic, unreadable expression, I offered a grim, sour sneer that strained the muscles in my neck. “The reason I bring up the little girl is because the mission I went on the next day was to her husband’s compound. I was so wound up and distracted because of Sasha that I shot that little girl and killed her. She had a gun, and my command swept it under the rug, but everyone knew she wouldn’t use it. She was so scared she pissed herself, screaming and crying- running at us without remembering she had a fucking machine gun in her hands. She wanted us to save her, and I shot her in the head instead…”
“She died instantly. I suppose, in a way, I did save her somehow… but it doesn’t help. A couple of months later, I get the call that I’m being shipped home, and Sasha has died. Sasha’s mother offered to adopt Maggie, but I said ‘no’- I couldn’t go back after what I did. I took the transfer, the incident was resolved, and I decided that Maggie never needs to know what happened between Sasha and I. I’ll never talk about Sasha too much because the honest to God’s truth is that I really didn’t know much about her.”
Now, my story had come to an end, and I caught Delainne’s somber, watery gaze steadily. We all had skeletons in our closets, and some were of our own doing. Six years had passed, but I think about that little girl sometimes. I think about the life she would’ve had to live if I hadn’t put a bullet between her eyes. She would’ve been shoved off to another terrorist or branded a traitor and killed or something.