Human Hieroglyphix - Dex & Leila

by J. A. Hornbuckle

And then there was me.

  Enough said.

  Was it any wonder why a completely faked, sudden on-set sinus headache had me leaving early?

  *.*.*.*.*

  It wasn't until I received that call from my mom, the one where she was so freaked out she was barely making sense, that two and two started to come together.

  She said that she had received a call from the University's Psychologist detailing that they needed her permission to treat me for, and I quote, "the psychic break that had occurred due to Leila's unhealthy relationship with narcotics that she'd developed when she was inducted into the local chapter of Hell's Angels". That my consistent run-ins with local law enforcement were due to both "public intoxication" as well as "an assumed but yet unproven second career in prostitution" in order to keep "my crew" out of jail and that my behavior was seriously jeopardizing my academic career.

  Okay, I double-dog-dare you to tell me exactly where you'd break into that particular conversation in order to assure your mother that it was a crank call?

  *.*.*.*.*

  I was trying to lay low because even though I had a long-term habit of hiding my head in the sand to avoid the unpleasantness of life, I wasn't typically, habitually stupid. I wasn't sure exactly where the threat was exactly coming from but I felt the threat of something, something really nasty, aimed my way nonetheless.

  I just tried to keep my head down and just do my job so I could go home.

  Because things had taken a turn for the worse. The kind of worse that raises the hackles on the back of your neck.

  I was no longer sitting at the faculty table during lunch.

  If I stayed on campus to eat I made sure that I sat at another table or ate in my office and even in the halls I only traded chin lifts with the other professors.

  It was lonely.

  Funny how, back in the day, I was often alone but I never felt lonely.

  I guess it's no wonder then that when I was stopped by Dr Edwina Sorenson on my way out of the building, I was grateful for the interruption.

  "Dr McCarthy? I was told that you might now the answer to the riddle that was posed during today's lunchtime round table."

  I paused.

  I had nothing against Dr Sorenson, but at the mention of something from the faculty lunch table, I was immediately on my guard.

  "Okay…," I said, drawing the word out hesitantly.

  "Do you know what lowers a Barbie doll's IQ?"

  I didn't respond, but I didn't look away either.

  "New hair-do, wardrobe plus contacts! You can actually watch as her IQ score lowers as her hemlines get higher."

  It was funny.

  Kind of.

  In its own unique way.

  Until I had to call Grantham P.D. out a-freakin'-gain.

  Because I discovered underneath my driver side windshield wiper, in front of God and everybody else parked in the designated faculty parking lot, there was a naked, blonde Barbie doll whose hair had been snipped close to her head. And she had what was apparently blue ink on various parts of her anatomy that looked like they were supposed to be tattoos.

  I didn't cry about it, though.

  Not when Officer Matthews asked me out again.

  Not when I tried to listen to my Nano on shuffle and Bill Evans came up.

  Or, The Cowboy Junkies.

  Guess what came up next?

  You got it. Dave Matthews Band. "Crash."

  Sometimes life just seems to want to find you on your knees, head to the rug holding your arms against stomach, hugging yourself so you don't fly apart as pieces of you break away.

  While you listen to some of the most beautiful music you've ever heard.

  Alone.

  *.*.*.*.*

  And just when you've sunk just about as low as you think you'll ever feel without shattering completely to smithereens, a storm can blow in.

  Storms in the Rockies are fierce, raw. They have a life of their own with the long, sharp bolts of lightning and their hard, booming peals of thunder that are sometimes so loud that you can't hear your own heart beat much less a frenzied knock.

  I did, though.

  The frenzied knock that turned into thumps as I made my way to the door to find Crys soaked through to the bone, clumped mascara streaming from both rain and tears. She had been calling every couple of days, and sometimes showed up unexpectedly just to talk.

  But I could tell that she was worried about me.

  I knew in my heart that what Dex and I had shared in those few days was a real connection. And broken connections tend to affect both the 'hurter' and the 'hurtee'.

  And I knew I was hurting because I carried the pieces of my heart, my broken rattling old heart, inside me each and every day.

  But it wasn't until she showed up unannounced during that storm that I realized that our broken connection would hurt anyone else.

  Especially, most especially, Crys.

  I did what I think most people would do, offered her a warm shower, some warm food (although Dex had been right, I didn't keep a lot of food on hand) and my soft, billowy couch to sleep on. And I tried, I really did try, to understand what she was so upset about. But the only thing that I could understand or unjumble from her was some sort of convoluted thing about not wanting to live as a spare part and that she could see that Dex and I were both miserable and needed to just, 'get the fuck on with it for God's sake'.

  From your sweet mouth to God's ear, baby girl.

  *.*.*.*.*

  "You want to stop by Henry's for a nightcap," James asked as we got back into his car. James as in Dr. James Miller who was a professor in the Engineering Department at the University.

  "Okay," I said trying to keep my voice normal. What I wanted to say was take me anywhere but there, but unfortunately, there wasn't a single restaurant in town where I wouldn't have a memory of Dex.

  James was very nice, thoughtful and attentive which is why I agreed to a second date with him. That and it had been a full month since that stupid Sunday when my heart was torn out of my chest without me even being aware of it.

  "Hey, Dirk," I said climbing up on the barstool and rearranging my dress. It was a wrap dress in a pretty salmon color but tended to open and show just a little bit more leg than I wanted to expose.

  "Hi, Leila, haven't seen you in a while," Dirk said putting a coaster down in front of me. "What'll you have?"

  "A glass of red?"

  "You got it," Dirk said moving down the bar to get my drink.

  "Wow, you sure know how to get great service. First Luigi's and now here? I'm impressed," James said sitting next to me.

  I choose not to answer as Dirk brought my wine and took James' order.

  Gloria made her way over and gave me a hug as she admired my dress.

  Spring had officially come to our corner of the Rockies and it was warm enough now to wear dresses without sweaters or jackets. I'd been slowly adding to my new wardrobe and had been leaning towards dresses for a while now. As well as strappy little sandals with a heel. The ones I had on tonight were a rich camel color which complemented both my dress and the gold jewelry I had on.

  "I'm so sorry. James, this is Gloria and the best waitress at Henry's." I said, a little embarrassed that I had allowed myself to talk with Gloria so long without introducing James. But then, on the other hand, I really didn't give a rip.

  Actually, there was quite a few of things I didn't give a rip about and I was becoming really disenchanted with academia, its players and rules, all the way around. From the petty and unnecessary politics, to the gossip of who is sleeping with whom and the constant excuses from students and the TA's.

  I was fast becoming done with it all.

  Live free or die.

  I glanced over at James and saw him align the olives that garnished whatever drink it was that he ordered until each of the three were lined up exactly the same distant apart from each other and each end.

  Kill me now, I thought, taking another sip of my
wine.

  James was my third date, or if you're counting this second date as a date, in the last month then this was my fourth date. But I really wasn't interested in any of the three men that had escorted me out, had wined and dined me.

  I admit it.

  I wasn't attracted to anyone.

  Not their hair, their car, their fucking diplomas.

  And, worst of all?

  I couldn't imagine and didn't want to imagine any of them whispering to me to touch myself while they watched.

  Who wanted to or even would dance with me in my kitchen on a Sunday morning with the sun shining bright around us making a moment so wonderful that it brought tears to my eyes.

  Or who would still have the list of how they re-invented themselves when they were in their mid-twenties and be willing to show it to me on a soft night over coffee before taking me to bed and helping us both find bliss.

  I swallowed thickly as I nodded and 'uh-huhed' in all the right places but I couldn't tell you what … uhm… what's his name?

  Oh yeah, James.

  What James was talking about.

  I was beginning to see and really understand what Dex meant about 'nice' and how you really do need to live free or you die. And I sometimes felt like I was dying when I first woke up, realizing I had to drag myself through another fucking day that would be comprised of complete and utter bullshit.

  "Oh yes, James. I am a bit tired. Thank you," I said as I got off my barstool and waved at Dirk and Gloria, both with twin looks of concern as they waved back.

  "You're awfully quiet tonight, Leila," I heard James say as he pulled his car into my driveway.

  "I'm sorry. I think the day just caught up with me a bit." I watched as he got out and made his way around to my door.

  "Thanks so much for the evening," I said from my place on my porch, holding out my hand, intending to seal our dull, boring, vanilla evening with another handshake. But James must have took that as his cue to make his move and used my hand to pull me into his body.

  As Caitlin would say, 'Ewww'.

  I watched in horror as he closed his eyes and aimed his mouth towards mine. I leaned back, I mean, way back. So far back that if someone was looking, they'd think I was doing some kind of Caribbean limbo routine.

  "Oh, Leila, don't be shy," James said on almost a whisper, still leaning over me, seemingly intent on a goodnight slobber, I mean, kiss.

  "I really don't want to be rude, James," I said in a slightly louder than normal voice trying to break into whatever spell he was obviously under. "But would you get your hands off me, please?"

  At least I got him to open his eyes.

  "Not even a goodnight kiss?" James asked with a pout. A grown man pouting and using a little kid voice.

  Oh, yeah, that's sexy all right.

  "She already gave you your walking papers, pal, when she asked you to get your fucking hands off her," I heard from the darkness on the far end of my porch. I tried to steel my face from showing any reaction at all, but my heart started pounding out a rhythm that almost hurt.

  "Who's that?" James demanded looking into the shadows.

  Not seeing anything he turned to me and demanded, "Who is that, Leila?"

  It only took a couple of beats of silence for me to say it, to admit it to myself before I actually said it out loud.

  "He's the only man I've ever wanted on my porch, James."

  Chapter Twenty Four

  I'm pretty sure what's-his-name left, but I didn't watch him leave. My eyes were trained on the shadows where Dex's voice came from.

  "You okay, Leila?" I heard him ask, his voice sounding closer.

  "I'm good, Dex, you?" My eyes were still on the shadows and I could finally see his silhouette. He took another couple of steps toward me.

  "Can we talk?" I heard him ask softly.

  I didn't know what I was thinking or even feeling because I was caught up in just looking at Dex, staring at him, remembering him. Finally my mind began working at the same pace as my hearing and I nodded as I unlocked and opened my front door.

  I had only left the small light over the stove on, which cast a soft light in my kitchen, just enough to see by. I left the front door open so he could follow me in as I stood by the dining room table and took off my heels.

  I heard the front door softly close and the snick of the dead bolt as I moved, barefoot, to the kitchen.

  "Coffee, Dex?" I asked over my shoulder. Okay, I admit it. I was practically wetting myself and was afraid that I would completely and totally lose it if I looked directly at him.

  "Sounds good, babe."

  My hands gripped the counter at his 'babe' until my knuckles were white. I wasn't his 'babe' anymore and for him to say it was like rubbing my nose in it. But did I confront him on it? No. Because confronting him meant looking at him.

  I heard Dex sit the breakfast bar as I got the coffee going. I made a quarter turn and leaned back up against the stove, a full kitchen length away from where he was sitting.

  "You're looking good, Leila," I heard him say.

  "Thanks," I said, still not looking at him but gripping the stove behind me.

  How can silence be so deep that you can almost feel it against your skin?

  I sighed and began taking off my bracelets and necklaces as the coffee finished brewing, still not looking at him, at him sitting in my house, at my breakfast bar, in my semi-dark, silent kitchen.

  I pulled down two mugs and filled them both, before moving to set his in front of him and going back to my position at the stove.

  "Why won't you look at me, Elle?" He asked softly breaking the silence.

  I raised my eyes to his over the rim of my mug. I felt the shock of it, our gaze, down deep in my core and I dropped my eyes.

  There's only so much a person can take, you know?

  "I was a dick, babe." He said tightly, almost angrily.

  "Yeah, Dex. You were. I think you need to go now." I was not going to swayed this time by his admission.

  We had already played that game last month and I was not going to go there again.

  My words seem hang and echo in the room and, for me, it opened up the vault, that secret safe hidden core of memories, of our time together.

  Not content with just avoiding looking at him, I turned my head to the side as I took another sip of coffee because those memories, flying out in all directions from my heart's open door that were that overwhelming, almost too much for me to bear.

  "Can we take this into the living room?" he asked, again his voice was soft but tight.

  Oh, hell no. We were not going to do the whole fire-lit, sitting close on the couch thing.

  "I'm good here, Dex. But, I think you need to go."

  I heard him sigh, but again the silence enveloped us.

  I finished my coffee, rinsed my mug and put it in the dishwasher.

  "Refill?" I asked over my shoulder.

  "Yeah, thanks."

  I took the pot from its warming plate and moved to the breakfast bar and poured him another cup. I felt his eyes on my face but I kept my eyes trained on his mug. When I started to move away Dex put a hand on my arm.

  I stopped and looked at his hand for what seemed like a long time. Finally, I raised my eyes and looked at him.

  Really looked.

  And what I saw nearly broke the remaining pieces of my heart.

  He looked as miserable as I felt.

  The lump in my throat began to get bigger and I swallowed thickly.

  I slowly moved my arm and he let go. I put the pot back on the warmer and stood there for a minute. I needed to calm down, needed to somehow slow down. After I felt like I had it together, I moved to stand on the other side of the bar, right in front of him.

  "Appears you're not going. You wanted to talk, Dex. So, talk."

  His eyes speared mine and there was a beat of silence before he began to speak.

  "Babe, we were only together for a few days," he began softly, slowly. "And they
were good days, really good."

  He glanced at me but I wasn't going to say anything. I just wanted him to say whatever the freak he needed to say and then get the freak out of my house because I had a date with my pillow and a freaking box of tissues.

  "So good they scared me, Leila."

  I was still not saying anything. Dex needed to responsible for his own freaking feelings and not try and push it up on me.

  "I haven't been in a relationship since my ex-fiancé, Nancy, back in 2003. That's not to say that I haven't been with women, because I have. But I made it real clear to them when we started that they'd only get my body and I'd give them orgasms. Nothing of my heart."

  Yada, yada, freaking yada. Was he done yet? Could I ask him to just please freaking leave? And why, in the name of everything holy, was he making me freaking listen to his man-whore shit?

  "Until I met you, Leila."

  Say again?

  "I'd heard about it from other people, how fucking could be so much more with someone who held your heart. I didn't believe them because I'd never had that before."

  His eyes were centered, straight dead on mine as he spoke.

  "But I had it with you, babe. I finally realized that they weren't talking out of their asses. That having my cock in the pussy of a woman I cared about was amazing, made the sex more amazing, made everything we said or did together, even outside the bed, more amazing. And that every fucking minute that we spent together entangled our hearts, ensnared our hearts so much that neither of us could scarcely breathe when we were apart."

  He was quiet again as he finished the last of his coffee.

  "I was falling in love with you, Leila, and it fucking scared the shit out of me."

  Okay, he had my full attention now.

  "So I did what I seem to do best. I ran. And I kept running but you were everywhere, in my house, in my car, on my motorcycle, in my booth. Fucking everywhere, Leila."

  I knew the feeling.

  I couldn't go to any restaurant in town without thinking of him, that there were mornings when I wasn't quite awake and thought he was in bed beside me. I had even started taking baths because some days taking a shower, a shower unshared, was too much for my heart to handle.