by Misty Walker
Her body shakes slightly. She’s dejected, and my heart breaks just a bit for this girl. I wrap my arms around her waist, noticing how nicely we fit together. She’s the perfect height, so I don’t have to slouch down like I did with a much shorter Chloe. No, I can wrap my arms around her at my full height and I love the way she feels crushed against me.
I bury my face in her neck and take a deep breath, inhaling her incense scent. It’s woody and smoky and the most perfect scent for such a wild thing.
We hold each other like this for a long while. When I feel her body settle and relax, I pull away to look her in her eyes.
“You okay?” Red-rimmed and glassy, her eyes are half-lidded and I know she’s exhausted. She nods and drags her palm over her runny nose before wiping it on her dress. I cringe and grab a tissue from the bookcase in the corner, handing it to her. “Let’s go find out if I can get you out of this.” She nods again and rubs the tissue on her nose. That’s better.
She grabs my hand. Her snot germs seep into my skin, but I hold on right back. I have hand sanitizer in the car. It’ll be fine. She needs me right now more than I need to be clean.
We walk out the door and approach the desk. The security officers’ gazes lock in on our joined hands before standing up and meeting my eyes.
“So, what happens now?” I ask.
“Well, the gentleman she stole from isn’t pressing charges. He’s allowed casino security to handle any consequences. We assured him she’ll be criminally trespassed, so if she steps foot in the casino again we can arrest her, but she doesn’t have an ID and she won’t give us a name. Without that, it will be hard to add her to our list.” He turns the computer monitor around so I can see the list of trespassed individuals, complete with pictures of each person.
“I can assure you she won’t be a problem again.”
“I can appreciate that, but we still need to add her to the list. It’s protocol.”
I steal a glance at the criminal and nod. I hope with my assurances, she can feel safe leaving her name and then this can all be over.
“Theodora,” she squeaks out.
“Last name?”
“Uh, Vanslow.” I don’t know if it’s really her last name. The way she hesitated makes me believe she was nervous to give it up, or she was making something up quickly.
“Okay, we just need to take a quick photo.” Before either of us knows what’s happening, Chris has pulled his phone from his pocket and snapped a pic of Theodora.
I give Chris a tight smile and we walk out the door. Once outside, I drop her hand.
“We need to talk,” I say.
“Okay.” She turns to face me. Her eyes are still sad and tired and her posture slouched and withdrawn.
“Do you want to come to my house for a bit? No one will interrupt us and I’ll feel safe knowing I won’t be an accomplice to a crime.”
She winces, but agrees.
I drive us both to my house and park in the garage. She puts her hand on the door handle, but I grab her other hand, stopping her retreat.
“I would prefer if you didn’t steal any of my stuff.” I see the sadness pass at my mild accusation, but she nods. I want to feel bad for saying that, but I don’t. She has been nothing but trouble since I met her and we obviously need some ground rules.
We walk into the house and the strong scent of bleach hits my nostrils, almost knocking me back a step. Earlier, after I had left her at the bus stop, I returned to work. But after two hours of trying to get something done, I called it quits. Distraction and annoyance clawed at me, so I went home where I scrubbed every surface I could get my hands on. I must have gone overboard because my house doesn’t smell clean, it smells like a hospital, sterile and cold.
I ask her to remove her shoes and ignore the side eye she gives me. I then lead her to my sofa and motion for her to sit. When she sits without argument, I’m shocked. She’s never once done as I asked without a fight.
“Would you like something to drink? Maybe some tea?” I could use something stronger, but she’s underage and as much as I don’t want to be a parent to her, she needs someone to help her make better choices.
“That would be perfect.” Her small smile and acceptance of allowing me to make her tea shows she’s trying. It’s more than I could ever expect from this rowdy one, so I take it and go to the kitchen. Putting the kettle on the stove and twisting the dial to high, I peek over the kitchen island and to the living room where I left Thea. She’s not on the sofa. I step around the island, searching for her beautiful brown mop of hair.
I find her inspecting the photos on my mantle. There are a few of my parents and me from when I was younger, there’s a picture of me in my cap and gown at my college graduation, and the last one is of Chloe and me, standing in front of a fountain at the casino on one of our mandatory date nights. If it had been up to me, we wouldn’t have gone on dates after we agreed to a committed relationship. Once I knew she was my girlfriend, I had assumed we could give up the charade of going into public and finding new things to do together. I was wrong and since I had become an excuse giver every time Chloe tried to get me out, she implemented the date night rule. Twice a week I was required to take Chloe out. She agreed to let me choose the day, which I was grateful for, but that was the only concession she made.
It’s that picture, the one of Chloe and me, Thea holds in her hands. She’s staring at it intently and I have the urge to rip it from her grasp and throw it away. It means nothing to me and if I had another picture to put in the frame, I would have done so the day she left me. But I couldn’t find one I liked and I couldn’t remove the frame because it balanced the mantle out, so there the picture has stayed, taunting me with my failures.
I let her be and go back to the kitchen where the kettle is about to go off. Grabbing two mugs from the cupboard, I make our tea and place it on a tray with some milk and honey. I go back to the living room where Thea has moved on from the photos and is back to sitting on the couch, her fingers going to her hair, pulling it in between each one repetitively. I set the tray on the coffee table and sit next to her.
“You want to tell me what happened?” I start, breaking the silence. She looks up at me like she forgot where she was, before dropping her eyes again.
“I went home after our lunch and I just got overwhelmed. I ran away and walked around downtown before I ended up at the casino. I didn’t bring my purse with me, so I made a quick buck. He was so drunk, I don’t understand how he found me.” She reaches for her mug, splashes in some milk, and drizzles some honey. She’s so lovely, even when she’s upset and distraught.
“I think you’re missing the point. I don’t understand why you think you can take from people and have no consequences. If you had been in any other casino, you would be in police custody right now. They would know you have no identification and I honestly don’t know what would have happened to you.”
She peers up at me from atop her mug as she takes a sip. I don’t know whether to yell at her or kiss the fuck out of her. Which one would make her understand how reckless she’s being?
“I don’t expect you to understand, Richie Rich.” She places her mug back on the tray and focuses her attention on me. “With your important job and your college degree, you can’t possibly comprehend. I have no education or job skills. The only thing I’ve ever been taught is if you want something, all you have to do is figure out a way to get it.” She furrows her brows and I can tell she really believes her way is the only answer.
I set my tea down and reach over, gently brushing a strand of hair that has crossed her cheek, she reaches up and places her hand over mine, cuddling her cheek into my palm for a brief moment before letting me go. The small contact endears me to her and I wish, more than anything, our circumstances were different. Wishing gets no one anywhere, so I straighten my spine, mind made up.
“I know that’s what you think, and I know it’s your reality. It’s also none of my business how you live, but I�
�m begging you, please stop interfering in my life. This is the second time today you could have cost me my job, then I would be coming to your trailer to ask you to teach me a thief’s life. I’m not cut out for it, so let’s just go our separate ways.” I give her a weak smile, but she doesn’t return it. Her eyes are glassy once again and she’s slouched over, caved in on herself. My resolve weakens once again before I take a deep breath and stand up. We have absolutely no business being in each other’s lives. “Where can I take you?”
“You don’t need to take me anywhere. I can catch a bus.” She stands up and heads toward the shoe rack.
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s half past eleven and I live far from any bus route. Just let me drive you.” I put my shoes on as well and pocket my phone and wallet, keeping my fob in hand. Her eyes dart back and forth and I can almost see her brain trying to come up with a lie. “Trouble. Let me drive you. I’ll never sleep unless I know you are home safe.”
She nods and walks into the garage before climbing into the passenger seat. Sighing, I follow suit and get into the driver’s side.
“Where are we going?” I ask again.
“I, uh, actually live pretty close.” My eyebrows shoot up. How could she possibly live in my neighborhood? There are strict HOA rules against a caravan of travel trailers. I’m sure of it.
She directs me to the next housing development over and down a dead end where the pavement meets dirt. “I live just beyond there. I’ll walk from here.” She points down the dirt road and I look into the distance, seeing faint lights coming from the empty space.
“I see. Well, it was nice meeting you, Theodora.” I hold out my hand for her to shake, even though we’re so much closer than acquaintances. She sighs before reaching for my hand, shaking it briefly.
Climbing out of the car, I get a momentary glance of her perfect ass I’ve seen naked. The image makes me regret writing her out of my life before having the chance to explore it more closely. I watch as Thea walks until I can’t see her through the darkness any longer. I’m grateful tomorrow is Saturday. I need the weekend to recover from her.
“What do you think of this one?” Mom shows me a pattern for a dress that’s more sheer than not, only embroidered flowers cover the model’s nipples and coochie. Just days ago, I would’ve salivated over this dress. Now I can’t bring myself to care.
“Sounds good.” I go back to staring out the window of our trailer. Houses, real houses, surround our makeshift camp and I wonder what the lives are like for the people who live in them. Are they happy to have a mortgage and two point five kids? Is the mom a frigid bitch who blames her husband for losing herself after children? Maybe there are happy families, where the mom and dad spend every weekend taking their kids on adventures. Showing them the world and not just their small slice of space. I picture a straitlaced man, who uses coasters and washes his whites separately, but he married an uncivilized woman who shows him how much fun spontaneity can be and together they raise their family, living the best of both worlds.
I slam my head down onto the dinette table and moan loudly, completely forgetting both Mom and Wen’s mom, Nuri, are over discussing wedding plans. Mom pats my back a couple times before giving me a good shove out of my chair where I land on my ass.
“What was that for?” I ask, jumping up and rubbing my now bruised tailbone.
“You need to get your head out of your ass and help with the planning. The wedding is just over five months away and you’ve done jack shit to help,” Mom scolds. No pussy footing or tender moments with her. Only reality checks and harsh truths. She’s always told it to me straight and I love her for it.
“I know it can be overwhelmin’, Thea, but decisions need to be made.” Nuri is much gentler. She has five girls and one boy, Wen. They’re a more soft-spoken family, save for Braithe and Wen. Braithe is abrasive and most times, outright rude. I think the six females of the family have spent so much time traipsing on eggshells around Braithe, they eventually just retreated into themselves. Then there’s Wen. He was a rough and tumble boy, the same way I was a rough and tumble girl, but he wasn’t ever cruel. Now that he’s grown, he’s becoming his dad.
“Yeah, okay. Can I make a choice on the dress today, but decide everything else another day?” I beg with my eyes. When I get a disappointed look from my mom, I bring my hands up in the prayer pose and whisper, “Please?”
“Fine. Whatever. What dress do you want?” Mom spreads the patterns out across the table and I sit back down in my chair, glowering at each one. The general population would consider them scandalous, but they’re normal for us. I pull one out that’s absolutely gorgeous. A deep V neckline dips to the model’s belly button, but that’s the only shocking part about it because it has long, romantic lace sleeves and a lace skirt that just barely trails the ground in the back. The whole dress is lined in silk, so the only skin you can see is what’s shown in the V. This is modest in my world.
“I think this is the one.” I hold it up for Mom to see. She snort laughs, grabs the pattern, and throws it in the trash.
“I must have accidentally grabbed that one from the pile. That dress isn’t you. You’d look better in this one.” She holds out a pattern for an off the shoulder dress with two neon pink molded cups that cover the woman’s boobs. There’s an empire waist with a long black skirt and two slits that start at the waist and go down to the floor. The only thing stopping people from seeing her vagina is the middle panel of fabric. It’s okay, but I’m still imagining myself in the first gown. It was classy and sophisticated. I can’t help but imagine it’s a dress even Law would approve of.
“All right, this one is pretty too.” There’s no point in arguing. I don’t think I’ve ever been to a wedding where the bride wore white. I wouldn’t want to embarrass Mom or Dad, so I agree. I’ll fit in better wearing the second dress. “Am I free now?”
“Whatever. Go. Be young.” Mom waves me away. I kiss both her and Wen’s mom on the cheek and practically run out the door before one of them forces me to talk more wedding.
I take off on a walk, but when I see my seventeen-year-old brother, Leander, lying in the field on a blanket, I head over and plop down next to him. “What’s up, bro-tard?” I don’t miss the book he tucks under the blanket before giving me his attention.
“Not a fucking thing.” He turns on his side, nonchalantly blocking my view of the book.
“Why aren’t you working today?” I’ve been hearing rumors about Leander ducking out of work frequently lately. He and I aren’t especially close, but he’s my brother and if he’s going through shit, I want to be there to go through it with him.
“I just took a day off. Is that okay?” He jolts upright and crosses his arms in front of him.
“I don’t fuckin’ care if you go to work or not. I was just asking.” The tightness around his eyes eases some.
“What about you? Where were you so late last night?” His eyebrow quirks in challenge. And this is where our conversation will end. Apparently, we both have secrets we’re protecting.
“Just out at the casino trying to score.” All of us kids, at least the older ones, have used the casino to get some quick cash, and it’s not a lie. Not really.
“Who drove you back?” I’m a little thrown off he knew I was driven back home. I’m not sure if he just saw the headlights of Law’s car or if he had been hanging out in the field. I lie first to see how much he really knows.
“An Uber.” I stand up to leave. This conversation is getting uncomfortable and I don’t want to lie anymore. Our family will lie to any gorger’s face without even a second thought, but we don’t lie to each other. We’re the only ones we can be honest with. Unless the truth includes making friends and possibly developing a crush on a gorger. That shit you take to the grave. “I’m gonna head out.”
“Sure. Whatever.”
I feel him watch me walk away, but I don’t look back until I’m almost out of sight. But when I do, I see Leander has his book
out again. I wonder what he’s up to. Leaner and Freedom both know how to read proficiently. They were in school until eighth grade. Sure, we skipped around a lot throughout that time, but my parents enrolled them in school each place we went. Boys will eventually be men and need to provide for their families, so it’s important for them to at least have a basic education. But it doesn’t explain the book. It was a large hardback, so it couldn’t be some dumb fiction he had picked up. I tuck this info away for another day and head off.
I have no destination in mind. I just want to get away. It’s Saturday, so there are many people milling about. Taking their dogs for walks, riding bikes, and dining at the neighborhood cafés. I keep going until I recognize certain houses, or a certain house, I guess, because when I look up, I realize I’ve taken myself to Law’s house. I take it in more closely now that I’m seeing it in the daylight. There’s no movement outside and a stealthy peek into his windows tells me he’s not home.
I step back to the sidewalk and look at his yard. His lawn is mowed with straight lines going horizontally across the yard. He has well-pruned bushes lining the walkway and a planter box underneath his living room window. Curiously, the box is empty. No plants or flowers, just dirt.
It’s that moment I know what I can do for Lawrence to apologize. I hustle around the neighborhood, collecting all the things I’ll need for the surprise. He will love it.
I pull into my driveway after going to the market so I can meal prep for the week. I hit the button for the garage, but before I drive in to park the car, something catches my eye. It’s flowers. Lots and lots of mismatched flowers in my planter box. I might keep my grass green and my bushes tamed, but that’s the extent of my green thumb. No matter what I plant in that box, it dies, so I just leave it empty.