* * *
Myra fixes herself a cup of coffee and sits down at the kitchen table, sipping it slowly and finally feeling a bit calmer after the laughing spell she just had. Picking up her cell phone, she dials the contractor.
“Lawson,” he answers in a hoarse voice, sounding like he just woke up.
“Hi, this is Myra. Myra Sommers. I was calling to see if you were available to start working on my house again?” she asks.
Dylan clears his throat and coughs. “Yeah. When?”
“Is there any way you could come out today? The toilet downstairs is clogged and the one upstairs keeps running and won’t flush.”
He clears his throat again. “Yeah. What time?”
“Any time is fine. I’ll be here.”
“I can be there in an hour.”
“Okay, that would be great.”
“All right,” he says before hanging up.
“Bye,” Myra says softly to the dial tone.
* * *
After Dylan hangs up from talking to Myra, he tosses his phone back on the night stand, pissed that the one time he was able to fall asleep, his damn phone woke him up. But at least he can now get his tools back.
Climbing out of bed naked, he makes his way to the bathroom to take a leak. Stretching, he grabs a pair of black boxers off the top of his dresser and sniffs them to make sure they’re clean. They pass the sniff test so he slips them on.
Walking back into the bathroom, he looks at his beard in the mirror and groans. Grabbing his electric razor, he runs it over his face quickly trimming it up a bit but still leaving some thick stubble. He throws some water in his hands and runs his fingers through his hair to wet it down and tame his bedhead. After brushing his teeth, he grabs a red and black flannel shirt from the back of the door. It takes him a few minutes to find his jeans; they’re sticking out from underneath his bed.
He flips on the coffee maker and throws a breakfast sandwich in the microwave. After eating, he shoves his feet into his work boots, not bothering with the laces. Grabbing his jacket, he tosses it on.
Once in his truck, he lights up a cigarette and blows the smoke out slowly as he makes his way to Myra’s house.
He sees her standing at the door as he pulls into the driveway. It pisses him off.
“Hi,” she says, smiling. “Come in.”
He nods at her.
“This is my best friend, Susie O’Connor. Susie, this is my contractor, Dylan Lawson,” Myra says.
Dylan could give a rat’s ass about meeting this woman’s friends. He just wants to do the job he was hired for. Nodding, he keeps his hands shoved in his pockets.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Susie says as she steps forward and extends her hand.
Hesitating, he stares at her hand for a moment. Finally, he gives up and shakes it and mutters, “Yep.”
Her face hardens as her eyes narrow. He doesn’t like the look this Susie woman gives him. He turns back to Myra. “I’m gonna take a look at the bathrooms. Just remember I’ll need access to both,” he says before he takes off towards the kitchen to get his tools together.
He plunges the downstairs toilet over and over again until he finally gets it to flush. He figures he’ll have to probably run a snake through it later. Then he heads upstairs to work on the other bathroom. Just as he gets to the top of the stairs, his brows pull together when he sees Susie standing there glaring at him.
“Follow me,” she whisper-hisses with a wave of her hand before turning and walking toward the end of the hallway. Dylan just stares at her not moving. She turns around and says, “Now,” in a louder voice.
Scowling, Dylan reluctantly follows. He stops about five feet away from her, keeping a good distance between them. She continues to glare at him with her hands on her hips.
“Myra is in the basement folding laundry,” she whispers, “and I’ve got something to say to you, mister, so listen up. I don’t appreciate what you did leaving my friend here all by herself right after Jim died. Anything could have happened to her. She was in shock, for God’s sake. How rude is that? Didn’t your momma teach you any manners?”
Dylan’s mouth drops open.
“Now I know you don’t know a thing about Myra and what she’s been through – which has been a lot by the way – but damn it, have some common decency. You could’ve at least stuck around for just a few more minutes of your precious time to make sure she was okay.”
Dylan clenches his fists. “Now I…”
“I’m not done,” Susie says, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Now listen closely. I live in Philadelphia and Myra is my dear friend and I absolutely adore her, and I’m fiercely protective of her. And since this shithole of a house she’s living in looks like it needs a lot of work done on it, you’re probably going to be here a while. So I want you to pull your head out of your donkey ass and keep an eye out for her, do you hear me? And if you don’t, I will come back here and rip you a nice new asshole to match the one that I have my foot shoved up. Got it?”
Dylan steps closer, his eyes narrowed. “Who the hell do you think you are? I’m a contractor. I’m here to do a fucking job, not be your friend’s babysitter. And besides, I don’t have to listen to your shit,” he snarls.
Susie seems unimpressed, which pisses him off even more. “And I’d sure like to see you try to kick my ass,” he adds.
“Oh, I could kick your ass all the way from here to Zimbabwe if I wanted to so don’t test me, boy. And don’t you dare tell Myra that we had this conversation.”
Dylan hears Myra calling Susie’s name and watches in disbelief as she marches past him and takes off down the stairs. He can’t believe the nerve of that bitch. It’s not his responsibility to watch out for her friend. He was hired to work on her house. Period. And why the hell would he stay here after her neighbor died? He’d only met the man once when he worked on his house a while back.
As Dylan steps into the upstairs bathroom, Susie’s words play on repeat in his mind making him angrier and angrier. To keep his cool, he stays far away from the both of them for the rest of the day.
* * *
“I’m so full I think I’m going to vomit,” Susie announces as she rubs her big, bloated belly. “I shouldn’t have scarfed down that last quesadilla. Oh God, I’m in severe pain. Why didn’t you stop me?” she asks as stretches out on the loveseat and looks at Myra with agony etched on her face.
“I told you not to eat it.”
“I know, but you should have hid it from me. Next time you see me oinking like that, hide the food in the dryer in the basement or something. I’m too damn scared to go down there. Or throw it in the toilet. Some place I can’t get to it. Holy shit, I think I might blow.” She turns on her side, holding her stomach.
“I’m not throwing my leftovers in the toilet,” Myra hisses.
“Okay, maybe not the toilet. That’s where the Titanic sunk,” Susie says before giggling.
“What Titanic?” Jackie asks.
“Never mind,” Susie and Myra say simultaneously.
“Okay,” Jackie says with a giggle. “Susie, Susie, what a great cook you are. Those quesadilla’s were to die for. But my favorite thing has to be these delicious margaritas,” she says as she holds up her glass. “Thanks so much for letting me bust up your little Mexican fiesta.” Jackie smiles happily as she nurses the drink in her hand.
“This is a celebration of my last night in Nyssa, and we didn’t mind one bit you coming over. The more the merrier,” Susie yells before she grabs her stomach again. “God, this is torture. I’m so full, I can’t breathe. I wish I was anorexic or bulimic or whatever the hell they call it so I could go barf my guts up and get some relief. Ugh, somebody please put me out of my misery.”
“Sorry you feel so badly because I’m feeling pretty good right now,” Myra says before she giggles like crazy and takes another sip of her drink.
“Okay, maybe I need to drink some more. Maybe it’ll numb the pain I’m in,” Susie mumbles
as she tips back her glass. “I think someone needs to take me to the hospital to get my stomach pumped.”
“I’m horny,” Jackie announces before giggling.
“Huh?” Myra’s mouth hangs open.
“What?” Susie says. “I’m getting the hell outta here. But it’ll be a slow exit because of the damn pain in my fat gut.”
Jackie laughs hysterically. “Susie, you’re so funny. I just meant it’s been a long time since I’ve had sex and I miss it. And I miss my boyfriend. We broke up recently. I haven’t had sex in like three months.”
“Three months?” Myra repeats before laughing heartily.
“What?” Jackie asks. “That’s like forever. How long has it been for you?”
“Ding, ding, ding. Time for a subject change,” Susie yells. Myra can see Susie watching her.
“It’s all right,” Myra says, giving Susie a nod. She looks at Jackie. “Let’s see, I guess it’s been over a year now. God, I miss sex, too,” Myra says longingly before taking another sip of her drink.
“Susie Q, since I see you’re wearing a wedding ring, I’m assuming you’re the only one getting laid in this room. I’m so jealous,” Jackie says.
“Well, girlies, I’m definitely proud to be the only old married fart here. But since I can’t whine about the last time I had sex – since I am getting sex – how about I whine about how long it’s been since I had a really good orgasm?” Susie says.
“Here, here, Susie Q,” Jackie squeals, pulling her legs into a criss-cross position on the couch.
“You go girl,” Myra yells, holding up her drink.
“Okay, I’ve been married for ten years. Shit. I sound so damn old. Now I’m depressed.”
“You’re not old,” Myra argues.
“How old are you?” Jackie asks Susie.
“God, do I have to answer that question? I think I’d rather confess to a crime or some lewd sex act I’ve committed. Okay, I’m thirty-four,” she blurts out really fast. “Ugh. That hurt to say; it caused me actual physical pain. No wait, it’s that fucking quesadilla. Will someone please kill me now?”
“You’re not old. I’m twenty-six,” Jackie says. “How old are you, Myra?”
“Twenty-five. I’m the baby,” Myra says with a grin.
Jackie looks at Susie. “So when was the last time you had a good orgasm?” she asks, grinning from ear to ear.
“Well, since I’ve been married for so damn long, sex definitely isn’t like it used to be. Don’t get me wrong, I’m married to a decent-looking guy who works out, but he’s kind of a ‘wham, bam, thank ya ma’am’ kind of a guy. He thinks foreplay means ‘strip off clothes’. So let’s see. The last time I had a good orgasm was…” She frowns, tapping her finger against her chin. “… last night when I snuck into Myra’s bathroom with my dildo, Mr. Gigantopolis.”
Jackie and Myra fall over on the couch dying laughing. They all laugh until they’re gasping for air and wiping tears from their eyes.
An hour later and the girls are stone-cold drunk.
“Okay, I’m officially – hiccup – bombed,” Susie says before giggling hysterically. “Aren’t you – hiccup – glad that I’m so talented at making marga… mara… maragratas. Whatever the hell these thingies are called.”
“Yep.” Myra giggle-snorts. “Super glad.”
“Susie Q, I love you,” Jackie announces dreamily.
“Quit that. You’re freaking me out,” Susie says to Jackie before she burps loudly.
* * *
“I can’t believe you have to go already,” Myra says as she holds Susie in a tight hug. “It seems like you just got here.”
“I know. This sucks hairy balls. I wish I could stay longer, but Jeff’s about ready to kill the boys.”
“I want you to have this,” Myra says as she quickly pushes a folded piece of paper into Susie’s hand.
“What’s this?” Susie asks as she opens it. “I’m not taking your money,” she yells as she tries to shove the check back into Myra’s hand.
“You dropped everything and came out here on a moment’s notice, and I know how tight money is for you and Jeff. And you know I have all that money from… dad, you know, in the bank that I don’t touch, and I have more coming from Grampie. So I don’t want to hear it. This is important to me.”
“I refuse to take your money.”
“Well, I’m not giving you a choice. You have to take it because I won’t take no for an answer.”
“Fine. But we will talk about this later,” Susie says.
Myra smiles and ignores her. “I’m going to miss you.”
“Me too. Next time you’re coming out to visit me. And there will be no tears, okay? Only fun.”
They hug one last time, smiling at each other’s tears before Susie walks toward the clown car and loads the last of her luggage into it.
“I love you.”
“I love you too, hon.”
“Call me when you land,” Myra calls out.
“Okay.”
Myra watches the tail lights of the tiny car until they disappear. Sighing, she slowly walks back into the house, wiping her eyes with the long sleeves of her sweater. Slumping onto the couch, she grabs a pillow and hugs it to her chest.
When she hears a knock at the door, her heart skips a beat. Smiling, she walks to the door, knowing that Susie must have forgotten something. She flings it open.
“Myra, Myra,” Jackie squeals. “Guess what? I’m going to be your new next-door neighbor.” Jackie immediately plows into Myra, hugging her hard and almost knocking her to the hardwood floor.
CHAPTER 9
LAVENDER, TENDERNESS
Myra pulls back as best as she can from Jackie’s tiny powerful arms. “What do you mean?” she asks.
“I’m moving here. To Nyssa. Can you believe it? This is going to be so great.” Myra continues staring blankly as Jackie gushes. Her eyes widen when Jackie starts jumping up and down and clapping her hands together like a two-year-old.
“All right, calm down,” Myra says. “Come here and sit and tell me exactly what’s going on.” Jackie flops on the couch next to Myra with a gigantic smile on her face.
“Okay, okay. This is just so exciting. I can’t control myself. I was talking to mom and dad, and we were trying to figure out what to do with grandpa’s house and the bookstore and everything, and I was just sitting there, thinking, when I had this brilliant idea. It just came to me, like a vision or something. I don’t even know how to explain it. It was so cool.” Jackie’s eyes practically sparkle with glee.
Myra decides she was probably high when she received this ‘vision’.
“Okay,” Myra says, holding back the strong urge to roll her eyes.
“Anyway, I told mom and dad that I could move here and take over the bookstore for grandpa. This is just what I need right now because I really need to get away from Boise. And mom and dad were just thrilled with the idea.” She claps her hands again and bounces up and down almost jostling Myra off the couch.
“But what about college? Jim mentioned that you were in, uh, culinary school?” Myra clears her throat to cover a giggle because she almost slipped up and said clown school. Her lips turn upward for a second when she thinks fondly of Jim’s sweet, wrinkled face as he talked about Jackie.
“Oh, no. I wanted to go to culinary school, but I didn’t have a chance to apply or anything yet. Besides, I’ve got more important things to worry about now. I have so much to do. I’ve got to…” Jackie stops talking when a heavy rapping on the door interrupts her rambling.
She looks at Myra inquisitively. “Who’s that?”
Taking in a deep breath, Myra announces dryly, “That would be my contractor.”
She leaves Jackie on the couch and gets up, walking the few feet to the front door.
“Hello,” she greets his profile as he stares off in the distance. His head turns towards her, his eyes meeting hers for a moment before his gaze moves slightly to her left and downward ove
r her shoulder. Frowning, she turns her head to find Jackie standing just inches away from her peering nosily at Dylan.
“Excuse me,” Myra says, frowning, as she pushes Jackie backwards so she can let Dylan in the door.
“Jackie, this is my contractor, Dylan Lawson. Dylan, this is Jackie George, Jim’s granddaughter and, uh, my future neighbor.”
“And don’t forget best friend,” Jackie adds excitedly.
Myra wonders if she can somehow convince Jackie to fill out those applications for culinary school.
“Hi, Dylan,” Jackie says. “It’s so nice to meet you.” She pushes forward and grabs his hand from his side and gives him a firm, unwelcome handshake. “So you’re doing work on Myra’s house? That’s great. This place really needs it. It’s just falling apart. So how long are you going to be here working on it? I wonder if there’s anything that grandpa’s house needs work on. I’ll definitely let you know if I come up with something,” she says all in one breath as she beams brightly at him.
Dylan just stares at Jackie with a grimace on his face. He turns to Myra. “I need to talk to you,” he mumbles before shoving his hands in his coat pockets.
“Okay,” she answers cautiously.
“Wait,” Jackie shouts, startling Myra and causing her to jump slightly. “Are you the one that found my grandpa?” she asks Dylan.
Myra watches as his gaze darts from Jackie to her and back to Jackie, his grimace deepening. He nods.
“Oh my God. Okay, this is really, really important,” Jackie says as she walks up close to him, invading his personal space. “When you found my grandpa, did he have any last words? Did he say anything? Was he awake when you found him? My family needs to know.” Jackie’s eyes are big and round as she waits on him to answer.
Dylan stares at her for a moment before he shakes his head.
“Did he ever come to at any point? Did he ever wake up? Did he suffer any?” Jackie asks as she blinks away tears.
Dylan swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “He was gone when I found him. I wasn’t able to resuscitate him.”
Color of Loneliness Page 11