Color of Loneliness

by Madeleine Beckett

  He wants to keep it professional. But she doesn’t want to be just a customer. She wants to be more. She blames this longing on her loneliness. She’s been lonely for way too long.

  Her tear-soaked pillow keeps her company until she hears Dylan’s truck pull out of the driveway.

  * * *

  Dylan kicks his truck into reverse as he leaves Elaina’s place. His back was an extra tight mess today thanks to all the fucking mental stress in his life right now.

  Driving the short distance to his house, memories that he tries to keep buried deep inside of him come to the surface. He doesn’t want to have these thoughts right now. That shit hurts.

  And on top of it, his heart fucking aches over the way he treated Myra. He feels like a sorry piece of shit as he turns off the ignition. “Fuck,” he yells as he slams his palm against the steering wheel. He wishes things were different. He wishes he weren’t so fucked-up.

  He can feel rage boiling under the surface. He needs to channel this shit before he fucking explodes. Stomping into the house, he slams the front door so hard it vibrates the windows. Heading straight for the basement, he dumps his boots and tool belt along the way. Stripping down to his boxers, he haphazardly throws his clothes. Grabbing his gloves, he puts them on and starts beating the motherfucking shit out of his punching bag. Every strike on that bag releases something inside of him. The pent-up rage he felt in his truck slowly loosens. Bit by bit. Hit by hit.

  He doesn’t think. His mind simply focuses on each movement of his body. The strain of every muscle. Sweat pours off his torso. His arms burn with fatigue as his chest heaves from the exertion.

  Exhausted, he strips off his gloves and tosses them. Picking up his flannel shirt, he uses it to mop up the sweat off of his face and neck.

  Walking slowly up the stairs, he drops his boxers on the landing and walks to the bathroom to take a shower. As the water glides over his sore muscles, he considers going to Myra’s and talking to her. But what the fuck would he say? So he decides against it.

  * * *

  Myra sits on her couch in her living room in the dark thinking about Dylan. She has to accept the fact that he doesn’t want her. She just doesn’t know if she can be around him anymore because it’ll hurt too much. She wonders how much longer he’ll be working on her house. Maybe she can plan on being gone while he works. Or maybe she could visit somebody. But who? She has no friends other than Susie and Jackie.

  She considers looking for a job or doing some volunteer work. Or maybe she could just drive somewhere and park and do some writing in her car… Anything would be better than being here with him.

  Her thoughts are interrupted when she hears a vehicle pull into the driveway and sees the reflection of the headlights shine through her window.

  Her heart pounds. But she won’t be answering the door for Dylan. No matter what. She can’t talk to him right now.

  The engine quiets and a door shuts. She hears footsteps on the porch. Then knocking.

  “Myra, open the door.”

  Her mouth drops open when she hears Trent’s voice.

  He continues pounding and beating on the door. Since there are no lights on in the house, she hopes he’ll assume she isn’t home and leave.

  After a few more minutes, the knocking stops and she hears his retreating footsteps. She closes her eyes and leans her head back against the couch, blowing out a breath.

  The footsteps return. “I know you’re in there. Your car’s in the garage,” he yells as he starts beating on the door again.

  Clasping her hands together tightly, she stares at the door. She doesn’t know what to do. She can’t call Dylan after what happened today. She could call Porter. But Trent hasn’t broken any laws so Porter wouldn’t be able to do anything to him. Plus, she doesn’t want to have to explain her situation with Trent to him.

  She contemplates calling Jackie. But what could she do? Talk him to death?

  She needs her family. Images of her parents and her Grammie and Grampie hit her hard causing a stabbing pain in her chest. Why couldn’t she just have one of them? Just one. Everyone should have at least one family member they can turn to.

  “Open the damn door,” Trent yells.

  Myra pulls her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and squeezing tightly as tears streak down her cheeks.

  “I’m going to break this door down if you don’t open it,” he shouts as he pounds harder.

  Myra covers her ears and shuts her eyes, praying that he goes away quickly.

  Light passes over her shut eyes. She drops her hands from her ears and opens her eyes as she hears a door slam.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Dylan roars. Myra’s mouth drops open.

  “So she called you, huh? She called you and you came running like a little guard dog,” Trent yells.

  “I’m giving you one fucking warning. Get out of here. If you don’t, you’re gonna be leaving here in a whole lotta fucking pain,” Dylan says in a deadly voice.

  Myra rushes to the front door, flips on the porch light and looks out the window. Trent and Dylan are standing about a foot apart, glaring at each other.

  She opens the door and steps out onto the porch. The freezing air makes her shiver.

  Trent looks at her. “We have a lot more to talk about. I didn’t come all this way to get shot down so easily.”

  Myra wipes her runny nose on the sleeve of her sweatshirt. She can feel Dylan’s eyes on her, but she keeps hers trained on Trent. “I told you I don’t ever want to see you again.”

  Dylan steps up to Trent, chest to chest, and stares down at him. He has at least a good six inches on Trent. “Time for you to fucking leave.”

  “Get away from me,” Trent snarls as he pushes on Dylan’s chest with both of his hands.

  Dylan’s fists clench at his sides as he gives him a menacing stare. “Keep your fucking hands to yourself, fucker.”

  “Don’t you tell me what to do; I can do whatever the hell I want,” Trent shouts pathetically as he pushes his chest up against Dylan, trying to push him backwards but Dylan doesn’t move an inch.

  Dylan pushes him back with both of his hands, causing Trent to stumble back. “Myra, I won’t touch him if you don’t want me to, but I really wanna kick his fucking ass right now,” he says as he glares at Trent. Dylan turns his head slightly and looks at Myra. “It’s your choice. Can I?” he asks.

  “Yep,” Myra responds immediately without any hesitation. Trent needs to leave now and if that means by force, so be it.

  Trent uses his left hand to push on Dylan’s chest again and then swings wildly with his right. Dylan easily dodges it and immediately lights Trent up with a body shot directly to his ribs. Trent moans as he doubles over and reaches for his side. “Fuuuu,” he mumbles before he falls on the porch, curled up in the fetal position.

  Myra wraps her arms around herself, shivering as she keeps her eyes on Trent. A few more tears slip out. She can’t believe that at one point in her life she thought she was in love with him. She feels Dylan’s eyes on her, but doesn’t look at him.

  “You know my dad was a cop. If, if you come back, I’ll call some of his cop friends and have them haul you off to jail,” she stutters, her voice shaking as her teeth begin to chatter. Trent doesn’t answer; he just continues groaning. He finally staggers to his feet and walks bent over to his car, still holding his side and moaning. Myra turns around and opens her front door as Trent’s car backs out of her driveway.

  “Myra, wait,” Dylan says as he grabs her arm. She stops, her hand on the door handle, her eyes fixed on the door. “Can we talk?” he asks, his voice rough.

  “About what?”

  “Can I come in?”

  “What for?”

  He tugs on her gently, trying to pull her to him.

  “Don’t,” she says as she tries to pull her arm away, but he won’t let her go.

  “I’m sorry. I’m a fucking jackass.” He tugs again on her arm, b
ut this time she doesn’t resist. He brings her up close to his body and cups her cheeks in his hands, gently wiping away her tears with his thumbs. He leans down and rests his forehead against hers. “I’m scared,” he breathes.

  “Of what?” she breathes back.

  He closes his eyes. “This. I… can’t…”

  She reaches her hands up and slides them through his hair. In an instant, his lips are on hers. His arms wrap around her, crushing her body close to his.

  He shoves her towards the front door, his lips never leaving hers. The next thing she knows, they’re inside the house. He smells like soap and smoke. Dylan kicks the door shut; she hears the sound of the lock clicking. He presses her up against the wall in an instant, keeping his body tight against hers.

  She can’t breathe. She can’t get enough of him. His lips leave hers and move to her ear. “I didn’t come here to do this, I swear,” he says, panting against her ear, his warm breath tickling her. She feels his hand tangle in her hair. “I can’t keep my goddamn hands off of you,” he whispers through his heavy breaths.

  His scruffy beard scratches against her skin roughly causing incredible sensations of both pain and pleasure. His mouth finds hers again, his tongue sliding inside. Her fingers twist in his soft, slightly damp hair. He moans in her mouth, a delicious deep throaty sound, which vibrates through her body, making her tingle all over.

  Dylan stiffens when someone knocks on the door.

  Myra can’t believe she forgot about Jackie. When she stopped by her house earlier, Jackie told her that she would bring dinner over tonight, and they decided to eat it at Myra’s house since Jackie’s was a mess. Groaning, she pulls away from his lips. “It’s Jackie,” she whispers between pants.

  He covers her lips with his again. “Tell her to leave,” he growls against her mouth as he pushes her harder against the wall.

  Myra smiles through his kisses. “I can’t,” she whispers.

  He groans as he pulls back. “Fuck,” he whispers as he leans his forehead against hers and slowly releases a heavy breath, like an incredibly erotic lusty haze, across her face. She inhales, becoming light-headed and woozy.

  “Can you forgive me?” he asks in a whisper.

  “Yes,” she whispers back as she touches her lips to his, kissing him softly.

  He eagerly responds to her kiss for just a moment before he lets her go. He turns on the light and opens the door.

  “Oh. Hi, Dylan,” Jackie says. He gives her a quick nod before he briskly walks past her and out to his truck.

  She looks at Myra. “I know I said I was going to bring dinner tonight, but I had to work late and just ran out of time so I brought pizza. I hope you don’t mind. Thanks for letting me come over here. Everything at my house is still such a mess. I haven’t had any time to get things organized yet. I’ve still got boxes everywhere. It’s a mad house.” Jackie talks a mile a minute.

  She stops and stares at Myra for a moment. Tilting her head to the side, she blinks. “Oh.”

  “What?” Myra asks as she wraps her arms around herself.

  “You know,” Jackie says in a quiet voice, “I could have eaten the pizza by myself, if you know what I mean.”

  “Why would you…?”

  “Dylan didn’t have to leave. We can do this another time.”

  “Uh…”

  “I think somebody has been making out with her contractor,” Jackie shrieks loudly before she jumps up and down almost dumping the pizza box on the floor.

  CHAPTER 17

  BLUSH, AFFECTION

  “No. I haven’t,” Myra says in a weak voice as she stares down at the floor and tries to blatantly lie to Jackie about her hot make-out session with Dylan.

  Jackie giggles. “You’re a horrible liar. If you haven’t been kissing him, then what’s with the swollen lips? And why’s your skin red? I know what kissy beard rash looks like, you silly thing. I used to date a hippy.

  “You don’t have to lie to me because I won’t tell a soul. Your secret is completely safe with me, I absolutely promise. Besides, you keep forgetting we’re best friends, and best friends are supposed to tell each other everything.”

  Myra takes in a deep breath as she stares at Jackie for a minute before ignoring her and walking into the kitchen. “Hey,” Jackie shouts from behind her. “I’m not letting this go. I’ll get you to tell me at some point.”

  Jackie continues talking as Myra silently pulls out paper plates and napkins. “I’m really sorry I couldn’t make you dinner tonight, but I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I have to admit that I’m not the best cook in the world – that was one of the reasons why I wanted to try culinary school. My mom is a fabulous cook so I’ve pretty much never cooked a day in my life. But I was like, hey, if she can do it, why not me? Plus I love watching all of those chef shows on TV. That has to be such a fun career.”

  Myra pulls a pitcher of tea out of the fridge and holds it up with a questioning look on her face.

  “Sure. Tea’s great,” Jackie says as she grabs a slice of pizza from the box and plunks it on her plate. “So anyway, I was going to fix you spaghetti tonight, but I got hung up at the bookstore. I thought running it would be so easy, but I honestly don’t have a clue what I’m doing. And the one full-time employee that grandpa had quit, so now I’ve been stuck covering for him until I can find a replacement. I’m trying really hard to figure everything out on my own, and I really want to make grandpa proud. It’s just so hard, I don’t know…” She stares down at her pizza with a frown on her face before she looks up at Myra with tears glistening in her eyes.

  Myra sets the tea on the table and sits down across from her. “Jim would be incredibly proud of you. He’s probably watching right now with a huge smile on his face.” Myra can feel her throat tightening up. “I loved your grandpa. He was a wonderful man,” she says, choking on the last word.

  Tears stream down Jackie’s face as she hops out of her chair and throws her arms around Myra’s neck. “I miss him so much. I just don’t want to let him down. I feel like I’m failing,” she says, sobbing.

  Myra feels tears spill down her cheeks. She misses Jim just as much; misses that beautiful smile on his wrinkled face. Misses his kindness and his sweet, tender heart.

  “You could never let him down,” she whispers as she hugs Jackie tight. “He loved you so much.”

  Jackie wipes her eyes as she sits back down. “I know you’re right. I’m really trying. I want to make him proud of me. I guess I just didn’t realize what I was getting myself into. And I’m really missing Boise, and just everything.”

  “Before Jim died, we had a similar conversation,” Myra says as she wipes away some tears on her sleeve. “I broke down in front of your grandpa. I was having a moment and regretted my decision moving out here. He told me something about how ‘our decisions set us on the paths to our fates’ or something like that. He also said that sometimes what we think are bad decisions turn out to be the best decisions of our lives. That really stuck with me.”

  Jackie looks at Myra with wide eyes as a few more tears slip down her cheeks. “He really said that?”

  Myra nods, giving her a small smile.

  “Wow.”

  “I know. He was an amazing man,” Myra says as she passes Jackie a napkin. Jackie quickly wipes her eyes with it.

  Myra picks up a slice of pizza, and they both quietly begin eating, each lost in her own thoughts.

  Jackie sniffs loudly, breaking the silence. “So what’s going on with you and your contractor?” she asks before giggling. “I told you I’m not going to stop asking you until you tell me. Come on, please?”

  “Well, I…”

  “Please? You can tell me, I promise I won’t tell anyone. Please, please, please? Tell me. Tell me. I won’t tell a single, solitary human…”

  “Fine,” Myra shouts, annoyed beyond belief. “We kissed,” she admits, hating herself for revealing that information to Jackie but seeing no other way to shut her up othe
r than taping her mouth closed with duct tape.

  “I knew it,” she squeals as she bounces in her seat and claps her hands really fast. “He’s an attractive man. Very attractive. But he seems a little bit, I don’t know, hateful? I guess that’s the word I’m looking for. He has kind of that tall, dark, and mysterious vibe going on, but every time I’ve met him, he seems really mad about something. He’s definitely not my taste. I’m more into sensitive guys. And musicians. I love musicians. I love all different kinds of music. You know my…” Jackie keeps talking, but Myra checks out. She can’t bear to listen to another word.

  Picking at the cheese on her pizza, she tries to think of a kind way to get Jackie to leave. Just as she starts strategizing an exit plan for her neighbor, her phone rings.

  She pulls her phone out and glances at the caller ID. “Excuse me. I need to take this. It’s important.”

  “Sure,” Jackie responds as she takes a sip of tea.

  “Hello?” Myra answers in a very professional voice.

  “What you say?” Susie responds goofily.

  “Oh, yes. Okay, I understand. Could you hold one moment, please?”

  “What the hell is going on?”

  Myra ignores Susie and hits the mute button on her phone. She looks at Jackie. “I have to take this call. It’s probably going to take a while. Can we call it a night?”

  “Oh, not a problem. I had so much fun. We should do this like every night. Wouldn’t that be awesome?”

  Myra gives her a fake, weak smile but doesn’t dare answer that question.

  At the front door, Jackie pounces on her, giving her a nearly painful hug. “I’ll stop by tomorrow sometime. And I’ll make you dinner soon, I promise.”

  Myra watches Jackie until she makes it safely back into her house, then she punches the mute button.

  “Sorry about that. You have no idea what great timing you had. Jackie was here and I was so ready for her to leave. As you know, a little bit of her goes a long way.”

  Susie sniggers. “Ah, I love that crazy Jackie. She was such a fun drunk. I miss that wacky girl.”