She stepped out of the shower and dried herself with a sage green towel, rubbing her skin roughly, leaving a pink tinge to it. She brushed out her hair, letting it spread down her back to dry. She crossed the hall to her bedroom and dressed for the day, a pair of denim capris, a coral tank top with a floral design and a brown headband to hold her hair out of her face. She padded down the hall and went to the coffee pot. She looked silently out the window at the lightening sky as she put a filter in the pot, added grounds and water. She hit the power button and the quiet drip drip soothed her nerves. She went to the fridge and found some liquid creamer. She pulled a pink cup out of the old wooden cupboard and set it on the counter. She added creamer and a couple of spoons of sugar from the cut glass bowl beside the pot. With a final hiss the pot was done. She poured herself a cup and stirred, watching the coffee go from dark to light.
Moving quietly through the kitchen to the door, she opened it and walked out onto the porch, the light dew from the night dampening her feet. She walked to the swing and sat down, the old chains squeaking in the still of the early morning dusk. She sat there and watched the sun rise on the horizon, the beauty of the ever changing palette making her chest ache. She drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, the dredges of her coffee cooling on the porch railing. She swung slowly as the sun finished its ascent into the sky. She leaned back and flew through the air.
He groaned as he heard his phone ringing. Dawn had flickered through the sky, so he knew it was morning. His head drummed. He rolled over and picked up the phone. “Hello?” He answered groggily.
“Staff Sergeant Hall?” A booming voice came through the line.
“Yes?” He sat up quickly.
“This is First Sergeant Porter of Rear Detachment. I got word from First Sergeant Lyle in Afghanistan this morning. We are going to have to cut your leave short. Instead of leaving on Thursday, I need you back to Fort Carson on Monday; ready to ship back out on Tuesday.” He paused. “I'm sorry, son.”
“I'll be there, First Sergeant.” He rubbed his eyes. “What time?”
“Zero nine hundred.”
“Alright, First Sergeant.” He sighed.
“Enjoy the rest of your time home, soldier.” The phone disconnected.
“Damn it to hell!” He beat his pillow. He jumped out of bed and pulled his jeans on and an undershirt before heading out to the kitchen. He could smell bacon and coffee. Grams and Pops were already up. He looked at the clock. It was nine thirty. “I just got a call from my First Sergeant. I gotta be back in Colorado on Monday. I ship back out on Tuesday. Change of plans.” He tried to shrug it off. Grams turned around from the stove, a greasy fork in her hand. Pops sat his cup down.
“Damn, son.” Pops shook his head. “Such is the life, I guess.”
Calvin nodded. “Yeah.” He poured himself a glass of orange juice from the fridge. “I will have to get a flight back there. I'll work on that tonight. I need to see Zoe first.”
Pops took a drink of his coffee as Calvin sat down at the old wood table. “ You figure some stuff out, son?”
Grams put a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him and kissed his temple. “It'll be alright, baby.”
“Yeah, I did. I know what I want to do. It just puts a time crunch on me.” He sighed and dug into his breakfast. “God, Grams, this is good.”
She smiled. “I know. We need to get some meat on your bones before we send you back out to the damn sand pit.” She put two more slices of bacon on his plate. “Eat.”
He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “I'm going to try and call Zoe.”
She smirked. “I'll let you call the girl this one time from my table. But no more. Got it?”
“Got it, Grams.” He had the phone to his ear and waited for a ring. It went straight to a message that said the number had been disconnected. “What the hell? It says her number has been disconnected.”
“Bet that man didn't pay no bills,” Grams remarked.
He sighed. “I'm gonna finish breakfast then run over there to her, make sure she's okay. Y'all need anything while I'm out?”
“Nah, baby. Just go enjoy yourself.”
He rushed through eating and jumped up from the table, putting his dishes in the sink and kissing Grams' cheek. “Love you, Grams. Thank you.” He patted Pops on the shoulder. “Love you too, and thanks.”
“Anytime, son.” He squeezed Calvin's hand and they watched their boy run off the porch and to his car with a smile on his face.
“He's happy,” Grams murmured. Pops nodded.
She got off the swing and stretched before heading back inside. She picked up her phone and shot a text to Calvin saying she missed him. The text didn't send through. Looking curiously at the screen, she dialed his number, and got a message saying she needed to pay her bill to have services turned back on. She groaned and grabbed her keys from beside the door and put her flip flops on before walking out to the Jeep. She was heading to the bank to find out why these bills hadn't automatically withdrawn from the account she shared with her dad. Her heart hammered in her chest in fear. What if there is no money left? God damn it. He wouldn't do that to me... Would he?
She drove a little too fast down the highway to the middle of town, easing off the gas as she drew closer to the bank. It was in the style of the rest of town, cut stone on the outside, an American flag fluttering in the breeze in front of it, some sad looking petunias and shrubs lining the front, grey slab stairs leading to a glass door. She parked on the side of the street and turned the Jeep off, her hands shaking so hard she could barely hold the keys.
She slid out of the Jeep and woodenly walked to the door, already preparing herself for the worst. She touched the metal handle and pulled; some bells jingling, welcoming her to the First National Bank of Major. She took in the brown carpet that needed to be updated and the old wooden desks where people sat, working hard on whatever they had to do this morning. The tellers stood to the left, organizing their counters. She walked to the counter and put her purse up on it. The teller smiled. She couldn't remember her name, but thankfully she had a name tag on her pale pink cardigan. Her name was Nancy, and Zoe had known her all her life. She swallowed and Nancy smiled brightly.
“Good morning, Zoe, how are you today? What can I do for you, honey?” She stood poised, ready to work.
Zoe swallowed again. “Morning, Nancy. I'm okay. How are you?”
“I'm wonderful, honey. Thanks for asking.” She paused. “What can I do you for? You feelin' alright, honey?” She reached her hand over and squeezed Zoe's forearm.
“Um. I...” She stopped then rushed out the rest of the sentence. “I need to check my account.” Her heart thundered against her ribs.
“Okay, give me one second...” Nancy punched in her name then her brow furrowed. “Can you give me just a minute, Sweetie?” She clicked a button on her screen, making it blank before walking away. Zoe felt bile rise in her throat as she saw Nancy coming back with the bank manager. He walked stiffly in his suit and came to her side, reaching out a beefy hand.
“Good morning, Miss Parker. Why don't you come back to my office and we’ll have a little chat?” She ignored his hand.
“Okay,” she whispered. He dropped his hand finally and coughed.
“Follow me, please.” He headed toward the back and Nancy gave her a small smile. She hung her head and followed him, knowing that things were only going to get worse. He had entered a small office, all decorated in this plain steel grey. Grey desk, grey chairs, even a grey cat on his calendar. She sat down in one of the chairs and he closed the door behind her. “Miss Parker, I regret to inform you that your account is overdrawn. Significantly.”
She went pale and her mouth opened and closed a few times. “How significantly?”
He sat down in the chair, unbuttoning his suit jacket so his paunch wasn't suffocated in the material. He poked a few buttons on the keyboard. “We see that you are at about $2,500 in the red right now. I am s
eeing significant charges from Las Vegas.” He looked at her quickly. “Miss Parker? Are you alright?”
She put her head between her knees. “Can I have some water, please?” She fought the spiraling nausea that was pulling her down a dark hallway to passing out.
He jumped up and went to the door. “Nancy, a cup of water! Now!” He rubbed her back. “Now, Miss Parker, we can figure this out. There is more I need to tell you.” Nancy came through the door with a cup of water she had sloshed all over her hand. Zoe sat up with wet eyes and took a drink.
“There's more? I don't know if I can handle anything else today. I just want to go home.” She stood, her legs shaking.
“You need to sit down, Zoe. This is important.” He gently took her arm.
“Don't touch me,” she rasped. “I want to go home.”
“It won't be your home much longer,” he said quietly.
“What?” She turned, her face going pale again. She sat down quickly. “What do you mean it's not going to be mine much longer?” She shook all over, and bile rose in her throat. She grabbed his trash can and threw up until there was nothing left in her body. She wiped her hand across her mouth and put the trashcan down. “I'm so sorry.” She took another sip of water, trying to stop the shaking.
“Miss Parker, don't apologize. You've had a bad morning.” He smiled sadly. “I... I regret to inform you that your house is in foreclosure. We are about fifteen days from taking possession.”
“Foreclosure.” She ground out. “My childhood home is in foreclosure.” The shakes returned full force and she covered her face with her trembling hands. “Oh my God.” She took a breath. “How come I didn't know?”
“Your father was having mail sent to a PO Box, it looks like. I guess you never got anything.” He patted her arm. “I'm so sorry.”
“Me too,” she uttered. “I have nothing left.” She stood up and turned to leave. She paused for a second. “You'll have to take everything to pay the debt, won't you?”
“Yes, I'm sorry. You can keep basic possessions, but everything else will be ours when we take possession.”
“I see,” she said brokenly before picking up her purse. “Thank you for your time, sir.” She held her head high and walked out of the bank, tears flooding her vision. She wiped at them angrily and got in the Jeep. She peeled out, making a u-turn and driving like hell's demons were after her. Lights flashed in her rear view mirror and a siren sounded. “Son of a bitch!” She screamed, beating the steering wheel in fury as she pulled over. She leaned forward, sobbing. An officer came to her window.
“License and registration please.” He bent and looked in the window. “Zoe Parker? What the hell is wrong honey? You hurt?”
She shook her head and sobbed harder. Snot started running down her face and she wiped at it, smearing it across her cheek. “Everything's wrong. My house is being taken. My dad took every penny we had, in fact, put us in the hole. I have nothing left.” She leaned back against the head rest and beat the steering wheel again with both fists, the horn letting out a pathetic toot. “Now, you're gonna give me a ticket I can't afford. God damn it!”
“Zoe,” he started calmly. “Take a slow breath. I don't think you are in any condition to drive.”
Her mouth turned up in a pathetic excuse for a smile. “No? Afraid you'll have to tow my broken body up from the bridge?”
“God damn it, that shit isn't funny.” He pulled the handle and grabbed her by the arm, giving her a firm shake. “Don't joke about that shit, Zoe Parker. I'll slap you six ways from Sunday.” He shook her again. “Do you understand me?”
“I understand you better take your damn hands off me or I'll be in jail today.” Her voice was eerily calm, a total 180 from her appearance.
“Is that so?” He snatched her out of the car and threw her over his shoulder, grunting under her weight.
“Let me go! Let me GO!” She pummeled his back and kicked her feet, landing a good kick in his thigh.
“I swear to God, if you don't stop moving, I am going to bust your ass, Zoe. I'm taking you down to the station and calling Calvin. He seems to be the only one who can deal with your kind of crazy.”
“Go to fucking hell, you bastard. Let me down.” She struggled harder and he landed a hard slap across her ass.
“Be still, damn it!” He threw the door open and tossed her unceremoniously in the back seat before slamming the door.
“Oh hell no, it is not going down like this.” She grabbed the handle and jiggled it. “Let me out of this car, Tim Taylor.”
“No. You are a danger to yourself and others. I am not letting you out on the street.” He calmly got in the front of the car and closed the door. “Zoe, I'm doing this for your own good.”
“You are a bastard,” she whispered.
“No, you'll thank me for this one day.” He flipped the siren on and she slunk down in the seat. He made a few turns and they were at the police station. It was slightly different from the bank, made from brown cut stone instead of grey. Another American flag fluttered in the breeze. He parked the car and looked at her. “You gonna get out of the car like a lady and behave yourself?”
“Go to fucking hell, Tim Taylor. I want to go home, while I still have one left.” She spat.
“I can see we are going to have to do this the hard way.” He got out of the car and threw her door open. She slunk to the other side of the car. She knew deep down she was being irrational and bordering on a whole lot of crazy, but she couldn't make it stop. “Zoe, get out of the car.”
“I don't want to,” she whispered, tears starting up again.
He eased into the car and picked her up in his arms, cradling her. “Come on, honey. It's gonna be alright.” She buried her face into his polyester uniform and sobbed.
She kept her eyes squeezed shut, knowing people were watching from the sidewalk. “I want to die.”
“No, we can't have that.” He carried her up the stairs and someone inside opened the door. “Thanks, Joe,” he said softly. She refused to open her eyes. He kept carrying her, and her skin prickled from the sudden drop in temperature.
“I'm cold.”
“You'll live.”
“Asshole.”
“Yeah, I am.” He dropped her suddenly and she squeaked, hitting a hard mattress. “You need to cool off and get yourself together, Zoe Parker.” He backed up fast and slammed the metal bars shut, locking it with a key attached to his key ring.
“You're locking me up?” She screamed.
“Yeah, till we can figure out what to do with you. I'll be damned if I see you dead.” He walked down the hall and she sat silently, all the fight deflating out of her like a balloon out of air. She slumped back on the bed, leaning against the cold concrete wall.
“Fuck,” she whispered. The silence was endless. She curled up on her side and closed her eyes.
Chapter Fifteen – Monday
Tim walked out to the front of the station and pulled out his cell phone. He scrolled through his contacts until he found Calvin. The phone rang and Calvin picked up. “Hello?”
“It's Tim. Can you come down to the station? We have a situation.” He rubbed his forehead. I'm getting too old for this shit.
“A situation?” Calvin said carefully.
“Yeah. Can you just get here?” A migraine was starting behind his left eye.
“Is it Layla?” His voice rose in panic.
“No, it's Zoe.”
“What's wrong with her? I couldn't get her on her cell.”
“I don't know, man. She's tore the hell up though. I pulled her over, she was going sixty-five in a twenty-five, she made a smart ass comment about driving off the bridge. I figured you'd be the only one to get through to her.”
“God damn it.” He sighed. “I'll be there in a few minutes.” He disconnected the call and headed toward the police station. Shit man... What the hell is going on? He flipped his phone open again and dialed home. “Hello, Grams? Find out why Zoe is upset. I know
all you old biddies know everything. Call me back.”
“Alright boy, I'll get on it. Give me a few.” He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, impatiently waiting, trying to drive the speed limit. As he hit Main Street, his phone rang. He picked it up. It was Grams.
“Yeah?”
“She went to the bank. From what we know, her house is in foreclosure.” Grams said sadly.
“Damn it! Sorry, Grams, I'll call you back later.” He pulled in front of the bank and threw the car into park. He opened the door and walked with military precision to the front door of the bank. He opened the glass door and walked in, surveying the room. He spotted exactly who to talk to. He had to be the manager. Round as he was tall, pasty, with a nasty sweating problem. He ignored the teller and stalked back to the man. His eyes went wide and he went pale.
“Hello, sir, can I help you?”
“You're damn right you can. Office. You. Me. Now.” His eyes flashed.
“What seems to be the problem sir?” The man's hands shook.
“I need to know why Zoe Parker left here so torn up she threatened suicide.” He leaned closer.
“I'm afraid I can't discuss confidential information.” He looked back down at the paperwork he held in his hands.
“I guess it would truly be a shame for Zoe to recover and sue for emotional distress. I would imagine your little bank can't handle a lawsuit, can it?”
The little man coughed and flushed. “I'll see you in my office... Mr...?”
“Calvin Hall. Staff Sergeant Calvin Hall of the US Army.” He stood up tall.
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