“That’s bullshit. You let that man get away with murder. He treats you like crap on his boot, and you just take it and constantly defend him. If I were you—”
“But you’re not me! Don’t try to tell me what you would do because we are two totally different people. I understand that you love me and you’re worried about me, but I have to figure this thing out on my own. And believe it or not, I understand Dylan. I know he’s said awful things to me and treated me like shit. I’m not stupid. But that’s only because he’s hurting. I have to try to help him figure things out. I have to. I love him, Susie.”
Susie sighs. “I know, honey, I know. You’re right. God, I’m so sorry. I have such a stupid, insensitive mouth sometimes. How about I just shove it full of chips and shut the hell up?”
“I just have to give him some more time. I have a lot of patience and I’ll wait for him as long as I need to.”
“You’re a daggone saint, Myra. You make me look like Satan’s sidekick. If I was in your position, I would have cooked Dylan’s ass by now.”
“I know.”
“You’re exactly what that man needs. He’s so lucky to have you even if he doesn’t realize it right now. Well, I gotta go, hon. I only have fifteen minutes left to shovel in as many nachos as I can. I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Okay. I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
* * *
“I’m gonna go smoke,” Dylan tells his dad.
“All right, I’m about due for a coffee break,” Dennis says.
Dylan heads downstairs and steps out onto Myra’s front porch and lights up. He pulls out his phone to call Chad, figuring he might as well get it over with. Just as he starts to dial him, his phone rings. He frowns as he looks down at the caller ID.
Boise Behavioral Health Associates.
Shrugging, he decides to answer it. He needs to cancel that appointment anyway.
“Hello?”
“May I speak to Dylan Lawson?”
“Speaking…”
“Oh, hi, this is Paige from Boise Behavioral Health Associates just calling to confirm your appointment tomorrow with Dr. Mitchum at—”
“Hold on, I need to cancel that appointment.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, Dr. Mitchum is in right now so how about I put you through to her so that you can reschedule?”
“No. You don’t need to do that—”
“Hang on and I’ll put you through.”
He mouths the word fuck and almost hangs up. He walks towards his truck and climbs in.
“Dylan? This is Dr. Mitchum… Paige told me that you have to cancel?”
“Yeah…”
“Okay, let’s see when we can reschedule you…”
“I’m not coming back, at least not for a while.”
“Oh. May I ask why? I would really like to encourage you to give it a chance. I know I can help you, Dylan, and I hate to see you give up on it so soon.”
“No, it’s not like that,” he says, shutting his eyes tight. He’s not really sure where to begin. “Remember that woman I told you I was seeing?”
“Yes.”
“Well, someone tried to break into her house, and they vandalized her car. We don’t know who did it, but I just can’t leave her right now.” He runs his hand through his hair. “Things are really complicated, and I have to protect her. So it’s not that I want to cancel on you; it’s just because I literally have to.”
“Oh my goodness, that’s terrible, Dylan, and I understand your situation completely. Are the police involved?”
“Yeah, but they don’t have any evidence so they have nothing to go on right now.”
“That has to be very frightening for you. You care for this woman, correct?”
“Yeah, I do. A lot…” Dylan nervously clears his throat. “Would you, I mean, could we do this over the phone instead of me coming into the office? Ah, never mind, that’s just fucking stupid.”
“Hmm… well, it is highly unusual since I typically only see my clients in the office—”
“Yeah… just forget it.”
“Dylan, I wasn’t done talking. Please let me finish.”
Dylan’s brows pull together.
“I was going to say that normally I only see my clients in the office, but I think your particular circumstance changes things a bit. Since you’re paying me cash for your visits since your insurance doesn’t cover mental health, we don’t have those issues to deal with. So I would be more than happy to schedule our meetings via telephone conference on a temporary basis until things settle down for you. I really think that I can help you, Dylan, and I’m willing to go the extra mile to prove to you that I can.”
He just sits there stunned.
“Are you still there?” she asks.
“Oh. Yeah. Okay.”
“Do you want to keep our appointment as is for tomorrow or would another time work better for you?”
Dylan looks up at Myra’s door. “Well, do you have any time right now?”
“Actually I do. My next patient isn’t due for another hour or so.”
Dylan rubs his hand over the back of his neck. “So much shit has happened that I don’t even know where to begin. My life is kind of falling apart right now.”
“Why do you think it’s falling apart? Is it because of this person that’s after your friend?”
“Yeah, that’s part of it. But it mainly started when… when she told me she was pregnant…
* * *
Myra’s phone rings. It’s Natalie.
“Hi,” she answers.
“Hey, Myra, how are you feeling?”
“About the same… still pretty nauseous... How are you feeling?”
“Not too bad. Jilly’s been kicking me hard in the ribs today.”
Myra smiles.
“Chad should be there anytime to pick Dennis up,” Natalie says. “How are you and Dylan doing? Have you two been able to talk any? All three of us have been trying to call him, but he’s ignoring our calls again.”
“No, we’re not really talking. I’ve been trying to talk to him, but he won’t give me a chance. So I’m just going to give him some space for now.”
“I wish that man wasn’t so stubborn. How long are you going to stay with Jackie?”
“Probably a few more nights…”
“That’s good. Were you able to schedule an OB appointment?”
“Yeah, it’s next week in Boise.”
“Good. Hey, I’ve got an idea. Maybe you could talk Dylan into going to see that therapist while you’re at your appointment,” Natalie says. Myra frowns. “Oh. Oh, Myra. I didn’t mean it like that…”
Myra’s eyes tear up and her heart sinks. Of course Dylan wouldn’t want to go with her to her first doctor’s appointment because he doesn’t want anything to do with this baby.
“I’m so sorry,” Natalie says, her voice choking up. “Please forgive me.”
A tear streaks down Myra’s face.
She can hear Natalie sniffling. “Myra, I’m so sorry. I feel just awful for saying that. I didn’t mean it like that at all. I just… If I wasn’t stuck on this couch, I’d be going to that appointment with you. You are not going to that appointment by yourself. Sherri will go with you. I know she’d be thrilled to go.”
Myra sniffs and quickly wipes her eyes. “That’s okay. I can go by myself.” She doesn’t want people doing things for her out of guilt.
“You’re not going by yourself, Myra,” Natalie says in a firm voice. “I’ll have Sherri call you later to talk about this some more, okay? I’m so sorry that I hurt your feelings. I honestly can’t imagine what you’re going through right now.”
“It’s okay, Natalie. I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”
Natalie sighs. “All right, I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
They say their goodbyes and Myra hangs up. She lies down on her bed, curling up in a ball and lets the truth and the pain of Natalie’s innocent words sink in.
* * *
“We got a lot done today,” Dennis says. His dad helped him measure and cut all of the molding pieces; he can install them later. Dylan nods as he starts packing his tools up.
“Don’t wait until it’s too late to figure things out with Myra, okay? I know you’re tired of hearing me say this, but I’m going to keep saying it because I care about you. I really think you need to see a doctor. It’s not good to hold everything inside.”
“I know,” Dylan reluctantly agrees. “I actually talked to that therapist today. I’m gonna start talking to her again.”
“Really…?” Dennis asks, a huge smile spreading across his face. “I’m so proud of you. You’re doing the right thing, son. It takes courage to do what you’re doing. This is good.”
Dylan nods as Dennis pulls him into a tight hug.
“I’m going to go tell Myra goodbye and then I’ll send her over to Jackie’s. Chad texted me and should be here anytime.”
Dylan nods and takes his tools out to the truck. He climbs into the driver’s seat and lights up again. He’s still shocked as hell that Dr. Mitchum was willing to do phone sessions with him. He does feel a little better after talking to her. He was glad to hear from her that his panic attack and blacking out were actually not unusual considering the news he’d just received. She explained to him that it was his body’s way of protecting itself.
He sits up when Chad pulls in behind him. Chad jumps out of his truck and marches up to Dylan’s window. He makes a motion with his hand for him to roll the window down. Dylan rolls his eyes and shoves the key in the ignition, flipping it on enough to get it to roll down.
“You better start calling me back, fucker. Why are you sitting in your truck?”
“I’m smoking,” Dylan mumbles with the cigarette still in his mouth.
“And you have to do that in your truck?”
Dylan shrugs. They both look up when the door opens and Myra and his dad step out.
Chad reaches a hand in the truck and squeezes Dylan’s shoulder. “Get it together, man, get it together,” he says before walking over to where Myra and his dad are standing.
Dylan rolls up his window and watches them talk for a few minutes. His dad and brother both give Myra a hug before walking back over to his truck. He frowns when he watches Myra go back into her house. Dylan rolls his window down again.
“Jackie’s not home yet so Myra’s just going to stay at her house for now,” his dad tells him. “Well, we’re going to head out. Make sure you answer our calls, especially from your mom and Natalie. They love you and it hurts their feelings when you ignore them like that.”
“It hurts my feelings too, bro, so you gotta put a stop to that shit,” Chad says.
Dylan works hard not to roll his eyes and manages to nod.
They talk a little more before saying their goodbyes. As they leave, Dylan pulls out another cigarette and lights it. Taking in a deep draw, he leans his head back, closes his eyes, and blows the smoke out slowly. A few minutes later, he startles when he hears a door slam. Sitting up, he watches as Myra walks down the steps. He figures maybe she decided to go on over to Jackie’s. But instead of going to her house, she walks straight down the driveway and past his truck, never once looking in his direction. His brows pull together sharply as he turns his head to see where the hell she’s going and his cigarette falls out of his mouth, landing in his lap.
“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles in irritation as he snatches it up, ash landing all over his jeans. He shoves the smoke back in his mouth, opens the truck and climbs out, quickly wiping the shit off his pants. He has to practically jog to catch up with her. “Where the hell are you going?” he asks in a harsh voice.
She ignores him and continues walking, staring straight ahead.
He drops his cigarette on the ground and jabs his fingers in his hair. “What are you doing?” he demands, trying to keep up with her. He wants to grab her and shake her.
She seems to hold her head a little higher in the air and starts walking faster.
“Goddamn it!” he shouts. He turns and jogs back to his truck and starts it, squealing the tires as he backs out of Myra’s driveway. He pulls up alongside her and rolls the window down on the passenger side.
“Get in the goddamn truck, Myra, or I swear to god, I’ll physically put you in the truck.”
She continues to stare straight ahead, but finally starts talking. “I need to go to the grocery and since I don’t have a car and you won’t speak to me and Jackie’s working late, I figured I’d just walk there myself.”
“Myra, just please get in the truck,” he begs. “I’ll take you to Marshall’s, all right?”
His words don’t seem to have any effect on her since she keeps on walking and staring straight ahead. But before he can begin plotting his next strategy, she slows her pace and stops. He slams on the brakes.
She stares at him for a long minute and then nods, her shoulders sagging a little. She opens the door and climbs in.
He flips the heat on high and rolls the windows down in the back to let all of the cigarette smoke out.
Neither of them says a word during the short drive to Marshall’s. Dylan pulls into a parking spot and turns the truck off. Myra’s hand reaches for the door handle.
“Hang on,” he says. He clears his throat. “I’m sorry I’ve been an asshole today. Those shoes just scared the hell out of me.”
“I wanted to explain, but you never gave me a chance.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll listen now.”
“I’m sorry you saw those last night. The other day, I mentioned to Susie that I wasn’t feeling well, and she immediately suspected I was pregnant. Remember that big box that I got from FedEx?”
He nods.
“Well, Susie is a little crazy so she sent me a few baby things, very prematurely. I couldn’t sleep last night, and I really liked those little slippers so I was holding them when I fell asleep. I never meant for you to see them.”
“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t know where they came from and my mind was just, I don’t know…”
“It’s okay. Just talk to me next time and don’t shut me out, all right?”
He nods and takes in a deep breath. “I talked to my therapist today.”
Myra’s mouth drops open. “You did?”
“Yeah… we’re gonna do phone sessions for a while. That way I don’t have to leave you.”
“Wow. I think that’s great. I’m so happy for you,” she says, her eyes tearing up.
“I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I am trying. I want to get all of my shit straightened out. I just don’t know how yet.”
Myra wipes at her eyes. “I’ll wait for you,” she whispers. “I’ll wait for you as long as it takes.” A tear streaks down her cheek, and Dylan’s heart cracks wide open.
He feels his eyes watering. Thank you, he mouths the words because he can’t speak them right now. She smiles softly and nods, while quickly wiping at her face.
She clears her throat. “I’m going to go in and do my shopping. I would tell you that you can just stay in the truck, but I know you won’t,” she says with a small smile.
He gives her a small smile back and nods, watching as she gets out of the truck.
Once she gets inside, he jumps out of his truck and lights up a smoke. Standing in front of the store, he smokes for a few minutes to give her enough time to get her cart and shit. Using his boot, he stomps on his cigarette and enters the store, looking around carefully. He cringes when the first person he sees is Lucia sitting at the register.
He checks the first few aisles but doesn’t see Myra. He finally finds her on the third aisle and is relieved to find her alone and engrossed in her shopping.
He slowly follows her, keeping her in his sight at all times. When she gets to the dairy section, she bends over to pick up a gallon of milk, and Marshall comes barreling out from the stock room. Dylan’s fists clench in fury when he sees Marshall’s filthy ey
es ogling her ass like a dog in heat. An all-consuming rage fills him as his eyes narrow, and he stomps down the aisle ready to beat the shit out of him.
“Hey, Myra… Oh.” Derek stops talking when he sees Dylan, his eyes widening in fear.
Dylan steps up in Marshall’s face. “Keep your filthy fucking eyeballs off of my woman and don’t speak to her, do you understand? If I find out that you’re the one that’s doing this shit to her house, I will hurt you. I will cause you pain, intense pain.”
“Dylan,” Myra begs as she puts her hand on his arm. “Calm down.”
“Go stock some shelves or some shit and get the fuck away from us,” he growls at Derek. He practically runs back into the stock room.
“Are you okay?” Myra asks.
“No. I hate that fucker. The way he was looking at you…” He grinds his teeth, his jaw tightening.
“Well, he’s gone so you can relax. I shouldn’t be much longer.”
Dylan nods.
“What are you doing?” Myra asks, frowning at him.
He looks down at his hands gripping the cart and back up at her. “I’ll push the cart.”
The corner of her mouth turns up slightly and she nods. She intently studies her shopping list and scratches off a few things. He follows her around, pushing the cart until she’s done with her shopping.
“I’ll check out for you,” he tells her. “Lucia’s at the register.” He pulls out his keys and hands them to her. “Go sit in the truck, lock the doors and wait on me, all right?”
She takes the keys from him. “I’m not afraid of her, Dylan. I can’t hide from everyone in this town.”
He holds so tight to the cart that his knuckles turn white. “Just go wait on me. I don’t want you to be stressed or anything. That shit isn’t good for the baby.” His gaze drops to her stomach and back up.
“All right, but let me give you some money…”
“I’ve got it. It’s the least I can do with all the cooking and shit you’ve been doing for me.”
She stares at him for a minute and then nods. He pushes the cart, following her to the front of the store. He watches her through the window until she’s safely in the truck before he gets in line.
Color of Forgiveness Page 31