Heading back to the kitchen, I doled out a helping and wrapped the remainder in foil, stuffing it into the fridge for tomorrow. It had been so long since I had worn heels, and I was afraid of tripping on the steps and falling flat on my face. I cautiously made my way down the steps, seeing the sandwich in the same place I had left it. He was still sitting up, but his arms were semi-crossed, and he gave me a scowl. I was in no mood to keep playing this game with him. My nerves were nearly shattered by all the lying I was going to have to do, to him and to Derrick. I could barely handle the thought of watching Job suffer, or worse. I knew I was using my anger to keep the fear at bay, but it was the best I could do. Someone had to break the silence.
“Are you going to eat or should I just throw it away now?” I didn’t try to hide the annoyance in my voice. If he had planned to starve himself to death, there was no reason to go through with tomorrow.
“Are you going to talk to me?” The tone of his voice reflected mine. It was startling to hear him talking like that, but he had every right to be angry with me, when I really had none.
“What do you want me to say, Job?”
“Anything. Why? What is wrong?” His voice was irritated, but his face showed different.
He left his arms crossed, but his narrowed eyes had changed to a troubled look. I knew, if I kept eye contact, I would start to cry again. I didn’t want to explain to Derrick why my eyes were red and my makeup was all runny. I looked down at my feet, searching for an answer that would make everything ok again. The front I had set up had fallen apart.
“I’m sorry. I’m scared. There is a lot going on. Things you don’t know about. Things you wouldn’t understand. Please know I want to tell you, but I can’t.” I could feel the tears starting. I had to stifle them back. I didn’t want him to ask about it. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could deal with keeping these secrets.
He was silent again, and I looked over at him. He was looking down at his hands, arms uncrossed. It was if he wanted to say something, but couldn’t. I took the opportunity of silence to put down the casserole and make my rounds, as I had earlier. Everything looked the same as before. His skin still felt warm to the touch. I watched him as I ran my finger across the sole of his foot, waiting for the usual flinch of pain, but his expression stayed the same. This time I put more pressure into it, hoping to get a reaction, but there was nothing.
“Job? Can you feel this?” He looked up, seeing that I was pressing hard on the bottom of his foot. It was scaring me that there was no response. This had been the fear Sally had told me about.
I moved up his leg, hoping that – somewhere – he would feel my touch. He still stared – not scared, but just dazed. He didn’t quite understand what was going on. I kept moving further up, pressing, each time with the same effect, until I almost reached his knee. He opened his mouth as if to ask a question and closed it again. He was pondering what was going on, and why I was so frightened. That same fearful look I had seen when he first woke up was back again. It had finally dawned on him something with grave results was going to take place.
“It all feels like little…” He didn’t know the words, so instead showed me, using his fingers and tapping them against his other hand rapidly.
“Pins and needles.” I knew what it felt like when your hand or foot falls asleep. “That’s fine. It’s all going to be fine.” I said it as convincingly as possible. The reassurance I had been going for faltered in my voice, though. There was no way to lie to him anymore. We both knew that, by morning, his life was going to change.
I needed to move on to a different subject. I couldn’t do this tonight. There was nothing I could do about the current situation, and if I dwelled on it, I would end up copping out of my date. “I’m going to be gone for a few hours. Do you need anything before I go?” I was hoping he would ask me to stay.
“No.” It was less than convincing. He was deep in thought, fiddling with the fringe of the pillow.
He needed time to absorb everything that had been thrown at him at once. I turned to leave him alone with his thoughts. “Wait.”
I spun around fast to see what he needed, nearly falling over in the process. He was playing with a piece of string that had come loose from the edge of the pillow. He was concentrating hard on it.
“I wanted to say…you look…very…” I realized that he was not thinking of himself any longer. I had forgotten that he had never seen me dressed up before, and was working on a compliment. His cheeks became flushed, and it was almost cute to see him so nervous.
“Nice?” I had picked a simple word that could describe me. I didn’t want to be vain and assume that he meant more than that.
“No. Not nice…better than nice.” He was still looking down, too shy to smile directly at me. “Are you going out with friends?”
Another dreaded question that I would have to answer. “No. Actually, I have a date tonight.” I wasn’t proud to say it. I could read the disappointment on his face. He had just come out of his shell, been given devastating news, and had put his heart out there to be shut down. I had to say something that would make it sound better.
“I don’t even like Derrick. He’s not my type.”
Immediately he looked up at me, no longer disappointed. His eyes were burning with rage. I had just said the wrong thing. There was no way to go back and fix it. I knew there had to be hate for him, since he had been his slave, but nothing prepared me for his reaction.
“You won’t go out with him,” he demanded.
There was no asking or pleading. It was a commanding tone that I had heard from my mother many times, usually preceded by “Emily Marie O’Neil.” As much as I wanted to listen to him, I was not going to be told what I could and couldn’t do. It had pushed a button I had long forgotten. The stress of the week and every emotion I had felt boiled up and lashed out at him. I couldn’t stop myself.
“Excuse me? You, of all people, have no right to tell me what I will do! I am only doing this to protect you, so he doesn’t snoop around here and figure out I have you hiding in my basement.”
“I don’t care. I can take care of myself.” His expression didn’t change. He was just as furious as before, and my anger was feeding off of his. He wasn’t getting it, and my fuse was at its end. The explosion was uncontrolled.
“No, you can’t! If you could take care of yourself, I wouldn’t have to be burdened by you every day, waiting on you hand and foot.” I couldn’t stop the wickedness that rolled off my tongue. I should have stopped there, but something in me kept going.
“You’re jealous,” I spat at him. He knew it was true and looked back down, balling his hands into fists, ready to pound something until it was destroyed. I was completely out of reach and wasn’t concerned it would be myself. “You actually thought I could like you in that way? You’re not even human. You’re a Copperback. I’m just waiting till Sally can take you off my hands, so I can be done with you.”
I had struck a nerve in him, yet he sat quietly, refusing to respond. If he had looked up, he would have seen that I had already felt guilty for what I said. I was too scared to move any closer to him, fearing that he would react without thinking and I would become part of the wall. I wanted to say I was sorry, to tell him I didn’t mean any of it. It was too late. The damage had already been done.
I left the little room, feeling worse than ever. I had taken all the fear I had felt over the lies and the coming misery and attacked him with it, without regard to how he was dealing with his situation. His anger could have been his way of expressing his fears as well, and I had taken it wrong.
I heard the knock at the door before I reached the top of the staircase. It was time to put on a happy face and pretend I had never met Job. I wasn’t up to the challenge, but I had no choice – there was no point in canceling my date with Derrick. Even if I did, I couldn’t go back down and face Job; he would never speak to me again, no matter what I said. I would just have to trudge through the remainder of my
night. At least being out with Derrick couldn’t make things back home any worse.
10.
Derrick had never been a sharp dressed man. I wouldn’t expect any guy from our neck of the woods to be. I was pretty sure he didn’t even own a pair of slacks or a dress shirt with jacket, unless he had gone to a funeral in the last few years. So it came as no surprise that he was waiting at the front door wearing a nice pair of jeans and black polo that matched his slicked-back hair. I felt overdressed in comparison. I could tell his palms were sweaty, as he rubbed them together in a nervous fashion.
“Hi. Are you ready?” His voice cracked as he spoke.
“Yeah. Let me just get my purse.”
Even as I grabbed it and walked out the door to the porch, I could feel his eyes staring at me, as though he was hoping to get me out of my skirt by the end of the night. I hid my revulsion and quietly walked down the steps to his truck.
The air was cool for an August evening, and I could feel the wind kick up and whip at my hair, blowing strands across my face. It was nice to feel the breeze after such a long string of muggy days. At least I knew my shirt wouldn’t stick to me.
Playing at being a gentleman, he held the door open for me and helped me into the cab. He had taken so much time preparing himself for the date that he had forgotten to clean out the truck. There were wrappers and dirt clinging to the floor. The sick smell of sweat and body odor clung to the inside. A sad little air freshener hung from the rear view mirror, trying desperately to mask the smell with a pine fragrance. It wasn’t working, or else had been there so long it had lost its strength. I was afraid to touch anything, keeping my hands in my lap and away from any grime I could see.
He let himself in and turned the key, bringing the truck purring to life. As revolting as the inside was, the rest of the truck was in great shape. His dad’s farm had done well for itself over the last few years; they had money to spend, and he used part of it buying his son a new vehicle he could show off. My poor little five-speed Cavalier looked like a joke next to it. It was rusted orange with faded green, and almost as old as I was, but I was happy with it, since it always got me from point A to point B.
“Hey, I was thinking of going into Punxy, and we could eat at the Pantell.”
“Sounds great.” It was hard to be enthusiastic about eating at a hotel, considering I spent almost every day in one.
Punxsutawney was a small town that had managed to get a blip on the map once a year, due to Groundhog Day. I had never been to the festival, and wasn’t going to subject myself to crowds of screaming college kids standing in the cold, waiting till he saw his shadow. I was good with staying indoors and watching it on the news the next morning.
The silence on our way through the hills was welcome. Derrick was still too nervous to speak up, and I really had nothing to say. I was just counting down the minutes till I could get back home and hope to salvage any bit of friendship left with Job.
He finally started talking about his farm and how they were doing for the season, as it came to a close. I mostly nodded my head in response and attempted to look like I shared interest in his conversation by smiling when he looked my way. It made the ride so much faster, and I was relieved to be able to exit the stench and sit somewhere that had fewer germs.
The hotel was grand, for most places in the area, with white vaulted ceilings and ornate woodwork along the edging. Everything about it was pristine. The smell of age still lingered in the place, but not in a bad way. The brass railings along the carpet and stairs shined as though they were polished every day. The place had to be as old as our little inn, if not older. Every part of the hotel seemed to sparkle under crystal chandeliers. It had been remodeled years before, but most of the old-fashioned charm had been left intact. It seemed that the comfort I had in the place would make the night run smoother and be over before I knew it.
We were seated in a fairly empty section of the restaurant, so privacy was not an issue. Again, Derrick came to my side to help me in my seat. His awkwardness was showing, as he wasn’t sure what to do next, and it was obvious he hadn’t been on many dates himself. Finally, he seated himself and fumbled with his menu, seemingly debating whether to continue talking or to hide behind it. It was my turn to strike up conversation, hoping that, by my talking, his nerves would settle and he wouldn’t knock over a glass of water, or worse.
“So…is your dad feeling better?” I had no idea what else to say. I had nothing in common with him, and it was better than talking about the weather.
“Oh, he’s ok. I think he had the same bug as you. It took him a few days, but he got over it.”
“Well, that is good to hear. It was a pretty nasty one.” The lie came easily. This was going to be a piece of cake.
“You know, I was lucky to not catch it. We probably would have had to shut everything down. Chase must have brought it home to you. It’s a wonder he didn’t end up with it, himself.” His nerves had started to die down, and his voice was less shaky, but had taken on an arrogant quality.
“Yeah. That could have been it. He practically lives at my house.” I smiled one of my famous half smiles I was so good at. He didn’t know any better.
“Chase is a real hard worker. We have become so close, he’s like a brother to me. It’s like you and I are almost family.”
The thought of being related was repulsive. I had to hide my disgust behind the menu, pretending I had found something interesting. Putting it down, I picked out something at random to talk about ordering.
“The salmon looks good. Have you ever tried it?” I wasn’t a fan of fish, but I could choke it down if I had to.
“I’ve had it a few times before. It’s ok. You know, they have an excellent steak selection.” He added insistently as though he was an expert on the subject.
Before I could answer him, our waiter came over to introduce himself. He set a basket of bread and butter on the table. “My name is Matt, and I’ll be your server. Can I start you off with any drinks?” He had his small notepad out, waiting to write down anything we wanted.
“I think I’ll have–”
“We will have a bottle of your best wine.” Derrick cut me off mid-sentence, smiling at the waiter, impatiently waiting for him to run along and get it.
I had no interest in drinking, and definitely not wine. I was such a lightweight that only a small amount of alcohol would make me tipsy. The last time I had a drink was more than two years before, when I needed some liquid courage to get up and sing karaoke. It wasn’t the most pleasant of nights, and I was not looking to experience it again.
I pulled out a slice of the bread, and used my knife to cut into the butter. It never made sense why a restaurant would serve warm, soft bread with cold, hard butter. It was impossible to spread, and I finally gave up. I took some large bites, trying to fill my mouth so I didn’t have to talk. Taking sips of water, I planned on filling my stomach enough before adding the drink, to lessen the effect.
“I have something for you.” His nerves had returned as he reached into the pocket of his jeans. I wasn’t sure what he had planned, but before I could even see it, I knew it was going to be jewelry of some sort.
He pulled out a long rectangular box, similar to the one that held the penny still draped around Job’s neck. He handed it to me, and I could feel the soft black velvet against my fingers. We hadn’t even been together for more than an hour and he had already begun to shower me with gifts. He was bound and determined to make me his.
Interrupting us, Matt had returned with a bottle of some kind of wine and two glasses. His presentation was very professional, setting the glasses down and holding out the bottle in a cloth napkin, so we could see what it was. I didn’t care what it was, but Derrick seemed pleased, and Matt proceeded to uncork it, handing the stopper to him so he could smell it. Derrick was showing off as though he was of prestige and should act accordingly. I had to force myself not to roll my eyes at him. It was an act that I was already becoming sick
of. He was a farm boy, not royalty. He got his hands dirty all day long. Our server poured the ruby-colored wine into each glass and waited for us to take a sip. I pulled mine close to my lips, letting it touch, but refusing to let it go past that point. Derrick, on the other hand, swirled his around under his nose, breathing in the aroma before drinking. I was pretty sure he had no idea what he was doing and had looked it up online so as to impress me. It was doing quite the opposite.
Derrick ordered a steak, while I stuck with the salmon. I wasn’t planning on wasting any more time deciding on a meal. Matt scrawled down everything we asked for, and was off in a hurry to tend to another table. We were alone again, the unopened box still in my hand.
“I hope you like it.” He was excited to see my reaction, and I pretended to match his enthusiasm. No matter what it was, I was never going to wear it. Pulling it open, I could see the glimmer of copper shining through the crack, lying on a satin white bed. It was a magnificent bracelet with small copper links that had been diamond cut, creating more dazzle as the light hit it. I was tempted to hand it back and decline his offer, but I continued to play along.
“You know that it was real expensive. I want you to have the best of everything.”
“Thank you.” I took out the bracelet and put it around my wrist, letting it glimmer in the light. It was pretty, but as soon as I got home, I knew I would take it off and store it away somewhere, never to look at it again.
“This will protect you, you know,” he said in a serious tone.
“Protect me from what?” I knew where the subject was headed. I had experienced firsthand what copper could do – the good and the bad – and was ready to act oblivious.
Copperback Page 11