Copperback

by Hamilton, Tarah R.

  When I knew the coast was clear, I gave him money to pick out his own items from the vending machines, and watched him stare at them for the longest time, trying to figure out how to get the food from behind the glass and into his hands. After showing him how they operated, he loaded up on candy and pop, while I opted for coffee and a few provisions of my own. Carrying our items back to the car, he kept his head low, and I followed his lead, giving him a nudge to throw him off balance as the woman with the dog stared, holding him in her arms.

  Keeping a straight face and looking as menacing as possible was hard. His over-the-top phony stumble made her look the other way in disgust and hurry to her car, not looking back. It had been too easy. Just in case she was watching from her car, I made an aggressive move, getting him in the car and slamming the door behind him. I considered putting him in the trunk, but I didn’t want to stop again to let him out.

  “I think you liked that,” he said, attempting to hold back his laughter.

  “I did not. Please don’t ever make me do that again. It was awful.”

  “It worked. No one knew any better. You got scared for a moment when you thought I was going to fall. I wish I could have seen your face.” He gave up on remaining inconspicuous, and burst out laughing. The thought of stopping the car again and putting him in the trunk crossed my mind again, but for much different reasons.

  “You know, if you keep eating junk food like that, you’re going to get fat.” I replied, hoping to get back at him.

  “No, I won’t. I burn it off too fast. Same as taking anything for pain. It would have been out of my system before it had a chance to work.”

  “Great. I’m going to be overweight and saggy one day, and you’re still going to look like a model. That just makes me feel so much better. Can’t wait.”

  “I’ll still love you.”

  He said it before I could react. I felt my face begin to flush, and the steering wheel slipped in my hands. The moment had come, and he was waiting for my answer. An answer I wasn’t ready to give.

  “You don’t have to say it, you know. I’ve had a couple weeks to work on it. You’ve only had a couple of days.” He covered his tracks quickly, picking up on my overloaded nerves.

  I couldn’t say anything. Looking at him, I could see the love in his eyes – the passion and head-over-heels look. His eyes burned with it. His stare was making it hard to concentrate. I wanted to gaze back – forget the road, and tell him.

  I had been looking at him too long. Directing my gaze back to the highway, I managed to swerve just in time before running us off the side of the road into a ditch. My heart was pounding from the near accident – keeping me focused on looking down the hood instead of at him. As soon as the tension let up, I could feel my muscles aching from being locked in position for so long. The coffee that I had gulped down had no effect on my clouded mind. I finally gave into the yawn that had been building. The light was fading fast, and soon we would have the cover of dark again.

  “You should just stop for the night. You look like you’re going to fall over.”

  “No,” I said, yawning again, “I can go a little more.”

  I was determined to go as far as possible in one day. The more time we spent travelling during the day, the faster we would reach safety. I was afraid to look over, in case the car began to wander again.

  “Please, just stop. You need some rest. You can’t push yourself like this.” I could hear the anxiety in his voice, even if I couldn’t see him.

  “You did. You pushed too hard. I can go a couple more hours, and then I’ll stop.”

  I had lost track of how long I had been going. The black road was starting to play tricks on my eyes, as I watched the yellow center line dashing past. I turned on the radio for the first time since the start of our journey, hoping it would keep me going. The air in the car was so inviting, making me want to close my eyes. I could hear Job’s voice pleading, but it was too distant to hear all the words. Sleep was taking over, and I had no choice but to give in.

  I could hear Job’s voice humming the tune of a song playing on the radio. The melody was sweet and perfectly pitched – soothing, as it carried me away. His warm body pressed against mine. I could feel his hand across my face. I didn’t want to open my eyes. The comfort of him being close felt like a dream....

  I sat upright in a panic, my breathing out of control. The last I remembered was driving. I had to have wrecked the car, but I looked around to see a cheap dresser and table; the tacky floral print of a comforter; Job’s hand pushing me back down on the bed I was laying on, before I hyperventilated. We were in a motel room. How we got here was a mystery.

  “I – how did we…? What time is it?” The confusion was bothering me. By all accounts, we shouldn’t be in this room.

  “You started to nod off, so I steered us into the next motel. I wasn’t sure if you would hit the brake in time, but you did. I think you were sleepwalking when you checked us in. You have been asleep for over a day. I called the front desk and asked them to add another night. You had paid by that plastic thing in your purse, so they didn’t question it.”

  I allowed myself to lie back again, feeling a little better that he had taken care of everything while I was asleep. His soft hand stroked my hair away from my face, running down my neck as he bent in closer, brushing his lips against mine. I could feel the urge of wanting more from him, yet was still afraid to stay near him for too long. I tried to turn my attention away from him, looking down to the end of the bed, noticing, for the first time, that all the bags from my trunk were neatly stacked on the dresser.

  “How did you get everything in? I thought you…”

  “Oh yeah – that.”

  His face, still close to mine, was coming into better focus as I lay there. There was no heat – no waves of intense pain. Just him, calm as could be, hair still wet from a recent shower, smelling of some soapy fragrance I couldn’t place.

  He slid off the bed, standing on one foot, balancing perfectly, as usual. Instead of reaching for the crutches, he stepped forward gingerly, limping along the side of the bed and turning back, to show he could bear weight again. As he came closer, I could tell that the moment was bittersweet. The deep red scar still ran across his side, and I could see his lower leg was permanently turned out up to mid shin. The bump across the area of the fracture was diminished, but remained there. He had lost the graceful gait I had witnessed the first time we met – the limp, a standing reminder of the torture he had endured.

  “Are you always going to…”

  “I think so. It’s still sore from not using it, but I think I’m stuck with it.” His mood stayed light, even as I had begun to get upset.

  He sat back on the bed, holding me close to him and kissing my head.

  “Does this mean you don’t want me anymore? Because I’m not, as you say, perfect?”

  “No – no. I just had hoped that – it’s just not fair.”

  I could feel my eyes water up.

  “You know, if I could go back and do it again, I wouldn’t change anything. It was worth it. I have you. That’s all that matters to me.”

  His sweet words brought on the tears. It was too much. The price he paid to be with me meant everything to him, but I still wanted to go back and change it. I wanted the outcome to be the same, but not the circumstances to get there.

  “Go get cleaned up. I’ll get dinner ready. I’m sure you have to be hungry, after the nap you took,” he said, wiping away the tears that had fallen on my cheeks. Moving meant that I would be away from him, but he had already beaten me to it, getting back off the bed and slowly making his way back to the dresser, pulling out cans from the bag, studying the can opener and how to use it. He turned for a moment, with a puzzled look on his face, as if to ask me how. He could see I was about to start laughing and turned back, determined to figure it out on his own. I could only shake my head, hoping that, when I got out of the shower, the cans would not be torn to bits by the m
isuse of the device.

  Taking a clean set of clothes and cautiously looking the bathroom over before stepping in the shower, I ran the hot water, letting it wake me up and prepare me for the words I wanted to say. It was my chance to let him know how I felt. Let him know he wasn’t the only one who had fallen in love.

  I kept the shower brief, and put on the clean clothes, feeling invigorated. He had already changed into his fitted jeans and boots, leaving his rippled abs to reflect the light, making me swoon. He had gathered two Styrofoam cups filled with cold raviolis, holding one out for me.

  “Mmm. You really like these, don’t you?”

  “Yeah. I think I could eat them all day, if you let me. I prefer them hot, but I’ll take it any way I can.”

  He scarfed them down, opened another can, and inhaled the contents just as fast.

  “I think you like them more than you like me,” I teased.

  “Don’t make me make that choice.”

  After our meal, he started to put his shirt back on, and I knew I had to be quick to make my move, or I would chicken out again. I stopped him, tugging it back off and moving in close to him. He didn’t hesitate, throwing it on the floor. I ran my hands up his chest and across his shoulders, feeling his smooth skin under my fingers. He leaned down, pressing his lips to mine, keeping them locked in place. As I pressed harder, he resisted for a second, and then gave in. I finally broke the contact, staring into his eyes, watching him stand there, stunned at my aggressiveness. I could see that shyness creep back, worried I was going to take it a step further then he was ready for.

  “I have to tell you something before I regret not saying it.”

  I bit my lip, trying to force the words to come out. I had never said it to anyone past my family, and that was different. The courage was building inside me, and the feeling of love was getting stronger.

  “I–”

  A knock at the door interrupted us, breaking my chance to express my feelings. It was getting annoying how, every time we tried to be close, we had someone or something stop us.

  “It’s probably housekeeping again. I already had to shoo them away once today.” He went to the door to take care of it.

  “What time is it?” A frightening thought came to mind. Working for an inn alerted me that housekeeping didn’t make rounds twice if they had been told no already.

  “I don’t know. Late?” He had reached the door and was about to turn the knob.

  “Stop! Don’t answer it. It’s not housekeeping.” My panic was full blown.

  He shrank back from the door as another – more demanding – knock came. The person was relentless, and I knew it was not a welcome visitor.

  “Get away from the door, please,” I begged, hoping he would listen.

  He did as I said, stepping back and in front of me, holding his hands behind him as if to protect me from the danger at the door. I didn’t stay, instead walking to the window and looking through the crack in the curtain to see who was so insistent on pestering us. The shock hit me like a ton of bricks. I could feel my legs get weak, as my hands started to shake. The new red truck sat outside in the parking lot across from the room, its owner nowhere in sight. He was at the door.

  19.

  “Who is it?” He could read the fear in my actions, even if he couldn’t feel it in my heart.

  “Derrick. I don’t know how he found us.” I kept myself from stuttering out of fear. I had to be strong. We were locked in the room, and he couldn’t stay out there forever. He had to sleep sometime. He may give up, thinking he had the wrong place. I knew it wouldn’t happen, though, and we would have to confront him.

  Job went for the door again, the anger burning on his face. He had changed his stance, and appeared dominant and powerful, although the limp still made him look weak in a way.

  “You’re not going out there,” I said. “He’s going to kill you, or you’re going to kill him. I’m not going to let you.”

  “I’m not giving you a choice. I’m not letting him near you,” he said, enraged.

  I couldn’t live with the thought of having him give himself up for me. I was willing to take the risk myself rather than to watch him be beaten to death by Derrick’s hand. I had to think of a way to keep him from going out there.

  “If I go, he won’t hurt me. I can try to explain. He thinks he needs to protect me, and the worst that will happen is he will try to make me go with him.”

  “All the more reason not to let you go.”

  “I’m not leaving with Derrick. If you beat him, we are going to be hunted, and you will die. If you lose to him, you will die. You can’t win. If I go, we have a chance.”

  I could see him trying to decide if I was being truthful, or making up a story to save him. I pushed him away from the door. Instead of standing firm, he backed away close to the bed, seething. His hands balled at his sides, head down. He was about to plead again, but I wasn’t giving him a chance.

  “Don’t open the door, no matter what happens. I can’t – lose you.”

  My hand was hanging on the knob, ready to turn it. I needed him to look up at me. I had to know he wouldn’t be foolish. He kept looking down.

  “I love you,” he said.

  I wanted to say it back, but if I did, he would fight me again, forcing his way outside to keep Derrick from me. He would lose, and I would be without him – resigned to go home empty handed and alone.

  I opened the door and stepped outside. It closed and locked itself behind me, keeping Job safe behind its protective barrier. Derrick backed away to let me out, holding a bat in his hand, gripping it tightly, as if to strike. The odor of alcohol on his breath was overwhelming, and I could see by his disheveled appearance that he had been obviously sleeping in his truck, waiting for us to come out on our own.

  “Oh, Emily, did he hurtchu?” he slurred. “Are you ok? I was sho wurried.” He grabbed me, hugging tight, the smell of sweat and dirt filling my nostrils, forcing me to push him away. “We havta go. Ya havta get in my truck. I don’t wantchu to watch what I need ta do.”

  He grabbed my arm hard, pressing his fingers deep into my skin, dragging me to the truck, thumping the bat along the pavement. Even if he hadn’t been so drunk, I never wanted to go anywhere with him. I wrenched away, freeing my arm from his grip and stopping from going any further.

  “You’re trashed, Derrick. I’m not getting in your truck with you. You are not driving me anywhere. I am staying here.” I had already turned away, walking back to the room.

  His hand reached back out, grabbing harder, yanking me back. I could feel my shoulder nearly being pulled from the socket, almost making me cry out.

  “He’s a dizgusting Copperback. He ‘as ya brainwashed. Yer gettin’ in my truck and yer gonna stay there.” His aggressiveness had multiplied ten-fold.

  “I love him.” The words fell out of my mouth before I could think about them.

  He turned around to look at me and stared in disbelief. I was in shock myself that I had no problem telling him, but I couldn’t utter the words directly to Job.

  “Yer as sick as ‘im,” he hissed at me, spitting in my face.

  He stormed back to the door, raising the bat from his side, griping it tightly in his hand. Using it like a battering ram, he began to pound the door with it, letting the sound echo through the empty parking lot. I ran up behind him, pulling at his shirt to get him to back off, avoiding the swinging bat. I was more concerned for Job’s safety than my own. He needed to stay inside. I stopped caring what Derrick would do to me, as long as he would listen and leave. I was willing to go with him – drunk or not – if it meant he would stop.

  “He’s not going to come out!” I shouted. “I told him to stay. You’re not going to hurt him ever again!”

  I wanted his focus on me and away from the door. It worked. His anger turned to me as he lowered the bat to his side. He took a step toward me, yet I remained as ready to fight him as ever, knowing I couldn’t win.

  “T
hen I’ll make ‘im.”

  Before I could react, he grabbed me by the hair, twisting it up in his fist, pulling at my scalp. He forced my head down and thrust me in front of him like a shield. The pain was unbearable as he entwined his hand further, ripping out chunks of hair from my scalp. I held back the cry of pain, knowing Job wouldn’t stay if he knew what was happening on the other side of the door. The tears came, but my silence didn’t falter.

  “I have yer girlfriend!” Derrick taunted, shaking me as he spoke. “Ya better come out and get ‘er before I kill ’er.”

  I fell to my knees, unable to stand, allowing him to pull harder. Fire ravaged my scalp. I could hear a whimper starting in my throat, but I forced myself to keep hushed. It didn’t matter. I watched as the door opened, and Job stepped out, nostrils flaring. Even with the limp, he looked stronger than I had ever seen him.

  “Let her go!” His words were violent. He wasn’t holding back any of the hate he had in him.

  I felt Derrick release my hair as I was tossed aside like a doll, allowed to fall to the ground. I couldn’t take my hands away from my head, feeling the wet, sticky blood that had blossomed there. I stayed put, afraid to get in Job’s way and accidently receive a blow meant for Derrick.

  “Nice ta shee ya alive. This time I’ll make shure to finish the job ‘fore I throw ya in my truck.”

  Job continued to stand there, fists balled, unflinching. Derrick raised the bat, preparing to deliver a full swing. I didn’t want to watch, yet my eyes were glued to Job. The bat came around, yet Job did nothing. I waited for the crack as his arm shattered from the speed, but it never came. There was a small whoosh as his skin disintegrated where the bat made contact, allowing it to pass through with ease, throwing Derrick stumbling backward. In his inebriated state, he had failed to remember that aluminum was useless.

  He continued to swing, each time the bat missing the target, frustrating him more and more. His futile swings became labored, and almost completely lacked any power behind them. At last, Job reacted, his eyes still locked on his prey. The bat came up again, and he stopped it with his hand – holding it tight, then tearing it away from Derrick, and throwing it down. I listened to the clinking as it bounced off the pavement and rolled away out of either one’s grasp.