by Amy Faye
“Okay,” she said, her voice meek. Troy called the mechanic, and then a tow truck to come pick up the car. Meanwhile, Elle went upstairs to take a pill and a shower.
Troy wondered at the situation. He wouldn't be able to take Roman with him if she was on the bike. That scared the shit out of him, being away from his dog too often. Well, if I don't have to deal with anyone else, it should be fine, he thought. I'm just the driver. Nothing more than that.
In the time that Elle was in the shower, the tow truck came and her car went. Troy turned on Netflix, and they watched some TV while they waited for when she had to leave.
“You ready?” He asked when they went outside. His motorcycle was a matte black, and looked more powerful than it really was. Which was saying a lot, since it was an amazing bike.
“Not really,” she said.
He chuckled, mounting the bike and handing her a helmet. “Get on behind me, and put this on. Hold on to me tight, somewhere on my chest. If you can lace your fingers together around me, that would be best.”
“Okay,” she said. When she got on, she took deep breaths and wrapped her arms around him. He realized with a laugh that she spent a moment feeling his abs with her trembling fingers. Then she clasped her hands together around him and he turned on his bike, sitting to allow her to get used to the rumble of the engine.
“Ready?” He asked.
“No, but we should go anyway.”
Slowly, they descended the slight slope of her driveway and went into the street. She gasped when he went faster, holding onto him even tighter.
Over the course of the ride, though, she loosened up and her fingers trembled less. By the time they finished the short drive, she seemed much more sure of herself and the motorcycle, leaning when he leaned for turns.
“Have a good day,” he said as she dismounted the bike. She leaned in for a kiss. He pulled her in for a deeper kiss than she expected as she laughed into his mouth.
“Jerk.”
“Hey, I gotta show off and let everyone watching know that I've got a claim on you.”
He laughed when she rolled her eyes. “I'll see you at 5, okay?”
“I'll be here early to wait for you,” he replied, shielding his eyes from the sun. She left him as he watched her ass in those tight jeans of hers. How she had managed to remain a virgin her whole life, he had no clue.
His phone buzzed with a call from the mechanic. “Hello, Troy speaking.”
“Hey. So, I have some bad news. I'm gonna just rip the bandage off, here. You've got a blown head gasket and some electrical problems in this car. I could fix all of that, but it'll cost twice whatever you bought the car for.”
He wondered what she had bought it for. “Alright. I'll talk to my wife and we'll let you know by tomorrow.”
“Sounds good, man. Sorry about this.”
“You didn't do it,” he said. They hung up just as there was a knock on the door.
“Grandma! What are you and Rosa doing here?” He asked as he opened the door.
Grandma Ina and Rosa beamed up at him. “We were in the neighborhood, and thought we would stop by here to discuss something with you. Something about Elle. And you. And… the future.”
“Elle didn't like the idea, but I think you should both talk about it.”
“Yes! So, listen. Oh, happy belated birthday, by the way!”
He winced. “Thanks. What did you want to talk about?” They were acting like a chaotic whirlwind again, swooping in no doubt with the intention of making things harder on him and Elle.
“Well, we told her that we hoped you two would have children soon,” Ina said.
Rosa nodded. “She looked scared out of her wits. But don't you two want children? What else is marriage for?”
“I'm pretty sure it's for a lot of things, like true love. But I'm guessing you're going to force this decision on us with another change of the will.”
“Goodness, no!” Ina cried. “We just thought you should both know we expect great-grandbabies at some point.”
“We aren't getting any younger,” Rosa reminded.
“Exactly. Now, Rosa and I both have to get to quilting. You two talk about this, though, okay?”
They left, leaving the sort of numb, silent ringing in the ears that an earthquake might. They really were a whirlwind of chaos when they were together.
He always wanted children, before the army. He wasn't so sure he would make a great dad, anymore. Not with all of his problems.
The idea of Elle as a mother, though, filled him with many warm emotions. Conflicting emotions.
He wasn't sure what to do, but he was sure neither of them were ready to even discuss children.
Chapter 11
Elle
Troy was in the same parking lot before she even got out of class. He looked so cool in his leather jacket, his hair slicked back, as he watched people milling around him.
I wonder if it scares him to be around so many people without Roman? I should go to him. It's no good to make him suffer. She frowned, moving quickly towards him, but out of the corner of her eye she saw a face. A man's face, one that seemed vaguely familiar. When she looked for it in the crowd, there was no one there. No one she recognized, anyway.
“Hey,” he said. His face was paler than normal. “You look spooked. You alright?”
“Me?” She laughed. “I'm fine. Are you okay?”
He was about to protest, but then he stopped. “Not really. Being without Roman, in a crowd like this? It makes me uneasy.”
“Hey,” she said, her voice soft and her hand reaching to touch his cheek. “If you need me to text you when I'm out of class, so you don't have to wait, I can do that.”
“Nah. Saw my psychiatrist today. She told me I should start putting myself into uncomfortable situations like this. This is for the best.”
“If you say so.” She kissed him. When she leaned in, she again thought she saw a familiar face, but it was again gone when she looked.
“What is it?” He asked. Looking around the campus, she shook her head.
“Nothing. Just… a weird feeling. Come on, take me home so I can cook for you. I'm starving.” She rubbed her stomach, which growled just in time. They both laughed.
At home, Troy seemed agitated but he wouldn't tell her why. She hoped it wasn't because of the crowd, but if he needed space, she would give it to him. She flipped the burgers, which were coming along nicely, but then she felt faint. A wave of nausea passed over her as she bent forward, taking deep breaths.
Troy looked into the kitchen from the couch. “What's wrong?”
It passed, and Elle stood again, confused but otherwise fine. “Nothing, I just felt sick for a second. I think I'm just really hungry.”
“How much longer?” He asked, rubbing his stomach.
“They're basically done. Want to set the table for me?”
He gave her a lopsided grin. “Of course, dear,” he said in a teasing tone. She stuck out her tongue at him, then finished the burgers. The french fries in the oven were a nice golden brown color. They looked better than any oven fries she had ever made, thanks to his advice to brush them with olive oil and salt.
Seated at the table, Troy and Elle talked about the TV show they were watching. He seemed to really enjoy it, which was good because she liked it too. When she took a bite of her burger, it stuck in her mouth. “Ugh,” she said. “I have this weird metallic taste in the back of my mouth. Will you see if I'm bleeding?”
“Sure. Swallow and open up.” He stood, taking out his phone and turning on the flashlight mode.
She did, and he looked into her mouth. “Hmm. Nope, I don't see any blood. You might just need to brush your teeth or something.” Running his fingers over her lips, he made her shiver. Watching her react to him got him to smile.
“Maybe,” she said. She took another bite, which was also ruined by the taste of metal, but she forced herself through half of the burger before she received a text on her phone.
>
I still have those things. The ones you sent me. Does your boyfriend know?
Her blood ran cold. Setting down her burger, she read the text, and the phone number it came from. It was a local number, one that seemed familiar to her but she didn't know why.
When she thought about the message, though, it was pretty clear who it was from. She just didn't understand why he was bringing up the past. Why did he want to hurt her all over again?
She thought that part of her life was over. I guess I was wrong, she thought with a sinking feeling in her stomach.
“I'm really not feeling good,” she said, standing up. “I think I'm going to go… lay down. Or do some homework.”
“Do you want me to come up with you?” Troy asked.
“No. I'll be fine. I just feel overwhelmed. With classes and everything. You should go out and do something.”
“Are you sure? I thought we could have a night in.”
She nodded. “I'm sure. Go to the gym or hang out with those gym friends of yours.” She tried to smile, but she wasn't confident that it came across as very reassuring. “I should really do my homework, anyway. I can't fall behind on it. When you come home, you can cuddle with me until we fall asleep. Okay?”
He didn't look so sure. “If you say so. Text or call me if you start to feel worse. I'll take you to the ER if I have to, okay?”
She nodded, throwing away her burger and setting her plate in the sink. “I know. I'll tell you if I feel worse.”
She climbed the stairs and went into her bedroom, leaning over and clutching her chest. What am I going to do? This was never supposed to come back… I thought he was gone!
Taking out her phone, she texted the number back.
What do you want?
Her phone chimed with another text.
I want you to suffer.
Elle felt, then, that she was about to be pulled into something bad. She didn't want her past to be trudged up, not when she was finally getting to know and starting to like Troy.
I'll do anything. Just tell me how I can get you to not release those photos.
She waited for the answer. It took longer than expected to arrive.
I'll consider it. Keep your phone on. And if you take this to anyone else, the world finds out exactly what you really are.
Troy
Gentle night. Deep shadows. A clock that read 4:32 AM. The sound of a doorbell still ringing in his ears. Elle didn't stir.
She really was a very deep sleeper.
The doorbell did not ring again, but he knew that if he didn't check it he would not be able to sleep. Whoever was ringing doorbells at 4 AM was up to no good. Maybe it was someone drunk and lost, or maybe it was someone seeing if a house could easily be broken into.
Either way, Troy looked around Elle's room for a weapon. She had an aluminum baseball bat leaning against her dresser, which she had told him a few days ago belonged to her mother.
He picked up the bat and carried it with him, holding it tight in one hand. Roman followed close behind him as he crept down the stairs, hoping that whoever it was had not yet decided to try and enter the house.
All was silent but the creek of the hardwood floor as he crossed it.
Peering through the lace that covered the front door, he saw no one. The front gate was still shut tight, blocking someone from easily getting in through the front. He was about to go check the back when he saw it.
A small box, on the porch in front of the gate. It was wrapped with something organic, straw maybe. There was a tag upon the box, as well, but in the dark Troy could not read it.
He opened the door, and then the gate, quickly grabbing the package in case it was a trap to lure him out. The gate locked behind him, and then he locked the front door again as he carried the package, wrapped like a gift, inside the house.
If he was being honest, he was scare shitless of whatever was inside the box. The tag read For the man of the house. He couldn't think of anyone that was near Arizona that might want to hurt him. No doubt Jack was already back home, and while he punched hard and the guy was scum, he wasn't the sort of person to play mind games. He wasn't smart enough to mess with psychological fear.
I must be the man of the house, he reasoned. Unless they mean Elle's dead father, which I doubt. He inspected the box. Perfectly square, wrapped in plain brown paper.
God, I hope it's not a still beating heart.
Undoing the organic ribbon, and then unfolding the paper, he found something like a square shoebox. The top opened easily, thankfully not revealing a heart or any other body part.
It only revealed photos. A lot of photos. Each one of Elle, but they were cut short, just below her shoulders. She looked young, too young, and her shoulders were bare.
Whatever the box was, whatever it was supposed to mean, it couldn't be anything good. I can't let Elle see this. She'll freak out. I don't know if these photos were stolen from her or taken without her knowledge.
Many of the photos looked like selfies. Nude selfies somehow seemed extremely unlike Elle, but considering her age, there was no saying how much she could have changed since they were taken. Each photo he looked at convinced him further that whatever was cut off was not meant to be shared with anyone other than the person that received them.
“What did that girl get herself into?” She didn't look any older than her yearbook photo. Her hair had been bleached and then dyed a lavender color, but it was undeniably her. It was undeniably her, nude. Who had she sent the photos to?
Carrying the box into the hallway, he hid it behind the pile of blankets until he could think of something to do with them. While he hoped that whoever left the photos on the porch was finished with whatever game they thought they were playing, Troy doubted it was over.
Eventually, he would have to tell Elle about it. Just, not yet. Not when she was already so stressed, and definitely not at that hour. He would find the right time.
He went back upstairs, his stomach twisted into knots. The feeling only got worse when he saw that Elle wasn't in bed. Then he heard the retching in the bathroom.
Looking in, he saw that she was puking. Roman whined behind him. “Oh, Elle. You must have eaten something bad.”
“I barely,” she retched again. “Had anything at all.”
“Maybe it was the burger. Or the flu.” He took her hair and held it away from her face, stopping it from getting caught in her sick. He stayed with her as she was dry heaving, having nothing left to throw up, then handed her a hand towel from next to the shower. “Feeling any better?”
She shook her head. “I just feel so sick. I don't know how I'm going to work tomorrow.”
“Skip it?” He suggested.
“I can't! The head librarian, she'll kill me. I'm already on thin ice.”
“Elle,” he said, taking her by the shoulders. She looked so frail, so thin. There were dark, painful circle under her eyes. “If you're sick, you have to take care of your health. You don't need to work yourself to the bone anymore. Please call in. Do you really need that job at the library?”
She nodded, but then shook her head. “Not really. I don't need a practicum this early into my schooling. I just thought the experience would make things easier.”
“You should call in. If she fires you, or gives you crap, then don't sweat it. We can find you a library nearby that won't make your life hell. Okay?”
She nodded. “I should call now, and leave a message. In case I wake up late.”
“Good idea.” He held her hand and led her to the bedroom, where he watched her dial the number and cringe through the message. It was a problem they would deal with tomorrow. Once she hung up, he took her in his arms and gently laid her on the bed, pushing the hair from her face.
“I'm here. Wake me up if you need me, or feel sick again. Okay?”
“Okay,” she said. He kissed her cheek (though he wanted to kiss her lips) and wrapped his arms around her, holding the woman he was coming to truly love close
to his body. He was confused about the photos, confused about her illness, but he was not confused about her.
Chapter 12
Elle
There were few things more excruciating for Elle than waiting for phone calls. When those calls were undoubtedly going to go poorly, well, that only made matters worse. She had just woken up, feeling fine but still encouraged by Troy to stay home, and was sitting on the couch while he made her soup.
Her phone was in front of her, face up, on the coffee table. The ringer was on the highest setting. Her nerves were fried. When the phone finally lit up, she jumped up and scrambled for the phone, dropping it on the floor in the process.
She inspected it quickly (no cracks) before she swiped her finger across the screen to answer it. “Hello?” She said, then cleared her throat. “Um, sorry, this is Elle speaking.”
“Elle. Good to hear from you. Look, my dear, I know that things just come up sometimes, but this is so soon after the last time you changed plans on me.”
Troy poked his head out, listening in on the call with eyebrows raised. “I know. I woke up with really bad nausea, and –”
“There really is no excuse. I told you I need two weeks notice.”
Was the head librarian really going to be this petty and ridiculous? “You have to be kidding.”
“I'm afraid not, dear. Your mother would be so disappointed with how flaky and untrustworthy you turned out to be.”
That was it. She was ready to scream, but she steadied her voice. “You're going to make a mockery of my mother's memory to me, over the phone, because I can't give you two weeks notice about my being sick?” An angry laugh forced its way out of her. Elle didn't like how it sounded, but it got the job done.
“Well,” the librarian started, but Elle cut her off.
“No, you listen to me.” Her voice was low, dangerous. “I quit. But not only do I quit, I quit with a promise to you: I will tell everyone I know, and more importantly everyone that you rely on for donations, about how you've treated me. I'll put it up online. I'll tell them in person. And I will make sure that they all know you treat your students so poorly, to feed your old lady ego. How dare you talk about my mother, as if she would be ashamed of me. The only thing she would be ashamed of is that I let you treat me so poorly for so long.”