Shelter Me

by Mina Bennett

  I slumped back in my seat, hot tears of frustration sliding down my cheeks. Every time I tried to talk to him, he twisted every word to mean something completely different than what I said. If I wanted even the smallest amount of consideration, I was asking for "everything to be about me." If I wanted to be treated with respect, I didn't "trust his judgment."

  I knew things were uneven between us. I'd always known, from the beginning. He didn't need to point it out. I felt bad enough already, like I was just another obligation and drain on his energy that he didn't need.

  It wasn't supposed to feel like this, was it?

  A sick feeling was growing in the pit of my stomach. It was something I'd known all along, something I had been deliberately ignoring because...

  Because if I didn't have Mark, what did I have?

  I was going to be a burden to someone, no matter what happened. But at least with Mark there was less baggage. Or there used to be. At least with him, I could feel like I was earning my keep. Going back to my family would feel like the worst possible defeat. But at least that was the devil I knew.

  Was I really sitting here in the car next to my husband thinking about leaving him? What was wrong with me? He'd left me on the dance floor, not a war zone. There was absolutely no excuse for me to act like a child.

  So I was unhappy. So what? This was life. Nothing would make me happy until I got to Heaven, at least that was what my mom always told me. I was starting to think she was right. As a little girl, of course I'd dreamed of marrying a husband who would make me feel loved and wanted and make all my dreams come true. But what I had was this, instead - a disappointing reality, but at least it was real. At least with him, I could clean his house and pack his lunches and submit to his insistent pawing in bed. I'd feel less guilty about existing.

  Wouldn't I?

  "I'm sorry," I said, finally. "I don't mean to start a fight. But next time, maybe you could wait until the song is over?"

  "Oh, for..." He glanced at me. "Are you still harping on that?"

  We didn't talk for the rest of the drive home.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Jacob

  I was digging around in the fridge for a snack when my dad suddenly cleared his throat.

  Turning around slowly, I shut the door behind me.

  "Yes?" I said.

  He looked deeply uncomfortable, sitting there at the table with his elbows resting on his placemat. "Your mother says I'm supposed to have a talk with you. Lily, your...friend." He paused, like maybe he thought he should backtrack and pick a different word, but then plowed forward instead. "You two have been dating for a while now."

  "Courting," I said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. "Technically."

  He shrugged. "What's the difference?"

  "Well, courting is more...marriage-focused. You know." I could feel my ears starting to burn. Sitting in front of my dad, talking about marriage, for crying out loud, made me feel like a stupid overgrown kid.

  "All right," he said. "Well. How do you feel about the whole situation?"

  "Good," I said, automatically.

  My dad nodded, slowly. I wasn't making this easy for him, but this was the absolute last thing I wanted to talk about right now. Since going to Curtis and Madeline's wedding, Lily had been...different. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something about it had obviously changed her perspective.

  Now, the only topic of discussion she seemed interested in was college applications. I knew it was weighing heavily on her mind, but she talked about nothing else - the GPA policy here, the makeup of the student body there, endlessly weighing her options without pausing for my input. Not that I had any, but still.

  "She seems pretty distracted right now," I said, at last. "You know. College stuff."

  "Is she going out of state?"

  "Probably not. She's applying to a few places, but they're a reach. She'll probably end up somewhere close by."

  "So, you can keep seeing each other," my dad said. "If you want to."

  "Yeah." I pretended to be focused intently on a take-out menu sitting in the middle of the table.

  The truth was, I knew something was wrong. What we were doing - whatever it was - it wasn't what "courting" was supposed to be. We didn't have the spark. We never had, regardless of how Lily felt about me, or said she felt. She'd moved on. Or maybe she was never there in the first place.

  And me? Well, I already knew the sad truth about my feelings. But I certainly wasn't going to admit to my dad that I was still hung up on Marissa freaking Moore.

  "Do you feel like the relationship is heading towards marriage?"

  I could feel my dad's eyes boring into me. "I don't...I don't know," I said. "To be honest, I don't feel ready to make that call."

  He was nodding, I could see out of the corner of my eye. "That's a relief," he said.

  "Okay," I said, laughing a little. "What, did you think I was about to rush into marriage with this girl? Does that sound like me?"

  My dad shrugged. "Love makes people do strange things, sometimes." He cleared his throat. "And lust."

  "Hey dad, do me a favor." I stood up, pushing my chair in. "Never, ever say the word 'lust' in front of me again."

  "Sounds good to me." He smiled, standing up and going to the cabinet. "I just want you to know that if you ever need any advice, you can always ask me."

  "Sure," I said. "Thanks, Dad."

  The problem was, if I asked for his advice in the area where I most needed it, I had an idea of what he might tell me. And I wasn't going to like it.

  ***

  I felt my phone buzzing in my pocket three hours into my shift at work, while I was expounding on the virtues of digital cameras to a very nice elderly couple who couldn't find any place to develop their film anymore. After I sent them on their way with a brand new Canon, I eagerly checked for a call from the bank, but it was just another robo-call from the scam job posting.

  "Still nothing?" Mr. Harris looked at me sympathetically. I'd told him about my loan application, because I couldn't stand keeping it quiet from everyone anymore. I hadn't even told my parents yet - if it fell through, I wanted to deal with the disappointment on my own.

  "Nah, I was supposed to hear back by the end of the week, but I'm guessing that window's closed now."

  "Well, why don't you just call them? There's no harm in asking. Did he give you some kind of reference number? You probably don't even need to talk to the officer directly, anybody who works in loans should be able to pull it up and tell you if you got approved." He handed me a pricing gun.

  "Oh, yeah - I didn't think of that. I'll call them on Monday."

  "I'm sure it'll go through," said Mr. Harris, smiling. "They'd be crazy to turn you down."

  "Yeah, well, let's hope they feel the same way."

  I spent the rest of the weekend at work, mostly, which was a welcome distraction. By the time Monday morning rolled around, all the suppressed nerves exploded in a jangling mess. I was positively jittery as I dialed the bank.

  "Please hold," said the receptionist, when I said I needed to inquire about the status of a loan.

  "Loans, this is Kimberley," another voice cut in. "Do you have a reference number?"

  I read it off to her.

  "Jacob Warren?"

  "Yes."

  "It says here the status of your loan is rejected." She said it very matter-of-factly, like she was informing me of the weather.

  My throat went very dry. "Does it...does it say anything about why?"

  "There's no notes on the file, sir."

  I took a deep breath. "Is there any way for me to find out..."

  "If you like, sir, I can put you in touch with the officer who took the application -"

  "No thank you," I said. "I know who it is."

  I flopped down on the bed, letting the phone fall out of my hand and clatter to the floor. In a way, I'd expected this, but it still felt like heartbreak. If I couldn't get a loan at a local bank where I actually
knew the guy seeing my presentation, what chance did I have anywhere else? It was stupid to think that a kid with no experience could start a business. I didn't have it in me. I never would.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Marissa

  "Love you, see you tonight." Mark planted a kiss on my cheek. "Don't get into any trouble while I'm gone."

  I smiled at what I assumed was supposed to be a joke, and waved as he pulled out of the driveway and disappeared.

  It was a lovely fall day, crisp and cool. The beginnings of the winter chill hadn't settled in yet. After I cleaned up the kitchen from breakfast, watching two squirrels fight in the side yard, I made a spur-of-the-moment decision to go for a walk.

  As I tied my sneakers, I tried to remember if I'd ever gone on walk alone before. To and from school, my sisters were always there to escort me. And of course, the family occasionally went on little jaunts together, but I was never allowed out of their sight.

  Stepping out onto the porch, I took a long, deep breath of fresh air, holding it until my lungs hurt. I let it out with a smile. This was it. This was my life now. For all the...minor difficulties I might have with Mark, during the days when he went to work or school, I was free.

  I relished the crunching sound of the leaves beneath my feet as I made my way down the sidewalk. Aside from that, the only noise was the chattering of the squirrels, and the occasional bird chirping. As I rounded the corner, I heard the rhythmic swish, swish of someone raking their lawn.

  The fall was beautiful, but I was already feeling anxious for spring. As soon as the frosts started to wane, I was going to start some sprouts inside for a vegetable garden. Some pea pods and tomatoes, and lettuce if I could manage to keep the rabbits out of it. Some herbs, too. Basil, rosemary, marjoram and thyme. Oh, and a mint bush!

  But in the meantime, I was content to just enjoy the orange and golden hues of the fall. All those leaves would make a beautiful mulch in the backyard for my springtime planting.

  As I approached a stop sign at one of the intersections, I heard the low growl of a car coming up behind me. It crawled forward gradually, approaching the sign at a snail's pace. I glanced over my shoulder for just long enough to see that it was a black SUV, and the driver was wearing sunglasses. Well - maybe there was a glare. Even so, I felt an uncomfortable sensation at the base of my spine. Why was he driving so slowly?

  He finally got to the white line, and came to a complete stop. And waited. And waited. Did he think I was going to cross? I rounded the next corner quickly, sticking to the sidewalk and praying he'd just keep going straight.

  He turned.

  The sound of his engine close behind me was unmistakable. Even as my heart started thudding in my chest, I forced myself to think straight. It had to be a coincidence. He was lost, or he was looking for a house number, and it just happened to be in the same direction I was walking.

  I passed two more streets, and he was still behind me. I considered going up to a random house and knocking just to see if they'd let me in, to get away from him, but then I scolded myself for overreacting. That was silly. What was the worst that could happen to me on a quiet, suburban street?

  Very quiet.

  I forced myself to keep walking, for what felt like ages. As each street passed, I kept telling myself he'd turn, or stop, or pull over, or do something to indicate that he wasn't actually tailing me. But he never did.

  So that was it. I was being followed.

  Up ahead, I saw the source of the swishing sound - a woman on her lawn, probably thirty-something, but I didn't recognize her from church. I felt a flood of relief as I hurried towards her. I didn't know what I was going to do or say, but any distraction from the car was a welcome one.

  She was across the street, so I quickened my pace a little to get in front of the car and then began to cross. As I did so, he slowed to a halt, and I risked looking right at him.

  With his sunglasses, it was impossible to tell if he reacted at all. But he must have seen it in my face. I was onto him.

  I made a point of looking at his license plate and mouthing it, repeating it to myself in my head over and over so I'd be sure to remember. Why hadn't I brought my phone? What was I thinking?

  I hurried towards the woman raking. She looked up as she heard me approaching, smiling a polite smile and then looking away.

  No, I needed more than that.

  "Hey," I said, a little more loudly than necessary.

  "Hi there," she said, with another brief smile.

  "Nice weather we're having, huh?"

  "Sure is." She squinted at me, then at the car. With a sudden roar, it accelerated and quickly disappeared down the street.

  "I'm sorry," I said, quickly, stepping closer and lowering my voice as if the driver could have somehow heard me. "That car, it's been following me for a while now. I live down the street. He was really freaking me out."

  She frowned, laying down her rake. "Jesus, that's creepy. You want to come inside? Use my phone?"

  I shook my head, wrapping my arms around myself. "It's okay. I'll...I remember his license plate. I'm going to tell my husband about it later."

  "You should tell the police," she said. "Just so they can have it on record. You never know."

  "I guess." Now that the SUV was gone, the peaceful quiet had returned. "I think I'm just going to head back home."

  "God. It's fucking ridiculous you can't just take a walk on a nice day without getting the shit scared out of you." She was fuming. "Hey - let me drive you home. Just in case."

  "No thanks. I think he's gone." I wasn't sure, actually, but I didn't feel comfortable taking advantage of her kindness.

  "Are you sure? You don't want to at least come inside for a while?"

  "I'm positive," I said, smiling bravely. "Thank you so much."

  "All right, well, be careful."

  She waved as I hurried back across the street and started back home. I wasn't really used to hanging around people who talked like she did. If there'd been any doubt in my mind that she wasn't a regular at Eternal Grace, there certainly wasn't now. One of the first things we were taught in Sunday school was that it was disrespectful to curse, and blasphemous to take the Lord's name in vain. Ever since I was a kid, I'd absolutely hated it when I heard people using coarse language. It always meant that my dad was going to launch into one of his exceedingly uncomfortable Talks during dinner, reminding us all of the right way to speak. And that was the best case scenario. If it was particularly egregious in his eyes, he'd actually go out of his way to confront the person face to face. I'd lost count of how many times I'd heard "don't you know there are children present?"

  Even though I knew he just wanted to protect us, it still made my ears burn every time.

  They were, after all, as one particularly mouthy store clerk had once pointed out - just words.

  I heard a car engine revving in the distance, and my heart leapt into my throat again. I quickened my pace. It wasn't him again, it was someone else. It had to be. He was gone.

  I kept my eyes on the sidewalk and just kept moving. The noise was growing closer and I could hear that the driver was slowing down.

  No. No. No.

  My eyes darted up to the street in front of me, to make sure it was safe to cross. I caught a reflection in someone's picture window.

  It was him again. It was the black SUV.

  I felt like I wanted to throw up.

  Instead, I broke into a run.

  My lungs were burning by the time I saw my front door. I charged inside so fast I tripped over the threshold, running to the living room and drawing all the blinds as fast as I could. He idled outside for a while, as I sat curled up on the floor, staring at him through the slats. Then, finally, his engine revved and he was gone.

  Shaking, I got to my feet and went in search of my phone. I couldn't even remember where I'd left it. By the time I finally remembered it was on my bedside table still, I felt sick again. My throat was dry, but I couldn't stand th
e thought of swallowing even a little bit of water. My stomach felt like a clenched fist.

  I called Mark, forcing myself to breathe steadily.

  His phone just rang and rang. I hung up and tried a few more times, then finally gave up and let it go to voicemail.

  "Mark, it's...it's me...I just went out for a walk, to get some fresh air, and this car was following me. It was a big black SUV and I don't know who was driving it, he was wearing sunglasses, the license plate number I...I have it...I remember it...I don't know what to do. I don't want to call the police but I'm scared. After I got home, he stayed outside for a while just staring at the house. He knows where I live now. I shouldn't have gone home but I didn't know what else to do. Can you please just get back here? I'm really...I'm really scared. It might be stupid but I'm scared."

  I spent the rest of the day hovering by the covered windows, peeking out when I dared. I kept checking my phone to make sure I wasn't missing a call back, but he must have forgotten to turn his phone back on after class. The sick feeling kept on roiling in my stomach, and I couldn't sit still for more than a few seconds.

  When I finally saw Mark's car approaching from down the road, I felt a flood of relief. I waited anxiously by the door as he came in, absently planting a kiss on my cheek and dropping the contents of his pockets on the hall table. He brushed past me so quickly that I didn't even have time to gather my thoughts enough to speak.

  "Mark, I -"

  He cut me off with a gesture, walking towards the living room without slowing his pace. "Mari, sweetie, I love you, but I just need to unwind for a minute. You wouldn't believe my day."

  I stood stunned for a moment. A flashing light caught my attention out of the corner of my eye, and I realized it was a notification on Mark's phone that he'd thrown on the table. I picked it up. So it wasn't turned off - had he just not gotten my message?

  No, no, I wasn't going to let him cow me. I walked into the living room with as much courage as I could muster, not stopping until I was standing just a few inches from him.