by T. J. Jones
Jenny sat on the couch next to her mother, watching some inane game show. When Callie came in she bounced up and they climbed the stairs to her room. Her face had healed and the bruise was barely noticeable.
"Why didn't you come to school Jen, you could have covered that with a little concealer."
"I'm lazy. And I didn't want to see Greg. I know, he's an asshole, but if I see him I might cave and forgive him right away. He keeps texting me, apologizing."
"Everybody in school knows he hit you." Callie held up her hands when Jenny started to react. "He started some shit with me and there was some yelling. I didn't tell the cops, that's all I agreed to. He wants you to forgive him so everyone else will. I say, to hell with him. Don't you dare let that shithead touch you again. Promise me."
"I can't do that, because I might. If I break my promise, that would be lying, and you don't lie to the people you love, right?" Callie felt a flash of guilt, and wondered if the redhead knew, as her mother had said, if this was a hint. But then Jenny leaned forward and kissed Callie gently on the corner of the mouth. It lasted an uncomfortably long time, and Callie ached to return the kiss. Jenny leaned back, smiling. "Thank you for being here for me Callie. I wish I could say I won't be stupid like that again, but if I am, I know you'll have my back."
"Always, Jen. I love you very much." Easy to say that, to Jenny. She nearly did it right then, told her everything. She wanted to tell Jenny that there had never been a secret boyfriend, that she loved her in more ways than she had thought possible. It seemed like the perfect moment, tell her, kiss her, take her away from that bastard Greg, but she held back. She wasn't afraid of rejection, she wasn't sure at all that she would be rejected. But she couldn't stop the nagging fear in the back of her mind, the thought that she might hurt Jenny, far worse than Greg had, though she couldn't imagine how. "I love you lots, Jen," She repeated.
Chapter 7
"I can't believe the shit I do for you." Travis said to Callie as they pulled up to Abby's house the next night. "I barely know Mrs. Cooper and I don't get why she'd want us coming over for supper, right after her husband gets back from Afghanistan. You'd think they'd be busy doing it, not having supper with us. The guy probably wants to make up for lost time, especially with a wife like that."
"Just be nice Chester. Abby and I are friends, kind of, she's really been helping me with my painting. She's freaking out and I guess they're having trouble, like with their marriage and shit, so just turn on the cowboy charm, it'll be fine."
"Yeah, right. I hope the food is good." He grumbled. They knocked on the door and Callie slipped her hand into the crook of Travis's arm. "What's up with that?" He asked glancing down.
"You're my boyfriend for tonight." Abby opened the door for them, smiling, though Callie could see that it was forced.
"Come on in. Travis, I'm glad you could come too, Davis wouldn't like being outnumbered by us girls." Callie and Travis kicked their shoes off onto the tile entry with the other pairs that were lined up there. Callie stared down at the huge camo combat boots, sitting off to one side. Her dream came crashing back into her head. She felt suddenly hot and breathless, and pulled her jacket off quickly, trying to distract herself from the sudden wave of dread and nausea that overtook her. Abby turned her head, calling toward the spare bedroom.
"Davis, our company is here." Callie and Travis stood awkwardly for a moment, not sure if they should sit right away, or wait for the man. He walked into the room quietly, and Callie knew with one look. One of the voices in her dream, one of the sets of boots, and the fatigue pants that belonged to the soldiers without faces, one of them, was this man. She felt it like a punch in the gut that took her breath away and made her want to run screaming from the house. She stared at Davis, unconsciously pulling Travis a little closer.
Davis Cooper wore Army fatigue pants, presumably a new pair, since they were clean and looked to have a crease in the front. He had on a white tee shirt that had stretched a little to fit his frame. He was easily six foot-four or five, and Callie guessed that he probably weighed as much as she and Chester put together. There didn't appear to be an ounce of fat on the man, but he didn't look like the jocks at school that lifted weights to try and impress each other. He just looked, big. His dark hair was short, and his eyes were a darker shade of blue than Callie's. He didn't smile as he took the few steps toward them. Callie saw his eyes flick in her direction, slipping quickly up her body to her face. His eyes locked onto her face, then settled on her eyes, staring openly into them. Callie held his gaze, waiting for him to look away, like everyone did. When it didn't happen, she finally looked down herself, seeking to grasp the huge hand that he stretched out to her. She thought about when her father had held her hand when she was five, how her tiny hand had disappeared in his. But she never imagined that he might crush it, the way she imagined Davis doing so now. His touch sent a shock through her and another wave of nausea as she thought about that river of blood. He shook her hand briefly, then turned to Travis and smiled slightly, nodding as Abby introduced them.
"Davis, this is Callie, Cal, I like to call her. And her friend Travis." The nickname wasn't lost on Davis, Callie saw him shift his gaze quickly back to her.
"Holy crap!" Travis grinned, looking up at Davis. "You are one big dude. I'm guessing nobody over there gives you too much shit, huh?" Davis frowned a little, looking over Travis's head at the wall beyond.
"It's nice to meet you and everything, but let's not talk about over there, okay. You have no idea what it's like, and I'm not going to try to explain it to you."
"Cal," Abby said again, pointedly. "Callie, why don't you and the boys sit down while I put stuff on the table."
They sat on the couch, trying to make small talk. It seemed obvious that Davis didn't want to be there anymore than Callie, but Travis tried to make the best of it. He quizzed Davis about Army life in general, avoiding the details of the war, and told him that he had thought about joining up, as a way to pay for college if his Dad refused to help him.
"Don't kid, nothing you hear from the recruiters is true, they'll fuck you over. Maybe, if you're just in the Air Force, or enlist in the Navy, do a few years, then start your life. I'm in it for the long haul now. I'm gone too much, training and deployment, to have a life or keep my family together, or expect my wife to be faithful." His voice had dropped and he glowered in Abby's direction. "Who knows what they do when we're gone, and you can't blame them I guess."
"I'm sure it gets hard, being away that long." Travis glanced at Callie, eyes pleading for help in getting the conversation back from the dark turn. She tried.
"Your wife is a wonderful art teacher, Mr. Cooper. She's convinced me that I should pursue art as a career. She really cares about her students." Davis stared at her for a moment and grunted, sitting back in his chair, seemingly lost in thought. Travis glanced quickly at Callie, lost for anything more to say, and they sat awkwardly like that for a few minutes. Callie studied the big man's face, trying to discern anything that would tell her what he was thinking. He struck her as cold and detached, not a person who deserved the warm touch of her lover. The memory of her dream circled repeatedly through her head and she knew that somehow, she had to protect Abby from this man, get him out of her life.
Dinner didn't go much better. Abby talked about school and her plans for the Art department, since it seemed her aunt wouldn't be coming back. But Davis retreated into himself, only talking when he had to, staring down at his plate much of the time. He reminded Abby that he would take her to work in the morning, because he needed the car, then stood and went into his bedroom without another word. They sat eating the last of their desert. Abby wiped at her cheeks as tears started to trickle down them, and apologized quietly. "He's worse than last time. God knows what he went through over there."
"Maybe it'll be okay, Mrs. Cooper, maybe it'll just take some time." Travis tried.
"Are you sure, you're okay here, with him?" Callie couldn't shake the feelin
g of dread that kept pushing on her chest, making it hard to breath.
"He would never hurt me Callie, that's the only thing I'm sure of. He used to be so sweet and funny. That isn't the Davis I fell in love with, I don't know if I can ever get him back. You kids better go, if he thinks we're talking about him he'll get pissed."
"I sure as hell don't want to see that." Travis nodded. Callie hugged Abby for as long as she dared and they said goodnight. They walked out to Callie's car, subdued. "Geez Callie, I want to thank you for a fun filled evening." Travis quipped.
"Damn Chester, here I spend a nice night with you and you have to get sarcastic on me. See why I don't want to get romantic with you? It all can turn to shit in a hurry. I hope she's going to be alright with that lunatic."
"Dude needs some help, Callie, the war and all that shit just screwed him up."
"Maybe. I just really like Abby, I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to her." They drove in silence the three miles out on the gravel roads that led to the old Olsen place where Travis and his Dad had taken up residence. Callie put the car in park. "Thanks Chester, for going with me, bad as it was, it would have been worse if you weren't there." He leaned across so suddenly that Callie didn't have time to pull away, and kissed her softly on the mouth. Against her better judgement, she kissed him back. It wasn't horrible, his lips were soft and he must have shaved recently, she felt no stubble. But she felt nothing else, no stirring, no interest in doing it again. She knew he sensed that. She leaned away from him, pushing him gently back to his side of the car. "Chester, come on. I told you, just buddies."
"Callie, I get that's all you want, and I know I'm no prize, or good looking, but God! We get along great, we have fun and shit, right?" Callie ached to tell him why she would reject him, that it wasn't him, it was her, when for once that would be true. But the timing was bad, she had to wait until after graduation, until she was nearly ready to leave town, just in case. She couldn't risk him, or anyone but her parents knowing she was gay, and possibly putting her and Abby together, not now especially. Not if things went the way she planned.
"Travis, it's not that, I really like you. I don't know, maybe someday, maybe if we both go to the Cities for school, but not now. I've just got some shit going on, okay? Please don't be pissed at me? Please?"
"Yeah right, it's okay, I'll just keep hanging around. I'm really enjoying all of this imaginary sex I keep telling the guys about."
"Just don't be mad at me, okay? You can tell them anything you want. Tell them I'm super kinky and that I made you tie me up, or something ridiculous like that."
"I told them that last week, I'm going to have to make up something better. How do you feel about being spanked?"
Callie laughed and drove away, checking the time. She drove home, locked her car, and went to her room. She loaded fresh paper in her printer and typed out a brief letter, printed it, then folded it and put it in a plain envelope. She went to bed, tossing and turning, afraid to sleep, afraid to dream.
At seven thirty the next morning, Callie parked her car at the Super Value, two blocks from Abby's house. She walked to the Cooper's and stood shivering for twenty minutes in the cold morning air, hidden behind the corner of their neighbor's garage. She watched as Abby's car backed out of the garage and drove off in the direction of the school. She made sure that they were both in the car, Davis driving, Abby riding, and waited until they were out of sight to approach the house. Then she calmly walked up to the front door and dropped her letter into the slot, turned, walked quickly back to her car, and drove to school.
Callie stopped to see her teacher before classes started. She was sure that she had done the right thing. Davis needed to find the letter and go full on bat shit, then Abby would see that she had to end the marriage. Callie was sure that he was one of the soldiers she had seen in her dreams, and that he had done unspeakable things in that war, under that giant rock. He didn't deserve to be with Abby. She needed to be with someone safe, like Callie, at least for a few more months. Callie told herself she had done what needed to be done, for Abby, not for herself. But she needed to talk to the woman, point her in the right direction. Abby was in her Art room, preparing for her first class. She eased into it, hoping Abby would take the conversation where she wanted it to go.
"Davis was, kind of nice. We probably got him worked up. Stupid Chester wouldn't shut up about the military and it kind of went to hell after that."
"I don't see how things are ever going to work out, Cal. He just gets weirder, and more withdrawn all the time. He hides in the spare bedroom, like last night, and doesn't come out. He's got three weeks leave, I don't know if I can stand it for that long, the way he is now."
"Sorry Abby, maybe you just have to give it up. I mean, I'm not the most objective person in this deal, but he is pretty fucked up. I don't see how you're going to make it work, and I'm worried about you, what if he goes full on postal, and starts shooting people?"
"I'm not worried about that, Cal. He says he still loves me, that he wants us to be together, and I know I should want that. But all I want is you."
"I want that too, I know I haven't been good at saying it. I thought I could handle this, but I can't imagine losing you."
"I just don't know how to sit him down, and say thank you for your service, Davis, by the way I want a divorce because I'm in love with a high school girl."
"Yeah, I wouldn't do that. But you deserve to be happy Abby." Callie left, less sure than before that she had done the right thing. Perhaps what Davis had become wasn't his fault, but it always came back to her dream, and the cruelty of men whose faces she couldn't see. She laughed to herself and thought about fate, that improbable force that sent good people away to become the monsters in her dreams. If there was such a force, which she doubted, she had given it a pretty good push.
Chapter 8
Tuesday morning, the school was rocked by the news, shaken by rumors of scandal. Abby Cooper's husband had found out about the affair she was having with Greg Johnson, and it hadn't gone well for Greg. He was in the hospital, and Davis Cooper was safely locked in the county jail. The Art teacher was on leave, pending an investigation by the police and the school board. The court of public opinion and most of the high school had decided that Abby must have been banging the Johnson kid and Lieutenant Cooper hadn't taken kindly to it. Everybody knew that Abby was a lonely Army wife and that Greg was a lady's man who was in her Art class, it all added up. Callie knew better, but she wasn't about to volunteer an explanation. It appeared that her plan had worked even better than she had anticipated.
She had thrown Greg's name into it at the last minute. She needed a flesh and blood threat to get Davis riled up. She had provided the name of Greg's family's gas station, hoping that Davis might show up and scare the shit out of the little prick, but this seemed even better. Beating the shit out of Greg herself would have been preferable, but this was a close second. He deserved it, after what he had done to Jenny, but she hadn't foreseen getting Abby in trouble. She knew there was no connection between Abby and Greg, no email trail, or any reason to think what everyone now thought. It seemed unlikely she'd be sent home without any proof, over a simple ass kicking. She texted Jenny, who was absent from school. When she didn't respond, Callie called her.
"Jenny, what the hell? I just heard about Greg. I can't believe that Abby was messing around with him, they sent her home, pending investigation. At least, that's what everybody's saying."
"It's bad Callie." Callie heard the girl crying, her voice cracking. "I guess her husband is big as a house, and he beat Greg with a tire iron, right in their garage at the gas station. A customer pulled in and caught him. The guy didn't even try to get away, he waited for the cops. Greg is still unconscious and he may have brain damage. I'm going over to try and see him."
"Oh my God, are you okay to drive? I can come over and take you to the hospital." Shit! An ass kicking was one thing, but brain damage?
"I can do it, I'll text
you when I know more. Pray for him, Callie."
"Sure, love you Jen, text me when you know something, and hang in there." Callie was very sure that God, if she believed in such a being, was not likely to help her out now. She skipped her first period and went to sit in her car, running over the mess she had made in her head. The whole thing seemed a lot more serious, suddenly. What had Davis told the police? Did they have the letter she had written? She had exchanged texts with Abby a few times, but they had made sure they sounded innocent, school related. She pulled her phone out and deleted the number she had added, Davis's number. She had thought about calling him from a prepaid phone, rather than leaving a note, but had decided against it, unsure if it could be traced back to her. She started her car and drove to the Walmart. She went in, bought a cheap printer, and drove back to her house. Fortunately, her mother wasn't home and she knew her Dad was at the hardware store. She set up the new printer and put the old one in the box. Then she drove to the hardware. Her father kept a small dumpster behind the store and she knew that garbage day was Thursday. She tossed the printer in and leaned in far enough to shift some trash around to cover it, then she drove back to her school. The odds of anything coming back to her were slim, but she was pretty sure that the letter she wrote could be traced to her old printer. She had seen that on reruns of cop shows. She thought about calling Abby, but decided to wait, just in case.
Callie sat through school, waiting for a text from Jenny or Abby, neither of which came. She kept mulling everything over in her head. The whole thing seemed to have gone as planned, right up to the point when Davis Cooper had picked up that tire iron. Perhaps Greg was tougher then he looked, or Davis was even more dangerous than she thought. Either way, she had never intended for anybody to end up in the hospital. But, Davis was just back from the war, he had overreacted to a bad situation, the law would go easy on him, she was sure of that. She had set things in motion with the letter implicating Greg, but she hadn't hit anyone with a tire iron, that wasn't supposed to happen. She turned it around in her head, and had almost convinced herself that she wasn't to blame, when Travis caught up with her.
