Easy

by Dahlia West

  “No. She’s my sister-in-law.”

  Sarah grinned at him.

  The doctor pulled up a chair and examined Easy’s prosthetic. “Is your socket hurting you?” he asked. “We’ve been through several already, but if this one’s not working we could try-”

  “No, this one’s good,” Easy told him. “A little numb for the long rides but not too bad. It’s the most comfortable so far.”

  The doctor nodded, checking the fit of the neoprene sleeve. “So, what are doing today?”

  Easy took a deep breath. Sarah squeezed his hand. “I think... I think I’m ready for a custom prosthetic.”

  Chapter 32

  Daisy woke just before the alarm clock kicked on. Three weeks of early mornings had turned her into an early bird, an irritated early bird who might peck out your eyes. She stumbled to the shower, hoping for hot water. Her mama got off work just as Daisy was going on, and Daisy was faced with either getting up even earlier to shower comfortably or dealing with cold water. Neither option was all that appealing.

  Joe was working her like a dog at the Silver Spoon, open to close five days a week. She was grateful, though, that he’d hired her back under the circumstances. And in case she wasn’t, Joe was quick to remind her that she should be. The pay was terrible, and the tips were at least as bad as she remembered. Worse, actually, since now they had the occasional ‘What does five bucks get me?’ written on the side, or similar.

  She waffled between taking it or telling them to shove it up their asses. But in the end, practicality won out. The sooner she had some money saved, the sooner she could leave again. At this rate, though, she’d need a second job to be able to afford it. Opportunities were scarce in Delay already and there weren’t enough hours in the day as it was.

  Matt had tried, without asking her, to get her a job at the processing plant. She was actually glad it hadn’t worked out, because the last thing she wanted was to feel beholden to the jerk. Her plan was to avoid Matt altogether until she blew town. With all her hours at the Spoon, and his hours at the plant, that actually seemed possible.

  She’d ditched her phone when she’d come to town. There was no one left that she wanted to speak to, and mama had been grateful for the upgrade. So grateful, in fact, that she let Daisy stay in her old room basically rent free, although Daisy had to do all the cooking and cleaning to compensate. That wasn’t too bad a deal, until Daisy realized that her mama had apparently done no cleaning at all, possibly in the entire time Daisy had been gone. By the time Daisy got through the mess, she’d likely be ready to move again.

  She washed her hair, toweled it dry, and threw on a pair of jean shorts that looked reasonably clean. Mama only let her borrow the car to take clothes to the laundromat just off Main Street, but Daisy couldn’t muster enough energy to go more than once a week. She pulled on her boots and headed out the door. Summer was scorching, but winter would be nice- at least it would be in Colorado. It would be as cold as Nebraska, she figured, but at least there would be more to do.

  She trudged out of Vista Valley and down Main Street toward town. It was a decent walk over the train tracks, a little shorter than her daily trek to Maria’s had been. She frowned, not wanting to think about it. She could have made a good life for herself in Rapid City, but she could do that in Denver, too. She crossed the street and opened the door to the Silver. Grease hung thick in the air, and though Joe had banned smoking in the place almost ten years ago, it seemed that the smell of smoke would never truly go away.

  She pulled her apron out from the shelf behind the counter and tied it on. Before she even finished, Cole Barton barked out, “Coffee!” as he came through the door.

  Daisy refrained from rolling her eyes as she poured him a cup. The good Christian people of Delay, Nebraska had never treated her very well, even before she left. Things had only gotten worse since she’d returned. Tips were bad, even dismal. Last week someone left her a sermon instead of cash.

  The farmers and plant workers filtered in, and Joe was too busy to yell at her, so that was something at least. Being busy helped fill the hours, if not her wallet, though the lulls between meals were brutal in their boringness. Daisy wiped down the tables and the counter, while Joe grudgingly fired her up a burger.

  She slid onto the last stool at the counter, in the corner and out of the way then set down her plate and her travel guide in front of her. She was only allowed to read on breaks, but she was grateful for the distraction. She didn’t make it to the end of the chapter before the bell above the door jingled again. She sighed and pushed her half-eaten cheeseburger away with one hand and closed the book with the other.

  She got off the stool, took a step forward, and almost collided with the man who’d come up behind her. He had black motorcycle boots, dark blue jeans, a gray t-shirt, and a face she recognized. She nearly stumbled back and used the stool behind her to keep herself from falling. She ran a hand over her still damp hair and cursed herself or maybe him. It was hard to be sure.

  “What do you want?” she snapped.

  The air seemed to vibrate around them, or maybe it was just her, shaking from anger. Easy moved forward, skirting her, and sat down on a stool as she watched in disbelief.

  “I said what-”

  “The usual,” he said. “Cheeseburger, fries, and a Coke.”

  Daisy didn’t move, she only blinked at him.

  “Delilah!” Joe shouted and she jumped.

  She moved behind the counter to get him his Coke. Joe was trying to figure out how a man he’d never laid eyes on before today had a usual, but he slapped a patty on the grill anyway. Daisy took her cue from the ice she was scooping into his glass and let her sudden burst of anger melt away. She turned and slammed the soda down on the counter. She stood in front of him, silently watching as he wiped up a splash off the counter with a napkin.

  If he’d said anything, she was ready to pounce on him, to kick his ass out of her town, run him out on a rail just the way he’d done to her. But he said nothing at all. Pretty soon Daisy was soundly reminded just how much Delay was not her town, such as it ever was, when the door opened and the lunchtime crowd started to trickle in.

  They filled up the tables and the counter, barely grunting their orders to her. Soon she was too busy to wonder why Easy had come all this way just to yell at her. Except he wasn’t yelling at her. He was just... sitting there.

  Tom Parson sent his egg salad back just to fuck with her, and she stepped around behind the counter to dump the nearly finished sandwich into the trash. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Easy reach out and snag her book. He slid it over the counter toward himself and inspected the cover.

  Well, let him look, Daisy thought, bristling with anger. He could rest assured she’d never go back to Rapid City, corrupting his town and his friends with her wicked, wanton ways. Parson finished the second egg salad and tossed a quarter on the counter as he left. Daisy felt her face flush with humiliation as she was forced to pick it up and pocket it, if only to clear the space.

  When she came back up front, Easy slid off his stool and slowly stood up. She held her breath, for what she didn’t know. He turned and walked toward the door. As he stepped outside, Daisy sighed and sagged against the counter. Her chest felt tight. She didn’t know if she was disappointed or furious, if she was going to scream or cry. Someone snapped his fingers at her as though she was a dog, and Daisy, caught up in a roil of emotions she couldn’t exactly identify, yelled, “I have a name!” Though it wasn’t clear who she was talking to.

  She glanced down and saw that Easy had left enough for his lunch plus a five dollar tip, which was too much for the bill. It felt like a slight, a joke he was playing at her expense. She stood staring at it, not touching it. She was afraid to pick it up.

  What will five bucks get me?

  She grabbed it and shoved it into her pocket without looking at it in case anything was written on it. She’d never felt more like a whore.

  Chapter 33<
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  Easy had to leave before someone died or was beaten to a pulp at the very least. He’d spent the better part of an hour watching a slew of people treat Daisy like shit, talking down to her if they bothered to talk to her at all. One guy had tossed her some spare change after running her ragged. It wasn’t hard to see why she’d want to move to Denver and get away from that.

  He started the Harley and headed toward the edge of town, back the way he’d come. He parked outside the tiny gas station and headed inside.

  “Did you find the Spoon?” the clerk asked.

  Easy nodded. “I did,” he told the older man.

  “Decent lunch.”

  Easy nodded again, although his definition of decent was obviously very different. He missed Thomas’ burgers and chili cheese fries. And the tattooed blonde who served them. She’d forgotten his steak sauce this time, but that was okay. She’d been flustered to say the least.

  He set a newspaper and a hot rod magazine onto the counter. “I need a place to stay,” he told the clerk.

  The man looked surprised. “You want to stay in Delay?”

  Hell no, he didn’t want to stay. But he hadn’t gotten into this mess in a single day and it was clear to him that it would take more than a day to untangle it.

  “Keep heading down Main Street,” the clerk said as he rung him up. “There’s a motel on the other side of town.”

  “Thanks.”

  He stuffed the reading material into the saddlebags and turned back toward Main Street. He parked in front of the Spoon again and held the door for a guy in overalls before heading back inside himself. He took the same stool he’d sat at before, still available because the lunch crowd had thinned out.

  He took his newspaper out from underneath his arm and spread it on the counter. It didn’t take long before a pair of cowboy boots came stomping up behind him. It seemed Daisy was over her initial shock at seeing him, and she’d settled on being pissed instead.

  “What is going on?” she demanded.

  Easy didn’t look up from the paper. “They’re widening the road out by the bridge,” he told her, reading from the article.

  She hesitated. “Is this a joke?”

  “Gary Burns thinks so. Though I’m pretty sure it’s because he lives out there and doesn’t want his yard torn up.”

  Daisy lunged forward. Easy didn’t flinch. If she was going to hit him, well, he deserved worse. This really wasn’t the time or place for a serious discussion, though. Her hand came down on his paper and not his head, so he supposed maybe she thought the same.

  “What are you doing here?!”

  “Delilah!”

  Easy looked up at the guy who was apparently Daisy’s boss. “What’s going on?” the older man asked. “I don’t want trouble.” He turned to Daisy and jabbed a finger at her. “I told you when I hired you back that I don’t want-”

  “I came to eat,” Easy declared. It was none of the old man’s business if he’d come to eat crow or cheeseburgers.

  “You already ate.”

  Easy shrugged. “Sign says ‘Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner’. So, I want dinner.” To Daisy he said, “I want meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and a slice of apple pie. In five hours.”

  “Five hours!” the man barked.

  Easy kept his eyes on Daisy. “You’ll still be here?”

  She hesitated, then nodded slightly.

  Easy picked up his paper and shook out the wrinkled pages. “Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, apple pie,” he repeated. “In five hours.”

  Chapter 34

  Daisy was too stunned to do anything but nod. He was really going to just sit there for five hours until dinner time? The only thing she could think at that moment was Why? But she couldn’t bring herself to ask.

  Doug Geer came in for his dinner before his swing shift started, and she was relieved for the distraction. She poured Doug his usual black coffee, and he ignored her in his usual way. She put in his order for chili and waited for Joe to plate it. As much as she’d rather avoid Easy, she couldn’t. Silently, she picked up his glass and refilled it with soda and placed it back down in front of him.

  “Thank you, Daisy,” he said loudly then looked at Doug.

  Doug shifted uncomfortably on his stool under the weight of Easy’s gaze. Easy finally had mercy on him and went back to reading his paper. When Doug finished his chili, he grunted something that sounded remarkably like thank you to Daisy, left her a dollar, and shuffled toward the door.

  During the lull, he broke the lingering silence between them. “What’s in Denver?”

  Daisy grabbed some napkins to fill up the dispenser on the counter and began stuffing them in. “Restaurants, movie theaters, mountains, snow,” she replied. “No assholes,” she added, watching Doug walk out the door.

  “There are assholes in Denver,” Easy told her.

  “Well, I’ll avoid them. I’ve learned my lesson.” He remained silent, which infuriated her for some reason. “Well, you’re not in Denver!” she snapped, just in case she hadn’t made her point.

  Easy looked at her from across the counter. “No, I’m not.”

  Daisy didn’t know what to say to that, either, so she grabbed a rag and started wiping down tables instead. She did her best to ignore him for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, inventing new things to take care of, like organizing drinking straws by color and rearranging ketchup bottles.

  He hadn’t said anything or done anything. He was just here. And for some reason, to her that was worse than saying or doing anything, even calling her a whore again or telling her she’d better never set foot in Rapid City. That would be something at least, something to argue about or agree with, since she had no plans to ever go back to South Dakota. Easy was just sitting there doing nothing at all.

  So why did it feel like something?

  Easy ate his meatloaf and mashed potatoes silently and thanked her loudly for the pie. Then he tipped her more than he should have- again. He waited for her to push in the chairs and sweep the floor. Then, after she folded her apron and stuffed it on the shelf behind the counter, he held the door open for her. She still managed to ignore him, while ducking her head and stepping outside. Once her boots hit the sidewalk, she turned to head home.

  “Do you want a ride?” he asked her, gesturing to a bike she’d never seen before. It was beautiful, larger than the one he’d had before. She was half-tempted to say yes.

  She blinked at him and then glanced around her, as if this was some kind of joke or a dream where she could manage to wake up. “No! I don’t want a ride home.” She passed by him, refusing to give him another glance. She nearly made it to the end of the block when she heard him coming up beside her. Before she could react, he grabbed her hand. His fingers threaded through hers and held her firmly. Daisy was too surprised to struggle.

  “That’s okay,” he told her casually. “It’s a nice night. We’ll walk.”

  She broke her stride for a moment, unsure what to do. She didn’t know what was going on, but she did know that she wanted desperately to get away from him. She gave a futile tug with her captured hand before giving up. In a daze, she put one foot in front of the other and crossed the street.

  “I got a new prosthetic,” he told her casually. “Custom made. I’ve been walking a lot, breaking it in. This will be good for me.”

  Once they arrived on the other side, Daisy faltered again as she looked up and saw the Reverend Wilcox and his wife headed their way. She gripped Easy’s hand tightly, though she wasn’t certain whether she was trying to hurt him or convince herself he was actually real. Daisy felt shame, or embarrassment, or panic rise up in her throat as the older couple stared at them. For the first time since she was a little girl, she ducked her head.

  When they passed, furious whispers ensued behind them, and Daisy hung her head again. She was used to people in town talking about her. She didn’t know why it mattered to her this time. This was nothing new. As she turned the corner, she stopp
ed in her tracks. Before them was the faded sign for the trailer court. The paint was peeling, and a large crack spidered up from one corner across the bottom half.

  Over the years she’d gotten used to the people of Delay calling her trash. But suddenly she wasn’t comfortable with Easy saying it. She couldn’t stand him seeing it and confirming every bad thing he’d ever thought about her. She took a step back and tried to wrestle her hand from his, but he wouldn’t let her go.

  “Come on,” he said, and half-pulled her forward. Daisy could do nothing but continue to move. “Have you ever been to New Orleans?” he asked her. Confused, Daisy shook her head. Her pace had slowed so much that it rivaled a snail’s, but he didn’t seem to mind. “I grew up in a row house,” he told her. “That’s New Orleans’ version of a trailer park. At least my neighborhood was.”

  Daisy looked up at him and blinked.

  “My mom works in the same cannery where she’s always worked since I was born. I guess you could say my old man’s retired now, or he gave up job hopping and called it retirement. He could never seem to hold onto a job for more than a year or two. When he was in between gigs, we didn’t have much, not that we had a lot when they both worked. But when he was on unemployment, sometimes the only meal I got was lunch at school.”

  “Catholics are supposed to have a bunch of kids,” he told her. “That whole thing. But I think my mom realized more kids would just make things harder. Plus, she never really wanted me, so she wasn’t about to keep making the same mistake.”

  They had reached her place and Daisy’s gaze skittered away from it and from him. She scraped the crushed gravel of the driveway with the heel of her boot. “This is me,” she said quietly, indicating the trailer.

  Easy let go of her hand and lifted her chin. “It’s not you,” he told her. “It’s just where you live.” He leaned forward, and she held her breath. His lips touched her forehead gently. “Keep your head up, Daisy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”