by Sara Mack
The blood drains from my face. I clutch the handle of the cart as tight as I can to prevent myself from collapsing. Dane moves to my side immediately. I can’t speak to defend myself. I take a quick glance around. Of the few people in the aisle, some are staring at me with their mouths hanging open. I imagine others are pretending we don’t exist.
“Go to the car Emma,” Dane says in an authoritative tone. He holds his keys out to me without taking his eyes of James’ mother.
I’m frozen. I can’t move.
“I said go to the car,” he says sternly again and looks at me when he says it.
I blink. Shaking, I reach into my pocket and hand him the money Kris gave us. He exchanges it with his keys. I force my legs to move my body forward. I start to head up the aisle, hoping to make it out of the store with a few shreds of dignity. I almost make it. Just as I turn the corner of the aisle, Mrs. Davis blasts me with one last sentiment.
“Whore!” she screams at my retreating figure.
I sit in Dane’s car, shaking. It’s been twenty minutes, and I can’t bring my body under control. Mrs. Davis’ voice rings in my ears – “Whore!” How could she think that about me? I wonder what happened after I walked out of the store. Did she say anything else? My guess is yes. Did Dane jump to defend me, making it worse? I close my eyes to escape the nightmare that just took place. I could never conjure up anything like this, not in my wildest dreams.
I hear the sound of a cart arrive at the rear of the car. I fumble with the door handle and step out to help Dane with the bags.
“Get back in the car.” His tone indicates that he’s not playing around.
I shake my head. “No. Let me help.”
“Get back in the car,” he says again, softer this time.
I hand him his keys and oblige. After a few moments, I hear the trunk slam shut. He walks around the side of the car, opens the door, and slides in. Dane stares at me for a few a seconds with sympathy, I think. I look out the window to avoid his gaze as the possibility of tears now threatens.
We ride in silence back to work. As we near the entrance to the course, Dane pulls off the road unexpectedly. He throws the car in park, and I turn and frown at him.
“You’re shaking,” he growls and reaches for my hands. He manages to catch only one, and he presses it between both of his to stop its seizing.
“It’s okay,” I mutter lamely.
“It’s not okay!” he nearly shouts. “That woman had no right to say what she said to you!”
I give him a weak smile and state the obvious, “I’m not her favorite person.”
“Evidently,” he mutters as he rubs my hand.
“Listen, let’s go back to work and get these lunches done.” I try to remove my hand from his, but he holds it tightly.
Dane shakes his head. “You can’t go back to work like this.”
“Like what? Let’s just do this already!” I yank my hand harder. “It’s not like it’s brain surgery!”
He lets go of my hand. “Your entire body is shaking.”
“It’ll stop.”
“No,” he says firmly, putting the car back in gear. “I’m taking you home.”
“What? No! What about my car?”
Dane makes a U-turn. “Leave it. I’ll pick you up in the morning.”
“No! I can’t go home without my car! My parents will worry especially if they see me like this,” I protest. “I don’t want to relive what happened with them! Take me back to work to give me time to settle down.”
Dane appears to consider it because his eyes soften, but he keeps driving anyway.
“Where are we going? Kris will wonder where we are.”
“We’re supposed to be getting dinner, remember?” he reminds me. “I’m taking you to my place.”
“Not necessary,” I immediately respond as I will my body to stop shaking.
“I disagree,” he says calmly.
“What are you? My father?”
Dane looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “Ah...no.”
I cross my arms in frustration and look out the window, weighing my options to get out of this. There aren’t many. Jumping out of a moving vehicle doesn’t really appeal to me.
Dane pulls up to a small complex of townhomes just outside town. He parks and turns off the engine. “We’re here,” he says and immediately gets out of the car.
I remain seated with my arms crossed. Unfortunately, I’m still shaky. I was hoping to have stopped by the time we got here to plead my case for taking me back to Bay Woods.
He opens my door. “Come on.”
I look away from him defiantly, and he sighs loudly. “If you don’t get out, I swear to God, I’ll make you.”
I snap my head around to look at him. His expression is serious; he’s not joking. I huff as I haul myself out of the car. “Happy?” I ask sarcastically.
“Extremely.”
I follow him up the sidewalk to the unit on the end, #202. We go up a few concrete steps, and I wait on the small porch as he unlocks the door. He swings it open. “After you.”
I tentatively walk inside and he follows me, flipping on a light switch by the door. A small living area is illuminated, and I can see a dining area at the end, which I assume is connected to a kitchen. In front of me, a flight of stairs extends upward to the darkened second floor.
Dane gestures toward the couch. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back soon.”
I turn to face him. “You’re leaving me here? What am I supposed to do?”
Dane looks exasperated. “Sit down. Relax. Take a nap. Watch TV. Snoop through my stuff. I don’t care.” He takes two steps back toward the door. “I’ll go finish up. I’ll be back within the hour and then we’ll get your car.”
And with that, he closes the door behind him.
Chapter 24
Awkwardly, I look around the room. There’s a couch, a loveseat, and a coffee table. All black. I walk farther into the living room and gape at the huge flat screen TV. Who needs a television that big in a room this size? It sits on a modern looking stand that holds all the necessities – DVD, stereo, Playstation. I walk over to the small dining table that is surrounded by only two chairs. In the center is a small withering plant of some kind; it looks mistreated and thirsty. I don’t think twice about entering the kitchen to find a glass to water the poor thing. Evidently, horticulture is not Dane’s strong suit.
The kitchen is tiny, but holds many stainless steel appliances. On the counter, a few drinking glasses lay drying on a dish towel. I grab one and fill it, noting the stack of dirty dishes left in the sink. After I water the plant, I refill the glass and take a drink myself. When I raise the glass to my lips, I realize my shaking has subsided. Good.
What am I going to do here for an hour? I glance around the place again. I look at the dirty dishes and my orderly instincts take over. I fill the sink with hot water and set to passing the time by washing the dishes.
When that’s done – it only takes me about ten minutes – I wander back into the living room. I plop down on the couch. It’s very comfy and soft; it feels like leather. I look around the room again and realize that, although the place is a little messy, there’s a lot of expensive stuff in here. My eye falls on two framed pictures on a side table. I lean forward to get a better look. The first is a group of guys, Dane included, posing with their arms around one another while they sit on some bleachers. The second picture is of Dane with his arm draped casually around a beautiful dark-haired girl; both are smiling brilliantly at the camera. They favor each other. A sister, maybe? Dane doesn’t talk much about his family. Come to think of it, neither do I. If he’s not teasing me about something at work, our topics of discussion usually revolve around Matt and Shel, annoying customers, or how I’m feeling. That last topic of conversation is getting old.
I turn away from the pictures, spy a massive remote on the coffee table, and decide to watch TV. I play with it. How do I even work this? I find the powe
r button and press it. The flat screen turns on but it’s static. I locate the channel buttons and try to select a different station. Nothing happens. After about five minutes of this, I give up and turn the TV off. I sigh and put the remote back where I found it. There are a couple of magazines lying on the coffee table. I select an issue of Rolling Stone and scoot into the corner of the couch to pass the time by reading.
As I flip through the pages, my mind replays today’s events and I shudder. Well, at least I know how James’ parents really feel. Sadness clouds my thoughts. I always feared they disliked me, especially after James decided to leave Ferris. I mentioned my worry to James in the past, but he always blew off my thoughts telling me they loved me and I was part of his family. James doesn’t have any siblings; I was the daughter they never had, he’d tell me. Boy, was he wrong. Or just covering for them. I’m leaning toward the latter.
I scoot down to lay my head against the arm rest of the couch and close my eyes. For once, I’m silently thankful for James’ restriction. He didn’t have to witness what happened today. He would be furious. My thoughts drift to Dane and his actions at the store. What would have happened if he wasn’t there? How far would the situation have escalated? An image flashes behind my eyes; I am curled in a ball, rocking back and forth, sobbing on the floor in the Baked Goods aisle, as James’ mother stands above me pointing and screaming. Yeah, that very well could have happened. What did occur was bad, but it could have been much worse.
I turn on my side and realize that I have to thank Dane when he returns. I need to apologize for being so difficult and thank him for diffusing the situation. Thank him for allowing me some time alone to process what happened. Thank him for being an amazing friend when he has no reason in the world to be.
I hear muffled voices and my forehead pinches in a frown. Who’s talking? I open my eyes to a hazy darkness. I blink and focus my eyes. I’m still at Dane’s and the TV is on, casting the only light in the room. I must have fallen asleep. I stretch my legs out in order to turn over and end up kicking Dane in the side.
“Ugh!” he whispers.
I pull my legs back and pick up my head. “Sorry!” I croak out, my voice thick with sleep. Dane is sitting opposite me, not quite at the end of the couch. I move my legs over the side and sit upright just next to him. “What time is it?” I yawn.
“About twelve,” he says.
I snap awake. “Twelve? We should go. I don’t want to keep you any later.”
“Take your time. I didn’t want to wake you.” I look at his profile in the changing light of the television. He’s resting casually against the back of the couch. “Your car is outside.”
I stare at him. “How?”
“You left your bag at the course. I found your keys and called Matt. He helped.”
I shoot him a look. “You mean you went through my stuff to find my keys.” Not that it matters. I should be grateful I can get up and leave.
I can see him grin through the light. “You did my dishes.”
“And watered your poor plant,” I look past him toward the table. “Are you killing it on purpose?”
He chuckles. “No.” He pauses and smiles. “Find anything else interesting?”
I look at him quizzically. “I didn’t snoop or anything, if that’s what you’re asking.”
He pretends to pout.
“Are you disappointed?”
“Wellll,” he draws out the ‘L’s, “I was hoping to come back and find you in my bed.”
My mouth falls open.
“Sleeping, of course.” I think he winks at me.
My mouth snaps shut. “I’ll settle for the couch, thank you.”
Dane laughs and leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I’m just kidding.”
Our eyes lock for an instant. He continues to look at me and it makes me uncomfortable. It’s definitely time to go. I break our stare and look away. “Where’s my stuff?”
“By the door.”
I look over and see my bag hanging from the doorknob, then turn back to him. “Thanks.” I stand to walk to the door, and he follows to show me out.
Reaching my bag, I pull it off the handle and loop it over my head and across my shoulder. I turn around to find Dane right behind me. There’s no time like the present to offer my apology and thanks for earlier.
“I’m sorry for being difficult,” I say.
“You’re entitled.”
“No, I’m not. I want to thank you for stepping in at the store. Without you, I don’t know what would have happened. I want to thank you for letting me stay here, too, for letting me calm down alone. It really helped.”
Dane takes another step closer to me. “There’s no way I wasn’t getting you out of there, even if I had to pick you up and carry you out. I’ve never seen anyone attack someone like that, let alone a grown woman! She’s clearly deranged.”
“Really?” I let out a sarcastic snort. “How do you know?”
He frowns. “You can tell just by looking at her that she’s not well.”
I can’t help my curiosity. “Did she…did you say anything else after I left?”
He regards me for a moment, apparently deciding if he should tell me or not. I can tell by his eyes he determines I can handle it.
“She told me I should watch myself around you for my own safety, after what you supposedly did to her son.” He eyes me cautiously. “Something about being in cahoots with the devil. Is there something you’re not telling me?” he asks, trying to lighten what he’s just shared.
I swallow. That woman loathes me. “What did you say?”
Dane takes another step forward and leans in, so our faces are only inches apart. His eyes lock on mine, so I will understand how serious he is when he speaks. He reaches out and places his hands on my shoulders. “I told her she was the one who needed to go to hell,” he says solemnly. “That you are amazing to have held up the way you have, no thanks to people like her. That you loved James.”
I look down, breaking his gaze. “Thank you,” my voice wavers. “Thank you for defending me when I couldn’t defend myself.”
Dane’s hand leaves my shoulder and appears under my chin to tilt my face up toward his. “You shouldn’t be put into any situation where you to have to defend yourself. Ever.”
My mind flashes to James and all the times I’ve had to defend myself to him. My love for him, my choosing to work at the course, my having Matt and Dane as friends, my choice to release him when I die.
Dane interrupts my thoughts by letting go of my chin and tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear. “Do you know what I mean?” he asks.
I nod because I do know what he means. All too clearly.
He searches my face. For what I don’t know. His hazel eyes lock on mine again, and my heart starts to pound. His breath catches, and I know what he’s resolved to do. He leans forward to kiss me. It’s like it’s happening in slow motion and I’m powerless to stop it. My whole body tenses under his hands, and I close my eyes as if to block it out.
Dane can feel my body go rigid. I sense him pause for a second and then feel him kiss me tenderly against my forehead instead of my lips.
My eyes pop open. He searches my face again, still holding on to my shoulders. He looks cautious, maybe even a little nervous. I see a realization hit him and he steps back, releasing me suddenly. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I don’t know what…that won’t happen again.”
I nod and give him a weak smile. “I’m not mad.” It’s the truth.
Dane looks unsure, like he’s overstepped a huge boundary and there’s no going back. I don’t want him to be upset because, strangely, I’m not. Did I want him to kiss me? No. And he realized that. I step toward him and he takes a step back.
“Are you afraid of me now?” I ask jokingly, referring to when he asked me that same thing weeks ago.
He appears to relax. “No,” he smiles.
I step up to him, stand on the tips of my toes, and give
him a quick, chaste kiss on his cheek. When I back down I notice his puzzled expression. “Thank you for realizing everything I need.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets. “That’s what I do.”
I turn to the door and pull it open.
“Have a nice night,” he says to me as I step outside.
“You too,” I half-heartedly wave to him. “See you tomorrow?”
“See you tomorrow.”
I walk down the steps and spot my car immediately. When I slide into the driver’s seat, I look up just in time to see Dane close his front door. I can still feel where he kissed my forehead; still feel his hands on my shoulders. I reach up to touch the hair he tucked behind my ear and feel myself melt a little.
Then I freeze as what happened comes crashing down on me. What am I thinking?
Chapter 25
It’s been about a week since the “Incident.” That’s what I’m calling my run in with Mrs. Davis. Actually, that’s what I’m calling that entire day, including what happened with Dane. “Incident” is a vague, sanitary term. That’s why I like it. Thinking about what happened that day in any detail brings on overwhelming feelings of sadness, doubt, and guilt. Especially guilt.
I did end up telling my parents about Mrs. Davis – omitting a choice word or two – just in case they happen to run in to her somewhere as well. They were not impressed to say the least. My mother wanted to call her immediately and give her a piece of her mind. I begged her not to. Who wants to make things worse? She eventually agreed, but made no promises if she saw the woman in person.
Dane and I have only discussed the “Incident” once, the day after it happened. It was a brief conversation.
“Do you want to talk about yesterday?” he asked me.
“Not really.” I continued to empty the beverage cart.
“You’re okay with it then?”
“Yep. Already forgotten.”
