by L. B. Dunbar
“Why?”
“Pardon?”
“Why me? Why do you want me to go?”
We had delivered her last bag and were walking back to the shelter.
“I…I’d like to introduce you to my mother. And I could use the strength to be around her,” I sighed.
“What’s wrong with your mother?”
I loved my mother, I did. But she had made decisions I didn’t agree with as an adult. I faulted those decisions for the teasing and bullying I endured as a kid. While her intentions might have been for the best in her mind, they weren’t the best for an awkward kid who needed a father.
When my father died and I was still a toddler, she retreated to our modest home in the woods in an attempt to keep us from the negative exposure of music. The evil, as she called it. I wasn’t sure how such a prudish woman ended up with a rock star, in the first place, if she didn’t approve of his profession. She eventually married my father, and they produced a second child, my sister, Didraine. I couldn’t imagine how that happened, if she hated music so much. Didraine liked to emphasize that the bitterness developed after his death. Our mother blamed the music for the drugs, which eventually took him. The fault ultimately lay with him. My father. He’s the one who selfishly abused them, but my mother never wanted to see it that way.
“I don’t agree with her on everything and it makes it difficult, at times, to be around her. Plus I need to attend this party.”
“What party?”
I hesitated. Hollister didn’t talk about her cousin, Elaine. She confirmed their relations and left it at that. We didn’t discuss further how she was stolen from Elaine’s home, with Elaine in the next bed. We didn’t have to discuss it. I knew what happened from the media. While I would have liked to have heard details from her, I didn’t want to pressure her. I wanted her to come to me.
“It’s at Elaine Corbin’s.”
“No,” Hollister blurted out. “I…I can’t go there.”
I stopped us again on the street outside the shelter.
“I understand your hesitation, but I’d really like you to attend with me, and I’ll be there with you. We can support one another.”
“I can’t do it,” she spoke softly.
“Why? Is it because of what happened? I don’t care what happened.”
“I care,” she said, her tone growing stronger. “I can’t go back there.”
“I’ll be there. Nothing will happen to you.”
“I’m not going. Thank you for the offer, but I can’t attend with you.”
She dropped my hand and I wanted to reach for her, pull her close to me. She was only scared, I told myself. The memories might be too great, but I would be with her. We could face it together.
“I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“There’s no worry of that because I’m not going,” she said adamantly.
We glared at each other in another stare down. I didn’t understand where her defiance was coming from.
“It doesn’t matter to me what happened. It’s in the past. You aren’t that person,” I tried to sooth her.
“I care,” she said, and the finality in her voice told me I’d hurt her feelings.
“I know what happened. It doesn’t matter to me.”
“You know nothing, and it matters to me.”
We continued to stare until she shifted on her feet. Her feminine combat black boots were scuffed and she dragged one across the dark cement, almost stomping her foot.
“I don’t think I should stay with you tonight,” she said suddenly, surprising me. “I should really help Marie. I’ve spent too many nights away from her. That’s not part of my contract.”
I didn’t know how to respond, and as my arms hung by my sides, I clenched and unclenched my hands in my frustration.
“Fine” I said quietly, but the quiver in my voice betrayed my emotions, which I knew were written all over my face. I was hurt.
The hunt…
[Hollister]
I watched him walk away. He’d never done that before. He always held his ground until I gave in, but not tonight. He rounded the front of his truck and didn’t look back at me as he entered the driver’s side. I remained on the sidewalk, uncertain what just happened between us, when the roar of the engine made me jolt. I stared as he pulled away from the curb. He had reached the end of the street, red lights the only color in sight, and then it disappeared as he turned the corner.
I was breathing heavily by that point, a wave of unmerited anger and adrenaline of memory washing over me. I was practically hyperventilating with images of being at the Corbin’s, with being taken, being returned, being removed. I didn’t want to go back there. Since I’d returned to the city, I hadn’t been back to Lake Avalon, and I didn’t plan to ever visit again. He needed to understand, that I physically didn’t think I could return to the area, not after Jordan’s text. Not after several texts, all stating the same thing.
I’ll be back for you, my promised one.
I would have thrown the phone away; if it wasn’t that I liked getting messages from Perk. He would send them randomly, all sweet; all at different times, throughout the day or night, while I worked. Thinking of you. Can’t wait to see you. Hope you are having a good day. I couldn’t have gotten rid of the phone without giving suspicion to Perk about why I wanted to get rid of it. My heart was suddenly heavy that he had left me. I turned slowly in disbelief at his departure to come face to face with the last person I expected to see.
Fr. Mike.
“Michael?” I breathed.
“Holli,” he said slowly. It was a whisper of ancient passion, and my body shivered at the recognition. He said it like a prayer or like an orgasm. It disturbed me either way.
“Michael, what are you doing here?”
“I’ve finally gotten you alone. You’re always with him,” his voice said with a hint of bitterness.
“What do you want?” I tried to stand tall and determined. Finding a bravado I hadn’t used since childhood, and didn’t quite feel, as I stood before a man who further took innocence from me.
“I’ve been trying to get a chance to see you. I’ve missed you.”
He lied. His fear at exposure, when I was only sixteen, ended the relationship after I told him that Elaine had discovered our secret. He couldn’t risk the inappropriateness of our experiences, although those weren’t the words he used. He labeled our relations as friendship, and said it was our special secret. He claimed he was bound by his oath of priesthood to hold my confession of sins. He assured me what we had done was not a sin, as I had already given myself to Jordan. He didn’t comprehend that Jordan had taken from me. I didn’t offer myself to Jordan, any more than I’d offered myself to Michael. They had both taken, only I was fooled that Michael could help. That he could erase wounds, not inflict more.
I choked at his words.
“You aren’t allowed to miss me,” I said, my voice growing stronger.
He stepped into my space, and I held my feet firm, though I wanted to step back. I didn’t want to be anywhere near Michael McMann.
“I’ve been searching for you. I’ve been awaiting your return. I knew I would find you again someday, my special girl.”
He reached for me, and I pulled my face back. His smile was sinister as he lowered his hand, not forcing the issue further.
“You come back to me. You have more sins to confess. You know I am the only one to wipe them clean.”
I shivered to think what he meant. How he had used those words before as he touched me in his attempts to prove his words were truth.
“I’ll never come back to you. I have nothing to confess,” I breathed.
“Yes, you do. You have something that belongs to me, and I plan to reclaim it.” His voice matched the sinister smile on his lips, and I noticed the moisture on them glistening in the single glow of light from the streetlamp behind me. He licked his lips further, as if he was thirsty. I refused to think of what he wa
nted. I didn’t have what he claimed I had. I never did.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied.
“Yes, you do, and I plan to get it, whether you give it to me willingly, or not, Holli.”
I shivered again at the sound of his worshipping voice.
“I’ll be back for you, my Promised One,” he said then turned on solid heels, which echoed down the street as he walked away.
My heart raced as I walked methodically up the short steps into the kitchen of the shelter. My hand visibly shook as I twisted the knob of the door. I faltered in my attempts to open it. It swung inward suddenly and I stood face to face with Martha. She held another bruise on her face and a hickey on the neck of her darker skin. She had run off to see her man again, but I didn’t have the energy to confront her. My mind was a muddle of memory and fear.
“Ms. SanGrael, are you alright?” she asked, her eyes roaming over my face and then down my body in concern.
“I’m fine,” I said shakily, as I brushed past her into the warm light of the kitchen. Rock music played softly in the background from the radio near the kitchen sink. The lyrics of waiting and following sunshine were my undoing, reminding me of Perkins.
It seemed like an omen and I suddenly felt my eyes grow cloudy.
“Ms. SanGrael?” Martha’s voice was drowning out as if I was underwater.
“Holli?” Marie’s voice permeated my ears, but it too sounded garbled.
“Blanche fleur? Ma cherie, what is it?” At the sound of Marie’s nickname for me, I thought of Perkins and how I tried to explain where it came from and what it meant. He explained back to me what he thought; I was extraordinary. I didn’t want to be. I didn’t want to be special. I didn’t want to be desired. I didn’t know why anyone, any man, thought I was. The dam broke and the tears fell. I was suddenly inconsolable as female arms surrounded me, and I tucked into them, enveloped in the warmth of a mother’s touch I couldn’t recall ever feeling.
The hunt continued…
[Perkins]
I made it around the block before I doubled back. I don’t know what I was thinking by walking away. I promised her, and myself, that I wouldn’t leave her behind again. I was rounding the corner on the main street of the shelter when I saw her walking toward the kitchen door. She didn’t appear to notice the approach of my large SUV and she entered the building. As I parked I noticed a man down the block and I squinted in the dim light. Long dress coat, hands in pockets, he could have been another homeless man, but I didn’t think so. His walk was too familiar and it was too coincidental that he was on the same block as the shelter. This street was typically clear. The homeless hung around the corner.
I exited my truck and rounded the front, pausing for a moment on the sidewalk to watch the back of the retreating man. He stopped at the corner, and it was his hesitation that triggered something in me. He looked back down the street and my heart hit my feet. Why stop? Why look back? Unless you were looking for someone? I questioned. Knowing that Hollister had just entered the building, I took off at a run. He saw me approaching, and it shook whoever it was out of his stupor, because he took off around the corner. I made it to the end of the block in record time and rounded the same corner to find the street empty. I didn’t believe he had outrun me. He was too small in stature compared to me, and if he wore the same dress shoes from the other night, he couldn’t possibly run that fast. He had to be hiding.
Did I wish to pursue? Suddenly my thoughts returned to Hollister and my fear was that he approached her. I didn’t need to chase down some mystery man. I needed to know that she was okay. I doubled back down the street of the shelter and banged on the back door. A small Hispanic woman opened it with a grin that lit up her dark face. She had a nasty looking bruise on her face and a hickey on her neck. I felt sorry for her, but her sheepish smile showed she felt something more for me.
“Well, hello, handsome.”
“I’m here to see Hollister,” I demanded.
“We don’t allow men at the shelter,” she stated, “but I could come out if you’d like.” She winked at me and I bristled back in disbelief.
“Get Hollister for me,” I demanded again. She didn’t move, but continued to hold the door in a manner that told me I wasn’t welcome, and she wasn’t letting me in. In a move uncharacteristic of me, I stepped up to the top of the stoop and stood over her. My sheer presence before her widened her eyes, and she took a step back from the entrance. It was the space I needed to brush past her. I didn’t have to search far, as Hollister was in the arms of the kind woman, Marie. She sat in a kitchen chair with Marie wrapped around and over her, as if protecting her. I heard the sob, and I dropped to my knees before the huddle of women.
“What happened?” I asked harshly.
Marie’s head popped up from the whispering comfort she was offering to Hollister and she eyed me. She must have seen something in my face because hers softened. Her arms were wrapped around Hollister’s head and she tucked a piece of hair back behind Hollister’s ear before she spoke.
“Having a tough night, that’s all,” Marie said. “It happens sometimes.”
With that Hollister shifted and she looked at me briefly before avoiding my eyes. She tucked her face into her own hands.
“Go away,” she groaned.
I was still kneeling before her, shocked at the growl in her voice. I looked to Marie in concern, but she nodded in the direction of Hollister. I scooted forward, and I placed my hand over hers to feel the tension in them. She resisted as I tried to remove her delicate fingers so I could see her face.
“What happened?” I asked again, softer this time.
She only shook her head.
“I saw him,” I blurted, and Hollister’s head shot upward. Her eyes were red rimmed and the gray was steel color and cloudy. A tear slipped down her cheek as she stared at me.
“Who did you see?” Marie asked at the same time Hollister spoke, “What are you doing here?” Her voice was rough from crying.
“I came back for you,” I replied and she began to sob again, burying her face in her hands. I slid forward the remaining inches between us and wrapped my hands over hers.
“Hollister,” I said softly, but she didn’t respond. I slipped my hands down her arms to her elbows. I felt her lean forward then rock back. I rubbed my palms back upward to her wrists and wrapped my fingers around them.
“Hollister,” I whispered, as her crying slowed. She leaned forward without looking at me and I wrapped my arms around her back. Her hands still protected her face but she wasn’t rejecting me. I glanced up at Marie again, who was watching the whole interchange.
“Hollister, please, tell me what happened?”
“Who was it?” Marie asked again and Hollister mumbled into her hands over her face.
It took a moment before I distinguished what she said.
“Fr. Mike?” I questioned. Marie, whose eyes opened wide, covered her mouth. My concern accelerated.
“Who’s Fr. Mike?” I asked of Marie, but her eyes were trained on Hollister. Something shifted in Hollister and her arms suddenly wrapped around my neck as she buried her head into it. I was still looking at Marie as this happened, and the movement surprised me. I stood from my squatting position, taking Hollister with me as she clung to me.
My arms supported her further as I embraced her and held her tight to me.
“I’m taking you home tonight,” I said, and she simply nodded into my neck.
She was spooked. She jumped when I shut the car door, even though she knew it was coming. We drove in silence to my place, but I held her hand and she wrapped her other hand around our clasped fingers. She stared out the front window and I didn’t pry. I took comfort in knowing she was with me. She was holding onto me, and I tried not to curse myself for leaving her behind again. When we entered my garage, she leaned forward to open her door, but I told her to wait. I came around to her side, and removed her like she was a child. She melted into me
as I carried her into my home. I didn’t even set her down when I locked the doors. I took her directly to my room and sat her on the bed.
“Tell me what you want me to do,” I asked softly.
“I…I don’t know. There’s nothing you can do.”
I reached for her shirt to remove it and she looked at me with a distrust I hadn’t seen, even the night I first brought her here. My gaze held hers when she seemed resolved and her shoulders fell in defeat. I helped her stand to remove her jeans, and she remained standing as I removed my own t-shirt and jeans. She stared at me, but she was closed off, not seeing me. She was moving methodically as if she had shut down and was on autopilot.
“How do you want it, Perkins?” she asked in the dullest voice I’d ever heard her use.
My eyebrows pinched. “How do I want what?”
“Me,” she said hoarsely in that dead tone.
“I…” I didn’t know what she meant, and I stood before her confused. I wasn’t sure what she was implying, but I had no intention of taking her anyway, except into my bed to hold her tight. I scooped her up and she fell back like a ragdoll this time, not melting into me like she had before. I laid her down and rolled her to face away from me, as much as I wanted her to face me. I laid behind her, wrapping my arms over hers and crossing my ankle over hers. I wanted to shield her from her thoughts, and I didn’t know how. The best thing I could think of was to cover her and hold her tight.
“You…you don’t want to have sex with me?” she asked in a voice full of puzzlement.
“Yes. Yes, I do, but not tonight; and not tomorrow night. Not any night until you’re ready to have sex with me.”
