by Kim Pritekel
“Would you like a drink? I’m going to grab myself another,” she offered, pushing back from the table.
“Aw, that’d be swell. Yeah, how’s about a rum runner?” the bespectacled attorney said with a smile.
“Coming right up.”
She knew she looked good in her fitted purple dress with a neckline that left the tops of her shoulders bare and gave a peek of her legs, but the truth was, she wanted to be in a nightgown sipping coffee and watching television or reading a good book. Her smile was instant as she pictured Eleanor lying with her head in her lap holding the book high above her face reading aloud, just like they used to.
Walking toward the bar, she saw Jim already there, placing an empty tumbler on the bar top as he grabbed what she’d counted was a third bourbon on the rocks, as well as a mixed drink that she knew wasn’t for her.
She watched him, curious where he was off to. He’d been drifting from person to person and group to group mingling, as she knew he would and should be. However, he usually dragged her around with him. He’d been quiet since she’d returned with the kids from Denver to get ready for their night.
Jim scooped up his fresh drinks and headed across the room where there was one of his partners and his wife standing, as well as a lovely young woman with mid-back dark hair and a lovely olive complexion. She looked young, mid-twenties, perhaps. She looked away from the conversation she was having when he approached and accepted the cocktail he extended to her. What really caught Lysette’s eye, however, was when the woman allowed her finger to trail over his during the exchange of the glass from one hand to the other. It was a very intimate move and one he didn’t even react to, as though she’d touched him a hundred times before.
Shaking herself from her thoughts, she continued to the bar and ordered the rum runner for Jeffry and a pink squirrel for herself.
“Here you are, sir,” she said dramatically, delivering Jeffry’s drink to him. He thanked her with a smile before returning to the conversation he was having with Rita, the retiring receptionist.
Lysette sat down and sipped the pink drink, made a bit strong. Her gaze found Jim again, but this time, he and the brunette had moved away from the others and were standing in a corner, the woman halfway hidden behind a large potted plant.
Initially, they seemed to be chatting, a little flirty by his expression, the woman’s face out of Lysette’s view. But within a few moments, things changed. Jim’s expression became attentive, then serious, then upset. She could see the woman’s hands as they gesticulated wildly, her drink disappearing somewhere along the way.
Jim ran a hand through his hair, anger in his eyes. He said something, words unheard from the distance. He turned to walk away, but she stopped him with a hand to his shoulder. He turned and said something else before he successfully walked away.
****
“You can put those on the dresser,” Lysette said quietly, pointing. Jeffry followed her directions, placing Jim’s car keys there while another of the men from the dinner party helped get an extremely inebriated Jim to the bed where he fell with a dramatic groan.
“Are you sure you’re okay with him?” Jeffry asked, stepping up next to where Lysette stood by the bed as the second man joined them, sweat beading on his forehead from the exertion.
“Oh, yeah. I’ll let him sleep it off, then admonish him in the morning,” she said with a small grin, glancing at both men. “Thank you both so much for bringing my drunk husband and his car home.”
She walked them to the front door and accepted a quick hug from Jeffry before closing and locking the door behind them. Glancing to the stairs in the dark quiet house, she let out an annoyed sigh and headed back upstairs to take care of him.
To her surprise, Jim was sitting up on the bed, using incredibly uncoordinated movements to try to loosen his tie. One hand shot to the bed to brace his weight as he nearly fell over sideways. A small giggle escaped his lips.
“Let me help you,” she said with a sigh, walking over to the bed.
“I can do this!” he exclaimed, shoving her hands away and glaring up at her like a petulant child.
She stood back, fists on her hips as she watched, doing a mental countdown in her head until finally he grumbled—
“I can’t do this.”
“You don’t say,” she uttered, reaching out again and untangling the knot he’d made in the fabric as he’d tried to slide the tie knot loose. “How many of those stupid things did you drink?” she asked casually, sliding the tie free from Jim’s upturned collar.
“Enough,” he muttered, glancing up at her before quickly looking away. “Or maybe not enough.”
She ignored the slight, knowing Jim only drank to excess when something was bothering him, and apparently, that something regarded her. She began to unbutton his shirt, but again, her hands were pushed aside. Knowing he at least couldn’t accidentally hang himself with shirt buttons, she moved to his shoes.
“So who is the brunette?” she asked, keeping her voice conversational.
He looked up at her with so much anger in his eyes that for a moment it startled her. “Why?” He smirked. “Jealous?”
She dropped the first shoe to the floor as she considered his question. After a moment, she was able to look him in the eye and answer honestly. “No.”
“Of course you weren’t,” he spat, pulling the ends of his shirt apart, not realizing he’d missed the last two buttons, which went flying. “Goddamn it!”
“Calm down, Jim,” Lysette hissed. “You’ll wake up the kids.” She threw the second shoe to the floor far harder than she’d intended to, the leather wingtip thudding heavily. She walked away from the bed and to the closet, reaching behind her to unzip her dress as she went.
“I know she was there with you today,” he muttered, climbing off the bed. He braced himself against the wall for a moment before pushing away, shrugging out of his shirt as he did.
Her back to him as she opened the closet door to retrieve her nightgown, she said, “Hardly a mystery, Jim, considering the kids were talking about it when I fed them dinner before we left tonight.”
“I don’t want her around my children,” he said, allowing his shirt to slide down his arms and to the floor where he left it, stepping over it to get to the bench at the end of the bed. He staggered over to it before nearly collapsing onto it, banging his head on the footboard as he nearly slid off the bench. “Goddamn it!” he roared again.
Lysette could only stare at him. Like anyone, Jim had bad days or bad moments, but he certainly wasn’t known for the temper he was showing. “Jim, calm down.”
“Calm down?” he repeated, looking at her as he pushed himself into a sitting position on the bench. “Why should I do that? As your husband, I’ve made it clear that I don’t want that woman around here.”
“And as a woman who thinks for herself, she’s hardly here, Jim,” Lysette snapped, her own anger building. She tugged the dress off over her head and, standing in bra, panties, and nylons, hung it on its hanger. “What is your deal with her, anyway? You had such profuse admiration and adoration for her a handful of months ago. What’s changed?”
“You changed,” he said, removing his socks and throwing them wherever they landed. He got shakily to his feet and began to unbutton his trousers. “You, Lysette,” he said, glaring at her as she retrieved her nightgown from its hanger. “You’re a cold, hard bitch,” he spat. “Unmoved, unfazed by anything, even those bitches you’ve messed around with over the years.”
Stunned at the venomous words he was spewing, she turned and looked at him, nightgown forgotten in her hands. “What?”
“Oh, yes,” he said with obvious satisfaction. “I know about the other women,” he added, obviously misunderstanding the source of her shock. “Even they couldn’t bring some semblance of warmth to you.” He paused as she took a couple of steps toward him. “But then there’s pretty Miss Brannon,” he continued. “She enters the room, and either you’re so hot you’
re ready to throw a glass against the wall, or you can’t keep a clear thought in your head. Either way, you’re ready to roll over with your legs spread.”
The slap came so quickly and so hard, the shrill sound startled them both. It wasn’t until her hand was falling back to her side that Lysette realized she’d inadvertently cut his cheek with her nails in the process. A tiny thread of blood trailed from the small wound.
Jim reached a hand up, dabbing his fingertip into red fluid and looking at it before rubbing his finger and thumb together until the tiny smudge was gone. “I don’t want her around my kids.”
“Leave her alone,” Lysette said, warning in her voice as she stepped back toward the closet. She would never condone violence, but right now, she just couldn’t promise she wouldn’t lash out at Jim again if he dared continue his verbal attack on Eleanor. “She paid her debt to society, Jim, and for a crime she didn’t even commit. Leave her alone,” she warned again.
“Do you think her fellow teachers know about her past?” he goaded, staring at her with hands on hips and feet planted wide. “Does the superintendent know?”
Lysette was in the process of slipping the nightgown over her head as her discarded bra lay at her feet. She whirled on him, jaw clenched. She was about to speak but stopped when Jim beat her to it.
“I could ruin her!”
“Mama?”
Lysette turned, horrified to realize she hadn’t closed the bedroom door and Bronte stood there, looking frightened at them.
“Why is Daddy bleeding?” she asked, her voice small and a finger going to her mouth to chew on. It was the nervous habit she’d carried since she’d been a toddler.
Lysette hurried over to her, gathering her against her. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” she murmured, leaving a kiss atop her head. “Go on back to your room, and I’ll be there in just a minute, okay?”
Bronte nodded and glanced over at her father before turning around and padding back down the hall.
Lysette watched her go and waited until she was in her bedroom before she turned to Jim, who still had fire in his eyes. She sauntered up to him, her gaze boring into his. “I’ve known you almost twenty years,” she said softly, her tone belying the danger in her own eyes. “And I’ve done your books for nearly ten. I know a lot about you, Jim, so don’t fuck with me.” She held his gaze for a moment longer before she turned and left the bedroom, closing the door behind her.
****
Lysette stood outside the door, not entirely sure why but knowing she shouldn’t be there, yet there she was. She leaned against the row of cool metal lockers, able to feel the lock on one press into her lower back.
She blew out a breath and glanced at her watch. The bell should be ringing at any time, which it did, startling her in its shrillness. Doors up and down the hall flew open as excited students rushed out of their classrooms to hit the cafeteria for the lunch period. She scooted out of the way as a couple of students needed to get into lockers near where she stood.
“Sorry,” she murmured, her gaze going to the classroom across the hall from her.
“Ross, I know it’s burger day, but you forgot your books!” Eleanor called out, standing in the open doorway.
Lysette smiled as Eleanor was nearly knocked over by the forgetful student who ran past her back into the classroom. It was in that moment that Eleanor saw Lysette waiting. She walked over to her, dodging a student or two along the way.
“Hey.”
Lysette met her gaze and tried to smile, but it failed miserably. “Hi.”
“Is everything okay?”
Lysette shrugged as she hugged her purse to her. “Sure,” she managed with a smile that was obvious that Eleanor didn’t buy.
“Stay right here,” Eleanor said, hurrying back across the hall to her classroom. She appeared a moment later with her own purse before closing the classroom door and locking it. She returned to Lysette’s side. “Come on.”
They drove the short distance to Eleanor’s apartment in silence, though Lysette did reach over and squeeze a soft hand briefly before pulling to the curb next to the brick building where Eleanor lived.
“Can I get you anything?” Eleanor asked, letting them into her home. “I can make some coffee, or I think I have some Coca-Cola,” she offered, setting her purse and keys on the table before closing the door behind Lysette.
“No, I’m okay. But please, eat your lunch,” Lysette said, feeling guilty that she was taking up her time.
“Come sit.” Eleanor pulled out a kitchen chair and patted it before moving to the icebox.
Lysette let out a heavy, tired sigh as she entered the kitchen and laid her purse on the table before taking the seat offered her. She was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. She’d spent the night with Bronte and had slept little, her mind solely on the horrible argument with Jim and her feelings about it. She wasn’t entirely sure what she wanted from Eleanor in that moment, other than she made her feel so much better about everything. Simply being around her gave her peace.
“I have enough for two,” Eleanor said, turning to show a plastic container of egg salad. “Sandwich?”
“No, thank you. Please, Ellie, eat. I really should leave.” She pushed up from the chair only to have Eleanor set the container of food on the counter and rush over to her, stopping her with a hand to her wrist. She met Eleanor’s concerned gaze.
“God,” Eleanor whispered, bringing up a hand to lightly brush Lysette’s cheek with her fingers. “What’s wrong?”
To her horror, the tears came. She felt Eleanor’s arms wrap around her, and she was brought into a warm embrace. She allowed herself to be held and returned the hug, clinging to Eleanor. As she cried, gentle fingers combed through her hair and caressed her back. She realized that she wasn’t just crying over the upset of the night before, but of what she’d been feeling since she’d come to realize Eleanor was back in her life. She knew she also deeply grieved over the loss of something so long ago, something only able to be exorcised recently when the truth was finally revealed.
After long moments, her emotions calmed, and she was able to control herself once more. Still, she held on, taking several cleansing breaths, letting them out slowly. “Jim and I had a horrible fight last night.” When she felt Eleanor pulling out of the hug, she held fast. “No. I need to say some things, but I can’t dare look at you.” She smiled at her own words, knowing it was silly. “I just can’t.”
“Okay,” Eleanor said softly, stroking her back. “Tell me.”
“Jim said some truly terrible things to me, but he said something that made me think.” She smirked, her fingers playing lightly in the soft strands of Eleanor’s hair. “He said I’m a cold, hard person, unless I’m around you.”
“Lysette, no. That can’t be true—” Eleanor protested.
“But it is true,” Lysette interrupted. “It is,” she whispered against her neck. “Unless it’s my children or my father, I’m so closed off, emotionally vacant. I hide, Ellie. I hide behind walls that were built the night I lost you.” She squeezed her eyes closed as emotion balled in her throat. She swallowed it down to continue. “Since you’ve come back into my life, all I want to do is be around you,” she admitted. “I want to feel again.” She inhaled Eleanor’s scent, absorbed the feeling of her warm skin against her face. “I want to touch you,” she whispered. “I want to kiss you.” She swallowed again and squeezed her eyes shut in shame. “I want to make love with you.” The tears were threatening to come back. “I know that I can do none of these things because once I start, I know I’ll never be able to stop.”
Lysette heard the small gasp at her words, words she couldn’t hold back. Now that she’d let herself begin to open again, so much was washing over her. Eyes remaining closed, she pulled back just enough to rest her forehead against Eleanor’s. She cupped her face, enjoying the softness beneath her fingertips.
“Forgive me,” she continued, leaving a lingering kiss on Eleanor’s lips before pul
ling her back into a tight hug. “I have to go,” she said into it, knowing if she didn’t she’d allow something to happen that could destroy any chance of their even being friends.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Eleanor looked down at the same container of egg salad that sat on her counter. She wasn’t all that hungry but knew she had to eat. After Lysette had left her apartment earlier that day, Eleanor had been left confused and deeply moved by her words.
She’d lost her heart to Lysette Landon the moment she first saw her, and Lysette had selfishly kept it for twenty-two years, unbeknownst to her. Well, come to find out, Eleanor had been just as much of an unwitting keeper.
With a look of disgust, she grabbed the plastic container and headed back to the icebox, deciding she’d rather watch a little television while grading papers, then hit the hay early. Closing the icebox door, she was headed to the living room when she heard raised voices outside her door.
“Sir! I can’t allow you to bother Miss Eleanor!”
“Get the hell outta my way!”
She hurried to the door at the sound of the scuffle. Unlocking her door, she yanked it open to see her neighbor Marvell Walker trying to stop Jim Vaughn’s approach.
“Damn it! Leave me alone!” Jim growled, struggling against the taller black man.
“Hey!” Eleanor called out, hurrying over to them. It was only then that she realized Jim held a pistol and a bottle of whiskey. “Jim! Stop!”
At the sound of her voice, Jim pulled away from the older man. He shook his arms out to straighten his jacket, which had become hiked up during the scuffle.
“Want me to call the police, Miss Eleanor?” Marvell asked, eyeing Jim.
She looked into Jim’s face, and despite the fact he held a weapon, she saw a man in deep pain, not one who intended to inflict pain upon her. Walking over to her neighbor, she placed her hand on his arm. “No, Mr. Walker,” she said softly, giving him a smile. “Thank you so much.”
