by David Archer
Donna had been to St. Mary’s a few times, and I had done her intake. For a split second I almost said her name, but I caught myself just in time, and a moment later I was certain she didn’t recognize me. I introduced myself as Emily Keeler, country accent in place, and she gave me a big smile as she offered to help me carry all my stuff in.
I accepted gratefully, and she hurried to put on a coat and scarf. I was dropping my latest load in the living room of my apartment, and took advantage of the moment to check my mask in the mirror beside the front door. It was holding up exactly as it was supposed to, so I smiled when Donna came back and said she was ready.
With her help, I was able to get everything in pretty quickly, and then she wanted to help me start setting everything up. I had been wearing my gloves as we carried the things in, but it wouldn’t make sense to keep them on inside, so I was trying to figure out how to get her to leave when it hit me.
“Um, listen,” I said, “I really appreciate the help, and I’d love to hang out and get to know you better, but Darrell should be here pretty soon, and—he’s not the most friendly person, you know? I need to be here by myself when he gets here, ’cause he gets kinda mad if he thinks I’ve got people here when he’s gone.” I touched the right side of my face as I said it, something I’d seen many women do when they talked about their men getting angry. It seems to be like some sort of natural signal that an abused woman tends to recognize, because Donna suddenly gave me a knowing look and said she’d see me later. Since I knew that Donna’s husband, Gary, was the kind who liked hitting her, I expected her to want to talk about it the next time we got together.
I busied myself with getting the apartment set up, and it suddenly dawned on me that I was enjoying myself. I had put sheets on the bed, stuffed the new pillows into pillowcases and then added a big comforter I’d gotten at Goodwill for only ten dollars. The brief thought that Dex and I would be sharing the bed that night crossed my mind, and I felt the smile get a bit wider.
I shook it off. Dex and I weren’t really moving in together, we were putting on an act in order to try to draw out a killer. I couldn’t afford to let myself get too caught up in fantasy, no matter how much fun I thought it might be.
And then it hit me. With all the shopping I’d done, I hadn’t even thought about groceries! I hurried into my coat and down the stairs to the Toyota and raced to the supermarket five blocks away. I almost ran through the store, grabbing eggs, bacon, hamburger, canned goods, milk, cereal, bread, and lots more, then used my doctored credit card to pay for it all.
I had called Dex earlier to give him the address, and he showed up as I was arriving with the groceries. He was ready to play his part, and had already gone to Alfie to get a different car (a Chevy Malibu, which probably insulted his Mustang) and then swung by his place to get some clothes. He got out and looked at me, then walked right on past as I was trying to carry six bags at once. The dirty look I gave him didn’t require any acting ability at all.
He was standing by the apartment door when I got up the stairs, waiting for me to unlock it. “You could have grabbed a couple bags,” I said bitterly as I turned the key. We stepped inside and he closed the door behind us, then turned and looked at me.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “I just figured if anyone was watching, I should start being an asshole now.”
I grinned. “I know,” I said. “But you can grumble while you help me bring the rest up. Come on, I’ll make dinner once we get done.”
He followed me back downstairs, and he did grumble a bit whenever he thought anyone might overhear, but we got it all in one trip. When we got back upstairs, Donna’s door was open and her husband, whom I’d never met, was watching us. He flashed Dex a smile and held out a hand.
“Hey, you guys new? I’m Gary.”
Dex shook hands with him and introduced himself as Darrell. The two of them stood there and talked for a couple of minutes as I carried my bags in, and then Dex came inside and closed the door.
“I think I just got a stamp of approval,” he said. “Gary invited me to watch football with him this weekend. He’s got one of those big TVs on the wall, makes it sound like the best thing ever for football.”
“Just watch him,” I said. “His wife was actually one of my clients at the Outreach a while back. Don’t worry, she didn’t know it was me.”
“Hell, I wouldn’t have known it was you if I hadn’t expected it,” he said. “Oh, I would have after a minute if we were face to face, but if you’d walked past me on the street, I don’t think I’d have realized it was you. You’re right, people see the scars more than they see your actual face.”
I nodded. “Human nature,” I said. “We form our associations based on what’s most easily identifiable. That’s why redheads get so much attention, their most identifiable trait is also their most prominent one.”
He squinted at me. “I was never much into redheads,” he said. “Always been a blondes man, myself.”
I finished putting the groceries away and turned to look at him. “What would you like for dinner? You have a choice of Hamburger Helper, cheeseburgers, or chili-mac.”
He scrunched up his face. “What’s chili-mac?” he asked, and I probably looked shocked. Who doesn’t know what chili-mac is?
“Canned chili with elbow macaroni,” I said. “It’s a cheap way to make a single can of chili stretch into a full meal.”
“Let’s try that, then,” he said. “I never had it, might be a new favorite.”
I laughed as I filled a pan with water and set it to boil. When it was rolling pretty good a few minutes later, I opened a box of macaroni and dumped half of it in, then got out the chili.
And then realized I’d forgotten to buy a can opener. When Dex saw me staring at the can, he figured out the problem and took it from me, then got out his Swiss Army knife and cut it open for me. I grinned as I drained the water from the macaroni and dumped the chili in with the noodles, then set it back on the burner and turned it down to low. The noodles were hot enough to warm the chili up, but I like my chili-mac good and steaming.
I set a couple of plates on the small table, then spooned dinner out onto them. Dex chuckled when I got out the parmesan cheese, but he sprinkled a generous pile onto his own plate after watching me do the same. I got back out of my chair and pulled a couple bottles of cola out of the fridge for us, then sat back down and passed one to him.
“I could get used to this,” he said after a moment, and I glanced up at him. I think the memory of my fleeting wave of pleasure while I was making the bed must have made my face—well, half of it—flush for a second, because he gave me an odd look. He grinned, and said, “You, too?”
Go ahead, Abby’s voice said, admit it. You’ve been thinking about what it would be like to be with him, you’ve even fantasized about it. It’s starting to be obvious that you both sort of like the idea, so why not give it a shot?
Shut up, I told it. You’re not even real, so you don’t get an opinion.
“Dex,” I said, “you know how I feel about that. If this is gonna cause a problem...”
“It won’t,” he said quickly. “I was actually referring to the chili-mac, but I see why you misunderstood. Sorry about that.” He shoved a a forkful into his mouth.
Misunderstood, my ectoplasmic ass, Abby said. He wants to make it permanent but he’s afraid you’ll run away if he admits it, and you know damn well I’m right!
You may be, but we both know I wouldn’t be good for him. He needs someone who isn’t as messed up as I am. Now, shut up and stay out of it.
I pretended to accept his explanation, and we made it through dinner without any other problems. When it was over, I washed the dishes quickly and we sat down in the living room. There was no TV in the apartment, and I hadn’t bought one, so all there was to do at that moment was talk.
“I went by my place and took care of the cat,” Dex said. “I grabbed some clothes and shoved them into a trash bag, guess I ought
to bring them up.”
“You can get those in a minute,” I said. “We ought to start getting into the swing of this, I guess. Ready to yell at me?”
He looked uncomfortable. “You better give me some guidelines,” he said. “I’m not sure I’d know how to sound right. My dad wasn’t abusive, he just wasn’t the kind to stick around and do his job. I’m not sure I know how to act.”
I chuckled. “Pretend I’m someone you have a low opinion of. Most domestic abuse starts with contempt, when one partner thinks the other doesn’t measure up to what they want them to be. They start out with verbal abuse, calling them names, talking down to them, insulting them. Tell me I’m stupid, I’m fat, whatever. Call me lazy, maybe, that sort of thing.”
He made a face and looked around the floor, as if something he wanted must be down there and he was determined to find it. After a moment, he looked back up at my face. “What, now?”
“Yes. Go to the door and yell something at me just before you open it, then add to it as you walk out. That’s pretty typical.”
He sighed, then got up out of the chair he’d been sitting in and walked to the door. He stood there for a second, then looked at me and said loudly, “Do you even see how this place looks?” He winked at me, then opened the door and started through it, turning back to yell, “Maybe if you’d get off your lazy ass once in a while, I could come home to a decent place!” He pulled the door shut hard behind him, and I sat there with my eye wide.
He’d done a surprisingly good job of acting it out. A part of me automatically wondered if Dex might have that side of himself, the side that could become an abuser.
I brushed the thought aside. Just the fact that I’d had to give him ideas of what to say was a good indicator that he wouldn’t be that kind of man. Not that I’d ever really know, of course, since we weren’t really a couple, anyway.
He came back a few minutes later with a big trash bag, shut the door, and looked at me sheepishly. “How was that?” he asked.
“Pretty good,” I said. “Did you see anyone as you were going or coming back?”
“Lady down the hall was peeking at me, but she slammed the door when I got close. I think I might have scared her a bit.”
“It won’t hurt her,” I said. “But it’ll start a gossip mill in the building, and that’ll fit into the cover.” I got up and went into the kitchen, coming back a moment later with a cracked coffee cup I’d gotten at a thrift store. “Now, yell something about me not doing the dishes right and throw this against the wall by the door.”
His eyes went wide. “Are you serious?” he whispered.
“Yep.”
He took the cup and stared at me for a minute, then shouted, “Good God, you can’t even wash a damn cup out, can you?” The cup shattered against the wall a second later, and Dex actually flinched when it did.
“I’m sorry,” I yelled back, “honey, I’m sorry! I’ll do it again, I’ll do better!” I walked calmly to where I’d put the broom and dustpan a while earlier and got them, and I was sweeping up the fragments when the knock came on the door a minute later.
I nodded for Dex to answer it, and made sure my body was blocking any view of my left hand. That was the only part of my scars that was visible, but it was also easily recognizable, so I couldn’t let it be seen.
“Yeah?” Dex growled. I glanced around to see that it was Donna standing at the door, and I was actually kind of impressed at her courage.
“Um,” she said haltingly, “it sounded like something broke. Is everything okay?”
Dex was looking angry, which fit the act, but I didn’t want him to say the wrong thing. I called out, “Hi, Donna, it’s okay. I broke an old coffee cup, it was my fault. Everything’s okay.” I was leaning so she could see my face, and I put into it the pleading look I’d seen on so many women as they tried to tell me things weren’t really all that bad.
It worked. She got the message I was trying to convey, that I was doing all I could to keep the situation from getting any worse, and that I didn’t want her to interfere. She licked her lips and glanced at Dex, then mumbled, “Okay, then,” and faded back to her own apartment. Dex shut the door and turned to me again.
“Geez,” he said quietly, “I feel like a total jerk. How can guys act like that all the time?”
And a smile came across my face as I looked at him. “Because they don’t have that part that makes you feel like a jerk. It doesn’t work in them, so they never have any regrets.”
“I’m glad I have it, then,” he said. “I don’t think I could live like that, not for long. I’d end up wanting to shoot myself or something.”
I couldn’t help myself, I chuckled. “You know what? You might end up making some lucky girl a good husband yet.”
Dex stared at me for a long moment, then walked past me toward the bathroom. He was mumbling under his breath, but he passed me on the right, so my good ear caught what he was saying.
“Just not gonna be you, right?”
I thought about calling after him, even apologizing, but I’d actually regretted my words as soon as they left my mouth. I’d known exactly how he’d take them, known exactly how they would hurt, but it was too late.
Sooner or later, you gotta face it, Abby’s voice said, voicing my own thoughts that I didn’t want to acknowledge. No matter how much you might not want it, Dex is falling in love with you.
I know, I answered back. But I can’t be what he needs.
Gee, that’s funny, my alter-ego shot back at me. I always thought the one you fell in love with for real was the one who was exactly what you needed.
I read something once that never made sense to me until that moment. It said there’s nothing crazy about talking to yourself, and it was even okay to talk to yourself and then answer yourself. The problem, it said, was when you talk to yourself and answer yourself, and then you go: Huh?
That was my moment.
FIFTEEN
The rest of that night was quiet. I spent some time explaining to Dex about how Alfie had set up the hotline to make sure I would get through to the bad guy, but he was still irritated and I’m not sure he really paid attention. I read a book on my phone, and Dex watched some Youtube videos on his, and we finally went to bed about ten. It was the very first time we ever slept in the same bed without sex, and a part of me felt seriously rejected when I laid down beside him and he just turned his back to me. I knew I had hurt him, but I honestly hadn’t meant to, and I couldn’t understand why he didn’t know that instinctively.
I was hurting, too, but I couldn’t have told you why if my life depended on it. I vaguely remember thinking that I had been hoping he would kiss me, just so I could see what it would feel like with the mask on, but it didn’t happen, and that may be where the hurting came from.
The next morning he seemed to be his old self. He rose before I did and I smelled the coffee from the bedroom when I woke, so I got up and used the bathroom, then walked out to the kitchen in my nightgown.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” he said with a big smile. “You seemed tired last night, so I thought I’d let you sleep. Want your eggs scrambled or fried?”
I couldn’t help the smile that came to my face. Just hearing the cheerfulness in his voice again made the world okay. “Scrambled is fine,” I said, and he nodded as he started breaking eggs into a bowl.
“So,” he said as he worked, “where does our mission take you today?”
“After you leave for work,” I said, “I’m going to call the HOH hotline. With any luck, I’ll get through to the bad guy right away, and I can start trying to get his attention. I’ll let you know how it goes, of course.”
“You’d better,” Dex said. “And if you go out, make sure you wear the turtle. If anything looks suspicious, you turn that sucker on. According to Alfie, this phone he gave me will sound an alarm when you do, and then it will tell me exactly where you are.”
I shrugged. “It’ll tell you where the turtle is,” I said. “Hope
fully, that will be someplace close to where I am. We just have to assume he’s going to take away any jewelry, even something as ugly as that.”
“Don’t worry,” Dex said, “if that alarm goes off, I’m going to be on the way to find you.”
I looked at him for a moment and Abby’s words flowed into my head once more. Could it be true? Was Dex actually falling for me? If he was, I needed to find some way to cope with it without hurting him too badly.
“No,” I said, “you’re going to call Niles and tell him where I’m at. You made me a promise once, remember? That if I was ever in trouble, you wouldn’t do anything to try to help. I’m going to hold you to that promise.”
He spun and looked at me. “Oh, come on, Cassie,” he said. “You can’t honestly expect me to sit by and do nothing. Maybe we are only friends, with or without benefits, but…”
“Trying to come to my rescue is what got Abby killed,” I said coldly. “Dex, I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you because you were trying to help me. I made you promise, remember? And you did, you promised me. If that alarm goes off, the only thing I want you to do is call Niles and give him that phone.”
He stared at me for a moment, then seemed to deflate. “If that’s what you want,” he said as he turned back to the frying pan. He poured in the eggs and began stirring them with a plastic spatula.
I felt like a jerk, myself. I know all he wanted was to make sure I’m safe, but the only reason I had let him into my life at all was because he made that promise. I had avoided letting anyone get close ever since Abby’s death, because it hurt more than I could bear. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing someone else just because they were trying to help me out of a bad situation.
“Dex,” I said softly, “I’ll be okay. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my life, it’s that I’m a survivor.”
