by Tilty Edin
She smiled and reached for the glass. "I'll take it anyway." she said. "This'll be my last for the night."
"Those aren't small glasses, you know," He reminded her, then looked at Tod. "And you?"
Tod lifted his shoulders. "I'm keeping her company,” he said, watching as she guzzled down the last of her previous glass.
"Can I get you two anything else?"
"We're fine," Leanne said as the waiter walked off. "Perfect, actually."
Tod smirked.
She tried not to show any bit of faulter. Not a stutter or worried eye. She felt her cheeks go hot, something they rarely did.
She cleared her throat. "Perfect company," she said.
"You're very good company," he said.
His effortless smile didn't help the tingles in her throat lingering down until they burned her stomach. She hoped it wouldn't sear the butterflies fluttering around whenever she glanced at his unruffled presence. It was that quick, enticing way of looking at her with eyes that said more words than a mouth ever could.
He tapped his cigarette in the ashtray. "Why didn't you just order the bottle?"
She took a long sip that nearly emptied the glass, "That wasn't what I was going for tonight."
"I don't think I've never met a Sherry drinker," he said. "They're rare to come by anymore."
She watched the tempting smoke he blew from his lungs linger into the room. "You ordering anything?"
He glanced back at his abandoned table.
She turned to look at the bunch of empty glasses left she didn't notice before.
"I might still be ahead of you," he said, but without showing the effects of the table he'd left behind him. Not in the least.
She reached over and took the cigarette from him, bringing it up to her lips and inhaled. "Trying to say I've had too much?" she asked.
His face suddenly went still, but no less striking. "A man can look out for a woman, can't he?"
She exhaled the smoke she'd been craving for hours, hoping she didn't seem as vulnerable as he hinted, but she supposed every woman who'd been drinking alone was.
"Quite the gentleman you are." she said. "Is there anything that isn't charming about you?"
He flashed a mischievous smile, "I'm sure there's a few things that aren't."
She chuckled and handed him back the cigarette
"My friend would be proud of me," she admitted. "You know, Tracy."
His eyes were jabbing. Like they didn't ask, but demanded some sort of explanation. "You aren't a drinker?"
She blinked, feeling her eyes as dry as her arid mouth, "No, I don't drink everyday if that's what you mean."
"Tracy?" he asked. "I've probably met a few in my life. Talk about common names."
She covered her lips with her hand breifly. "Sorry," she said. "Thought you knew her for a second."
"Don't think so," he said." "You know, there's nothing wrong with drinking once in a while."
Her palms grew clammy, watching him look back to the table he abandoned.
Slowly he slid the chair away from the table as if calling it all night. "Pardon," he said. "But I should go pay for my table. I have an early start tomorrow and I really should be on my way."
She felt something in her neck harden and managed half a smile with sad, nearly bloodshot eyes, "I've enjoyed your momentary, but swell company none the less."
He glanced at her twice. "Will...you be okay?" he asked. "You do have a way home, don't you?"
She nodded.
He stared at the empty glasses around her. "Well, if you want to talk more, we can head outside for a bit. There's plenty more I'd like to know about you."
She thought for a drawn out moment and took out her wallet, pulling out a generous tip for the waiter.
"Well, Mr. Hagan. If you wouldn't mind."
3
8:30pm
Rain drizzled lightly on the puddles reflecting the city like shallow lakes. The dark clouds moved fast in the ebony skies, but Tod carried a smile that lit up the mood and shadowy streets almost more than the lights themselves.
"It's far past my usual bedtime now," he said. "But I suppose you'll be my exception tonight."
She giggled, "Bedtime?" she asked. "How old are you again?"
He laughed, "I don't know if I could go home without knowing more about you, anyway. You'd leave me up all night curious."
Leanne looked down for a moment, trying to hide a smile.
"I'm 25, by the way," he said. "What do you go to school for?"
She glanced at him, "Business."
His brows lifted. "Business?" he asked in amusement. "How'd you get into that?"
"Ever heard of Robinson's Nursery?" she asked.
He scratched the back of his neck, "Don't suppose I have. What about it?"
"It's down in the valley," she said, then paused to catch her breath and readjust her eyes to the blurry streets. "As an only child, I always thought the idea of taking the family business over could be a part of my life. The only people in charge now are my Uncle Tuck and his wife, Jean, and if anything happens to one of them, well, that’ll be the end of that."
Tod rubbed his chin, "I see."
She dodged a flying newspaper. "In a lot of ways," she said. "It could be profitable, but it needs a sort of commitment I don't know if I want to give like I used to anymore.”
She faltered a bit ahead of him as the night began to look more and more like nothing but a blur her eyes could never adjust too. “At least, not yet."
He buried his hands in his pockets, "What do you want, then?"
She lifted her shoulders, "I don't know what I want to do with my life, really."
"Well, that's fine," he said. "You still have time to figure it out. And you're so young."
Young. That was exactly the way she was feeling.
She lift her head to taste the rain drops and grinned and sway danced subtly further away from him, as if there were sweet songs playing, but there weren’t any but the racket of late night construction.
Then she noticed his stare, like glass emerald lanterns and blinked a few times, batting away the mist.
"Will I be seeing you ever again, Mr. Hagan?" she asked.
He pressed his hands deeper into his pockets. "I'm only getting busier," he said. "But yeah, I hope you will."
"Have you always lived here?"
He looked away from her for a moment, staring across the street. "I was born in a small town in Nebraska," he said. "When I was a kid, my family moved to Washington State because of my father’s job. He's a factory worker. Makes parts for planes."
She didn't respond, waiting for him to continue more about his past she'd been getting curious of.
"I've had a decent life." he said finally. "My Dad passed almost two years ago. My Mom's been back in Nebraska, last I heard. I don’t talk to her anymore. Still haven't told her I got into college and completed my bachelors in law at a university in Utah. Maybe I'll tell her when I get my masters here, if I feel like it."
"Sorry to hear about your father."
He glanced at the ground, his expression stiffened. "It's fine."
They continued to walk further. To where exactly, she didn't know. Through blurred vision and lost thoughts, the only thing she knew for sure is she'd been closer to him then than she had been. Close enough to inhale his velvety scent mixed with the leather and rain, which was far intoxicating than she'd like to admit to herself.
He took a deep breath. “Thinking of going home soon?” he asked.
She put a hand on her stomach, feeling it rumble and burn. "My car is..." she blurted, feeling it harder to speak the less she moved. She twisted around and pointed backwards. "That way."
He wiped a smirk. "Can you drive?"
She nodded.
He grew close to her, until his eyes were only a few feet away. "I'll ask you one more time," he said looking into them. "Do you think you can drive? Because I need to go home soon, and if you want, I can take you where
ver you need to go."
She nodded again, even as she felt a strong urge to vomit. "I'll be fine," she said. "Thanks."
"Should I atleast take you back to your car?"
The last thing she wanted to look like that night was as young, needy and unable as she really felt. She head back toward the oppistite way he was walking and waved, feeling her head spin back long after it stopped. "I'll be okay," she said. "It was a pleasure."
"I'll see you again," he assured her. "Be safe."
Her knees wobbled. She felt the weight of the world caving in on her alone. The broken up sidewalks under construction didn't help. She tried to look down at each crack to avoid it.
"Still okay?" she heard Tod's voice ask from a greater distance.
"Fine."
She went on her way regardless, until her foot caught on a crack in the sidewalk. She fell hard onto the cement, watching streaming water pouring into the metal drain beneath her, flowing bouts of red.
4
9:35am
Leanne's eyes opened to see the back of an unfamiliar car. She licked the side of her lip, confirming the putrid taste in her mouth was puke. She moaned, turning her damp head wrapped in some kind of thin fabric and closed her eyes again. When they reopened, her heart raced.
She groaned, "What's going on?"
"You hit your head,” Tod’s voice answered from the driver’s seat. “It's only a cut, thankfully. It doesn't look too bad. It stopped bleeding but I still think you could use a doctor. I need to take you somewhere to get some rest. If you don't tell me your address, I might have to bring you to the hospital."
Acid rolled up her throat. Her eye twitched.
She tried to keep her eyes open, "I'm an idiot, aren't I?"
“No," he said. "If anyone is in the situation, it's me for letting a drunk go off on their own.”
Her limp body rolled forward at a stoplight. She felt pulsating where her head was cut and held her hand there for a minute.
"Can you give me an address?" he asked sternly. "I'm taking you home. A home where someone can give you some kind of care."
But she couldn't bear the thought of being left at her apartment alone, and she'd be damned if she were going to her parents’ house wasted, although it almost sounded better than being whisked away by a handsome man she just met.
Almost.
She laughed, "No way."
"Is that a no?" he asked. "Don't take you home?"
"Don’t leave me alone," she mumbled, her stomach twisting. "Please. Don't."
Short lived minutes of lying limp passed before the car came to a complete stop.
She heard Tod leave his seat, open the back door and whisper gently, "We're at my house now."
He reached in to pick her up and cradle her, “We’re going inside.”
Her arms crawled around him, holding on as tightly as they could. Once he got to the front door, he bent down toward the welcome mat and took out a spare key.
She yelped, holding tighter around his neck as he brought they key to the door.
“You’re fine," he whispered.
The air inside the house was stagnat and still like the silent walls. She took a gasping breath in his dark room where he laid her on his flat bed. What she could feel of herself there went close to numb. The room was too cold. Goosebumps rose all over her skin.
He brushed hair away from her face. "Are you alright? Do you need water? A shower? Anything?"
She wanted a bath and maybe a cigarette, but when she looked up in the navy blue dark of the room and into the shadows of his eyes, she said, "Nothing."
He pulled the blankets out and wrapped them around her and she felt faintly warmer. The sheets smelled like fresh linen, as if they had just been washed. In fact, they barely felt like they had any history to them at all.
She could hear her heart pounding wildly in her chest despite her stiff body and waited for any other sounds, signs, and touchs, but felt nothing for the time she was in and out of consciousness.
5
7:05am
Wind rattled against the window. An on and off scent of citrus lingered from somewhere in Leanne's mind. So strong, she was sure she'd just come back from work. A small spike in her heart beat to recolected green eyes. It felt unreal to suddenly be there in his house, no less quiet and still as she vaguely remembered it to be the night before, but warmer, like the sweet summer days she'd been looking forward too.
The shadows of the blinds lined her face when she glanced to the doorway.
Tod stood in jeans and a white T shirt. He held a glass of water and brought it over to her. "You must be thirsty."
She lifted herself up, took the cup and had a few sips.
"You okay?"
"I'm sorry if I puked and...Whatever happened. I don't usually getting that drunk."
He sighed, "Should've listened to the waiter."
She bit her lip.
He moved further up along the bed until his back pressed against the wall.
Sunlight faded from the room, though a sweetness still lingered there. She didn't know why the shadows felt as sweet as the sunlight, but she'd rather feel that than a painful hangover. She leaned against the stand and brought herself to his eyes, holding a longer gaze than she intended to. The magnetic current running between them was almost visible.
She looked at him, his hair, slightly a mess, his charming smirk and his eyes that made her feel somehow less alone. But there was more to him. Something she couldn't figure out, but hoped she would. Someday.
He smiled quickly, and reached over to his nightstand and lit a cigarette. She could tell he contemplated pulling her close, but even in bed he kept his distance.
He handed her the carton.
"No thanks," she said.
"I'm in the middle of something," he said suddenly. "I'll be back."
She watched him leave the room, and only a minute passed before he returned and took her hand.
He led her through the living room and into the kitchen where a plastic table and chairs rested in the corner. Two glasses of orange juice and coffee, and two plates filled with toast, pancakes and scrambled eggs sat on top.
He took a seat and put out his cigarette in an ashtray. "Join me?"
She took the seat across from him. Her bare feet felt cold against the vinyl floors. “Thanks, but I’m not that hungry.”
He lifted a brow. “You know, food helps after a night of drinking. In fact, you probably wouldn’t have gotten so drunk if you actually ate.”
She lowered her gaze, “I might have aten if you didn’t interrupt me."
“You were miserable last night.”
She didn’t want to admit he was right, “Actually,” she contemplated, “Maybe I better get going.”
“I would really like for you to stay, Leanne.”
She pursed her lips.
He rested his head on his hand, “We all get miserable sometimes.”
She shrugged, “It's the worst, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “You might think otherwise, but I’d say it wouldn’t hurt for you to gain a few pounds.”
She took the seat across from him and took a bite, chewing slowly while examining more of the kitchen. The walls were painted a half plain off white, while the other half was a dark blue plaid. The cabinets, chestnut, with navy curtains covering the kitchen window, and there were a few tattered pictures on the refrigerator.
"How long have you been here?" she asked.
He took a sip of juice. "On and off. For a long time."
"I've only been where I’m at two years,” she said.” I’m not looking to stay in the city forever, but it's a roomy apartment where my grandma lived in and out of. She traveled a lot. To Asia, especially. I never really met her like I might have been telling you last night. Always wanted too, though."
"This is the house my father owned," he said. "I never felt the urge to leave for anywhere else too. I could see why you wouldn't want to leave where your grandmother lived. I
t's the last connection you have of her left. Leaving the memories still seems, hard. At least for me."
"It’s plenty nice," she said.
Their eyes caught. A small silence crept between the walls.
She took a slow sip of coffee and pondered her thoughts for a while, listening to the wind blow against the house.
"Did you give me your whole bed last night?" she asked.
"I did."
"You didn't violate me in my sleep, did you?"
He winked.
She could feel her cheeks heat up. It wasn't everyday a man winked and looked good doing it.
He laughed, "I wouldn't worry about it."
It went near silent between them again, except for the sound of a pink panther clock ticking away over the kitchen sink.
She disrupted it. "I really better get going," she said. "My mother has been very ill. I should be checking on her soon."
"What's she have?"
"She's come down with something. It's not unusual for her. At least not lately. She really needs to get to a doctor. My Dad thinks she’s dying."
"Sorry."
"It's okay," she said. "It's nothing new. She's been like this since her sister died years ago."
He pushed away his plate. “Death can change someone for the very worst."
She got out of the chair.
“I’ll clean up here,” he said. “Just get ready. I’ll take you back.”
She brushed a piece of hair behind her ear. “Thanks again.”
He put out the cigarette and wiped off the table. “No problem.”
She walked out of the kitchen, found a bathroom and turned on the light switch. Reflecting in the mirror, her skin glowed despite the bit of smeared makeup and messy hair. She took a tissue and dabbed away the smeared mascara, then ran her fingers through the snarls, wondering if he might have a comb in one of the drawers.
She opened the top one to a single tube of toothpaste, the second to nothing. The third, a lonely pocket knife with its blade slightly poked out, and if she wasn't mistaken, a red hue dimming its metallic shine.
