by Geoff North
What do I do now?
A young man appeared from behind the bench. “What’re you doing, Rhonda? I told you I was just going for a quick leak.”
“Relax. I was looking for a light.” Rhonda stood back up. “See you around, guy, and happy birthday!”
They stumbled back towards the lobby bar. Ray could hear her boyfriend snickering and saying something about senior citizens. Rhonda made that snorting noise again.
What’s wrong with me? She was young enough to be my daughter. Ray rubbed his aching temples. She was probably younger than Dawn. Stupid, dirty old man.
He almost followed them back into the bar. Dooley and the others would probably come looking for him if he didn’t get back soon. To hell with Dooley. Screw Calvin, and fuck Charlie. He left the bench and walked out into the night. He crossed the parking lot and started down a gravel path running the outskirts of the resort. There wasn’t much lighting beyond the exterior walls, but the moon was bright enough to show him the way.
A bus roared by less than fifty yards ahead. Ray saw something on the shoulder of the road the moment its headlights flashed by. There was a tree and something sitting next to it. Something squatting.
Something black.
It moved, and Ray saw the whites of its eyes. He stepped back, his heel caught in the gravel and he almost fell onto his rear end. A cat yowled, running out from behind the black thing and across the highway. Ray clutched at his hammering chest and moved towards the object.
It was a garbage bag. The cat’s clawing had caused it to shift.
Stupid, dirty, cowardly old man.
Ray walked back to the lobby. He steered away from the bar. Dooley and the others would have to continue celebrating his birthday without him. He went towards the elevators, tired and yearning for a good night’s sleep.
A receptionist at the front desk called him over. “Mr. Wallace? Room 4426?” Ray nodded. “I have a message from your family.”
“My family?”
“Your daughter just called. She’s says it’s important you call back.” She gave him a slip of paper with calling instructions and directed him to a corner of the lobby where the public phones were located. Ray dialled out apprehensively, wondering why Dawn would call him here on the last night of his vacation. He suspected booze and pot were becoming more of a problem for the twenty-five-year-old. She had dropped out of university the year before and had been drifting aimlessly ever since, bouncing from one crappy job to the next. And then there was that asshole ex-boyfriend. If anyone could derail someone from cleaning up their act, it was Tyler Wahl.
The phone started to ring on the other end. Guilt and fear flooded through Ray, sobering him faster than the garbage bag out in the dark. He never should’ve come to the Dominican. What kind of father was he to travel off, leaving his only child behind to suffer with her problems? She’s an alcoholic and a pot-head. What kind of dad packs up and leaves to a place where everyone is drinking and half-stoned all the time? The kind of dad that’s already checked out on life, that’s who.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Girl-of-Mine. Getting sick of shovelling snow?”
“It’s the beginning of October, Dad. You know it won’t start snowing for at least another month.”
She sounds so far away, so tired. “I know. Just wanted to remind you I’m someplace nice and warm, and you’re not.” Ray hoped she would laugh and start cursing. Dawn lived in Winnipeg, a couple hundred miles from Rokerton, but the two talked almost daily. Ray was constantly teasing her, and Dawn would always give it right back. That part of their relationship was strong. Ray’s last jab was met with silence. Something was wrong. “You know I’m flying back tomorrow... What’s happened, sweetie?”
“It’s Grummy... I’m sorry, Dad, she’s had some kind of attack.”
Dawn had always called Ray’s mother Grummy. It had been a mispronounced version of Gramma or Granny that neither he or Caroline had corrected when their girl was a toddler. Nancy Wallace loved the title, they all did. “What kind of attack? A stroke?”
“Uncle David isn’t sure. She fell at home three days ago and has been stuck in the hospital ever since. She can’t talk anymore... doesn’t know who anyone is.”
“Was she hurt? Did she break any bones?”
“No. The care worker found her sitting against her bed. They figured she collapsed getting up. Oh God, Dad... I shouldn’t have phoned you. It could’ve waited.”
Ray was already calculating flight transfers and airline ticket costs. His mother lived in British Columbia, over a thousand miles from where he’d be landing in less than eighteen hours. If he called Winnipeg airport now, he might be able to get the next flight out. Ray could be with his mother in twenty-four hours. “Don’t feel bad, Dawn. I’m glad you called. Did you... have you phoned your mom?”
“I talked to her earlier. She told me not to call you—she said there was nothing any of us could do.”
“Like I said, I’m glad you phoned.”
There was a long pause, and when Dawn spoke again, Ray knew she was crying. “I’m just being selfish. I needed to hear your voice. I love you so much, Dad. I miss you.”
“I miss you, too, Girl-of-Mine.” Was there more to this phone call, Ray wondered? Dawn didn’t just sound upset. She seemed desperate. “Do you work tomorrow? Can you meet me at the airport when my plane lands?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Is everything else okay? No other problems?”
Another pause. “I’m fine. Just make sure that stupid plane isn’t late.”
“I’ll fly it myself if I have to. I love you. Get to bed and have a good sleep.”
“I love you, too.”
Ray clicked the receiver down and thanked the receptionist on his way back to the elevator. He showered for the second time that evening and headed out onto the balcony deck wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. A breeze from the ocean dried his shoulders and chest, but Ray didn’t feel cold. The Dominican remained warm, day and night. He would miss this part of his vacation. The heat. The ocean. The long swims out away from everyone.
Ray could hear Bachata music coming from the open lobby bar. Dooley, Calvin, and Charlie were down there somewhere, drinking their faces off. So were Rhonda and her boyfriend, and about a hundred other strangers. Ray’s mother was dying almost four thousand miles away.
And soon Ray would be heading west as well on a jumbo jet flying directly over Rokerton to be with her one final time.
Chapter 3
Dawn Wallace walked aimlessly about her one-bedroom apartment for thirty minutes after the phone call with her father. She did this when she was hungry, and there wasn’t anything decent to eat in the kitchen. Dawn also did her walkabouts when she was feeling guilty or stressed. Eating was the last thing on her mind. Guilt and stress were the only things gnawing at her gut now. It was a hunger that spread from the empty pit of her stomach, up into her aching chest.
Her bare feet had gone numb from padding across the thick carpet of the living room to the cold linoleum in the hallway and bathroom, and back again across the carpet and to the white tiles in the kitchen. She hadn’t wandered into the bedroom to search for her slippers. That room was a total disaster—finding the slippers inside that mess of dirty clothes, blankets, and garbage would mean sitting in one spot and cleaning. She wouldn’t be able to keep moving about. And Dawn needed to keep moving so the thoughts wouldn’t have time to settle in.
She looked inside the fridge—even though she still wasn’t hungry—for about the tenth time knowing full well what was inside. Half a jug of milk. A quarter block of cheese with mold growing on one corner. An egg carton with a dozen empty slots. I should throw that away. She didn’t bother. The garbage bag under the sink was overflowing, and Dawn had no desire to drag it outside to the recycling bins. It was just another simple task she found too monumental to deal with.
She slammed the fridge door shut and rested her forehead against its coo
l surface. “I need a fucking drink.” Dawn started to weep. It was the one thought—the only thought—she was trying to walk off. She missed her dad, and she missed her mother. She wanted to say goodbye to Grummy. Dawn needed to find a job and get her life in order. But all she craved at this very moment was a drink—one long, continuous chug from a bottle of vodka or rye. Anything would do. Rum. Tequila. A pitcher of piss-warm beer.
Someone knocked on the apartment door. Dawn went to the sink and ran cold water over her shaking hands. She splashed some onto her face. “Just a minute,” she called out.
The knock sounded again, louder, more insistent. It was after ten. Who would be bugging her this late? The knocking turned to pounding and Dawn threw the hand towel into the sink angrily, her face only half-dried. “I said give me a minute!”
She opened the door and instantly regretted not looking through the peephole first.
Tyler Wahl braced his elbow against the open door before she could slam it shut again. “Where have you been? Why won’t you answer any of my texts?”
He towered over Dawn and outweighed her by a hundred pounds. She tried pushing him back out into the hall anyway. “I don’t answer your texts because I don’t want anything to do with you. We broke up. What part of I don’t want you in my life anymore don’t you understand?”
Tyler shoved past her and entered the apartment. “The place smells like a dump.” He went into the living room and surveyed the mess. “You really should clean up after yourself.”
“Please leave. I have to pick my Dad up from the airport tomorrow, and I need to get some sleep. Just get out and leave me alone.”
“When did you quit your job? I’ve been to the restaurant every day this week and haven’t seen you working.”
“I didn’t quit. They fired me.”
Tyler ran a hand through his unruly black hair. He looked almost as strung out as Dawn. “So I guess asking for a few bucks is out of the question.”
She stared at him incredulously. “Yeah, I guess it is.”
He went to the couch and sat in one corner without moving the clothes beneath. He found the television remote and clicked it on. A wall of blue appeared on the screen and a steady whine came from the speakers. “What happened to the satellite?”
“It got disconnected last week.”
“Didn’t you pay last month’s bill?”
“No, I didn’t pay the stupid bill last month, or the month before. That’s what happens when your stupid boyfriend uses all the rent and utility money on stupid drugs.”
He grinned at her. “So, I am still your boyfriend.”
“Why are you here? Why won’t you just leave me alone?” She wandered back to the kitchen, resuming her search for nothing in particular through the cupboards and fridge.
“You broke up with me,” he called out. “I didn’t have any say in it at all. As far as I’m concerned, we’re still a couple. We’re still together, and I want this relationship to work.”
She went back into the living room. “How stoned are you right now?”
“Pretty stoned. I was hoping maybe we could get some more pot. I’ll buy you some vodka. We’ll work all this shit out and be happy again.”
Dawn’s mouth watered at the idea of vodka. Everything else coming from Tyler was nonsense. “You just asked me for money. Where’s the booze and pot going to come from?”
Tyler reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He showed a shiny piece of plastic with embossed gold numbers on the front. “I got approved for a new credit card. Five-thousand-dollar limit. We can fix all our problems with this bad boy.”
“Another credit card? How can someone like you keep getting approved?”
Tyler shrugged. “They send application letters all the time in the mail. They don’t give a shit who you are. You stretch the truth a bit, and bingo, six weeks later the fun card shows up.”
He’s unemployed more often than I am, Dawn thought. How does that even work? As tempting as his offer was to drink their unhappiness away—and she was plenty unhappy—Dawn knew she had to get him out of her apartment. She was finished with him. She was done with liquor and weed. She was going to get her life back in order without Tyler and his shiny new credit card.
“Get out.”
Tyler threw the remote at her. It smashed against the wall behind her scattering batteries down the hallway towards the bathroom. “Quit acting like such a bitch! I’m trying to help us.”
He had a violent side. Dawn had learned this early in their relationship. Most of his rage was spent at house parties and in bars. Tyler picked fights with other violent idiots, but never struck out at a girl. Sure, he had shoved Dawn around a few times and threatened her with more, but she had always been able to work around that. She could call him an asshole and tell him to grow up. Tyler had always listened. He had never hit her. He had never thrown anything at her.
Until now. The anger was still burning on his face. It was simmering, coming to a boil in his pot-high-bloodshot eyes. Dawn was frightened. “I... I don’t want your help. There is no us. My grandmother’s dying, and I want you to leave me alone.”
“Your Grummy?”
Something snapped inside Dawn. Loneliness. Fear. The need for a drink she knew she couldn’t have. This dipshit sitting in her messy apartment, tempting and scaring her at the same time. “She’s my Grummy! You don’t know her! You’ve never even met her!”
Tyler got up off the couch and started towards her. “Quit yelling at me! I love you!”
Dawn lunged at him. “Get out!”
She felt his fingers wrap around her throat. Her feet left the floor.
He’s choking me. The son of a bitch is choking me.
She could see his face inches from hers. His teeth were clamped shut and spit was running down one corner of his mouth. Tyler was breathing heavily through his nostrils, snorting like a bull. His cheeks had gone deathly pale, but his eyes were burning.
He’s not letting go. He’s not going to let go. He’s going to kill me.
Everything was going grey and fuzzy. Dawn was losing consciousness. She could no longer feel her legs, but she presumed they still worked. Her knee drove up into his testicles, and Dawn was flying through the air. The back of her head exploded in agony and she collapsed to the floor.
When Dawn woke up, she heard someone snoring. Who’s here? Why am I on the floor?
She tried to sit up, but the pressure in her head was too much. She sank back down into the carpet and closed her eyes. Tyler. Tyler is on the couch, snoring. He showed me his new credit card, and then he tried to kill me. Dawn waited until the nausea passed. She rolled onto her hands and knees a few minutes later and climbed to her feet using the wall as a steadier. Her fingers slipped into a rounded dent in the plaster. That’s where my head hit. I kicked him in the balls, and he threw me back.
She staggered to the kitchen and splashed water on her face for the second time that evening. She wasn’t concerned about Tyler waking up. Once he’d gotten to the stage of snoring, there was nothing short of a bomb going off that could rouse him. Dawn was safe. She went to the bathroom and found her bottle of Advil. A drunk’s best friend. She popped three capsules in her mouth and swallowed them dry.
She stared at herself in the mirror. I look like shit. I’m going to steal his credit card and go to the bar. I’m going to get so drunk I’ll forget this night ever happened.
Were there even any bars open this late? What time was it? Dawn remembered the rest. The anger towards Tyler. Her grandmother lying in a hospital bed a thousand miles away. Her father coming home from the Dominican Republic.
The airport. I have to meet Dad at the airport.
She brushed her teeth hurriedly and ran a comb through her hair. It was a sweaty tangle at the back of her skull, but at least there wasn’t any blood. Tyler hadn’t thrown her that hard.
My prince.
Dawn went into the bedroom and fished her car keys out of a dirty pair of blu
e jeans. The ones she was wearing weren’t much cleaner, but she didn’t care anymore. She put her runners on and grabbed her white coat on the way out. Dawn closed the door quietly and snuck down the three flights of stairs to the back parking lot.
It was beginning to get cold. The car protested, but eventually started. The clock read 3:44 AM. Her father’s plane wasn’t due in for another ten hours. What am I supposed to do until then? Where am I going to go?
She considered heading back upstairs for more of her things—a second change of clothes, her winter boots. Maybe she could sneak in another hour of sleep. Tyler wasn’t going to wake up any time soon.
No. I’m never going back there. I’m sick of being alone and scared.
Leaving in the dead of night with under a quarter tank of gas, no job, no savings, and no foreseeable future, suddenly seemed like the most sensible plan she’d ever made in her life. She drove across the city, the bleak yet hopeful thoughts stewing inside her aching head. The Advil had kicked in, but the effects of having her skull bashed into a wall stilled throbbed deep down inside. She ran a red light without realizing until a block later. Thankfully there was little traffic. If she had been caught on one of those automatic cameras, she could pay the ticket later—once she’d picked her dad up and borrowed some money. I should’ve taken the credit card... filled the car up at least.
She arrived at the airport with just under an eighth of a tank of fuel remaining. How had she burned so much in less than twenty minutes? The car wasn’t even six months old—new cars like her Chevy Cruze were supposed to get better mileage than that. It’s why she had leased the damn thing in the first place—to save as much money as possible while working the crappy minimum wage jobs.
Dawn parked in the outside lot over two-hundred yards from the terminal. Her dad would tease her for that. He would complain that he was now fifty—too old to be dragging luggage all over the place.
Damn it. I forgot to wish him a happy birthday.
She turned the car off after letting it idle for thirty minutes. It was hot inside and she knew she had to conserve fuel. Hopefully her father wouldn’t notice how empty before she got them to a gas station. Dawn listened to the radio for another hour. She resisted the urge to start the car back up once it started cooling off inside. The temperature outside read -4. Cold, but it wouldn’t get much colder before sunrise. She had a warm coat, and she was out of the wind. Dawn wouldn’t freeze to death.
