by Mia Ford
I was reckless. Everyone knew that. I knew that. And to be quite honest, I didn’t give a rat’s ass. As long as I was keeping it safe on the job, making sure no one died under my watch, then I figured that meant everything else should be fine. It was one of the reasons why the Chief calling me reckless made me scoff, much to his displeasure.
Another thing I learned was no matter what time it was, I always woke up at seven in the morning, even on my days off. A quick jog down the woodland path behind my house, followed by a hot shower, and I was ready to take on the day.
This morning, though, I slept in, and when my cellphone began to ring, I mumbled a streak of profanity as I rolled over and picked it up. Bobby’s number flashed on the screen, and I answered with a loud groan and a cough, making sure he knew he was disturbing.
“Good morning to you, too, pumpkin,” Bobby chuckled.
“What do you want?”
“How are you not up yet?” Bobby asked. “Don’t tell me you’re getting old.”
“It’s my day off,” I replied, slowly pushing up to a sitting position and tossing my legs over the side of the bed. I ran a hand over my face and groaned again.
“Well, it’s a good thing I woke you up, then.”
“What time is it?” I asked, glancing around for my watch. The sun had come up, barely, and I was already contemplating hanging up and going back to sleep.
So much for the morning routine.
Fuck the morning routine.
“It’s eight,” Bobby said. “Listen, I’m about to head out, and I wanted to ask you for a favor.”
“Do I have a choice?” I asked.
“Not really.”
“What is it?”
“Andrea’s here.”
My eyes widened, and I tried to force back the haziness in my head. Somehow, I had forgotten about her.
“Is she okay?” I asked, a little more alert.
“Yeah, she’s fine,” Bobby said. “Don’t worry. It’s just, I have to be at the station, and I don’t want to leave her alone. Especially today, you know?”
“Just in case her husband shows up?” I said, finishing his thought.
Bobby was silent for a few seconds before he said, “Yeah, just in case.”
“You could call the police,” I said. “Have them park a cruiser in front of your house.”
“Of course,” Bobby chuckled. “Because the Mansfield PD works solely for me. No, you should be more than enough. She seems to think Dennis wouldn’t believe she’d come here. I have my doubts.”
I nodded, thinking that a close relative would be the first place I’d look if my wife ever skipped town all of a sudden. Bobby was right. Chances were, Dennis was already on his way.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” I said.
“Take your time, no rush,” Bobby said. “I’m heading out in a bit, so you’ll probably miss me. I’ll let Andrea know to let you in when you get here.”
“I think she’d recognize me if she saw me,” I smiled.
“The last time she’s seen you was ten years ago,” Bobby said. “I wouldn’t recognize you.”
He hung up, and I tossed my phone onto the bed, stretching as I made my way to the bathroom.
***
Bobby really was gone by the time I arrived at his house. The Ford in the driveway was foreign to me, and I assumed it belonged to Andrea. I made a mental note to later park it in the garage where no one could see it. If Dennis really did pass by while I was here, I wanted to be able to lie to him and send him on his way. I didn’t need that car telling the world that someone else was here.
I parked the Nissan in front of the house, got out and made my way up the walkway. Bobby’s childhood house had pretty much remained the same since our childhood, the only difference a fresh coat of paint I had helped him add a few months back. Other than that, I was brought back to our middle school days when I’d ditch my bike in the exact same place my car now stood, and race around the house to where he would be waiting. Usually with some new gadget his father had bought him. The Canfield’s had always been a fun bunch to be around.
I rang the doorbell and took a few steps back, trying to stay in sight of the twin windows on either side so that Andrea could see me. I waited for a few seconds, and when she didn’t appear, rang the doorbell again. I tried to look in through the blinds, but I could barely make out the hallway, let alone judge if anyone was coming to answer me. I stepped down from the porch and looked up at the second-floor windows, hoping that Andrea was probably trying to judge who was outside from upstairs. Still, nothing.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Bobby.
“Hello?”
“She’s not answer –”
The front door opened, and my words caught in my throat.
Andrea looked nothing like what I remembered. I was never a curious guy, and I had never taken notice of any of the family pictures lying around Bobby’s house. The last I remembered of Andrea, she was in Junior High and looked a lot like a thirteen-year-old who had just discovered that she needed braces and glasses at the same time. To me, she was always Bobby’s kid sister, and I rarely saw her as anything else.
The woman who opened the door for me now was nothing like that memory. Andrea was braces and glasses free, her chestnut hair tied back in a high ponytail that made her eyes pop out like twin emeralds, and her smile as dashing as the face that it sat on. She was wearing a t-shirt that did little to hide the fact that somewhere along the years, her breasts had decided to grow two sizes bigger than when I had last seen her. Her shorts gave me a gracious view of her long legs, and I could tell from the way her hips curved that, once she’d turn around, I’d see one hell of an ass.
That’s your best friend’s sister, asshole.
The way I was staring, you could never tell.
“Andy?”
Bobby’s voice across the line snapped me back from the perverted part of my mind I had wandered into. One I usually felt very comfortable in, if it weren’t for the fact that this was Bobby Canfield’s sister.
“Never mind,” I said, my eyes locked on Andrea. “She’s opened.”
“Okay, cool,” Bobby replied. “If that jackass actually does pass by, call me first, then beat the fuck out of him.”
“Gotcha,” I said, hanging up.
“Andy?” Andrea asked, smiling as she squinted at me, obviously trying to find anything remotely recognizable to latch onto. “Andy Stetson?”
“The one and only,” I smiled, walking back up the porch.
Her smile widened, and she rushed towards me, her arms wrapping around my neck and her breasts pushing up against my chest.
Think of your grandmother naked. For fuck’s sake, don’t you dare get a boner!
“Oh my God!” she said, letting me go. “You changed!”
“So, did you,” I said. “What happened to the braces and glasses?”
“Lasik and a good dentist,” she said. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Likewise.”
“Get in here,” she grabbed my hand and pulled me after her. “It’s been forever!”
For a woman running away from her husband, she sure seemed to be in a good mood.
***
She made me coffee. Good coffee. And we ended up on opposite couches in the living room, enjoying the brew and catching up. She asked a lot of questions, wanted to know everything about my life since we had last met, and gracefully dodged any questions I asked in the same direction. I let it slide, not wanting to press, knowing that any discussion about her marriage would probably be very uncomfortable. Besides, she hardly knew me. To her I was Andy Stetson, the weird kid her brother used to hang out. I was pretty much a stranger to her right now.
“So, have you settled in okay?” I asked. “I can’t imagine what it’s like coming home to your room.”
“Looks just the way it was when I left,” she said. “Didn’t change a bit. Still has the posters up and all. It feels weird and familiar at the
same time, you know?”
“I guess.”
“Are you still in that house on Maple Road?”
I cringed at the mention of my childhood house. “No, I sold that thing after my parents died,” I said.
“Oh, sorry,” she frowned.
“It’s okay,” I smiled. “Got myself a place out on Juniper Hill. Invested the rest of the money from the sale. With the job, I live comfortably enough.”
She smiled and nodded. “That’s good. Must be nice.”
“It is,” I agreed. “Close enough to everything, but far enough to give me some privacy. Obviously, the neighbors can be a little bit of a nuisance, but it’s a little price to pay.”
She smiled at that and took a sip from her coffee. We fell into an awkward silence for a few seconds before I cleared my throat and asked, “So, Hartford. How’s life in the big city?”
“Manchester, actually,” Andrea smiled, shifting a bit in her seat. “Not really a city life, but close enough.”
“Big difference from the small town, huh?”
“You could say that,” she nodded. I could tell she was uncomfortable, but for the life of me couldn’t think of anything else to say. The only thing left was to tell her about my sex life.
“I thought you had moved further away,” I said, trying to dance around the same subject. How many ways are there to ask the same question?
“Well, my husband got a job at Ford as a mechanic. They have a branch in Hartford, so Manchester was the closest we could afford.”
“What do you do?” I asked, purposefully dodging any questions regarding Dennis.
She smiled, and the look she gave me was like a silent thank you. “I’m a secretary at KarpTech,” she said.
“The software company?”
“You heard of it.”
I nodded. “Our entire system at the station runs on their software. Pretty durable stuff. Can’t remember the last time something crashed.”
“Yeah, they’re proud of the work they do,” she said.
“You mean we, right?”
She smiled. I could get used to that smile. “Well, I haven’t really told them that I was leaving,” she said. “So, I think that they’ll probably fire me for this little stunt.”
I nodded and took another sip of coffee. No matter what we did, conversation seemed to always circle back to the elephant in the room. I looked at her, met her gaze, and she looked away, biting her lower lip. She looked gorgeous, curled up on the couch like that, cradling her coffee mug. How could anyone lay a hand on something so beautiful?
“Bobby told you, didn’t he?” she asked, looking at me. I saw a glint in her eye, and wondered if it was just the light, or if she was holding back her tears.
“Told me what?” I feigned stupidity.
She smiled and bit her lip again. I knew she could see right through that lie.
“Yeah, he gave me an idea,” I said. “But don’t be angry. We’re tight, Bobby and I, and we spend a lot of time together. It shouldn’t be a surprise that he’d talk to me about things that bothered him.”
“You two have always been like that,” she said. “Two peas in a pod.”
“It comes in handy when you stay behind like we did,” I explained. “It’s hard to make new friends when you’re surrounded by college kids.”
She looked at me for a beat before asking, “What did he tell you?”
“That you were having trouble,” I said, deciding a small lie was better than the complete truth. “I was with him last night when you called. He seemed worried.”
“Is that why he asked you to babysit me?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
I chuckled. “I really wouldn’t call it babysitting.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
I paused, looking her in the eye. “Yeah,” I finally said. “He’s worried your husband might decide to come looking for you.”
“Do you think he will?” Andrea asked. “My husband, I mean. Do you think he’ll come looking for me?”
I placed my mug down on the coffee table, folded my arms across my chest and sighed. “My father used his hands,” I said. “A lot. On my mom. On me. Whenever he damn-well felt like it. The thing is, my mom stuck around. Until the day she died.”
Andrea’s eyes glistened, and a tear raced down one of her cheeks. She quickly wiped away.
“She didn’t have your guts,” I continued. “I don’t know why. Sometimes I thought she stuck around for me. Sometimes I was cruel enough to believe she enjoyed the beatings. But she stayed through it all. You didn’t. And that says a lot.”
Andrea turned away, looking out the window. I couldn’t tell if she wanted a distraction or was trying to hide her tears.
“I think,” I said, “that if she had left, my father would have chased after her. The man was a relentless son of a bitch, and I didn’t shed a tear when he finally croaked. He had his good days, rare as they were, but when it came to my mother, he was a possessive motherfucker. If she had run, he would have followed.”
I picked up my coffee and took another sip, before gazing out the window myself. “So, yes, Andrea,” I said. “I do think he’ll come looking for you. And that’s why I’m here today. And every day that Bobby wants me to be here.”
She looked at me and I met her gaze.
“If your husband comes knocking on that door, he’ll be in for the surprise of his life.”
We drank the rest of our coffee in silence and said very little for the rest of the day.
Chapter 7: Andrea
I woke up screaming.
The nightmare was far too vivid. At one point, I had known I was dreaming. After all, why would I be at home in Manchester when I knew I was in my bedroom on Davis Road, with Bobby sleeping two rooms away, snoring up a storm?
But I was there. Sitting at the kitchen table I had shared for years with Dennis, dinner laid out and ready, waiting for my husband to come home. And he did come home. Drunk as ever, smelling like alcohol and piss and a hint of women’s perfume. He staggered through the front door, and as usual, left it open expecting me to come running and close it.
I didn’t move. I only sat there, watching him sway. He suddenly stood completely still and stared at me from the living room, expecting me to get up as I usually did. Expecting me to shower him with pleasantries in hopes that he would stay placated until we could go to sleep. On any other day, I would have done that. I usually did. And it never seemed to matter, because he would always turn sour, curse at me for a while before practicing his punching hand.
So, I didn’t move.
“Get over here,” Dennis snarled.
I only looked at myself, not daring to move, persistent in my resolve to rebel tonight. He saw the look on my face, and the most sinister of smiles crept on his face. He enjoyed it when I fought back, the sick bastard. A sadist ad masochist at heart, my Dennis. He liked it when I didn’t give in.
He staggered into the kitchen, wiping his hands on his back pockets the way he usually did before he got ready to beat at me. He balanced himself on the chair next to mine, looked at the dinner I had set up, and began to laugh.
“My wife, the cook,” he teased.
“You should have some, Dennis,” I said.
Dennis looked at me, then at the food, then at me again. With a snarl, he grabbed the plate of roast beef and flung it across the kitchen. It barely missed my head before shattering against the cupboards behind me. He lashed out, grabbing me by the hair and pulling me to him.
And for some reason, I didn’t fight back.
Dennis looked me in the eye, his snarl turning into something scarier. A look of absolute glee on his face at what he was about to do to me.
“I know where you are, Andrea,” he whispered. “And I’m coming for you. Your brother can’t save you from me, you little bitch.”
He raised his hand, and I woke up.
I sat in bed, sweating and gasping for air, my eyes wide and my heart slamming in my chest. I co
uld feel the air around me like a heavy weight on my shoulders, and the harder I tried, the more difficult it was to breathe. I felt like I was going to suffocate right then and there.
I rolled out of bed, swaying on my feet as I stumbled out of the bedroom and made my way into the bathroom. I could still hear Bobby snoring, and I began to wonder if I really had screamed out of my nightmare, or if the scream had been in my head. I switched on the lights and turned the faucet on, letting the rush of water soothe my nerves. I tried hard to steady my breathing, to calm my heartbeat, but I wasn’t getting anywhere.
I felt my stomach turn, and I quickly knelt in front of the toilet and vomited.
***
Jane Tucker owned a small supermarket close to UCONN, a small family business that had been around since I was a child and had been able to thrive even with the bigger competitors opening up just around the corner. I think the main reason for this was the fact that the Mansfield locals, the ones who knew Jane well, always bought their groceries from her store. It was our way of letting everyone know that no matter what the university brought with it, the community stuck together. A little bit of old town making a stand against the new.
It was behind Jane’s market where I had my first kiss. His name was Lenny Kale, and it was a sloppy and wet kiss, nothing like what my fifteen-year-old mind had conjured up. To make up for that memory, I had brought Dennis here after we had started dating, just to associate a proper kiss with the place. But, no matter what we did, even when we had sex in the backseat of his car behind the market, it was always Lenny I remembered.
Which made me feel oddly happy when I walked into Jane’s supermarket, closely following Bobby through the sliding doors. For obvious reasons, I didn’t mind that the sloppy kiss was what I remembered right now, and not Dennis.
Especially after last night.
I didn’t tell Bobby about the dream, and we had spent breakfast talking mostly about my evening with Andy. He had stayed well after Bobby’s shift had ended and my brother had come home with dinner. We ate, watched a movie, and talked some more about the good old days before I excused myself and went upstairs to sleep. Andy had left an hour later.
