“All right, all right. I’m just pissed that I spent good money on that shit. I could’ve saved that money and bought me a couple of cheeseburgers or some pie or something.”
Myra snickers. “I don’t think so. You’re on a diet.”
“You suck. Hey, I have to tell you, I’m really pissed at Lori.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s a damn saint, and I have a bit of Satan dwelling in me. Do you know what she came up with to get back at Trent?”
“What?”
“She suggested that we put a whoopee cushion in his chair.”
Myra laughs loudly.
“Exactly. That’s something an infant in the womb would do. I need to come up with something totally diabolical.”
“Well, just remember I don’t want to have to come to Philly and bail your butt out of jail because I know Jeff would just let you rot in there,” Myra says with a giggle.
“You got that right. Well, I better get going. I’ve got a boring ass meeting I’ve got to go to. I’m either going to nap during it and pray that I don’t start snoring like a buzz saw, or I’m going to sit and daydream about that tool man of yours using a buzz saw in nothing but his birthday suit and that sexy ass tool belt of his.”
“I don’t appreciate you fantasizing about my, uh, I mean about Dylan like that.”
Susie giggles. “Mmhm. I heard that. I’ll call later. Bye, hon.”
“Bye,” Myra says, slamming her phone shut. She can’t help the small smile that creeps up on her lips.
* * *
“Kiss your ugly motherfucking zombie assholes goodbye,” Chad shouts at the TV screen as his shotgun blasts and blood splats everywhere. “Take that, you ugly motherfucker,” he yells before he grabs a giant handful of chips and shoves them into his mouth. As he crunches, small pieces fall from his mouth onto his T-shirt. He quickly wipes his hands on his jeans before he starts hitting the fire button on his controller again.
Dylan’s head turns towards the doorway when he hears the sound of children’s feet on the basement stairs.
“Shit,” Chad mutters under his breath. “Fun’s over.” He grabs his beer and tucks it beside the couch under the end table. He jumps up and starts hiding the junk food and empty beer cans sitting on the coffee table.
“Hi, Uncle Dylan,” Jay says as he plops on the couch next to him. Dylan smiles and leans over, giving him a hug. He feels a dull ache in his chest when he remembers Myra’s wish that someone would call her ‘Auntie Myra’.
Jay looks at the TV screen. “Mom won’t let us play that. She says it’s too violent and has bad words in it. She doesn’t like dad playing it either.”
Dylan smiles. “Well, don’t tell on your dad, okay? He gets into enough trouble as it is. You listen to your mom, though. She’s smart.”
“You wanna play Star Wars?” Jackson asks Jay as he picks up Chad’s controller off of the coffee table.
Jay nods as Dylan hands him his controller.
“I wanna play,” Joseph says as he runs across the room and sits in the recliner.
The pain in Dylan’s chest intensifies as he stares at his youngest nephew. “Hey, Joseph,” he says quietly.
Joseph says nothing. He simply lifts his hand, not smiling. Dylan gives him a half-grin and a small wave back. It fucking hurts like hell that Joseph doesn’t even know him. He hates that he’s not been a part of his life. That he’s distanced himself so much from everyone.
“Dad, we wanna play Star Wars,” Jackson says in a whiny voice.
“Just hold your horses. I gotta clean up my mess here before your mom sees it,” Chad says.
Dylan stands and runs his hand through his hair. “I’m gonna go upstairs and talk to Nat, all right?”
Chad nods at him as he continues cleaning.
Stepping into the kitchen, Dylan finds Natalie leaning up against the center island talking to Sherri, one hand resting lightly on her stomach.
“Hey,” he says with a small smile on his face.
“Oh my God,” Natalie says with a gasp. “You shaved. I haven’t seen you shaved since…” Her voice trails off, a frown crossing her beautiful face. She clears her throat. “Um, wow, you look fantastic.”
“So do you. How’re you feeling?” he asks as he nods towards her stomach.
“Good. Just tired. Working nights is killing me.”
“I told her she should just quit that job,” Sherri says.
Natalie snorts. “You know we need the money. I have all of those student loans to pay off. Besides, I love being a nurse. I just can’t give it up.”
Dylan looks at Natalie. “I’m gonna go grab a quick smoke.”
“Those nasty things are going to kill you some day,” she says.
“And give you wrinkles on your handsome face and make your teeth turn brown and fall out,” Sherri adds.
“I know,” Dylan agrees with a smirk as he opens the sliding glass door to the deck. He sits down in a chair and lights up, taking a quick drag before pulling his phone out and dialing Myra.
“Hi,” she answers in her sweet voice.
“Hey. Whatcha doing?” The beers he chugged earlier with Chad have loosened him up a bit.
“Not much. I was going to do some laundry, but… never mind. You’ll think I’m crazy.”
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s embarrassing.”
“Come on, tell me.”
She sighs. “Okay. I, I’m scared of my basement.”
Dylan chuckles. “That place is pretty fucking scary.” He lowers his voice. “But ya know what?”
“What?”
“If I was there, I’d keep you safe. I’d protect you from all that scary shit down there.”
Myra giggles softly. “You would?”
“Yeah. I could also distract you. Take your mind off of everything.”
“Really? How?”
“Well, I’d do a lot more of what we did down there yesterday morning,” he says in a low voice as a situation grows in his pants.
“You’d help me light my pilot light again?” Myra asks before giggling.
“Oh, I’d light your pilot light, all right,” he practically growls just as the screen door slides open and Chad steps out onto the deck.
“Fuck. I gotta go. I’ll call you back, okay?” he whispers.
“Okay. Bye.”
He quickly shuts his phone and shifts in his chair. He takes a drag on his cigarette, ignoring Chad.
“All right, fucker. I know that wasn’t a damn business call. Who the hell was that?”
“None of your damn business.”
Chad chuckles as Dylan stares down at his cigarette. “When’s Nick getting here?”
“In the morning.”
Dylan nods and blows smoke from the corner of his mouth.
“I got my fucking eyes on you, bro,” Chad says as he holds up two fingers to his eyes and swings them back and forth between him and Dylan. “You can’t keep shit from me so don’t you even fucking try.”
“Shut the hell up.”
Chad laughs loudly. “Ma sent me out here to tell you to get your ass inside because dad’s home.”
Dylan nods. “I’ll be in there in a sec.” Chad goes back inside of the house as Dylan stares out into the wooded lot of his parents’ back yard, thinking, as he finishes his smoke.
* * *
Myra puts the last of the brownies she made on a plate and covers it with plastic wrap. She grabs her coat and the brownies and heads to Jackie’s house.
“What’d you make?” Jackie asks as she peeps at the plate. “Brownies? Oh my God, that’s just awesome. I love brownies. I’ve got everything ready. I made spaghetti. I told you I’m a terrible cook, but I’m trying. I thought about making some kind of chicken dish, but I couldn’t decide what sounded good. There are so many different kinds to make: lemon chicken, chicken divan, garlic chicken. I was on this website trying to find a recipe and got really overwhelmed. Just throw your coat on the couc
h and come into the kitchen,” she says as she grabs the plate of brownies from Myra’s hands.
Myra drops her coat and follows her. “Do you need any help with anything?” she asks.
“Oh, no. The spaghetti’s done. I cooked it exactly how the package said. I didn’t know how to make sauce from scratch so I cheated and used bottled. Then I bought one of those pre-made Caesar salad kits at the store so we should be good.”
Myra looks curiously at the counter. There are three large bowls sitting there. One has the sauce in it. Myra’s eyebrows scrunch together and her mouth drops open when she sees little tiny “o’s” floating in it.
The next bowl has drained spaghetti sitting in it with no sauce on it. The noodles are all stuck together in big clumps and the ends are dried out.
The last bowl has the lettuce, croutons and cheese in it from the package with the entire Caesar dressing packet squirted in a puddle sitting right in the middle of the salad, not mixed up at all.
“Um, Jackie? You can’t leave spaghetti just sitting in a bowl like that. You have to put sauce or some oil on it because if you don’t, it just dries out and sticks together.”
Jackie looks over Myra’s shoulder. “Really?” she moans. “Why doesn’t it say that on the box? There was nothing on the instructions that said that. They should warn you about things like that. I mean how was I supposed to know? I fixed it exactly how it said.”
“Well, it’s just something you pick up when you start learning to cook.” Myra has to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
She picks up a spoon and dips it into the sauce. “What’d you put in this sauce?” she asks as she frowns down at it.
“Oh, I used a bottle of spaghetti sauce with vegetables because I couldn’t find any with meatballs in it and I wanted meatballs so I bought a can of SpaghettiO’s with meatballs and added that. It was the only thing I could find that had meatballs.”
Myra holds back the urge to gag. “Well, I don’t think those two are going to go very well together.” She doesn’t want to hurt Jackie’s feelings because she can see how much effort she put into their dinner and she obviously had the best of intentions.
“Do you know how to cook?” Jackie asks.
Myra nods.
“Will you teach me? I have no clue. Honestly, I have no idea what I’m doing. I told you I wanted to go to culinary school but now I don’t know if I would’ve even gotten accepted. I have to learn, or I’m going to starve to death. Or get enormously fat because I’ve been eating out a lot and sometimes just not eating at all.”
Myra smiles and nods at her. “Let me run back to the house and get some things. I’ll show you how to make the easiest and tastiest spaghetti sauce you’ve ever eaten.”
“Really? Thank you so much. You’re such a great friend. I’m so glad we’re neighbors. I just don’t know what to say, I…”
Myra cuts her off. “Just eat a brownie until I get back, okay?”
“Okay. Oh, they look amazing. I’ve never made brownies before. Are they hard to make? I bet they taste so good…”
Myra hears Jackie still talking in the kitchen as she puts her coat on and opens the front door. She grins all the way to her house.
* * *
Dylan steps into the kitchen and his lips tug upwards when he catches sight of his dad with his arms wrapped around his mom, kissing her on the cheek.
Dennis smiles widely when he sees Dylan.
“Son,” he says in a quiet voice as he pulls him into a hug. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”
Dylan’s gaze drifts to the floor. “I know.”
“Come on. I’ve got something to show you,” he says as he walks over to the garage door and opens it.
“Whatdya think?” Dennis asks as he nods his head towards the 1964 Pontiac GTO sitting up on blocks in the middle of the garage.
“Holy shit,” Dylan gasps.
“Nice, huh? This is my new project. I’m going to restore her. She needs a lot of work.” Dennis sighs. “I sure wish you were around to help me with it.”
Dylan circles the car, admiring it. “Me too. A lotta work, but it’ll be worth it.”
“Definitely.”
Dennis studies him for a moment. “How you been? You got enough work in Nyssa?”
“Yeah, I’m busy.”
“Good.”
Dennis lifts the hood so Dylan can look under it. “You need to call and come see your mother more often. She worries to death about you.”
Dylan runs his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I know. It’s just hard.”
“I know it is, son. But you can visit more often. For your mother.”
Dylan runs his hand along the gray primer that covers the car. “I’ll try harder. I promise.”
* * *
Myra smiles as she climbs into bed with a book. She can’t believe she actually had a good time with Jackie and enjoyed showing the crazy girl how to make spaghetti. She stretches as her phone buzzes with a text. Picking it up off the bedside table, she glances at it nonchalantly.
U awake? – D
She gasps and sits up quickly, her book falling to the floor. She thought for sure it was going to be Susie.
Yes. Hi. – M
Dont laf at my textin. My thums r big. I nevr txt. – D
Myra giggles as she types.
I feel honored. ;) – M
U r specil. – D
Myra smiles so hard, she feels like every tooth in her head should be showing.
Thank you. – M
Wht r u doin? – D
I was getting ready to read. – M
Wht? – D
A romance. – M
U lik tht? – D
Yes. I’m a hopeless romantic. – M
Gd 2 no. – D
What are you doing? – M
Sit on dek in drk smokin. Misin u. – D
Myra sighs and hugs her phone, continuing to smile.
I miss you too. – M
I wnt 2 kis u agn. Bad. – D
Her heart flutters in her chest.
I want to kiss you, too. ;) – M
Got 2 go. I cal u tmr. Swet drems. – D
Goodnight. Sweet dreams to you too. ;) – M
Myra stares at her phone, re-reading his texts before hugging it to her chest again. She plants her face in her pillow and kicks her legs, squealing like a little girl.
* * *
Dylan groans as he stares up at the ceiling wishing he could just stay in the damn bed and never get up. He dreads what he has to do today; the anniversary of the day he wishes he could erase from fucking history.
He rubs the center of his achy chest. With a heavy sigh, he finally crawls out of bed. Grabbing his bag, he pulls out a wrinkled but clean pair of jeans and T-shirt and gets dressed.
When he enters the kitchen, he finds his younger brother, Nick, sitting at the table nursing a cup of coffee.
“Hey, man, it’s good to see you,” Nick says, smiling, as he stands and gives Dylan a hug.
“You too.”
“There’s coffee,” Nick says.
Dylan nods as he steps up to the counter and pours himself a cup.
“How’s the residency going?” he asks Nick as he sits down across from him.
“Oh, just dandy,” he says with a sarcastic drawl. “I enjoy being completely exhausted all of the time. Sleep is so overrated and all. Some days I wish I’d just followed in dad’s footsteps instead.”
Dylan snorts. “No, you don’t. Dr. Lawson has a great fucking ring to it. Just think in a few more years, you’ll be rolling in the damn dough.”
Nick smiles. “I keep trying to tell myself that, but I’m not convinced yet.”
“How long are you stayin’?”
“I have to head out late this afternoon because I have a shift tonight. I talked to mom, and we were thinking we’d try to go around four or so; I’ll leave after that.”
Dylan swallows hard and nods. He half listens to Nick as he talks abou
t his work at the hospital. He tries to nod at the appropriate times because his own thoughts are a million miles away.
His phone rings. “It’s Trish,” he tells Nick.
Nick nods, taking a sip of his coffee.
He flips open his phone. “Hey.”
“Dylan. I haven’t talked to you in forever,” his sister, Trish, says.
“Yeah. How are ya?”
“Good. Busy, but good. I wish I could be there with you guys today.”
Dylan swallows. “That’s not necessary.”
“Well, it may not be necessary, but I still wish I was. It’s hard living so far away. Doug and I were hoping to make a trip out there in June.”
“Good.”
“Well, I just wanted you to know that I was thinking about you today. I’ll talk to you soon?”
“Yeah.”
Dylan flips his phone shut and stares at it as he and Nick sit quietly and finish their coffee.
* * *
Myra pauses to re-read the last few paragraphs she just typed.
“Flint grabbed his leg as his handsome face twisted with agony, and stared down at the dark red color that seeped through his fingertips. His piercing jade gaze slowly moved from his leg to the ugly, good-for-nothing toothless scoundrel standing twenty feet away. With his finely-tuned senses, he tensed when he caught slight movement out of the corner of his eye. Falling as quick as lightnin’ to the ground flat on his back; he yanked a hidden pistol from his boot. Stretching his arm out across the dust-covered ground, he shot the culprit hiding behind a wagon dead between the eyes.
As the body fell with a loud thud, Flint flipped to his stomach in the blink of an eye. Straining his outstretched arm holding the pistol, he aimed it dead-on at the man who stood staring down at his cohort with his eyes wide and his toothless mouth gaping. Flint waited for just a second until those black eyes met his. With a small, wicked curl on his lips, he pulled the trigger, hitting the filth square through the heart.”
Myra takes in a deep breath, excited to be able to get some more writing done. Her phone rings, and she smiles ridiculously big as she answers it.
“Hi.”
“Hey. Whatcha doing?” Dylan asks.
“Not much. I was just doing some writing.”
“What’s your book about?”
“It’s a Western.”
“What? With fucking cowboys and shit?” Dylan asks with a laugh.
Color of Loneliness Page 29
