by Willsin Rowe
Toni never had that kind of trouble at all. Not from any of her old boyfriends and certainly not from Rob. Maybe it was the fact she grew up Italian. Or grew up dealing with those three annoying younger brothers. Whatever the reason, she seemed to just deal with guys at a skill level that made me jealous. Like she could actually speak their language or something, which was crazy talk. It had to be something about me that made my relationships screwed up, surely. Maybe my red hair was some kind of jerk-magnet.
It was such a relief to see my doorway completely devoid of psychos, but the truth was, even the idea he’d be there had made me jumpy. More than ever, I needed Mario’s positivity and hot beverage skills to settle me before the day started.
My elderly admirer was all smiles yet again when I stepped inside his café.
“Ah, my bella, you are early today. So nice to see you.”
“Good morning, Mario.”
“Oh, what is the matter, my girl? You are sad?”
I hadn’t even realized I was projecting my feelings. Or perhaps it was just Mario’s lifetime of experience in reading people. “It’s nothing, really. Well, nothing one of your perfect Earl Grays won’t fix anyway, sir.”
“Sì, sì. Coming right up.”
I pulled out my phone while Mario fussed around making my tea, and I called Toni.
“Hey, hey, Lucy. What’s buzzing around your parts?”
“Well, a few days ago I would have said moths.”
There was a silence on the other end which stretched for three seconds. Then five. It was so uncharacteristic of Toni I actually had to check my screen to if we’d been disconnected.
“Are you… Luce, are you telling me what I think you’re telling me?”
“I hate questions like that, T. How can I know what anyone else is thinking? I barely even know what I’m thinking most of the time.”
“Probably something about mops.”
Aware that Mario could hear my side of the conversation, I kept my insults to myself. “Regardless, my fun times with a certain Mr Hobson are not why I called you.”
“But… that’s the only thing I want to talk about.”
“Oh, I know that. And we will. But there’s something else.”
“What could possibly be more important than sharing your deepest and most personal feelings about the chivalrous man who’s won your heart?”
“Toni?”
“Okay, you got me, I just wanna know how tight his ass is. Did it feel amazing between your teeth? Ooh, did you squeeze it?”
“You said once you could call on people. You know, people who can do bad things to others. Were you serious?”
“Wow. Was he that bad in the sack?”
“Huh? Oh, no. Not for Mark.” I proceeded to explain about Patrick and his overbearing obsession with me. She made all the right noises at the right times, for sympathy and anger.
“Boy, he sounds like a head case, all right.”
“So what do you think? Should I press charges, or take you up on your offer?”
“Babe, I was kidding. My dad runs a deli. You know that. If you want the guy sliced up and sold, then maybe I can help. Otherwise…”
At that moment, Mario yelled in pain, that sound followed by the slam of his kettle hitting the floor of the kitchen. I hadn’t been watching what was going on, but he was holding his left hand to his chest.
“Gotta go, T.” I hung up and rushed around to see what was going on.
“Mario? Are you okay?”
“Burn. I spill water on my hand.”
His skin was a deep red. It looked pretty bad, so I ran his hand under cool water for a moment, which seemed to at least mask his pain a little.
“Come on, Mario. We need to get you up to the clinic.”
“Sì. But my business. Who will look after?”
“We’ll just have to put the closed sign up.”
He argued for a moment or two, but he came around quickly. Perhaps the pain was strong enough to make his stubborn will just that little bit softer. I locked the front door for him and walked him three doors up to the family medical centre.
“You good girl, Lucy. Grazie.” He kissed both my cheeks, and I couldn’t tell if he was just being an Italian gentleman, or if it ran deeper than that. Either way, it was lovely. “Now, you go. You have business, too.”
“I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I am okay. If they say I no drive, I get taxi.”
I pressed my palm to his cheek, much as Mark was often doing to me. “No. You will call me and I will drive you home.”
“Bella, you are so sweet to an old man.”
I took that as both a yes and a thank you. The doctor led him straight in to tend to his burn, so I left my number with the receptionist and made my way back to The Lost Books’ Home.
Thankfully, the front of my store was one hundred percent Patrick-free, though I still made sure to hurry through the process of unlocking the door. I was deeply, and pleasantly, surprised when I pushed my way inside to see my mail already sitting on the floor. Stalker-boy had been and gone, and for the first time I could recall he’d actually used the mail slot. The flood of relief which washed through me was tempered by a seed of dread. After all, I had no idea what kind of unspeakable acts Patrick might be capable of. If he thought nothing of clamping his big hand around my throat when we were on polite speaking terms, what might he do if he felt disconnected? Discarded?
Desperate to keep myself busy, I pulled out the feather duster and roamed the store, obliterating every little speck of dirt I could find. Some people meditate, others do yoga. I bust dust. In only moments I felt the tension easing inside me.
When the phone rang I jumped a little, fearing it could be bad news. Or Patrick. Thankfully it was just the clinic letting me know Mario was ready to be picked up. I could hear him protesting in the background about being a big boy and not wanting to be a burden. They really didn’t make them like him anymore.
I locked up and made the short trip back to meet Mario, who was still in a lightweight war of words with the receptionist over his status as an invalid.
“Come on, Mario. Stop flirting with the lady and come with me.”
“Lucy. You will tell them, I am fine.” He ran off at the mouth with a stream of rapid Italian which none of us could understand, before turning back to me. “They say I no use my left hand.” He held up the bandaged limb and waved it like a war flag. “They say no work for one week. One week? It might as well be one year.”
“I’m sure they know what they’re doing, Mario. Come on.”
“The doctor. She so young, she only just out of diapers.”
“Well, we all have our kinks. Please, Mario? Come with me.”
“I no burden.” He raised his chin, stubborn pride warring with his age.
I curled my hand around his upper arm. “Of course not, Mario. I was hoping you’d help me. If it’s not too much trouble.”
“I help you? How?”
Oh, damn. I hadn’t thought that one through. “Um, I need to… uh, rearrange some of my shelves.”
“They say I no lift. No carry, no make coffee. Like I am bambino.”
“Ah.” Think, Featherstone. Think. “Well, that’s… that’s fine. I need you to… to come with me, please? I’ll tell you why when we get back to the store.” Yay for thinking time.
The receptionist caught my eye for a moment and mouthed a silent thank you.
With the promise of helping me out, Mario seemed much happier to leave. I noticed he cast a longing glance at his café as we passed, but the doctor had spoken. I understood his worry, since his business fared only marginally better than mine each week. But a man of his age was not going to heal quickly, and defying doctors’ orders would only make it worse.
Once I unlocked the front door, Mario pu
shed me aside so he could open it for me. “Ladies first.”
“Thank you, Mario.” I had to think quickly. If he had no reason to be here, he was likely to scamper back next door and open up as normal.
“Now, what you need to tell me?”
And just like that, inspiration struck. “I… if you wouldn’t mind, Mario, I would love you to just be here so I’ll feel safe.”
“Why you not feel safe? Good neighborhood. Good people.”
At first I considered leaving it vague, but as soon as I started to talk again, the whole story came spilling out of me. About Patrick, and his dark side.
“No,” Mario said, shaking his head for emphasis. “Patrick? I mean, he funny, you know?” He tapped his forehead a few times. “Funny. But he not like that.”
“I didn’t think so, either. But it’s true. That’s why I need you here, please. I’ll feel safe with a man around.” Honestly, there would be nothing Mario could do to help if Patrick came back with an attitude. But this was not about Patrick, or even about me. It was about Mario, and his need to still be needed.
Though the rest of the day passed without incident, thankfully, there was always that weight sitting on my chest and shoulders. Wondering whether my attacker would show up during his lunch break. Whether he’d maybe been fired from his job and now had an alarming amount of time on his hands and only one red-haired target to blame for his sacking. And if he did come back with loaded fists, I’d unwittingly brought Mario into the firing line. The guy might be in his eighties, but he was a pit bull who’d go down swinging. But go down he would.
The only times I was able to shrug off the sense of foreboding were when I had something else to turn my mind to. A few of my regulars popped in, which really helped. University students looking for textbooks, older couples with time on their hands. Even a few tourists came by between whatever other activities they were doing. Mario turned out to be an excellent greeter, and though he was supposed to rest, he also insisted on running across to Andrew’s place and getting us a few pastries for lunch.
Business slowed in the late afternoon, as it always did. Having the elderly Mario with me had helped more than I ever would have believed. For once, I had no time to overthink every single detail of life.
“Come on, mister. Let’s get you home.”
“Sî. Grazie. You are beautiful person, Lucy.”
I kissed him on the cheek. “So are you, Mario.”
As I locked up the store my head was somewhere near normal. My version of normal, at least. My life was feeling a tad more settled, and maybe the worst of it was behind me. Perhaps I could even start thinking about some kind of future with that sexy man back at my house.
But that all evaporated in a moment. Halfway down the alley to the car park, I looked up. And saw Patrick leaning on my car. He had his back against the driver’s door, his ass right around where the handle would be. Even if I didn’t have a reputation as a clean freak, I knew without a doubt I’d never suppress the urge to pull out my antibacterial wipes and go over the entire vehicle with them.
“Lucy, hi. Hello, Mario.”
Though he’d struggled to believe me earlier in the day, Mario automatically stepped between the big mailman and the short and chubby redhead.
Patrick stood up with all the grace of a brick and walked toward me, paying Mario no attention now he’d acknowledged his existence. His uniform jacket, as always, accentuated his height and solidity. Where Mark flowed like water in every movement, Patrick rolled like oats. And though his expression was neutral, he radiated threat. My safest move would be to assume the worst. I already knew terrible behavior on his part was quite possible. Now I had to believe it was inevitable. Not only that, but I had no reason to think he’d worry about hurting Mario, who was almost certain to stand up for me.
With only a narrow alley connecting the back of my store with the street, I was essentially invisible to anyone who might be passing. With every plodding step Patrick took toward me, I fell back a little. Mario was still there, between us, but Patrick’s height meant he could stare me down over the old man’s head.
“Patrick, you no bother Lucy.”
The big mailman glanced down at Mario, then pushed him aside. Not violently, just dismissively. Fearing the old man would jump back in and start throwing punches, I held out my hand to stop him. I even managed to smile.
“It’s okay, Mario. I have this under control.”
“But you say before he crazy.”
Patrick looked back at Mario before staring coldly at me, a deep frown all over his forehead. “Aw, you don’t wanna be spreading lies now, Lucy. That’s the kind of thing a bitch would do.”
I couldn’t stop myself from flinching at Patrick’s words. It wasn’t that they were particularly powerful—like any woman, I’d grown used to being called that several times a day—it was simply the moment, and the memory of how quickly he’d transformed yesterday.
As if sensing my fear, Patrick held up his hands and bared his teeth in what I assumed was supposed to be a smile.
“Lucy. Don’t worry. You don’t have to be scared of me. I forgive you.”
“You… you forgive me?”
“Yeah, yeah. It’s all good. Y’know, I was mad at you yesterday.”
“Oh, really?” I rubbed lightly at my throat. “You hid it perfectly.”
“Well, y’know, you brought it on yourself because of the other day.”
If he was simply trying to trigger all my fear and hatred instincts, he could not have done a better job of it. “What the hell are you talking about? What on Earth did I do the other day?”
“You know, stupid. You got me in trouble with my bosses when you made me late. Remember?”
“I made you late?” Why the hell didn’t I have something in my handbag to deal with this crap? Pepper spray. Rape alarm. Starving Rottweiler? Just something. Mario stepped a little closer again, reaching out for Patrick’s arm. When he grabbed hold, the crazy man simply shrugged and flicked his arm, catching Mario lightly on the temple. It didn’t look intentional, but the effect was the same as if it had been. Mario overbalanced and landed on his side. His left side, with his burnt hand.
I couldn’t afford to tend to my injured knight. With no other option, and with the big man getting right up close to me, I pulled out the only thing in my bag that even resembled a weapon. My car keys. “Look, that was not my doing, Patrick. Take some damn responsibility for your own actions. What are you, a child?”
I could hear my own voice turning ragged, but it seemed to have no effect on Patrick. He still kept lumbering at me, like a train. One which was not going to be derailed by something as insignificant as a woman’s words, apparently.
“Yeah well, my boss found out when some other assholes complained about their mail going missing.”
“Missing?”
“I had to catch up the time you cost me when you were being slutty with that guy. So I tossed some of the smaller stuff. Anyway, I got called in for a meeting and they said they wanted to fire me but they’d give me one more chance.”
There was so damn much wrong with all of that, I didn’t know where to begin. And really, I shouldn’t have to. I’d never led this man on, I’d only ever been polite and reticent, yet every poor choice he’d made in the last month or so had apparently been my fault. Including actual crime. Meantime, Mario was hunched in a fetal position, cradling his injured hand and moaning.
“Patrick, I’ve already told you I’m not interested in you. Not in that way.”
“Yeah. So… uh…” Again, he seemed unable to hear me, though he stumbled a little over his words every time he spoke. It was as if he’d mapped the entire conversation out in advance. Like he was reading a script, and I was messing up my part. My fault again. “So yeah, I was a bit angry at you for nearly costing me my job. That’s why I pushed you. But you know
I didn’t mean anything.”
“Pushed me? You damn near choked me to death, you bastard!” With one last step backward, I thudded against the wall of the alleyway. Still he kept coming at me, like a robot. How could he not notice how much he was scaring the crap out of me? Maybe that was exactly what he wanted. A timid little mouse who’d freeze up until he’d done whatever it was he planned to do.
“Yeah, but I told you, idiot. I forgive you.” This time his laugh was less schoolboy snigger and more strained cackle. He stopped directly in front of me, so close his rancid breath filled my nose. With his arms crossed like that he was all I could see.
He shifted his weight onto one leg and sighed, his general odor assaulting my senses. Perhaps showering had been less a priority to him than building his fantasy world where I was his girl and he could do nothing wrong. “This is where you should be saying thank you, Lucy.”
It wasn’t so much his size or his strength that had me worried. After his earlier attack it was clear he had a pretty unique view of reality. And that told me he would see no reason to hold himself in check once he got started. That he was willing to call on every single fiber of his body if necessary. Societal values be damned.
Hunkered back as I was against the cold bricks, with a slightly twisted oaf crowding me, my insides were winding themselves up so tight it felt like I was a trap ready to spring. There was no way I deserved this crap. I’m a good person, with excellent morals and hygiene. Not to mention I’ve always treated others with respect and kindness. Unless I’m at a Halloween party and drunk off my face.
In that moment, Patrick suddenly became the emissary for all men who’d ever messed me around. The elected representative of every lying, cheating, using and abusing asshole who’d taken advantage of my desire for harmony in life. That tightly-wound trap inside me went off and it melted the icy fear, replacing it with the heat of anger. I had no newspaper to roll up, but it was definitely time to tell him he was a bad dog. This time with true feeling.
“Right, Patrick, that’s enough. Back off.”
