Color of Forgiveness

by Madeleine Beckett

  No, he’s not all right at all.

  * * *

  Myra locks her bedroom door. “Okay. I’ve got the package,” she tells Susie.

  “Eeeek! Okay, open it. Hurry up. I’m going to take a break. I need some chocolate.”

  Myra struggles with the tape, but finally gets it open.

  “Just start yanking stuff out and I’ll talk you through it,” Susie says.

  Myra groans when the first thing she pulls out is a box of condoms. “Susie!”

  “What?”

  “Condoms? It’s kind of late for that now, don’t you think?”

  “No. This’ll be for next time. Now read the post-it note I put on it.”

  Myra squints at Susie’s terrible handwriting.

  I told you to make that man wear a custard catcher! You never listen to me, woman!

  Myra giggles and rolls her eyes as she sets the box to the side.

  “That was funny, huh?”

  “No.”

  “Okay. What’s next?”

  Myra shakes her head when she pulls out several ruffled pink dresses, pink socks, and tiny pink ballet shoes with little rosebuds on them. “Clothes, socks, shoes…”

  “Aren’t those ballet slippers to die for? Imagine the teeny tiny little piggies that are going to fit into that itty bitty shoe. God, I love baby feet. What’s next?”

  “Um, some prenatal vitamins… I actually need those.”

  “See? I do come in handy every once in a while.”

  Myra frowns when she holds up some wrist bands with a small plastic ball sewn into the inside of them. “What are these wrist bands for?”

  “Oh. Those are awesome. They help with nausea, and they’re perfectly safe. You put it on your wrist, making sure that little ball is on your pressure point, and it’ll help your stomach. They helped me when I had mild morning sickness with Weston, but nothing helped with Tucker. Oh my god, I was so sick with him. I puked every single day for four months straight, and I gagged over everything. I thought I was going to die.”

  Myra giggles as she slips the wristbands on. She looks back in the box.

  “Diapers?” she says as she pulls them out.

  “Oh, they’re newborn. I opened them up. Look at how tiny they are. I’d forgotten how sweet little baby asses are. Pull one out and take a look.”

  Myra pulls a diaper out and marvels at how small it is. Her eyes start to water for some reason.

  She looks in the box again. “Five pregnancy tests? I only needed one.”

  “Well, you can save those for future use because I think the both of you need at least five kids, minimum. And the way that guy sexes you up you don’t have a chance of not having a basketball team.”

  Myra pulls out the last item. She turns it over and reads the label. “Stretch mark cream, are you crazy?”

  “No, you have to listen to me on this. Start using it now. My gut looks like a two year old went nuts with an etch-a-sketch. I didn’t use anything back then because I didn’t know any better, and I wish I had. Start using it now as a preventative measure. Stretch marks are revolting.”

  Myra looks down into the empty box and sees a letter sitting on the bottom of it. She pulls it out.

  “There’s a letter in there too,” Susie says.

  “Yeah, I’ve got it.”

  “Okay. Read it after we hang up, okay? I’m at work and I have mascara on, and I look hot today so I don’t want to ruin my hotness by boohooing like an idiot. My break’s over so I’ll have to call you later, okay? I love you, honey.”

  “I love you too. Thanks for all of this.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Myra sighs and sits down on the bed and slowly opens the letter.

  To Myra, my bestest best virtual buddy in the whole wide world,

  I’m writing this letter prior to the results of your pregnancy test. I know I shouldn’t have gone crazy and bought all of this baby stuff prematurely, but I couldn’t help myself. I apologize. I have problems. Heh. But you already know this about me.

  So if you’re not pregnant, I want you to pack these things up (except for the custard catchers of course duh) and hopefully someday you’ll get to use them… when you’re ready. And I’ll be a little disappointed because I wanted to continue to have reasons to run to the baby store. (I mean a lot disappointed) But I have to admit that Dylan is not ready for this. You, on the other hand are ready. You will be a magnificent mommy someday when the time is right.

  Now, if you are pregnant, I’m just going to start apologizing now well in advance because I know for a fact that I’m going to drive you batshit crazy with my stupid excitement. And Dylan will just have to accept this because that sexy beast should have put a custard catcher on that power drill of his! Just sayin’. If he doesn’t accept it, you will move in with me and we’ll live happily ever after in a non-lesbian way.

  But no matter what happens, I love you dearly. You are the sister that I never had, and you’re everything that I ever could have wished for in a best friend. Just know that I will always be here for you and will virtually hold your hand every step that you take. We’ll get through this together. As the best of friends.

  I Love You Always,

  Susie

  Myra sets the letter to the side and drops her head into her hands and breaks down, sobbing.

  CHAPTER 11

  RED, LOVE

  Dylan looks around the kitchen while he stretches his aching back.

  “We did a good job today, didn’t we?” his dad asks.

  Dylan hums in agreement. They got the countertops installed and the tiling done on the backsplash. He now only needs to do the trim and molding work before he can put Myra’s appliances back in.

  He rubs his fingers along the back of his neck as he thinks about Myra. They’ve barely spoken today. Even though he didn’t want her to, she’d insisted on fixing him and his dad lunch and dinner, leaving it on the table and disappearing from sight. She also came into the kitchen every hour or so throughout the day to refresh their coffee and see if they needed anything.

  Putting the rest of his tools in his bucket, he picks it up and walks down the hallway towards the front door. He sets it down and turns to face his dad. He hates the lost look he can feel on his face, but doesn’t know where Myra’s at, and he doesn’t really know what to do about it. Everything’s just uncomfortable and fucking strange right now, and he hates feeling so unnerved in her house especially when he was so comfortable in it just a few days ago.

  Just as he opens his mouth to say something to his dad, he hears his name being called softly. He turns towards the voice and sees Myra curled up on the couch under a blanket.

  His brows pull together. “Is Jackie home yet?” he asks her in a gruff voice.

  “Yeah, she just called a little while ago.”

  “You ready?”

  “Yeah,” she says as she stands.

  “I’m going to go on outside,” Dennis says quietly as he picks up Dylan’s tool bucket and steps out the door.

  Myra walks towards Dylan and stops just a few feet away from him. Her proximity makes his heart pound. “You’re not going to sleep outside again, are you?” she asks, the concern in her eyes making him uncomfortable.

  He shrugs and tucks his hands in his pockets.

  “Please don’t stay outside. You can sleep on the couch, or Jackie has an extra bedroom. It hurts me to think of you being cold out there like that. You might get sick. I’ll stay in my room, and I promise I won’t bother you.”

  I won’t bother you. Those words cut him hard and deep. Myra has never been a fucking bother to him, ever.

  He can’t figure out why the hell she’s worrying so much about his sorry ass anyway. She needs to be worrying about herself and their baby and this goddamn stalker that’s after her.

  As he stares at her worried face, he feels torn. He has to stay near enough to protect her and the baby, but at the same time, he feels like he needs to keep his distance until
he can get the chaos in his head figured out. But he knows he’s hurting her, and he can’t stand that shit either. It’s tearing him up inside.

  “I guess,” he grunts.

  “Thank you. That makes me feel so much better. I’ll let you and Jackie figure out where you’re going to sleep.”

  “Is that your bag?”

  “Yeah…”

  With a curt nod, he picks it up and slips out the front door.

  “Everything okay?” Dennis asks.

  He gives him a nod and hands him Myra’s suitcase. “Can you take this over for her? I’m gonna smoke.”

  Dennis nods and takes it from him.

  Stowing his tools quickly in the back of his truck, Dylan climbs in the driver’s side, closing the door behind him. Lighting up a cigarette, he leans his head back and relaxes for a few minutes.

  He blows smoke out of the corner of his mouth as he looks up into the rearview mirror and sees a patrol car drive slowly by. They’ve been making the rounds about every hour. He’s thankful that Porter was at least able to beef up the protection for Myra.

  When Myra comes out of the house, Dylan watches as she talks to his dad for a few minutes. She slowly turns, her eyes searching for him, staring in the direction of his truck. He doubts she can see him in the dark, but she can probably see the glow of his cigarette. Her expression looks sad as she finally turns and walks with Dennis over to Jackie’s. Dennis holds the door open for Myra, and she turns her head one more time, looking quickly in his direction before she steps into the house.

  Dylan rubs the spot in the center of his chest that aches as he leans his head back and closes his eyes. He takes in a deep breath and blows it out slowly, trying to clear his head. He doesn’t want to think about anything right now; he simply wants to enjoy his smoke and the silence. But then his phone rings. His cigarette dangles on his lips as he pulls it out of his coat pocket. His eyes immediately narrow. Sabrina has a lot of fucking nerve calling him.

  He flips open his phone. “Did you break into my goddamn house?” he yells with ferocity, the cigarette still hanging from his lips.

  “What?” Sabrina asks. “What are you talking about?”

  He grabs the cigarette out of his mouth and sits up straighter in his seat. “You broke into my goddamn house, I know you did. How could you steal my damn photo album? Those were my pictures of Mel; the only ones I have… and my clothes? That’s really fucking sick. Are you out to hurt Myra? Because I swear to fuck, if you are… if you ever touch a hair on her head, I will make you regret it.”

  “Dylan! Just shut up for one minute. God… I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about. I was calling to see if you were all right. I’ve been worried about you. What was going on with you yesterday?”

  “It’s none of your damn business. Now answer my questions. Where were you this weekend? Did you come to Nyssa?”

  “No, of course I didn’t. I was in Boise all weekend.”

  “I don’t believe you. Did you follow us to the cemetery?”

  “I already told you no, Dylan. I had no idea you were in Boise. Besides, you know I always go see Mel on Sundays. What’s going on? Did someone break into your house?”

  Dylan takes in a heavy breath. “Yeah, they broke into Myra’s too.”

  “And you thought I did that? How could you even think that I had something to do with that? You’ve known me forever, Dylan. Do you honestly think I could do something that awful?”

  “I don’t know what to believe about anybody anymore.”

  “Well, you can believe in me. You sound like you need someone to talk to. You can always talk to me about anything that’s bothering you, you know that right?”

  “Sabrina, I can’t do this with you right now.”

  “Dylan, don’t do this to me. I meant everything that I said to you before. I don’t understand why you won’t give me another chance. I think I deserve it. You treated me like shit after we lost Mel. You were never there and you left me alone to deal with everything by myself. You completely deserted me. Do you know how much you hurt me? You killed me on the inside, Dylan. Do you know that? You killed me.”

  Dylan flinches. Sabrina’s right. He did all that shit and more, but he couldn’t help it. Work was the only thing that kept him sane. But… his eyes narrow. “Is this what you’re trying to do here, guilt me into getting back with you? Jesus, Sabrina, I have apologized to you over and over again. Yes, I fucked up. I am a fuck-up. I was a complete shit to you, and I’m sorry for that but we can’t—”

  “Yes, we can. We’ve both made mistakes, and I do forgive you, I really do. I still love you and we won’t know if it can’t work again unless we try. I’m not going to give up on you, Dylan. I’ve worked too hard to get to this place in my life to just give up so easily.”

  Dylan feels like his head’s going to explode.

  He clears his throat, flipping open the ashtray in his truck and snubbing out his cigarette. He digs in his pocket for another one and quickly lights it. “I’m glad you’ve worked hard and gotten clean, and I know I was a shitty husband, but you have to take some blame in this as well. You were just as fucked up as I was, just in a different way.”

  “You’re right. I was and I’m so sorry for that. We’ve both made mistakes, and that’s why this will work. We know what we messed up before and we can avoid making the same mistakes again. You told me that you’re a different person… Well, I’m different too. We’ve both changed. I went through a lot of therapy in rehab and learned a lot about myself. But deep down inside, we’re still those crazy young kids who fell madly in love with each other. I’ve been in love with you since I was sixteen. That has to count for something.”

  That might have meant something to Dylan before, but not now. Not when his heart belongs to someone else.

  “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be talking to you like this—”

  “Let’s get together. Please, Dylan? You owe me for the way you treated me. We have so many things we need to talk about.”

  Dylan’s brows pull together. “What would you be willing to do to get us back together?”

  “I’d do anything, Dylan, absolutely anything.”

  Wrong answer, Dylan thinks to himself. “Don’t call me anymore, Sabrina, and you stay the hell away from Myra, do you understand?”

  “Dylan, don’t do this, I—”

  Dylan flips his phone shut, turns it off and tosses it on the floorboard. He takes another puff off of his cigarette and lies down on the seat of his truck on his back with his knees bent, and stares up at the ceiling. He closes his eyes, throwing his forearm above his head as he thinks about Sabrina… and the real possibility that she might hurt Myra in order to try to get him back.

  * * *

  “Thanks for helping me pack,” Jackie says to Myra as she puts things in a box. They’re upstairs in Jackie’s bedroom. “At least I don’t have much, thank goodness. I still can’t believe I might have found someone to rent this place fully furnished. It’s going to save me and my parents so much time and trouble and plus put some money in their pockets each month.”

  Myra hums in agreement only half paying attention as she wraps some newspaper around a picture frame.

  “I don’t understand why won’t you tell me what’s going on with you and Dylan. This whole situation is just weird. His dad is downstairs watching TV, and he’s outside doing who knows what while you sit in here with me moping and pining away for him.”

  Myra looks up at her. “I’m not—”

  “Don’t even try to deny it. Did you guys break up? Are you fighting? I’m so confused. You need to tell me what’s going on because it’s driving me crazy.”

  Myra sighs and stares at Jackie. She still doesn’t want to talk to her about it. It’s all too raw and painful. Besides, Jackie talks a lot, non-stop actually and Myra knows she won’t be able to deal with Jackie constantly giving her advice and trying to tell her what to do. She gets enough of that from Susie.

&
nbsp; “I guess you could say that we broke up. Things are just really complicated and I can’t talk about it right now because it just hurts too much. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to talk.”

  Jackie frowns. “I thought we were best friends, Myra. I thought that we could talk to each other about anything.”

  “We can… and you are my friend, Jackie. I will talk to you, soon.”

  Jackie makes an annoyed huffing sound as Myra looks down at her watch. “It’s getting late. I think I’ll go to bed,” she says as she closes the box she was working on.

  She looks up at Jackie. “I talked to Dylan earlier and asked him if he’d come inside tonight, and he agreed. But since things are awkward between us, could you maybe show him where to sleep and everything?” She pauses when she hears Jackie’s front door being opened and closed. It must be Dylan. Her heart skips a beat. “Anyway, do you mind showing him?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’ll take care of it. I swear you two are acting like third graders,” Jackie mumbles, shaking her head. A loud crack of thunder sounds, causing both of the girls to jump.

  “Geez, that scared me to death,” Jackie says in a breathy voice.

  “Me too,” Myra agrees. “Guess there’s a storm rolling in.”

  They say their goodnights, and Myra slips into her room and grabs her toothbrush. She hurries into the bathroom, hoping to get done before Dylan comes upstairs. After quickly brushing her teeth, she opens the door and peeks out in the hallway. Seeing no one around, she quickly slips back into the bedroom.

  As she puts her toothbrush away, the room lights up with lightning. Walking over to the window, she pulls back the curtain and looks over at her house. It has quite the Alfred Hitchcock creepy quality to it against the backdrop of the stormy sky. As the rain starts and the lightning continues, her eyes dart around scanning everywhere… the porch, the back of the property where a couple of sheds sit, and around the garage, looking for anyone that could be hiding or lurking in the shadows.

  See nothing out of the ordinary she glances back at her house. Another loud peal of thunder rumbles, causing her to jump slightly. Frowning, she leans closer to the window. The curtains in her master bedroom are open. She looked out this exact same window at her house last night and knows those curtains were closed. She couldn’t have opened them herself because she didn’t go into that room; she never goes into that room. She only uses the spare bedroom as her room.