by D Sean
“We’ll let you know as soon as it gets here, Mr?”
“Bales. Larson Bales.”
“Mr. Bales.”
* * *
Kerri, in an effort to get her father and Larson to bond she convinced them both to have dinner at her father’s house. She hoped her father would finally see the many reasons she loved Larson so much. It was supposed to be a getting-to-know-you dinner, an ‘oh, by the way we’re going to Europe together for a few months’ meal. It didn’t go over well.
Larson remembered how insistent Royston had been about Larson having the larger steak, despite his objections. Kerri frequently ate more than Larson; her small frame and huge appetite was often the subject of jokes between them. Kerri easily out-ate Larson. While Royston turned to pour himself and Larson a glass of bourbon, ignoring his refusal of the drink, Kerri and he switched plates. They giggled like elementary school kids passing notes behind the teachers back. Throughout dinner, they made small talk and Kerri highlighted Larson’s best qualities. Despite her efforts, Royston didn’t warm to Larson, but smiled satisfactorily at his empty plate.
In the days that followed, Kerri’s appetite was non-existent. She equated it with nervousness. She was about to disobey her father for the first time in her life and leave the country without him. The day before she and Larson were due to leave, however, her father threatened Larson’s life. It wasn’t a traditional kill threat, but she knew what her father was capable of. Kerri had dated a boy when she was in high school, but when Royston felt it was getting too serious and had the potential to derail Kerri’s education, the boy suddenly stopped attending the prestigious school. He ended up in a juvenile detention center until Kerri graduated.
“Kerrington,” Royston said, towering over his daughter as she sat on the bed in her childhood room. “You’re not going to Europe with that boy. You’re staying here.”
“But dad—” Royston held up a hand to halt her protests.
“End it now or I will make it my second priority to ruin his life.” He picked up the phone and handed it to her.
“Now?” Her eyes were tearful and pleading as she looked at her father. He was silent. She dialed Larson, but Royston snatched the phone as soon as the final number was pressed.
“Hey, baby,” Larson answered jovially. Royston’s scowl grew, shading his face the color of anger. He handed the phone back to Kerri.
“Tell him!”
Kerrington did as she was told. She remained in her room, sobbing uncontrollably for the next twenty-four hours. She didn’t eat or drink. Laden with tears she stayed in bed, until in a moment of defiance she bolted out of the house to catch Larson at the train station.
* * *
In Royston’s uncontrolled, emotional rambles, he admitted that he’d injected the steak with the Botulinum toxin; all to keep Larson from taking away his little girl. Now, thanks to him, Kerri lay paralyzed in a hospital bed because she’d eaten from the wrong plate. He may have just killed her just to keep them apart.
Larson looked up from Kerri as someone new walked through the door. He was wearing a lab coat, but didn’t have the same air as the hospital staff. He looked a bit geeky with his glasses resting atop his head and a pair of goggles around his neck. Before he could proceed further into the room, he was stopped by the doctor. They conferred quietly before the doctor came in and announced that he had the antitoxin, administering it immediately.
In the months that followed, Kerri’s body healed, but her heart remained fractured. It was discovered that the tiny tube that was pulled from her arm was an illegal tracking device. Either end of the tube contained a liquid; one was Valerian, a mild plant sedative. The other was an acidic agent meant to self-destruct the object if it were ever removed from its host. It had malfunctioned, nearly blinding the doctor who’d extracted it.
Kerri, in time, regained use of her muscles, but never the ability to love her father as she once had. She visited him once, undaunted by the barrier of glass that protected her from him and his toxic affections. He was supposed to protect her, but now that duty was Larson’s. He’d become a pillar of strength and love for her.
As soon as Kerri felt well enough, she and Larson boarded a plane to Europe as they had originally planned. Their first stop was Greece, the next was Italy.
They sat at a tiny table on the veranda of a cafe. The air held a rich combination of scents: fresh baked bread, coffee, various cooked dishes wafting from open cafe doors and windows. They sat quietly as Larson pretended to read a book in Italian and Kerri people watched as she nibbled on biscotti. She gazed at the clay tiled roofs and cobblestone streets as she picked up her cup and lifted it to her lips, sipping her coffee. Kerri, without looking, placed her cup back down, but nearly spilled the beverage because something was keeping her cup from fitting into the saucer’s groove. She looked at the object there. It was a ring. She still held the cup as she looked to Larson.
“Kerri,” Larson began. “Would you...” Larson couldn’t get the words out of his mouth.
“Yes! Yes!” Kerri yelled, giggling uncontrollably like a child being tickled.
She sprang from her seat and threw herself onto Larson, toppling his chair. They were still laughing and the ring still lie in the circular cutout of the empty saucer. Kerri’s coffee cup was on the ground next to her abandoned chair. Her arms were locked around his neck as she kissed his face over and over again. Passersby looked on in confusion, some in admiration, smiling at their happiness.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Always at the top of my list is God. You are the Man! In addition, I’d like to thank my fellow indie writers for purposely and indadvertedly cultivating my writing. Thank you for your input, discerning eyes, and willing red pens. Even more, thank you for your encouragement and infectious ambition; for injecting me with your creative toxins.
In Loving Memory Of
Lavonzell “Bonnie” Barksdale
Table of Contents
Section 1
