He had an old Chevrolet, though it looked to be in good condition given its age. It was painted black with a dark red interior and when Jason turned the key in the ignition the engine roared to life. Music started up inside and he sped out of the parking lot without looking back. Veronica stood and watched him turn the corner, disappearing from view. Shaking her head, she opened her own door and got into the car, turning it on and leaving the parking lot.
As Veronica drove home she began to think about her high school days. She had gone through a bit of a rebellious streak, but then again all kids do at that age. Her group of friends used to skip class together to go smoke behind the building, or sneak down to one of their houses at lunch hour and drink whatever alcohol they could find.
Veronica's grades didn't suffer from her behaviour, somehow, and she had managed to keep all of her bad behaviour from her parents. She was pretty sure that if she told them now about all the stuff she used to do, they wouldn't believe her.
Veronica straightened up her act when she went to university and her group of friends split up, but that spark in her was never quite extinguished. She studied hard to get good grades, but at the same time there were more than a few instances of sneaking onto campus at night, having sex on the professors' desks.
One night in her Freshman year she and her boyfriend at the time snuck up onto the roof of the Biology building and watched the stars. That was the first night she'd told anyone she loved them. He kissed her and they made love together in the open air. Their relationship lasted a little over a year, and Veronica looked back on it with fondness.
When Veronica met Greg shortly after she graduated he swept her off her feet. He was romantic, light-hearted, but at the same time showed her that he knew exactly what he wanted in life. She thought that being with him might help to guide her, get her onto the straight and narrow and live the life she always was told to live.
The two got married and Veronica soon found out that her rebellious nature wouldn't leave as easily as she's anticipated. They fell into a routine, Greg's romance started to go by the wayside, and stability and security became synonymous with boredom and loneliness. Now it was 13 years later, Veronica had everything she'd been told she would need, and yet still she felt so empty.
She pulled into the driveway, her eyes dull as she turned off the car. She got out, walked to the front door and put the key in the lock. As soon as she stepped into the house, however, she became immediately aware of how quiet it was. It was quiet every day, of course, but for some reason today she really noticed it. The house was dark, and quiet, and she felt like a stranger walking into someone else's life.
She dropped her purse and strode into the kitchen, looking around. It was the exact same as it had been that morning, and the morning before, and every morning before that. She looked at the table, where she sat and ate the same cereal every day. The drying rack held Greg's plate and the frying pan from cooking his eggs. She knew exactly what was in every cupboard, and on every shelf of the fridge.
Veronica's breathing became heavy. She walked into the dining room, looking at the places where she and Greg sat every night, eating dinner. What did they have to eat last night? Meat loaf? Chicken? She couldn't remember. What was she wearing? What did they talk about? What happened yesterday that made it stand out from any other day?
Her head was feeling light. She realized that her chest was heaving and she told herself to calm down, to get a hold of things. Grabbing onto the edge of the table she lowered her head, closing her eyes. She heard Greg's voice in her mind telling her about his day, complaining about Sampson and the reports, day in and day out.
Her fingers were tingling. She had to get control of herself. She had to make dinner for Greg because he liked it to be ready and on the table when he came home. If it wasn't then she wouldn't be living a good life, and her life wouldn't be right and she had errands that she had to run and chores to do and Greg ate his breakfast before she did because otherwise she would just fuck it up and everything would be ruined.
Veronica had to sit. She had to sit down right now or something bad was going to happen. She could hear a rattling noise and realized it was coming from her chest. She opened her eyes. Blurry. She had to sit down. The chair. Greg's chair. Greg sits there and she sits over there and that would never, ever, ever change.
Veronica lifted a hand and almost fell. Her legs felt weak. She couldn't stand. She tried lifting it again. She felt the back of the chair against her fingers. But then it was sliding. She was sliding. Falling. She felt a sharp pain in her hip and everything moved sideways. Her head hit the floor and the last thing she saw before it all went black was the mahogany leg of the antique table that she simply had to have.
~~~
Veronica's head was hurting. She opened her eyes but had to blink a few times to clear the gunk out of them. She saw a strange sight: a brown, wooden stick, intricately carved, resting on what appeared to be a cream carpet. It took her a second to realize that it was the leg of her dining room table, and that she was looking at it because she was … on the ground? That didn't make sense.
She tried getting up but the arm pinned beneath her exploded with pins and needles. Wincing, she pushed up with her other arm so she was in a sitting position. She had a splitting headache. She tried moving her fingers slowly until the pain in them went away. She was vaguely aware of a dull throb in her hip, but she ignored that for now.
She looked around the room. It was dark. She tried to remember what happened that would have lead her there. She was driving home from the walk, that she remembered clearly. She got out of the car, walked in the front door, okay. She went into the kitchen and that's where things started to get a little hazy. She gingerly turned her head to look up at the table beside her. Had she come into the dining room to ... lay down? Because she was tired?
She noticed that Greg's chair was askew, set back slightly from the table. It looked like something had bumped into it or … pushed it back.
The memory of what happened came flooding back. She had passed out. And the reason that she had passed out was because... she had had a panic attack. Veronica felt her face flush with embarrassment. She looked around her again. The house felt dark, foreboding. She slowly raised herself to her feet and walked into the kitchen. Christ, did her head hurt.
She grabbed a glass out of the cupboard and filled it at the sink. As she gulped the water down, cutting through her parched throat, she glanced at the clock on the stove and almost choked. It was 4:15. She must've been asleep for hours.
Dinner. She had to make dinner for Greg. She looked around the kitchen at the bare counters and stove top. Her mind raced: what did they have in the fridge? Vegetables? She could cook pasta, but she didn't have any sauce. Sandwiches? A steak?
She settled on breakfast-for-dinner and began getting things together right away. An hour later Greg walked through the door, just as Veronica had finished setting the table. The food was being kept warm in the oven.
"Mmm, is that bacon I smell?" he called out.
"Hi sweety!" Veronica called back from the dining room. "I thought we'd have breakfast for dinner tonight!"
A pause. "I had breakfast for breakfast."
A pang went through Veronica's stomach and she ignored it.
"Well, you know what they say! Two is better than one!"
Greg walked into the dining room and watched her putting down the utensils.
"Yeah," he said noncommittally and turned into the kitchen.
"So how was your day?" Veronica asked, following him.
"Good," he said, fixing himself a drink. "Sampson finally turned in that report like I told him to, but I took one look at it and said to redo it. The thing was shit, you should've seen it! I said to him, look buddy, if you don't ..."
Veronica took the food into the dining room and began serving it onto their plates. Greg stayed in the kitchen as he spoke, whiskey and ice in one hand, gesticulating with the other. When Veronica had
finished serving she stood patiently in the doorway and waited for him to finish, a smile planted on her face.
"... was much better, but I swear that this is the last time," he concluded. He took a sip of his drink and Veronica waited to see if there was going to be a follow-up, but it looked like that was it.
"Wow sweety, that's tough. Why don't you come and eat, you can relax."
Greg nodded. "Yeah, that's not a bad idea," he said, and he walked past her into the dining room. Veronica followed, her face expressionless until she sat down, when she forced another smile on.
The two ate in silence. When they had finished Greg left to go watch television while Veronica stayed in the kitchen and cleaned up. As she washed the dishes she heard the drone of the television coming in from the other room. The sportscaster was narrating on whatever the hockey players were doing, his voice bouncy with enthusiasm and life. Veronica's eyes stared dully at the tiled backsplash as she scrubbed bits of egg from the frying pan.
When she finished she drained the sink and, instead of joining Greg in the TV room, decided to read a bit of her book. She sat down in the chair and turned to her page, picking up where she left off. The kidnapped wife, Lady Violet, was down in one of the holding cells of the ship, and the pirate whom she loved had brought her a meal.
~~~
'Here is your dinner, m'lady,' Emmanuel said to Lady Violet, offering her a plate of food on a grubby-looking tray.
She looked at the muscular man through the bars of the cell and made an effort to keep her voice steady. If he knew that her heart had quickened at the sight of him, she wouldn't know what to do.
'I do not know why you keep trying to feed me,' she managed to tell the pirate with mock irritation. 'I would rather die than be on this ship a moment longer.'
'Well m'lady, there are more than a few of us who have voiced their opinions that having a woman aboard the ship is bad luck. But then again, there are those of us who enjoy the company of a woman, even when she is so stubborn when it comes to food.'
He glanced down at the previous dinner's tray. It was still laden with meat and biscuits, albeit significantly less than there was when he had brought it down.
'I see you are not immune to hunger, at least. Personally I find the thought more appealing that you eat rather than starve.'
'And why exactly would that be, Emman- ... pirate?' she inquired.
'Because, m'lady,' he replied, placing the food tray down on the floor and sliding it through the slot at the bottom of the bars, 'were you to perish, there would be nothing left to lighten my day.'
He looked up at her and Lady Violet felt her heart skip in her chest. She struggled to keep her face impassive. She had told herself countless times that she would not be affected by his words. But the way that he looked at her in those moments, the subtle curve of his lips as he smiled. She wondered perhaps if he felt the same way about her that she did about him.
'Good evening, m'lady,' Emmanuel said, and he stood to leave, turning his back to her.
'Wait!' Lady Violet called, the sound leaving her throat before her brain could stop her. Emmanuel turned around, his eyebrows raised slightly. '... Thank you,' she said under her breath.
Emmanuel smiled in that way that only he could. He nodded his head before turning away again and climbing the stairs to the deck. Lady Violet watched him go, yearning for his company, if only for a moment longer. When he was gone she sat down on the bed, looking at the plate of food. Her stomach rumbled loudly beneath her corset. Succumbing to her hunger, she reached down and grabbed the chicken leg. Taking a bite, she closed her eyes as she tasted the succulent meat against her tongue.
~~~
Veronica lowered the book and leaned her head back in the chair. A cheer erupted from the television but Veronica ignored it. She got up to get herself a glass of water, then settled back in the chair and kept reading. A few hours later, when Greg had finished watching television, he came to tell her it was time for bed. She looked up and nodded, folded the corner of the page, and followed Greg to bed.
Chapter 5
Veronica never mentioned her little episode in the dining room to Greg. She honestly wasn't sure how he would take it, whether or not he would make a big deal out of the situation. Or, perhaps worse, not make any deal out of it at all. She kept up with her daily routine of cooking, cleaning, shopping, reading. She kept a smile on her face whenever Greg was in the room, but other than that her face was usually slack.
A few days after her "episode", Veronica left the house to meet up with her walking group. Today they were going to the town bluffs, to walk along the edge and look out over the nearby lake. Veronica grabbed her coat on the way out, expecting it to be windy at the top of the bluffs. She got into the car and drove to her destination with a few minutes to spare.
When she pulled into the parking lot she scanned it for empty spaces and saw Jason's car, the black Chevrolet, parked near the back. She chose a spot close to the front and got out to join the group.
"Hi Veronica!" Nancy said as she approached the crowd. "Nice day, isn't it?"
"It's gorgeous," Veronica replied, smiling automatically. "Great day for a walk."
Veronica scanned the group and noticed Jason standing off to the side, reading his book. There was a buffer of empty space around him as everyone else talked in small groups. Veronica saw that he was wearing the same leather jacket as before, and what looked like the same jeans.
"All right gang, it looks like everybody's here!" Doug yelled out. "Let's get going!"
Everybody started shuffling forwards, Jason putting his book away inside his jacket as he started walking. It was a beautiful day and they walked along the paths that led to the bluffs. Nancy began talking about how her children were doing in school while Veronica nodded along politely. When Nancy asked what she'd been up to, Veronica brought up the book she was reading but Nancy didn't seem very interested in it. After a while their conversation petered off and the two walked in silence.
After about 20 minutes of walking, the group reached the bluffs. It was a fairly clear day, and from those heights you could see for miles out over the lake. The wind whipped peoples' hair around, making them zip up their jackets and turn their backs to it. Some of the members carefully skirted up close to the edge of the bluffs, trying to look over. It was a steep drop — about 100 feet or so.
Nancy left Veronica to talk to another friend, leaving her standing by herself. She watched one of the women creep up to the edge of the bluffs, holding the hand of her friend who stood back. She got close enough to glance over, then scurried back, the giggling nervously.
Veronica looked at where the dirt and rock ended and slowly began walking towards it. When she got to about 10 feet from the edge she started sliding her feet, feeling the ground beneath her before moving on. Soon she was close enough to look down over the edge, see the foam and spray of the lake as the wind caused waves to crash over the rocks below.
"Pretty far down, isn't it?"
Veronica jumped and took a hasty step backwards, her heart pounding. She turned and saw Jason standing a few feet to her side, his hands in his jacket pockets. He was peering over the edge, his expression one of calm indifference.
"I'm sorry?" Veronica asked as her heartbeat started returning to normal.
"I said, it's pretty far down," Jason repeated, turning to face her. His eyes were green, she noticed. "About a hundred feet, I think."
"Yeah, it's far," Veronica replied. She put a hand to her chest. "You scared me. I thought I was going to fall off the edge."
"Don't worry," Jason said. "I wouldn't let you fall."
His eyes were focused on hers and she had to look away for a moment.
"Um, have you been here before?" she asked, trying to change the subject.
"Just once," Jason said, "but it was at night. It's a lot prettier at night."
"I can imagine," Veronica said. Her heart had finally slowed back down to normal. She looked at Jason again,
who was glancing out over the lake now. He was definitely younger than she was, in his late 20s at the most. And she could see the faint traces of scars on his face. Two for two, she thought to herself.
"Doug said that you're new to town," Veronica said. "Have you been here long?"
"A few weeks," Jason told her. "It's a nice place. There's a lot to do, if you know where to look."
"Is there? I wouldn't know," Veronica said.
Jason faced her. "What do you usually do?" he asked.
"Do?" Veronica repeated. "Oh, you know. Cook, clean, go shopping. Living the dream, right?"
Veronica had meant to say that last bit light-heartedly but ended up sounding sarcastic. Jason's expression never changed, though. He kept his eyes on hers.
"Sounds like you've got your life in order," he said.
"Well," Veronica said, not sure how to respond. "What do you do?"
"Depends," he said. "For work, I fix up old cars. And for fun," he paused. "Well, I guess it depends on what's around."
"What ... things are around?" she asked, noticing the subtle changes of green in his eyes.
"Not things," he said. "People."
Veronica saw his face, the faint scars, the stubble on his cheeks. She didn't respond, and his eyes never left hers as she unconsciously licked her lips. Slowly, imperceptibly, her head began to lean toward his.
"Okay everybody, let's keep going!" Doug yelled out to the crowd.
Veronica felt a shiver run through her body as she dropped her gaze, taking a step back. Her heart was racing again and she felt her cheeks rise in colour.
"I'm sorry," she said to the ground. "I have to go."
She turned and walked toward the moving mass of people, leaving Jason behind. She caught up with Nancy, still talking with her other friends. As she walked Veronica took a tentative look back and saw Jason near the back of the crowd. He was walking on his own, his eyes focused on something in the distance. Facing ahead, Veronica felt her cheeks rise with colour again and made it a point not to look back again for the rest of the walk.
Perfect Strangers Page 3
