Perfect Strangers

by LaCroix, Samantha

  "Here we are," Greg said, putting the sugar on the table beside Veronica's coffee. "Oh, you need a spoon."

  He went to the cutlery drawer to grab one as Veronica watched him with in silence. He turned around and put the utensil down beside the sugar.

  "There you go," he said, and then, "Oh, the toast!"

  He spun toward the toaster and grabbed the toasted bread, almost dropping them as they burned his fingers. He put in two new pieces and pressed them down.

  "Greg, what are you doing?" Veronica finally asked.

  "Hmm?" Greg replied, his eyebrows raised.

  "You never make breakfast," she informed him. "What's going on?"

  "Well, like I said, I was thinking about what we talked about last night, and I decided that you were right, that I hardly help out around the house. So, I decided to try to start things off by making breakfast for the two of us."

  Veronica smelled the bacon starting to burn but again didn't say anything.

  "Well, that's very sweet of you Greg," she told him.

  Greg smiled brightly and Veronica gave him a half-hearted one back. He turned to the stove and swore when he saw the bacon, quickly turning off the burner.

  "Ah fuck," he said, then quickly turned to face Veronica. "Er, sorry," he apologized.

  Veronica softly shook her head in reply.

  "So, uh, what are your plans for the day?" he asked, taking the bacon out of the grease it was in with a fork.

  "Just cleaning," she told him. "I might go shopping if we need anything, but I don't think we do."

  "Just cleaning?" he repeated, dumping the hot grease into the sink. "Why don't you get out and do something fun instead?"

  "Like what?" Veronica asked.

  "I don't know, whatever you did last night."

  Veronica almost laughed, but she held it back. Her mind flashed to her and Jason saying goodbye at her car, to the look he gave her just before walking away. She shook her head, clearing the thoughts.

  "No," she said, "I don't think that's going to be happening again. I'm fine just cleaning, don't worry about me."

  "Oh, okay then," Greg said lamely. He finally transferred the eggs onto their plates just as the toaster popped for a second time. "Ah, perfect timing!" he said, grabbing the toast and almost dropping it again. He brought the two plates over and placed one in front of Veronica, one in front of himself as he sat down.

  Veronica looked down at the plate of food. The eggs looked rubbery, the bacon was crispy, and the toast was dry and slightly burnt.

  "Looks good," Veronica lied. "I'll grab some knives and forks," and she got up out of her seat before Greg could.

  "Oh, fuck, I forgot," Greg said, and he turned in his chair. Veronica opened the cutlery drawer and grabbed what she needed.

  "It's okay," she said. "You did enough already."

  She came back and placed the cutlery in its proper place before sitting down again.

  "Well," she said, "bon appetit."

  The two began eating in silence, the only sound between them being the scraping of knives and forks on the plates, the crunch of too-dry toast.

  "The eggs are overcooked," Greg said. "I'm sorry."

  "No, they're fine," Veronica lied once again. "I love them."

  "Your eggs are much better," he offered.

  Veronica took a bite of the bacon. "Years of practice," she said through her food, to which Greg said nothing.

  The rest of the meal was held in silence, save for a few comments on Greg's part, and when they had finished he looked at the clock on the wall.

  "Jesus, it's later than I thought," he said. "I still have to get showered and changed." He looked around at the mess of a kitchen. "Umm ..."

  "It's okay sweety," Veronica said. "You go ahead. I'll clean up."

  "Okay, thanks honey," Greg said, pushing his chair back as he stood up. "I'll make it up to you tonight, I promise."

  "Okay Greg," she said, and he left the kitchen to dash up to the bedroom.

  Veronica looked around the kitchen. It was as though a hurricane had hit it. She slowly finished the rest of her coffee, then got up from the table and cleared the dishes. Twenty minutes later Greg came back into the kitchen just as Veronica was draining the sink.

  "Jeez, thanks again honey," he said, looking around. "I'll see you after work, all right? And don't worry about making dinner either. I'll make it when I come home."

  "Oh," Veronica said, "okay."

  "Great," he said, and he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. "Have a great day."

  He left the kitchen and a minute later Veronica heard the front door open and slam shut, his car roaring into life before driving away.

  Veronica walked to the fridge in the silence of the house and looked at the list of chores. Clean the bathrooms, go grocery shopping, vacuum out her car. She stared at it for a few seconds, expressionless, before walking out of the kitchen, chore list still in place.

  She went up to the bedroom where she changed into jeans and a t-shirt, then grabbing her purse and jacket she left the house, locking the door behind her. The sun shone brightly down as she got into the car and started it up. Turning on the radio to full blast, she backed out of the driveway and drove away from the house, music filling her ears.

  Chapter 10

  Veronica sat on the hood of her car and looked out over the farmers' fields, watching the horizon slowly change hues from blue to pink. She took a bite of the cheeseburger, holding it in the foil wrapper it came in, and chewed the food thoughtfully.

  Veronica had spent the entire day out, driving to places she had never before heard of and frankly didn't even know existed before today. They were mostly towns smaller than hers, herself stopping in to look around, grab a coffee, maybe perused around a used book store.

  She had gone to one of the diners for lunch and grabbed the burger and fries at a roadside grill a few hours after that. When it hit five o'clock she looked to the West and saw the sun starting to set, and that made her pull over. Now, she sat parked on the side of the road, eating her meal, enjoying her time.

  She took another bite, tasting the juices of the meat flow over her tongue. She put the burger down and grabbed the bottle, taking a sip of the bubbly liquid, washing down the food. She put it down beside her and she sat in silence, listening to the birds calling one another as night slowly visited them.

  Veronica popped the last bite of cheeseburger in her mouth, crumpling up the wrapper and stuffing it in the box that held the long-since-eaten fries. She grabbed the drink and slid off the hood of the car, getting into the driver's seat and turning the key in the ignition. The clock on the dashboard flashed 5:29. Greg had been home for fifteen minutes already. Veronica took a breath and put the car into drive, making a U-turn and driving back the way she came, daylight slowly leaking out of the sky.

  ~~~

  Veronica put her key in the front door and unlocked it, walking inside. The first thing she heard was the scraping back of a chair, and a second later Greg appeared around the corner. Worry lined his face.

  "Hi," she said before he could speak, taking off her coat and hanging it up.

  "Where have you been?" he asked her sharply. "It's six o'clock. I came home and you weren't here, no note, nothing."

  "I was out," she said, meeting his eyes.

  "Out?" he repeated. "Out where?"

  "Just out," she said as she took off her shoes. "What does it matter anyway? You never tell me where you and your buddies go whenever you go out."

  She walked past him and Greg looked like he was about to yell, but it never came. Instead she heard him take a deep breath in and slowly let it out.

  "Okay," he said, following her into the kitchen. "You were out. Did you … have a good day at least?"

  "Wonderful," she replied, sniffing the air with a look of confusion on her face. "Did you eat dinner already?"

  "No," he said, "I came home ready to cook and you weren't here so I didn't know whether to try to find you or
not."

  "Well, I'm here now," she replied. "I've already eaten, though, so don't worry about me. I think I'm just going to read."

  She walked past him again into the living room, sitting down in the chair and turning on the lamp beside her. She picked up her book and turned to the place she had marked as Greg's footsteps approached her.

  "You've already eaten?" he asked, his voice softer than before.

  "I had a burger and fries," she said without looking up.

  "Oh," she heard him say, and he walked back into the kitchen. A small pang of guilt appeared in Veronica's chest but she pushed it down. She heard the sound of metal clanging in the background as she focused on her book.

  ~~~

  "My lady!" said a familiar voice, cloudy and sounding far away. Violet slowly opened her eyes, her head swimming. She tried to lift it as she heard footsteps coming closer. Soon the blurry outline of a man appeared as he dropped to his knees, picking up her head and shoulders, cradling them in his arms.

  "Oh, my lady!" he cried out, and she recognized the voice of her husband, the Lord Roland Winchester. She tried to raise her arms to touch him but found them too heavy to lift.

  "Good Lord, man," another, gruffer voice said as two more blurry pairs of feet appeared. "What have they done to her?"

  Violet heard the men talking among themselves as she struggled to remember the events of the night before. It took her a moment, but slowly the pieces fit together, allowing her to recall how she got to where she was.

  She remembered standing on the deck of the pirate ship, the sun just starting to show itself over the horizon as dawn appeared. Several of the pirates were surrounding her, one holding tight to the rope that bound her hands behind her back. Emmanuel was among the men and, though he acted just like the rest of them, she couldn't help but notice the glances he stole her way.

  "We got the ransom," she remembered one of the pirates, Gregory, saying. "Why don't we just slit her throat and throw the body overboard? I wouldn't mind seein' a little bloodshed!"

  Several of the men roared in agreement and Violet felt herself going pale. Emmanuel, she saw, stood with his mouth closed, waiting for the other men to stop their cheering.

  "No!" he finally said, looking around the group. "We are to keep our word and drop the lady off at the spot arranged. If we did any otherwise, they would most surely attack us."

  "Attack us!" Gregory bellowed back, followed by a hearty laugh. "They wouldn't dare attack us! And if they did we'd cut 'em to pieces!"

  The other men roared again but Emmanuel stared angrily at Gregory, his face set.

  "NO!" he yelled, his voice cutting the cheers short. "We do as we said we would, Gregory, and that is final! Unless you'll want to be dropping my dead corpse off the side of the ship as well."

  Gregory stepped forward and the two stared at one another, daggers shooting from each man's eyes. Violet glanced nervously from one to the other, hoping to God that no one would get hurt.

  Finally, Gregory's face broke out into a grin.

  "All right, Emmanuel," he said with a mock curtsy, "we'll drop the woman off. It's just as well, I don't feel like dirtyin' my knife anyway."

  Violet closed her eyes and felt her heart slow down to a normal pace.

  "However," Gregory continued, "if you want this whore alive so much, I think it should be you who drops her off."

  The men around them roared again as Emmanuel stood stolid, a stern look on his face.

  "Very well," he said. "Blindfold her!"

  Her vision went dark and Violet could feel herself being dragged around, the water loudly slapping the side of the ship, the men to either side of her grunting and muttering. She felt herself being placed in a boat, the hard wooden plank beneath her swaying with the waves. Oars splashed the water and some number of minutes later she felt the bump as they reached the shore. She was lifted by her arms and made to walk God knows how far until finally she was shoved down roughly onto the ground, a man grunting violently overhead.

  A moment later the blindfold was taken off, but the hands that did it were gentler than before. Violet was lying down and she looked up at the man, Emmanuel, who was kneeling over her. A quick glance at the ocean sounds showed the pirate ship anchored half a league away.

  "Where am I?" Violet said, but Emmanuel put a finger to her lips, quieting her.

  "Shh," he said with a hushed voice. "We can't make much noise. I'm supposed to have concussed you."

  "Oh!" Violet gasped, putting a hand to her mouth. "But ... pirate, why haven't you?"

  "M'lady," Emmanuel answered, his gaze trained on her. "These past weeks you've been on board have been ... different for me. I can tell you I've been on this God-forsaken ship for too long, raped and pillaged more villages than I can count, have seen my own friends die by my ruthless hands. But in all that time, never before have I been shaken as much as when I first looked into your eyes."

  Violet was speechless. She had no idea that this pirate felt for her the same way that she felt for him! Every moment that she saw him she longed to feel him next to her, to know his rugged, manly body. But never in her life did she imagine that the feelings were mutual. And to find out now! Mere hours before her husband were to come to her rescue!

  "Pi- … Emmanuel," she began, but again he put a finger to her lips. She closed her eyes at his touch, savouring the sensation.

  "Please, m'lady," he told her. "There is nothing we can do right now, we have no time."

  He took the finger away and Violet opened her eyes.

  "Perhaps," he went on, "perhaps you will see me again. I do not know as of yet, it is too early to tell."

  "What are you saying?" she whispered to him.

  Suddenly a yell came from the ship: "Emmanuel! What is taking so long?"

  Emmanuel lifted his head at the sound, his lips pursed.

  "I must go," he said. "Lay here and wait for your man. He will come to your rescue."

  "I do not want to be rescued," Violet said. "Not from you."

  Emmanuel looked deep into Violet's eyes. Without another word he lowered his head and placed his lips upon hers, the two embracing for the first time. Violet felt his rough lips caress hers so sweetly, and when the yelling came again and he pulled away she felt a part of her being taken with him.

  "Fare thee well, m'lady," he said, and swiftly he turned and walked away, leaving her there alone.

  Violet lay down in the grass, her body weak from the night. She fell into an unrestful sleep, and now here she was, still in her husband's embrace. He slowly lifted her to a sitting position and held her at arm's length, looking her up and down.

  "My dear Violet, you look terrible. Tell me, did they do anything untoward? Did they violate you in any way?"

  Violet's mind fluttered for a second to her last moments with Emmanuel, the feeling of his kiss still lingering on her lips.

  "No," she said at last. "They did not a thing."

  "Good," the Lord Roland said. "Then we shan't have to attack them after all."

  ~~~

  Veronica heard Greg swearing loudly, her concentration being pulled from the story.

  "Greg?" she called into the kitchen. "Is everything all right?"

  "Yeah!" he called back. "I just burned myself, it's no problem."

  She hesitated. "Do you want some help?" she offered.

  "No, I've got it!" he called, and she let out her breath.

  Veronica went back to reading, engrossing herself in the story. In the kitchen, Greg finished making his meal -- Kraft macaroni and cheese -- and took it to the dining room table to eat. Veronica only half-listened to him eating in silence, and when he was finished he took the bowl back to the kitchen and started cleaning up.

  When he was finally done he came into the living room, hovering a few feet away from the chair.

  "Umm, I finished cleaning the kitchen," he said, and Veronica looked up from her book.

  "Great," she said.

  "Did you ... want to wa
tch some TV?" he asked. "I'm pretty sure I missed most of the game, but … we can watch whatever you want."

  "No, I think I'm okay," she said, and Greg seemed to deflate a little.

  "Oh, okay," he said. "Well, I guess I'll be in the TV room then."

  "Okay," Veronica said, and she went back to the book before he left the room. As he turned and walked away she glanced up at his retreating back. She watched him walk, shoulders down, out of the room and a minute later the sound of the television came on, sports announcers telling the viewers at home what the score was. Veronica dropped her gaze back down to the book again and kept reading.

  Chapter 11

  The next morning Veronica awoke alone again in her bed. She blinked and stretched, glancing over at the clock: 9:41. She'd slept later than she had anticipated. But at the same time, she felt more rested than she had in years. Throwing the covers off of her, she donned her dressing gown and went downstairs to the kitchen.

  The kitchen looked tidy, and there was a note on the table:

  "Hey honey,

  Didnt want to wake you but I made you some breakfast. Its in the oven.

  Love, Greg"

  Veronica put the note down, smiling lightly, and opened the oven. Inside was a plate with eggs, toast, and bacon on it. She took it out and sat down at the kitchen table to eat. As she munched on her food she thought about what she was going to do today.

  She probably wasn't going to do any chores, that was for sure. But there was another walking meeting at noon. The image of Jason staring at her beside her car flashed in her mind and she shook her head to clear it. She needed to figure things out between them. They hadn't spoken since the water tower (of course, how could they?) and she needed to set things straight with him before either of them got hurt.

  She wanted to apologize, that was the main thing. She'd led him on and that was wrong of her. He had probably already had ideas about what was going to happen at the water tower, and she did nothing to stop it. Besides, she was married. So it wasn't like anything could come of it anyways. It was a one-time mistake and something that she needed to take care of before anything bad happened.