23 Miles

by Renee Mackenzie

  Talia hurled her pen across the room. She didn’t deserve a new poem. Or Shay Eliot. Or anyone for that matter.

  †

  Shay checked her watch before dialing the number that FBI agent Nathan Jackson had given her. She wanted to talk to him about Talia Lisher. She had been glad that it was Jackson who’d called her about her alibi and not Timothy Grainger. She knew Grainger had been doing his job, but would never feel he had the right to talk to her the way he had. But mostly, she hated him for showing her the gory pictures that still haunted her nights.

  Agent Jackson answered the phone. She asked him if there was anything new and when he said no, she believed him.

  “Should I be worried about this woman, Talia Lisher?” she asked.

  “Ah, your stalker.” The agent laughed. “It appears she’s just a bit lovesick. We’ve checked her out and there is nothing on her personally. Her brother is a different story, but Talia Lisher appears to be harmless.”

  “Okay, I just wanted to be sure.”

  “You want us to have a conversation with her?” he asked, his voice all but mocking.

  “No, it’s not necessary. I’ll handle her.”

  They hung up and Shay was pretty sure she wouldn’t be hearing from the FBI on this matter again. She hoped they would do the investigation justice. Allie and Diane deserved that.

  Now to figure out what to say to Talia and how to do so. Talia hadn’t been back to the bar since Shay had yelled at her. Shay knew she could make use of her investigative skills and find out how to reach Talia, but wasn’t quite sure what she would say once she did.

  †

  Talia held the white plastic suction tip in place in Mrs. Robbins’s mouth as Dr. Bennett drilled the decayed portion of one of her molars. As long as she could keep the woman from gagging, this part of her job was what she called a no-brainer.

  She stared at Mrs. Robbins’s ear for a long time before she realized it was a bit misshapen. Talia allowed her thoughts to drift. Words presented themselves, taunting her, teasing her when she couldn’t write them down.

  “Talia,” Dr. Bennett said.

  She knew right away she’d let the suction tip drift out of position. “Yes, sir,” she said, repositioning it out of his way.

  Van Gogh’s ear. On this woman. Talia caught herself smiling. If Van Gogh’s ear had ovaries…

  It wasn’t until two patients later that Talia had a moment alone with her thoughts and a small notepad she kept hidden in her smock pocket. Van Gogh’s ear and a wolf. No, fox. Coyote. Yes, coyote. She jotted down some thoughts, hoping she’d be able to remember the rest and put it all together into something meaningful once she was home.

  Talia’s workday was coming to a close and she was loading dirty instruments into the autoclave when Lacey came up behind her. “I keep forgetting to ask you about your costume party.”

  Talia shook off the image of the two women dressed as Allie and Diane with their throats slit. “It was great. I won first prize with my mummy costume.” And there it was…Liarhead Lizard…slipping out…easier than the truth… “And good thing they did the judging early in the night because I was afraid to pee until afterward. I knew I’d never get rewrapped as well as what you’d done.” Talia smiled, and then excused herself. She hid in the bathroom the last ten minutes of the day, waiting for Lacey to go to her car ahead of her.

  When she finally went out into the parking lot, she stopped short just outside on the sidewalk.

  “I almost didn’t recognize you,” Shay said.

  Talia hadn’t even thought about how different she would look to people outside of the bar.

  “No mascara, hair not styled,” Shay explained.

  Talia’s face warmed; she didn’t know which embarrassed her more, the version of her standing in the parking lot in a smock covered with cartoon teeth, hair pulled back, no real makeup to speak of, or the person Shay saw at the bar, hiding behind makeup and teased hair.

  Shay must have sensed her discomfort. “You look cute in real life.”

  “Thanks,” Talia said. “I think.” She took in the sight of Shay—beautiful in a pair of dark jeans and a light blue polo shirt that matched her eyes perfectly.

  “So, I came by to thank you. You know—for helping me out. But mostly to say that I’m sorry. I acted abominably.”

  “Abominably. That’s one hell of a word,” Talia said.

  “Too much?” Shay asked.

  “No, quite fitting actually.”

  Shay laughed. Talia found it to be a glorious sound. And then it sank in. Shay Eliot had sought her out. Shay stood in front of her, looking amazing, and apologizing.

  Talia didn’t know what to say or how to act. Surely Shay didn’t drive all that way just to say thanks and sorry. “Would you like to do something?” Talia glanced down at her smock and scrubs bottoms. “After I change, that is.”

  “Yes, I would,” Shay said. “I’m parked over there—the tan—”

  “I know.”

  “Oh, yeah, you do know what I drive.”

  “I’m the silver Honda,” Talia said, feeling pretty lame.

  Fifteen minutes later they were in Talia’s apartment. She never in a million years imagined she’d be showing Shay Eliot around her place. In all her fantasies they danced and kissed at the bar or made love at Shay’s house. But here Shay was, standing in front of Talia’s ugly plaid sofa, near her homemade cinder-block-and-ply-board coffee table, looking around the room without any outward signs of judgment.

  “I’m going to change real quick.” Talia practically ran into her bedroom. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it. Get it together, she told herself as she took several deep breaths. She slipped out of the cheesy smock and scrubs Dr. Bennett made them all wear and into a pair of worn, faded Levi’s. Then she slipped on a T-shirt and hoped she didn’t look too casual. She was about to throw her smock in the hamper when she remembered her notebook. The coyote and Van Gogh had to wait, she thought, as she put the notebook on her bedside table.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Talia asked as she came out of the bedroom. “I have soda, beer, and juice.”

  “I’ll take a soda.”

  “I was going to order pizza. But we could have something else if you’d rather.” She held up a Jolt and a Coke by way of offerings.

  “Coke would be great. And pizza sounds terrific.” Shay looked around the room. “This is a nice apartment.”

  Talia wanted to act like a normal person who had normal friends come over to hang out with her in a normal way, but this was all so foreign to her. She usually went to old high school friends’ places to get stoned, or went out to the bar to be around other women like her. She wasn’t sure how to be a hostess. “Would you like to see the rest of the place?”

  “I’d love to.”

  At least Talia had been raised to keep things clean and neat. She thanked God she wasn’t a slob who’d be embarrassed now.

  She led Shay down the hallway and pointed out the bathroom.

  “Do you live alone?” Shay asked.

  “Yeah.” Next she pointed out her bedroom with its small bed and single dresser. Clean, but by no means fancy. Or very adult, she suddenly feared.

  “This is nice,” Shay said.

  “Here’s the spare room.”

  Shay stepped into the room this time. “Wow. This is very cool.” She stood in front of the canvas with “Soul Dancing” that Talia had just hung. Shay’s lips moved slightly as she read it to herself. Talia wanted to touch those lips with hers so bad it hurt.

  Then Shay stood in front of “Taste,” and Talia read it to herself as Shay did the same.

  I lean into you, pressing you into the wall. My tongue curls

  Around a strand of your hair, a trace of raspberry. I breathe

  The earthy freshness of your green apple soap. Arranging

  My mouth on yours, a mint-tinge of toothpaste screens

  The delicate subtlety of dinner’s chardonnay
. I brush

  My lips against your salt-laced neck. Gripping

  A piece of you between my teeth, you taste

  Sweet and sour. I hold on, afraid to lose

  The power of jalapeno masquerading

  As refined vanilla.

  Shay blushed slightly and Talia knew she was turning red as well. The scent of raspberries filled her head and she feared Shay would know the poem was about her.

  The doorbell rang and Talia was glad to get Shay away from her poems. She couldn’t believe she’d let her read the ones she did. Shay was the only person who’d read them and that both thrilled and terrified Talia.

  Shay smiled when the pizza delivery guy addressed Talia by name. “You order pizza as much as I do, I see.”

  “Yeah. When I’m not eating Taco Bell.”

  Shay laughed.

  They made their plates on the kitchen counter then Talia led the way into the den. Shay sat on the end of the sofa and Talia sat on a hand-me-down La-Z-Boy chair her mom left with her when she moved to Pennsylvania with her new husband to start their new family.

  They said little as they ate, but it was comfortable. After eating, Talia got Shay another soda.

  “Can I read more of your poem paintings?”

  Talia was surprised. And pleased beyond what she was sure was warranted. “Sure.”

  They returned to the poem room. Shay stood in front of “No” and read this one out loud.

  “No, I don’t hate men

  and no, I was never

  abused and no, I am

  not going through a

  phase and no, it isn’t

  about finding the right

  man and no, I’m not

  confused and no, I

  have not been

  indoctrinated and no,

  it isn’t about anything

  other than loving

  Women.”

  “I could see this on the wall at the bar,” Shay said, pointing at ‘No.’ “I’d bet they’d buy one from you. I could see it written on a red background and hanging between the pool tables.”

  Talia had no idea how to respond.

  “You do sell your work, don’t you?” Shay asked.

  Your work. The words flew around her mind. Shay said it like Talia was a real artist and not the hack poet she knew herself to be. “Yeah,” she managed to say, “I do sell my work.” Not really a lie, because she would if she could, right?

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Shay said.

  The phone rang, but Talia stayed where she was, staring at Shay and thinking about what a terrific day this had turned out to be.

  “Are you going to answer that?”

  Talia looked at her watch. Seven p.m. It would be Brian. She couldn’t talk to him with Shay there. It eventually quit ringing.

  “So, I was going to ask you for your phone number, but it appears you don’t answer your phone.”

  Shay was saying she wanted her number? “I usually do answer my phone.”

  It was Shay’s turn to check her watch. “I should probably get going.”

  “Okay. Let me get something to write with and I promise I’ll answer your call if I’m home.” Talia grabbed a charcoal pencil off the drafting table in the corner and ripped off a little piece of sketch paper. After she jotted down her number, she handed it to Shay.

  The phone started ringing again. “I should get that,” Talia whispered.

  “I can let myself out,” Shay said.

  Talia walked with her to the door. She grabbed the phone just before she knew it would stop ringing and answered the question asked immediately with, “Yes, I will accept the charges.” She wondered if Shay heard that as the door shut behind her, and if so, what she’d think of it.

  “Hi, Tali. What’s shaking in the land of the free, kiddo?”

  “Hi, Brian.”

  “When you coming back to visit? I’m dying for some more baby back ribs.”

  Memory of the heat of the ribs as she wrapped them with Saran wrap to try to keep the smoky-sweet scent hidden and then taped them to her torso rushed over her. “I’ll try to come this weekend. But I can’t bring you ribs again.”

  “Ah, come on.”

  “No, Brian. I was scared to death I’d get caught. And I flat-out lied when they asked me if I had any weapons, food, or beverages on me. I lied to federal cops.”

  He let out a big, full-bodied laugh. “Now you’re worrying about lying? Oh, Lord, what has happened to you?”

  A lot, but she wasn’t telling him that. She wasn’t going to tell him about how she’d been working really hard on not lying or embellishing. She also wasn’t going to tell him about the van on the parkway, or the two women being murdered. And she was going to keep to herself how she finally got to spend some time with Shay Eliot. This was her life, separate from her family, and she wanted to keep it that way.

  “You still there?” Brian asked.

  “Yeah, I’m here. Sorry, but I can’t sneak anything else in for you.”

  “It’s all right. I just want to see you. The ribs were a bonus. How’s the Honda?”

  “It’s good.”

  “You’re still taking good care of it?”

  “Yeah,” Talia said.

  “Not tempted to trade it in, are you?”

  “No, I promised you I wouldn’t.”

  “Good. So, how’s your love life?”

  Talia hated when he pressed her about that.

  “You seeing anyone?” he asked.

  “Yeah. A guy I met through work.” She rolled her eyes at herself. “He’s really nice. And has a good job. And great teeth.”

  Brian laughed. “As long as he has good teeth. What’s his name, I want to check him out for you.”

  She knew she had to stay with the lie. She didn’t know if he could actually check on her story from inside prison. “You know I can’t say anything else about him. Patient confidentiality,” she blurted.

  There were voices in the background, getting louder.

  “Sorry, kiddo, but my phone time is up. I hope you do come see me this weekend.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Tali-ho,” he said, his usual way of ending the conversation.

  Talia hung up and felt guilty. She wasn’t totally convinced she would try to see him that weekend. Going to the prison made her very uncomfortable. She knew it was a minimum security place, and that it was all white-collar offenders there, but that didn’t make her feel much better.

  She went to the stereo and hit the play button, and Patsy Cline’s voice filled her apartment. She was glad Shay hadn’t asked to play some music because she would have been embarrassed, considering the whole stalking thing and all.

  In the poem room, Talia placed a canvas on the easel. She took out the red paint and the motion of applying it to the canvas helped her to relax. She would do several coats, then wait a day or two before adding the words. The lettering would need to be heavier than usual since the background would be darker than what she typically worked with.

  She sang along to “Crazy” and felt like new and wonderful things were beginning to happen.

  †

  Shay walked the periphery of the bar’s parking lot. So far the only incidents she’d had working bar security was with the local, young homophobes. Nothing new there. She was hoping to be able to get one of them to stand still long enough to talk to him, but as soon as they knew she was on to them, they’d take off, leaving behind the echo of gay slurs. She believed a few minutes talking to them could help educate them. Or not.

  She scanned the parking lot for Talia’s silver Honda. Shay had been thinking a lot about her. She wanted to spend more time with her, but also wanted to be sure it was done very slowly. On the other hand, she wished Talia wasn’t quite so young, and she wasn’t quite sure of her intentions or her past history, as explained by Kate. She did like her, though, and had enjoyed spending the time with her when she’d gone to apologize. She just wasn’t sure if she should get
close to someone who seemed as wild as Talia did at times.

  Movement near the road caught her attention. One of the local teens that she’d seen before was skulking along the side of the road, a bulky down coat making him appear bigger than what she imagined he really was. He was looking in car windows. Maybe now would be her chance to talk to one of these kids, get them to see her and everyone else there as humans to be respected, not tormented.

  Shay stayed close to the building, out of the light of the streetlamp, and watched him. He appeared to have something in his hand. She could make out the outline of a large piece of a broken cinderblock. Keeping out of the light, she made her way along the row of parked cars between her and the street. She knew this would be the time to call out, and he would drop the cinderblock and run. But she kept quiet as a rage pulsed through her. How dare this punk kid come here and even think about doing damage to one of these cars?

  Once she was within a few feet of him, she stepped out into the light of the streetlamp. Simultaneously, he had raised the cinderblock over his head, over the windshield of a brand-new Ford Taurus.

  “Hey!”

  He jumped, dropped the block, and moved as if to flee. She grabbed him by the bulk of his coat and swung him around.

  “Get your hands off me, dyke.”

  “Who the hell do you think you are, coming over here, trying to damage people’s property?”

  He jerked out of her clutch. “I haven’t done anything. And I ain’t scared of you, you ain’t no cop.”

  Shay pulled her jacket to the side, just enough to expose her holstered gun. “For you, I’m worse than a cop. I’m a big, mean dyke who doesn’t give a crap about ‘protect and serve’ when it comes to loser punks like you. Come around here again and I will show you how fed up I am, and how much I don’t care about laws when it comes to protecting the people and cars around here.” She glared at him. His eyes kept moving to the gun still showing. “Now get the hell out of here!”