Sunrise Fires

by LaBarge, Heather

  “Can’t. Starving. Someone ate my burger on the way over here.” I jerked a thumb in Ryan’s direction.

  “Hey! You offered me that burger! You damn near insisted!”

  I winked at Chris and then kissed Ryan on the cheek. “I know, babe. And I am glad you ate it.” I ran my hand down his spine, squeezing him at the small of his back, as I kissed his neck and whispered in his ear, “I love you, hun. I’m just being silly with Chris.” And then I straightened up and turned back to Chris, tugging my shirt down to straighten it and holding my palm up in front of me, feigning a writing utensil in the other hand, “Okay.” I dotted the ‘pen’ to my tongue quickly to get it started, “One animal style burger,” I spoke slowly as I took the order, “and one shake.” I looked up from my hand, “Flavor?”

  “What?”

  “What flavor shake?”

  “Uhhh…What do they got?” He paused and thought for a second and then continued, “Bah, chocolate. Every place has chocolate.”

  “Okay.” I waved my hand, scribbling furiously on my makeshift notepad. “You want fries with that?”

  “Sure. I’ll take fries.”

  Ryan stood with his hands on his hips, looking back and forth between us with disapproving eyes and pursed lips. His heavy sigh and sideways glances were half the fun of this process.

  “Ketchup?”

  “Yep.”

  “Salt?”

  “Extra.”

  “Any beverage besides the shake?”

  “Miller light.”

  I looked up from my palm. “Excuse me, sir, but we do not recommend beer for people in the hospital. And, anyway, this establishment doesn’t serve beer.”

  “Is that so? Well, I wanna see the manager!”

  We both looked at Ryan. “No way! Keep me outta that little corny charade!”

  “Well, you’re no fun.” And I jabbed him in the ribs. Turning my attention to Chris, I said, “Can I trust this fuddy duddy in your care while I’m gone?”

  “Sure can. I might just lighten him up a bit.”

  I turned and headed for the door. “But he doesn’t need to lose any weight.” I chuckled, listening to Chris’s laughter and Ryan’s groan.

  Chapter Four

  It was a month before Chris left the hospital, and he wasn’t walking on his own, though he used his crutches really well. I made lasagna that night and tried to think of Chris while I did, pouring some extra thoughts and love into it. We all gathered up at our house; I preferred it that way since I was cooking. Nobody complained since we were the only ones who lived in a house. Even Pat, who was married with two children, lived in an apartment.

  We lived in a quiet gated community. The streets were lined with old oaks and green well-manicured lawns maintained by whomever the home owners’ association hired. It reminded me of my New England roots back East, making the exorbitant home owner’s association fees well worth it. Each home was painted in similar neutral tones of beige, tan, brown, peach, and terra cotta—signature desert colors that survived well in the blazing summer sun. Ours was in the middle of the block, a cookie-cutter copy of the house three doors down to our left and two down to the right—tract housing at its finest. Still, I loved the place. Ryan and I had chosen it together, and that alone made it special. He had found a rental agency that helped us find precisely what we wanted, and we’d selected a few to go see every few days until we found something we could agree on. This had been only the fourth or fifth house we looked at. Once we saw it, we knew there was no point in continuing to look. It was a two-story, two-bedroom place. The downstairs was open and welcoming while the upstairs was more cozy and private.

  The place reeked of garlic and basil by the time people started arriving. Barefooted, I crossed the tiled floor to answer the door. The tiles were one of the many things I loved about this home, particularly in the summer time when carpet might’ve held the heat and made the place feel stifling. My toes gripped the natural surface of the ceramic tiles. They were cool and firm beneath my feet. I opened the door and wasn’t surprised to find Mark standing there. He was the quietest and seemingly most melancholy of the bunch, but he maintained an air of cordiality and respect. Seeing him arrive on time wasn’t a shock. Neither was it a shock to see him with a woman I’d never seen before. Bringing a new woman to an event was his signature. In fact, I wondered if anyone ever got a second date.

  “Hey, hun.” I reached up to hug him as he leaned down to me. He was much taller than me, likely six foot three or four, and rail thin. He was brooding and dark, wearing clothes that matched his demeanor. Today, he wore black skinny jeans held up by a belt fashioned from a car’s seat belt and a black button-down shirt, with the sleeves partially rolled up. He had one eyebrow piercing and snake bite piercings on his bottom lip, any of which he was prone to fiddle with when he was nervous or brooding. His jet-black hair swept across his forehead toward his left ear, never quite succeeding in staying out of his eyes. His face was sharp and angular—marked by gaunt cheeks, a pointed nose, and sharp-jutted chin—and dotted by deep charcoal eyes. In all, he was a shadow until you got to know him. He was shy and reserved, never speaking until spoken to, and resigned to remain a background figure.

  I smiled at him coming away from our hug. “You’re the first one here.” He shrugged and handed me a bottle of wine. “Well, thank you,” I said, and then looking at the bottle, I was surprised that he’d chosen my favorite red wine. “Did Ryan tell you to get this? I think it’s the only red I drink. It’s perfect for tonight.”

  “Nope, thought of that all on my own,” he sounded resentful, or maybe I was just reading into his usual sad reserved tone.

  “Well, damned good thinking then. I’m pretty picky as far as wine goes, and it’s rare to find a decent sweet red.” I turned to the date, “And who do we have here?” She was waif thin and probably not taller than five foot two. Her floral print sundress hung from her shoulders as if it were three sizes too big. And other than her fluffed, curled, and sprayed Texas-sized hairdo, there was nothing big about her. I offered her my hand; she placed hers in mine, but it was cold, limp, and weak, a wet fish of a handshake for sure. Mark said her name, but it didn’t register. She had already been named ‘wet fish.’ It was a name she would only have for this night, and only in my head. In the end, their names were irrelevant. “A pleasure to meet you, hun. Make yourselves at home. The rest of everyone should be arriving any minute now.”

  They slunk off to the living room as I padded back to the kitchen. I still had a Caesar salad to make and garlic bread to crisp under the broiler. The smell of garlic and cheese hit me as I reentered the kitchen and, immediately, I remembered the sound of Chris’s enthusiasm the first time he tasted my lasagna—hell, the first time anyone tasted my lasagna. Even Ryan was bound to love this meal and give me plenty of appreciation for it afterwards.

  I set the wine on the island in the center of the kitchen; it joined two loaves of Italian bread, halved and slathered with garlic butter. I looked at the bottle.

  Mark was a curious character. Even after more than a year, he was an enigma in many ways. Truth was it had taken months before I was able to get Mark to converse with me beyond stilted hellos and awkward forced polite conversation about the weather or the track. I had finally achieved a special standing with him, though I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because I persisted in pestering him until he let me get to know him better. Maybe it was because I was Ryan’s girl, and after being there for so long, the other guys had already fully accepted me, so he finally gave in. No matter what the reason, it was nice to be in this special place. And nice that he brought the wine.

  I turned my attention to the sink where the Romaine lettuce waited in a colander. As I began rinsing it, I looked out the window as the sun was just barely beginning to set. I loved this kitchen; it was spacious and well-lit, with plenty of pa
ntry space and an extra large refrigerator. The sinks were against the far wall directly in front of two large windows that looked out toward the mountains. Sunrises were gorgeous. Sunbeams cut through the windows, making the kitchen seem alive in the morning. It made cooking breakfast a joyous way to start the day. And sunsets were just as beautiful, with orange and red hues that played out on the mountains, until dusk silenced them. It made the evening meal preparation feel intimate and special.

  Tonight was no exception to the rule. The sunset was an amazing vista of blood orange fading to salmon, with white wisps of clouds contrasting the mountains’ silhouettes. I sighed as I shook the water from the lettuce and set it on a bed of paper towels to drain. I was really looking forward to the company and seeing Ryan interact with his friends.

  I had just finished the garlic bread when my phone rang. Assuming it must be Ryan with news of being delayed with Chris and the guys, I answered immediately. After all, my Caesar salad was at stake.

  “Hey, gorgeous!” I said cheerfully.

  “Excuse me?” Whoops that wasn’t Ryan’s voice. I pulled the phone away from my cheek and saw that it was actually Mr. Dullberth, the human resources chief at the office.

  “Ummm, I’m sorry, Mr. Dullberth, I thought you were someone else.”

  “Indeed,” he replied matter-of-factly.

  Dullberth was a stodgy businessman who was ill suited to be anything other than a human resources person or perhaps a quality assurance guy. He was detail-oriented, took everything just a little too seriously, and expected both life and people to be predictable—a sure sign of the kind of person he himself was. In fact, I found that his name suited him. He was as dull as anyone I’d ever met. He drove a solid safety-rated four-door sedan with amazing gas mileage; he brought his lunch each day, always a sandwich, a fruit, and a bag of baked chips; he wore the same style of slacks and shirt each day, varied only in shades of grey or black; and he spoke in monotones and seldom raised his voice. His promotion to corporate HR should have been reason for celebration, and yet on the day I met him, he was moving into his office completely nonplussed. In all, Dullberth was a man the company needed, and that I tolerated. “What was it you needed, sir?”

  “We’ve not heard from you in regards to our offer yet, and I wanted to remind you that the deadline is approaching.”

  “I know, sir. I’m aware.”

  “And you do realize that we have already hired someone for your position here in Las Vegas?”

  “I understood that to be a contingent offer, pending my departure, should I choose to accept the other position.”

  “Unfortunately, that has recently changed.”

  “Excuse me, what?” I was aghast.

  “Madam, you have not yet committed to either position, and the company had to protect their interests.”

  “What exactly are you saying, Mr. Dullberth?”

  “I thought I was clear. The young man hired on contingency for your position here in Las Vegas has now been hired and is on payroll.”

  “What?! How could you possibly do that? There is no way!” I took a deep breath, realizing that I was raising my voice, and that Dullberth would see me as unreasonable and emotional. More slowly and clearly, I began again, “Mr. Dullberth, I’ve been with the company for five years! Productivity is up in my sectors and sales have never been higher.”

  “Which is precisely why you were given the offer abroad.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “Ms. Simmons, we have waited for nearly two months on your answer. It is clear the offices in Germany want to hire you, and yet you make them wait. And you expect us to absorb your loss should you take the position on short notice? Surely, you can’t be serious.”

  “I just mean that you should have made this phone call before telling the other guy he was hired. So, now you are telling me that I am going to Germany or else I’m fired. Is that about right?”

  “We will let you go, yes…either way. One for your further success. The other would be…” he cleared his throat, “less fortunate.”

  “The deadline is…” I looked at the calendar hanging on the kitchen wall, “thirteen days, right?”

  “That is precisely right…if you waited until the last day.” He emphasized the word ‘if’ as if it had been a threat.

  “Thank you, Mr. Dullberth. I’ll let you know.”

  “So, then, you still have not—” I hung up before he could finish. Tears stung my eyes.

  They streamed down my cheeks while I finished the salad. I sniffled and sobbed uncontrollably, staring at but not seeing the mountains. Suddenly, I didn’t want to have dinner here at the house.

  I wanted to be alone with Ryan.

  I wanted to cry and to rage, and these people were an intrusion to that or at least a delay of it. If he were here right now, he would say he told me so, and that he’s been reminding me to call them. He would give me disapproving parent eyes. And then he would hold me while I cried and tell me that it will be all right. And he’d say, “Who cares if I was right,” and then he’d muttered under his breath, “Except me, of course.” And we’d laugh while I bawled. I needed him to lie with me and talk to me. I wanted to hear his voice thrumming against my eardrums, saying anything at all. I just needed the reassurance of it.

  “Hey, my gorgeous woman.” I hadn’t heard him come in, and now here I was, a mess, and about to ruin dinner with my drama. I sniffled once really hard and dabbed my eyes on my T-shirt, grateful that I had my back to the door. Deep breaths and long slow exhales helped clear the tears and settle the distress. And then his lips were on the back of my neck and his arms around my waist, his hands pulling my hips into him. “Did you miss me?”

  I smiled and stretched my neck to give him more area to kiss. “Yes, love,” I sounded surprisingly calm, “I missed you terribly.” I took another deep settling breath. “And how does it smell in here? Are you ready to eat?”

  He massaged my hips. “Dinner smells almost as good as you do.” He let a hand wander to my mound. “God, I’ve missed you. I miss you every time I go away.” His words hung in my ears. Germany. ‘I miss you every time I go away.’ It had only been a few hours since he had last seen me. What would he do if I went to Germany? “I can’t wait for dinner, baby. It smells amazing,” he squeezed my crotch, “and dessert later.” The warmth and strength of his grip sent ripples of a tremble through my pelvis and stomach.

  The doorbell rang before I had to respond to him, and it was a good thing, because a short trip to the bathroom revealed a raccoon-eyed, cry-baby-faced mess. I tidied myself up for dinner and had a good strong talk with myself about Mr. Dullberth’s revelation not ruining our dinner for Chris.

  Chapter Five

  Conversation had swept the time by quickly and kept thoughts of Dullberth and Germany at bay. The lasagna was wonderful, cheesy, and full of garlic, basil, and other Italian spices; it was met with rave reviews, as were the salad and garlic bread. Mark’s wine complimented everything really well. The night was topped off with cannoli that Johnnie brought from a nearby bakery. The moon was full and bright by the time dinner waned, and we stood at the door, sending everyone on their way.

  “I’m so glad you’re home, man. You’ll be back on that bike by the summer.” Ryan hugged Chris.

  “Thanks for everything,” he replied. Turning to me, he said, “Thanks for the dinner; it was awesome.”

  “Oh…that old thing?” And we both chuckled. “You’re headed home with Mark and…Mark’s girl?” I chuckled to myself remembering my nickname for her.

  “Yeah, they’re gonna drop me at my parents’ house on their way to…well…on their way.”

  Again, we smiled, and I leaned out the door. “Thanks again, Mark, for the wine. And bye, honey, it was nice meeting you.” They mumbled something inaudible as Chris joined them.

>   I leaned into Ryan as he closed the door. “I’m exhausted.”

  “That’s one word for it. You want to tell me what’s up?”

  “Huh?” I stood up again and faced him. “Come again?”

  “Baby, you’ve been off all night - ever since I got back from the hospital with Chris. You got something you wanna tell me?” My eyes immediately burned and my nose tingled. God, I didn’t want to cry again. “What the hell is it, baby?” His arms were around me now, warm and supportive.

  My lower lip quivered. I knew I had to tell him. But once I did, we would never be the same again. Tonight may be the last night we would consider ourselves a couple. Anything could happen, and I hated Dullberth for it. What if Ryan decided it was time for us to be over, before it hurt more, before the day I have to leave for Germany? I couldn’t handle that. And I couldn’t refuse Germany because I wouldn’t be able to find another job like this in the Las Vegas area, at least, not quickly. I knew that Dullberth had forced my hand, and that I would indeed be going to Germany, but I wished there was a way I could keep this a secret from Ryan. I wished that we could stay the way we were just a few hours ago, and that he would never have to know about Germany.

  I walked toward the couch. As he followed, I choked it out. “Dullberth called…” It was all I could manage before breaking into body wracking sobs. I plopped down on the couch in real rag doll fashion, legs straight out into the living room and head flung back against the back cushion. The tears flowed into my hair, drenching it at my temples. I didn’t care. This was probably the end anyway.

  Initially, Ryan gaped at me. I was too overwhelmed with my own thoughts of his abandonment that I didn’t care that he was staring. In the end, he was likely to recognize this as our end anyway. He knew who Dullberth was and what Dullberth would want, so he surely would recognize that I had to leave for Germany, and that we were done.