Lying there

     Dillon leaned up against the doorframe watching Evie sleep. His body and mind were torn in half. She was so beautiful lying there. How could anyone hurt her? Would she ever want to be in another relationship? Had he missed his chance? If he would have ran her down and told her how he felt all those years ago, would things be different? 

     This was his Evie. 

     He smiled to himself. She had the quilt wrapped under her chin but her feet were hangin’ out. A chuckle caught in his throat. Afraid he’d wake her. This was cute.

     When he was 10? 9 or 10? Now, he wasn’t sure. He had went home after school, laid his backpack beside the door, before walking into the kitchen. His dad was asleep at the kitchen table, snoring. Arms hanging loosely at his side. His mom was staring into the open fridge. He just stood in the doorway of the kitchen for a long time. Feeling the cool air from the fridge. Finally his mother flopped her greasy head around toward him, “what do you want?” She moaned more than talked. 

     In as timid of a voice as he could muster, he whispered, “I’m hungry.”

     A blood shot, red, swollen eye glared at him from the mass that was his dad’s head. With one swift motion; Dillon had never known his dad to move that fast before, the chair he was slumped over in slammed to the floor. Dillon jumped. His dad tore off his belt and started swinging the buckle at him. He screamed as the buckle connected with his side. Running for the door, his dad got several licks on Dillon’s back. He was able to snatch the back pack as he bolted for the door. 

     Jack picked the sobbing child up, took him home and Lily treated him and fed him. But it was Evie that talked him to sleep. Jack had made him a cot on the floor of Evie’s room. Much softer than his bed at home. Evie got out of her soft bed and made him trade places. When he laid down in her spot, her bed was the second softest thing he’d ever touched. Warm and smelt like heaven. His adult mind knew that would be what lying down beside her right now would feel like. 

     He wanted to kick off his boots and go lay down with her. Not in the floor beside the mattress but with her. Wrap his arms around her. Bury his nose in her hair. Feel the rise and fall of her back against his chest. 

     The longer he stood there, the weaker he was becoming. He felt gentle vibrations coming from his pocket. Time to go back. 

     He never knew what Jack said to his old friend. His dad never tried to beat him again. There were other, more cruel methods. 

The dream

     Evie woke to the sight of Dillon’s side. She was on the air mattress and he was laying in the floor. The darkness was gone. There was enough light in the room for her to see his boots, belt, gun, wallet, watch, hat and 2 cellphones were lying in a neat row next to the wall. 

     Her eyes settled on his face. He seemed to be sleeping so soundly. She wanted to caress his face. Rub her fingers through his hair but she didn’t. His hands were lying close to his face. She was able to pick up his left hand, holding it in hers, softly examining it. It was almost double the size of her’s. The random callouses she felt surprised her. But then, he does own a farm. She wrapped his hand with hers, placing it under her chin before drifting back to sleep. 

     When she woke the second time, he was gone. But his belongings were still against the wall. The smell of food filled her nose causing her stomach to growl. She found him in the kitchen heating up breakfast. 

     “Breakfast for supper?” He smiled. 

     “It smells divine.” He motioned her over to the counter. She got a little of everything. “Thanks for sharing.”

     “You are welcome. I think because I’m a single man that lives alone, Della thinks I’m going to starve. She’s always sending food home with me. Stopped trying years ago to pay her.”

     They sat in the floor. “But I know you, you do something.”

     “Yeah, I’ll stop at road side vendors or farmers markets and pick up stuff to just give her.”

     As Evie nibbled, she sighed, “Della is such a good cook. Always has been.” Dillon just watched her. She gave a heavy sigh. “I had a nightmare.”

     His voice was a whisper, “you don’t have to tell me.”

     “I think I should.” She sat her plate on the floor. But found it impossible to look at Dillon. “In my dream, Doug was out of jail. He had stolen your truck. I was strapped to the tailgate looking over the road. Watching you. You were hog tied in the middle of a gravel road.” She paused, “didn’t recognize where we were. It was agonizing watching the truck move away from you.” She pulled her knees to her chest, hugging them tightly. “I saw the rope and started screaming at you. You needed to wake up. You needed to get up. The rope was tied around you and the tow hitch. Faster and faster he drove. You bounced like a pop can tied back there. I thought if I could scream loud enough, you would get up. The gravels were tearing the fabric of your clothes away from your skin. Road dust covered you. I couldn’t stop screaming. But no matter how much I screamed, you never got up.”

     He scooted across the floor and hugged her up. She was shaking again. “I’m here now.”

     “Dillon, being near me is hazardous to your health. Doug is dangerous. The fact that you’re a cop only makes it worse.”

     “We will cross that bridge when we get there.” He reassured her.

Nightmare

     Evie woke screaming. Every muscle in her body was tight. Her throat hurt. And she couldn’t stop shaking. Frantically, she rolled off the air mattress, inching across the floor in her sheet cocoon, to the darkest corner of the room. Her eyes darted from side to side. The breath caught in her sore throat. Tears flowed freely down her face. 

     Her mind finally focused on one thing; ‘call Dillon. Need to call Dillon.’ Somehow one rational spark made it through; ‘he’s at work. Leave him alone.’

     The science fiction quote that was her ringtone caused her to jump. She fell over, still wrapped in her cocoon. Slowly inching back to the mattress and the cell phone. Her hands were shaking so badly that she struggled to release herself from the sheets. Dropping the phone twice just trying to see who had called. 

     Deep breaths. She instructed herself. Breathe. The lamaze style breathing echoed off the empty walls of her bedroom in the darkness.  Just breathe. She was able to hold the phone. With a shaky finger, it took 3 tries to open her phone. Another 3 to punch in her code. She was exhausted and hadn’t even dialed the number yet. 

     Dillon’s voice sent her nerves crashing; that caused more jitters. He didn’t ask her what was wrong. But the tone of his voice, the reassuring calm told her he knew. 

     “Della sent me home with breakfast. Would you like to join me?”

     Other than squeaking out the first ‘hi’, her throat seized. She hummed what she hoped he would take as a yes. 

     “I’m leaving Della’s. See you soon.”

     Ending the call was impossible. A sigh of relief escaped when Dillon disconnected. 

     30 minutes. She had 30 minutes to unwrap herself, brush her hair, put on a bra, and brush her teeth. 

     The gentle vibration of her watch alerted her that Dillon was in the drive just as her aching muscles and stiff fingers latched her bra. 

     When she opened the door, the ability to look him in the eye was gone. He walked past her, filling her nose with the mixed smells of food and a hint of leather. As she locked the door, he sat the box on the counter before wrapping her in his arms. The comfort he generated and the sense of protection she felt being wrapped up in his presence, broke her resolve. She started shaking and sobbed uncontrollably. 

Furniture

     They sat in the floor in silence. He knew he ate like a wolf. But she nibbled. Just like at church dinner, she had gotten a small portion and was just pickin’ at it. 

     “What did you get accomplished today? Or are you allowed to talk about work?”

     Talk about work. He never talked about work. Well, only to Teka through the fence sometimes. “Today was kinda borin’. Watchin’ the same spot for 10 hours with a pair of binoculars.” He nodded, “borin’”

     “I noticed you’re not drivin’ the SUV.”

     “How?” He stopped short realizing she must have installed security cameras. If she had looked out a window, he didn’t notice. “I rarely drive the SUV home. And I discourage my deputies from doing it. They, we,” he corrected himself, “are on duty the minute we put those uniforms on. I encourage them to leave their uniforms and cruisers at the station.” He had on jeans and a t-shirt. “Sometimes our job is nasty. We don’t need to be packin’ that home. Plus, I don’t feel like it’s the tax payers job to pay for us to go to the grocery. Drop kids off at school.” He just stopped. 

     “Dillon?”

     His stomach was full. For the first time today, he was cool. Evie was sitting in the floor with a foot under the opposite thigh. Creating a v with her visible legs. She patted the floor at her knees. Dillon slid around, lying down. She massaged his shoulders. Rubbed his temples and played with his hair. 

     “Evie, I have a house full of furniture. Come pick out what you want. I even have some stuff in the barn that was in the house when I bought it.” She started to speak but he cut her off, “please.”

     He was almost asleep. “Thank you Mr. Pace. I will look at it.”

    “Evie, what do you do?”

     “I created my own job. Remember those 1-900 numbers that were all the rage growing up?”

     He smirked, “Sonny Deaton racked up a $1,000.00 phone bill. Remember his mom chasing him down the road swinging the phone at him?”

     She laughed, “Yes. I’m surprised she didn’t kill him.”

     “He got a good floggin’.”

     “It’s kinda, sorta like that. People need to talk. I provide them with a body to listen. I’m not a therapist. This is for entertainment purposes only but nothing kinky. I’m not anyone’s mistress.”

     His breathing changed. She smiled knowing that he was now asleep. 

TaTa

     Dillon knocked on Evie’s door with his heart in his hands. He should have called first? Yes, you fool. You should have called first. He was about to walk off the porch when she answered the door. His stomach fell directly to his feet. She was wearing a pair of exercise shorts. The kind they wore in gym class that was cut around the curve of your butt and slit to the waist ban. And a skin tight matching shirt with a big sun printed on the front. Instantly, a smile lit his face. She was wearing a pair of thick fuzzy socks that came up at least 3 inches above her ankles. 

     She was talking as she motioned for him to come in, smiling a big tooth filled smile. “This is your story not mine. Tell me what you want to do.” Her voice was calm, even, yet authoritative. It was then that he noticed the headset that was almost bigger than her face and the protruding mic.

     She motioned for him to follow her with the wave of her hand. His stomach growled as she stifled a giggle. “I’m sorry. This is about you. Remember?” A timer went off in the background. “Yes.” She spoke. 

     Whatever she had in the oven, it smelt divine. Dillon suddenly realized he hadn’t ate anything since breakfast. Evie got a box out of the freezer, dumped it on a pan, stuck it in the oven before setting a new timer. 

     A laptop was open on the counter. “Let me look please.” She swiped a couple times. “That will be fine. Yes Simon. Thank you.” She did something on her laptop and took off her headset. 

     Dillon nodded as to direct attention across the road, “Simon?”

     “I have no idea. Clients are discouraged from using their real names. For example,” she touched her chest. “I’m TaTa.”

     He raised an eyebrow, “TaTa.”

     She laughed explaining, “talk talk. TaTa.”

     “That is not where my head went,” he blushed. 

     “It is a great icebreaker and you’re not alone. Most folks minds go there. I’ve gotten every reaction from straight up laughter to hung up on.”

     “TaTa.” It rolled off his tongue. “I can’t call you that in public?”

     A new timer went off. She pulled 2 trays out of the oven. His stomach growled again. “Hungry Mr. Pace?”

     He blushed, “starving.”

     “We can sit on the front porch or in the floor.”

     He thought about her offer. Taking longer than he should have. He really didn’t want to sit outside. Outside is where he had been all day. Pretty much on his stomach, glued to a pair of binoculars. “Inside.” Came his sheepish answer. 

     “Help yourself.” While he was thinking about what he should do next, she had gotten plates and utensils out. Was now filling two glasses with ice then water.  He finally blurted out, “you cooked.”

     “You are my guest.” 

     He scooped a big helping of lasagna on his plate. “What are these?” He asked, holding up one of the little pieces of bread.

     “Garlic knots.”