Up in my room, I sat reading a book I had brought with me. Time flew by and before I knew it, dinnertime had rolled around. I went downstairs to see what I could find for dinner and was surprised to find D already down there, using his one good arm to make a homemade pizza.
“That you, Chef Boyardee?”
“It is. What would you like on your pizza?”
“Everything you have spread out there looks pretty good to me.”
“My kind of girl. One ‘everything on the chopping block’ pizza coming up.”
I caught just a glimpse of an expression on his face as he said the words. He hadn’t meant to say anything like that. Was it regret? Was it disappointment? I couldn’t quite read it and told myself just to let it go, but I found that I couldn’t. I began helping him put the ingredients on the pizza. Being so close to him stirred my longing for him as it usually did.
“It’s time for more pain meds.”
“Nah, I just needed to take the edge off earlier. It’s down to a dull roar now.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I’m going to have a few beers with my pizza. That’ll do me for now. If it gets too bad, I’ll take a couple more of the tabs at bedtime.”
I slipped the pizza into the oven and we opened a couple of beers, leaning against the kitchen counter to sip them while the pizza cooked.
“I’ll need you to stay behind the bar tomorrow, Janessa.”
“That’s my job.”
“No, I mean completely. I can’t have you out on the floor talking to the wrong people.”
“Is that because you are worried about me or because you don’t want me asking anymore questions?”
“Both.”
“Well, at least you are honest.”
“Let’s not do this. I don’t want to dwell on things. We’re just going to sort through it and get past it all. I can get my club back in order, and you can get on with your life.”
“Fine.”
“Janessa, what did you expect me to do? What did you expect me to say?”
“I don’t know.”
“You walked into that casino, and it was like nothing that has ever happened to me.”
“What?”
“I saw your picture in your application and I was drawn to it, but it was nothing compared to what happened when you walked in for your interview. You didn’t see me, but I saw you. I was drawn to you instantly.”
“I was drawn to you the moment I saw you too. I didn’t want to be, not with what I knew. There was this part of me that believed you had something to do with my father’s death, perhaps had even killed him yourself. Then, there was this part of me that just wanted to be with you.”
“I knew there was something off about you. Your background didn’t quite mesh when I hit a dead end. I ignored my instincts and let you play it off like a bad ex. Was any of that even true?”
“No. Not at all. It was an explanation the DEA gave me to use. They said it explained the dead end and gave me an out from talking about it too much. No one wants to question an abused woman too much. They are either too sympathetic or just don’t want to hear the gory details.”
“Where did you get the scar?”
“I had an accident several years ago. A kid ran out in front of me. His ball had rolled out into the street. He never even looked, but I saw him. I slammed on the brakes and when I saw I couldn’t stop in time, I swerved to try to miss him. Instead, I ended up in oncoming traffic and chose an embankment on the other side over the oncoming dump truck I was facing. I rolled a few times and a bottle that had broken during the accident cut me pretty badly up that side.”
“And the kid?”
“Unscathed. Was back in his yard with his ball by the time it was all over according to the police.”
“At least there is that. How badly were you hurt?”
“Not as badly as you would think. There was a concrete wall at the bottom of the embankment, I was headed right for it and everything just sort of flashed before my eyes. I remember saying goodbye to my father aloud because I knew that when I hit that concrete, I was done. I wasn’t wearing my seatbelt.”
“Jesus.”
“Right before my car would have slammed into it, something odd happened. There was a large rock and it caught my front tire, spun me sideways. Instead of hitting the concrete head on, I hit it sideways on the driver’s side. It totaled the car and sent me flying into the passenger’s floorboard. Everything was a bit fuzzy, but when it all stopped, I was curled up in a little ball there. I tried to open the door not sandwiched against the concrete and it wouldn’t open. So, I climbed over the seat and climbed out a back door.”
“Sounds like you got very lucky.”
“Yes. I walked away with a large bruise on my hip, the cut on my side and a healthy dose of whiplash.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. There isn’t even a record of the accident anywhere but at the hospital where they sewed up the cut and the towing company that picked up the car for the scrap yard.”
“How is that?”
“I was only a short distance from my house when I crashed. My first call was to my father and he was there before the police arrived. Since it was a one car accident and there was no property damage, he asked them not to file a report.”
“What about insurance for the car? You didn’t need a report for that?”
“No. The car was paid off and I only had liability insurance on it. Since there was nothing for them to cover, no report was needed. Worst wreck I’ve ever had and not a single record of it.”
“So you used the scar to your advantage to throw me off.”
The tone of the conversation shifted again to my deceit, I lowered my head and acknowledged that I had.
“It just seemed like the easiest way to convince you. I could have told you a bunch of lies about the abuse, but showing the scar and telling you that one lie seemed the simplest way.”
“I can’t believe I was so gullible. I’m so good at telling when people are lying to me. I can see through all the bullshit in the world, yet I never doubted you. I never saw this thing with the club coming either. I trusted all those guys and some of them have been lying to my face just as you did. I don’t know who I can trust and who I can’t. I can’t even trust myself to determine who is playing me anymore.”
Rather than respond to his rising anger, I reached for the oven mitts and pulled the pizza from the oven, sitting it on the large pizza stone he had placed on the counter earlier. It looked delicious, but I felt like I was rapidly losing my appetite. I reached for the cutter and began quietly cutting the pizza.
“I didn’t know that there was anyone out there even capable of hurting me anymore. I barely remember my mother being sweet to me when I was little, before she got lost in a drug fueled haze and let my multiple stepfathers take turns kicking the shit out of me at every opportunity. They were all the same, telling me not to be weak. They were successful. I’ve never been weak. I’ve always been so strong, so independent. But now, I feel like a lost kid. Members of my club betraying me. The first woman that I thought I might actually be able to care about in a very long time…”
His voice trailed off as I finished cutting the pizza. I turned to him, holding back tears. He had no idea that the one who I had hurt more than anyone was just myself. I wanted to say so much to him and yet there was nothing I could say to make a difference. He knew the truth. I had come here to destroy him. Instead, I had already destroyed several pieces of the girl I used to be before all of this began happening to me.
“The pizza is ready.”
“Yeah. Let’s take it to the game room and eat. I think it might be best just to lose myself in the tube for a while.”
“I’ll bring it in. Just go have a seat.”
“I’ll at least get the beers. I’m not completely helpless, just one-armed.”
“Okay.”
The conversation just fell away, both of us enveloped quietly in our own sadness.
I put some slices of pizza on a couple of plates and walked to the game room, where he had already dropped down into the sofa and was flipping channels. He finally settled into an older movie, a comedy called The Jerk with Steve Martin. I remembered watching it with my father, but wouldn’t be pointing that out to him. Instead, I sat the pizza down on the table near his side of the overstuffed sofa and sat down on the other end with my own. He handed me a beer.
We sat quietly watching the movie and finishing our meal, neither of us laughing. Whether we had lost our humor, just weren’t really paying attention or both wasn’t clear. What was clear was that we both were pretty miserable in our own skins at the moment. I barely ate any of my pizza before finally getting up to take my plate back to the kitchen. I noticed that D hadn’t eaten much of his either.
“No appetite?”
“Seems we have that in common.”
“I’m sorry. It was good though.”
“At least pizza is good cold. Maybe I will eat some later.”
“Okay. I’ll take your plate with me as I go, then.”
“Thanks. Can you bring us back a couple more beers?”
“Sounds good.”
At present, I’d much rather climb into a bottle of something much stronger and not climb out. It was a thought that sometimes plagued me when I had problems. Just the thought of doing it instilled the fear that somewhere deep down I was just like my father. It was why I always drank in moderation rather than getting into it any heavier. The last thing I needed was to spiral down into what he had become. I tidied up the kitchen and returned to the game room with more beers.
“Thanks,” D replied as he took the one that I offered. I sat back down where I had been and began watching the movie again. I had no clue what was going on. I was just watching shapes pass by on the screen as I became completely absorbed in my own thoughts. Before I knew it, the movie was off and it was getting close to bedtime.
“I think I’m going to head up, D. Do you need anything?”
“No. I’m good. Thanks.”
“Alright. I’ll see you in the morning for work.”
“Yep.”
I could tell that the time he had sat there thinking had only made him more agitated. Whether it was at me, himself or the situation was unclear, but it was definitely certain that he was annoyed. I made my way up to the guest room and into the massive bathroom there. Unsure of where anything was, I began opening cabinets. It was well stocked with anything for a house guest of either sex and I suspected that not many stayed from the way everything appeared so pristine and unused. Pulling a bottle of bubble bath from the cabinet, I began running myself a bath.
“You should have some wine with that.”
I jumped a little at the sound of his voice. I hadn’t even heard him coming up the steps, much less walking into my room. It was further proof that D could be incredibly stealthy if he wanted to be.
“Probably.”
“There is plenty of it down in the kitchen pantry. Help yourself to a bottle. It’s been a rough day. I suspect you could use one.”
“I’m okay. The beers took the edge off.”
“Suit yourself, but it is there if you change your mind. I’m going to head to bed myself.”
“Thanks.”
He nodded and left. I looked back at the bubble bath and saw that it was only a third of the way filled. What the hell, I thought. How often did I get to really pamper myself? And he was right, it had been a rough day. I quietly made my way back downstairs and retrieved a bottle of wine from the pantry. It was a very nice pinot noir that I had tried before at the casino and liked. Grabbing a glass from the kitchen cabinet, I headed back upstairs, arriving just in time to stop the bath water.
“I see you had a change of heart. Can you help me for a moment before you climb in there?”
D was standing shirtless in my room. The stitched arm looking angry and swollen around the wounded area.
“That looks really bad, D. Let’s get it cleaned up and rewrapped.”
“Thanks, Janessa.”
I couldn’t help but note, once again, how much the sadness in his voice came through when he spoke to me. If that weren’t heartbreaking enough, there was a pained look behind his eyes, like a small boy who couldn’t quite find his way after getting lost on an incredible journey.
“Janessa?”
“Oh, sorry.”
I realized I had been just sort of staring at his arm for a moment. I broke free of my thoughts and went over to the cabinet where I had seen peroxide and cotton pads. He had the gauze and tape in his hand already, but the wound needed to be wiped down a bit and coated with antibiotic cream, which I now noted was sticking out of his front pocket. I put peroxide on the cotton pad in my hand and began dabbing at the wound. D winced each time I made contact.
“I’m sorry. I’m being as gentle as I know how to be.”
“It’s okay. I know you are. I appreciate the help. It’s just hard for me to do it with one hand.”
“I imagine so.”
I smiled up at him and went back to work on getting the wound cleaned. When I was done, I pulled the tube of cream from his front pocket and applied it liberally before recovering and taping it.
“There you go. That ought to do you.”
“Thank you, Janessa.”
“You’re welcome.”
His eyes were soft for a moment as he looked down at me. I could smell his cologne, just as intoxicating as usual. I felt sadness wash over me as a flash of us together came and went like still shots infesting my brain. I shook them off and moved away from him. Standing too close to him, feeling his presence, did me no good at all.
“I didn’t mean to disrupt your bath. I hope it’s not gotten cold.”
“I’m sure it will be fine.”
“I’ll leave you alone to soak in peace, then.”
“See you in the morning.”
“Yep.”