Chapter Twenty-Seven
Melody
“To be honest, Melody, it’s not much to go on,” Sheriff Dawes says, looking down at the words scratched into my car. I drove it to my clinic before I called him. I don’t want Alice or Alanna finding out about my ex, David, and asking more questions. “There are some conservative and close-minded people here in Rockaway Bay, and not all of them are going to approve of your, um, lifestyle choices.”
“So, what are you saying? That I just have to get used to this?” I show him my phone and the text messages I’ve already received from the number that I’m sure belongs to David.
He holds the phone for a minute, giving the texts a perfunctory look. “Right now, you’ve got some anonymous harassment and a little vandalism. It could be anyone. It’s just not enough to act on. But, listen, if anything else happens, call me, ok?”
This is all the same act that I’ve heard before, back in Colorado. It doesn’t surprise me, and it doesn’t really upset me, either. I just feel resigned to the fact that something serious is going to have to happen before they’ll pay attention.
“Thanks, Sheriff,” I say. Then, “can we keep this between us?”
He nods. “Sure thing. And remember, call me if you need anything, alright?”
I spend the night in my clinic, the doors locked, my phone out on the desk in front of me, ready to call the police as soon as David shows his ugly face.
It’s a hard night. Every sound tugs at my fears, every shadow makes me start. I listen to my heart thud away a panicked staccato beat in my chest while the moon traces it’s course in the sky.
I don’t think I breathe until daylight suffuses the sky.
In the morning, I take a confusing, circuitous route home, just to make sure he’s not following me. I’m home only long enough to change clothes and take a shower. In the driveway to my little rental house, I use a razor blade to scrape off a bunch of the paint and erase the word bitch from my car.
It looks like a total mess — like I sideswiped a median or something — but at least it’s less a reminder of his anger than before.
Then I head back to work. Alice is waiting for me when I get there, coffees in hand — my usual double-caramel latte — and, though she doesn’t say anything, I can tell when she sees me that she knows I slept like shit. Probably because I look like shit.
I keep my fears to myself. I’ve put enough on her, that I don’t need to become even more of a liability by letting her know that my psycho ex is in town.
“You look rough. Like, bad rough,” she says.
“So I look better than I feel,” I say, blowing on my latte to cool it down.
“Ouch. Well, we’ve only got three patients today, so if you wanted to go home and rest, I can handle it,” she says. “It’s more than usual, but, well it’s not really a ringing endorsement for keeping this place open.”
“If that’s what you decide when you take over, that’s fine. You have to do what you have to do,” I say. “I know I’m asking a lot of you. And I hate it, but I hope you can trust me in this. It’s better if I go. But if you do decide to keep this place open, I’ll cover all the bills. There’s going to be enough rent coming in from the other shops in the building to cover it.”
Alice shrugs. “I’ll have to see. At least if we close, we won’t be the only ones. I saw a sign on Gary’s Hardware store down the street. It’s been bought out and there’s a boatload of guys working on it. They’re gutting the whole place.”
“Really? I liked Gary. He helped me fix up the clinic on his free time.”
She plops down in her desk seat and stares at me through the steam rising from her coffee. “I hate that you’re leaving.”
“I hate it, too.”
“Then why are you doing it? You went with Julian to save this place — it was your dream — and now that you’re back, you’re giving it up? I mean, seriously, what the fuck?”
“I don’t want to. If I could stay, I would, but it’s complicated.”
“Some things are worth fighting for, you know. I’d like to think that your own business and your life here would fall in that category.”
“Sometimes you have to know when to cut your losses.”
She blows petulantly at the steam. “So, just like that? You’re cutting your losses here? Dropping the dead weight? Glad to know where I stand.”
I throw up my hands. “That’s not what I meant.”
“But that’s what you said. What do you mean, then? I mean, seriously, stop being so fucking obtuse.”
There’s such a heavy reproach in her look that I let out a sigh and steel myself and make myself let it go. If she thinks I’m obtuse, then I guess that’s how we’ll have to leave the relationship.
“It’s complicated, all right? Leave it alone. Let’s just get set up for our patients.”
We go through the rest of the day awkwardly avoiding each other as much as possible, which is difficult in the small clinic. Alice leaves for coffee after each appointment, and is gone for hours at a time.
Even the appointments are a bit awkward. I’m certain at least two of the owners we meet have heard all about me. They look at me like I’m some sort of oddity — a curiosity to look at from a distance and whisper about with their friends.
Alice and I end the day with a terse goodbye and she reminds me that she’ll be in at her usual time tomorrow with our coffee orders.
I shut the doors to the office and lock them, turning the key as tight as it will go.
I fall asleep, and fitfully wake to a buzzing from my phone.
It’s three in the morning. The town is quiet, the bars are closed, the only lights on are the street lamps and the stars in the sky.
I missed you.
My mouth goes dry and I stare at the screen.
It buzzes again.
Why aren’t you at home?