At Peace

“I’ll be here.”


I nodded again and told him, “Tina Blackstone saw me coming out of your house this morning.”

He stared at me a second then he muttered, “Great.”

I tilted my head to the side and asked, “Thought you didn’t care?”

His eyes locked with mine and he said, “Don’t, but you do and that means I gotta walk over to that bitch’s house and lay it out for her. Don’t like her, don’t wanna walk over there and lay it out for her.”

“Lay it out for her?”

“Tell her she keeps her mouth shut or it’ll piss me off. Lay it out for her,” he explained.

I stared at him, feeling his hard, warm chest under his tee where my hands were resting thinking that it was a miracle how he could be so detached and so involved at the same time. Protecting me and the girls in a variety of ways, taking care of us in other ways and yet, at the same time, in a weird way, holding himself apart and not really being there.

Suddenly he asked, “Your walls thin?”

“What?” I asked back, confused at his strange question.

He tipped his head to the wall that connected my room to the rest of the house. “At my place, buddy, the walls are paper thin. Same here?”

I looked over my shoulder at the wall.

My room had been built as an extension so the side wall used to be the back wall of the house. The rest of the house the walls were paper thin. If I was in the kitchen or living room, I could hear the girls in their rooms. If I was in my room, nothing, as evidenced when Kenzie Elise rang the doorbell.

“This is an extension,” I told him.

“Know that, Vi,” he told me.

“That wall is pretty solid.”

He looked at the wall then back at me and he nodded.

“Why?”

“Don’t want your girls to hear me comin’ in. Really don’t want them to hear me fuckin’ you.”

I felt my breath catch.

Then I whispered, “What?”

“He’s playin’ his games with you, first, you aren’t gonna wanna leave your girls here alone, second, I don’t want them here alone. So, I gotta come to you.”

And there it was again, detached but involved.

A miracle.

“Joe –”

“What time do they go to sleep?”

“Joe –”

His loose arms tightened. “What time, buddy?”

He wasn’t going to let it go so I answered, “Ten, but they aren’t out until eleven. I mean, Keira is. She likes her sleep and drops off immediately. Kate texts Dane for awhile and listens to music but she’s usually out by eleven.”

“I’ll wait until after eleven.”

“Joe –”

“You want me to stay away?” he asked and I didn’t, I knew I didn’t, which was totally fucked up.

“No.”

“You got a key to the sliding glass door?”

“I did but I’ve lost it.”

“Find it,” he ordered.

“Okay,” I whispered, throwing my bid for Mother of the Year in the garbage.

“I’ll come in, they won’t hear me. I’ll be gone before they get up. They’ll never know I’m here,” Joe assured me.

I figured that was true. Even when I was awake, Joe could sneak up on me.

“Okay.”

His voice got low and tight, like he was forcing out what he was saying and I knew why when he admitted, “Don’t like that shit, Vi. Us next door sleepin’, some fuckwad comin’ to your house while the girls are here, droppin’ off gifts.”

Shit, that was a lot more involved than it was detached.

Why did he constantly give me mixed signals? It was driving me up the freaking wall.

“I don’t either,” I agreed.

“So, we do our thing here.”

“Okay.”

He looked at the door. “How you gonna play it with the girls?”

I took in a deep breath then I let it out. “Don’t know yet. I need to think about it.”

He nodded, telling me he’d keep it quiet then he said, “Pancakes.”

“Yeah.”

He let me go, took my hand and walked me out of my room.

*

I sat in my car, doors locked like Joe ordered me to keep them and I stared at Bobbie’s Garden Center.

I was early for work and I had a lot on my mind, a lot I needed to get sorted before I clocked in.

Earlier, Joe and I had left my room only to smell bacon cooking.

The smell hit me; it was an emotional hit, instant and hard.

Since Tim died, the girls and I had pancakes, not bacon, the pancakes enough to fill us up.

On pancake Sunday when Tim was alive, we had bacon because Tim liked bacon and pancakes weren’t enough to fill him up.

The girls had made bacon for Joe.

Me having a conversation with Joe in my bedroom was not normal, in fact, it’d never happened but the girls didn’t comment. They didn’t ask questions. They just threw us looks, waiting for me or Joe to share. We didn’t and, surprisingly, they let it go.

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