Chaos and Control(3)
“It’s no problem. I have a few boxes of stuff you left behind tucked away in that closet.” She pulls out a chair and takes a seat, gesturing for me to do the same. I sit and kick up my boots on the chair across from me. “I just have a few rules.”
“Let’s hear them.”
“Keep out of my room and my bathroom. You know I need my space.”
“Yeah, I used to think you were meditating or something else admirable. But, I know you’re really reading romance novels and hoarding Mint Milanos.”
Bennie raises both hands, palms toward me. “It’s true. You’ve discovered my secret. Still, stay out of my room. Got it?”
I sit up tall and give her a salute. “Aye, aye, captain!”
“Now, why don’t you get settled in and we’ll go for a birthday drink later.”
“Uh, your birthday isn’t for three months, Ben.”
“Not mine. Your birthday, kid. I missed twenty-one. The least you could do is let me buy you a drink now that you’re legal.”
Grabbing my bag from the floor, I give her a grin. Of course she wants to celebrate that. No more sneaking berry-flavored vodka in water bottles or letting me steal a beer or two from her fridge.
“I wouldn’t dream of denying you that. Let me unpack and take a shower. I’ve got three days of road dirt covering me.”
“That’s disgusting,” she says, wrinkling her face. “Be ready by eight.”
“You’re so bossy.” I stick my tongue out at her before stomping to my room.
Bennie chuckles as I close the door and lean against it. My room smells like incense and fresh laundry. Cream-colored walls display vintage concert posters. The bed is the one I left behind three years ago. It is a heavy wrought iron, painted white, with a homemade quilt for cover. It’s homey and quaint, and exactly what I expect.
It feels so strange and familiar being back here. I never thought I’d step foot in this town again, and here I am. Three years is a long time to be on the road. I found myself in plenty of sticky situations and plenty of fun. I always thought I was invincible, strong enough to take on anything. It turns out, it only took one possessive, abusive boyfriend to show me just how little I am in this world. Coming back to find my apartment taken, my job taken; it’s a little surprising. I guess I figured Bennie would handle things on her own. Still, it’s comforting to know that no matter what, she still has a place for me in her life.
I slip out of my boots and try not to cringe at how militant and out of place they look on the beige rug. They stick out like I do in this small town—hard edges and beat to shit, but still worth something. Dumping my bag out on the bed, I sort through the clothes and pick out what’s clean. My little glass snow globe from Niagara Falls rolls off the mattress and hits the floor. I drop to my knees and pick it up, inspecting it for damage. The snowflakes dance around in the water, eventually settling over the miniature boat at the bottom.
Memories flood my head, pictures of that day appearing behind closed eyes. A smile pulls one corner of my mouth up as I remember the sound of crashing water, the mist on my face, and meeting the stranger who would eventually send me running back home. Before my thoughts turn dark, I stand and place the snow globe on my windowsill. The orange and magenta light from a Kansas sunset shines through, turning the snow into gold flakes.
In the bathroom, I start the shower and let the steam fill the room. I peel off my clothes and study myself in the full-length mirror. The last couple of months have taken a toll on my body. I am thinner now—too thin. I’ve lost the nice round curve of my hips and the fullness in my breasts. I cup each of them and hate how they feel light and unfamiliar. When I release them, they don’t even jiggle like they used to. I frown at my reflection as the shadow of a bruise catches my eye. The blue-and-purple mark taunts me from its place on my ribs. I try to piece together the story of its beginning as I run my hand over it, feeling the heat beneath my fingertips just as the mirror becomes foggy and erases me completely.
By eight o’clock, I am dressed in my favorite jeans and a too-big T-shirt that hangs off one shoulder. I stole it a while back, from some boy in some town a thousand miles away. I tie a knot in the bottom, letting it hug my waist, and step into my only pair of flats. They are shiny black with silver studs, showing just a little bit of attitude.
“Wren, let’s go!” Bennie shouts from the kitchen.
“Coming,” I answer. I grab my wallet and join her near the front door. “I’m assuming we’re going to The Haystack?”
Bennie turns and gives me a smile that I know will immediately be followed by bullshit.
“No, hon. Someone opened a great new place just up the road. They play indie music and hire local bands.”
I roll my eyes and step into the hall, laughing at the absurdity of anything new or cool happening in this town. Preston is there, his key in the doorknob to his apartment—my apartment.
“Oh, hey, Preston. We’re headed for drinks. Want to join us?” Bennie asks.
His eyes stay on the door, and he shakes his head. “No, thanks.”
His voice is so deep and scratchy; it seems to vibrate through me. It’s what wet dreams and bad-boy fantasies are made of. I have a vague recollection of our conversation in the store earlier, but this feels like the first time I am truly hearing him. I want more.