Taking Connor(8)

The apartment above the garage is small, basically one large room with a bed, television, and small kitchen area. There’s a tiny bathroom with a stall shower, in the corner and I half wonder if Connor will even fit inside to bathe.

“The fridge is stocked with drinks and a few other things. If you make me a list, I’ll pick up some other things for you at the store tomorrow.”

Connor stands in the room and stares. I wonder if it feels too confined for him after spending so much time in Tent City, outside. I imagine I’d want to sleep somewhere more open with more space if I were him.

“The bathroom is out of order right now. Plumber comes tomorrow to hook up the pipes or whatever,” I say. I’m not an authority on the subject, so I don’t bother trying to explain what I don’t know. “Oh, and these are for you,” I mention as I open the closest drawer in the kitchen and pull out the cell phone I had added to my account and business cards I had printed. Blake left no detail unattended under his instructions.

“This is your cell and the charger, and these are your business cards. They already have your cell number on them. That way when you’re out, you can give people your information and drum up some business. I posted a few fliers in various businesses around town a few days ago with your information. I hope that was okay,” I add. While Blake had this all planned, he couldn’t have known with one hundred percent certainty that Connor would want to work on cars when he came home.

He takes the cell, an Android, and eyes it. “You’ll have to teach me how to use this thing.”

I smile. “Of course I’ll teach you. Although I’m not as techy as Blake was, but I manage.”

He shakes his head and blinks a few times. “I could never repay you for this, Demi.”

I place my hand on his where it rests on the counter. “You don’t have to.” His gaze meets mine, and he’s staring at me like he’s trying to figure out the catch. I take my hand away and fumble with my keys.

“Here’s a key to the back door. There’s a bathroom just past the kitchen to the right when you enter.” I slip the spare key off of my key ring and place it on the small counter.

After a long moment of silence, Connor asks, “Do you mind if I open the windows?”

“Oh, of course not. It’s a nice evening. This place probably needs to be aired out anyway,” I say, as I open the window I’m nearest to. With a small wave, I tell him, “I’ll see you in the morning.” Turning to leave, Connor grabs my hand causing me to turn back.

“Thank you, Demi,” he whispers and kisses me on the cheek. I know I’m blushing as I nod and exit without another word. I’m realizing Connor Stevens isn’t at all what I expected . . . at least he doesn’t seem to be.

Slipping in my house through my back door, I opt to leave my luggage in the car and bring it in the morning. Exhaustion owns me, and my skin feels heavy with a day’s worth of sweat clinging to me. Not bothering to turn any lights on, I head straight upstairs and into the hall bathroom, closing the door behind me. The house feels a little stuffy, so I open the bathroom window to let some air in and turn on the shower. I undress, get in and stand under the hot water until it goes cold, forcing me to get out. Wrapped in a white towel, I head for the guest bedroom, tired out of my mind.

Ever since Blake passed, I haven’t been able to sleep in our bedroom. I can dress in there, but sleeping doesn’t happen. I’ve tried, several times, but the still and silence of the night blared in my ears, and my mind only wanted to think of him and how I missed him lying next to me. Before Blake passed, I knew I would miss him. He was my husband, of course, I would. But there are a lot of little things I miss, things I never thought I might, things I took for granted; the feel of his hand resting on my hip as he slept. How he’d roll over and press his back to mine, not exactly cuddling, but touching. He was always touching me. The way he’d always wake so early, and the sound of him in the shower would ease me back to sleep.

So, I tried the guest room. In this room, I found enough peace to sleep. And so, I’ve slept here ever since. Still wearing nothing but my towel, I move to the window and slide it open. The night sky is lit up with stars, and I close my eyes and say a little prayer for Blake. I hope wherever he is, he can see me, and I hope he finds great peace in seeing Connor come home.

I back away until my legs meet the bed and plop down, only to be jolted up and tumble to the floor. The room is dark, but there’s enough light from the moon to make out the silhouette of a very large man who has just jumped off of the bed in front of me.

My mind fumbles for what to do—I’m in nothing but a towel. Is this a burglar or a rapist? So, I scream. It’s blood curdling.

The man starts to run, hitting his foot on the bedpost and begins shouting obscenities. “Goddamn it! Son of a mother—”

“What the . . .” another voice says, and I crab crawl away from the bed. There are two people in here. Oh my God. They’re going to kill me!

“Demi?” The second voice rasps, practically sucking the scream right out of my throat as the nightstand lamp turns on.

“Wendy?” I gasp in disbelief. When I look to the right, Wendy’s husband, Jeff, wearing nothing but a pair of loose boxer shorts, is keeled over still cursing at his wounded toe.

“What the hell, Wendy?” I shriek as I stare at them.