“I’m expecting a call,” Mark said after forcing himself to eat a few more bites. He drank some of his coffee and put his mug down. “Sort of.”
Francis nodded. “Not a scheduled call, just one that might come anyway?”
“Y-yeah, it’s….” And suddenly whatever Mark was thinking about made him change in front of Francis’s eyes. He paled, shrank a little in his seat, and something about his demeanor screamed “abuse victim” at Francis clear as day. He’d seen this sort of thing before, many times. In women, and sometimes men, he met at work. People who were okay alone, but as soon as they heard their abuser’s voice, they became… this.
Whomever was going to call Mark had seriously fucked with his head.
“Are they calling from somewhere close?” Francis asked, trying not to show his worry.
Mark shook his head, not quite looking at Francis, but also not quite seeing what he was looking at, either. “N-no, they’re back… back in Arizona.”
No hints there, other than the phrasing that suggested Mark had once been in Arizona as well.
“Okay, well, then they’re there and you’re here, right?” Francis said in his best practical tone.
Mark stared at the window, not through it, for a few seconds longer and then snapped out of it. He turned to Francis and his eyes were filled with relief. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. Thank you.”
Francis smiled and concentrated on his coffee instead of Mark, to give him space.
Mark continued to eat, with a bit more appetite this time, and Francis people-watched, nodding to familiar faces here and there as the lunchtime crowd began to disperse slowly but surely.
Soon, it was just a few people on the other side of the diner, Mark, and Francis.
Francis had just finished his coffee, and Mark was almost done with his salad, when he tensed and looked like a man about to throw up.
Francis could hear a phone vibrating, and with shaking hands, Mark dug a cell phone out of his jacket pocket.
“Hey Mark, look at me.” Mark’s gaze snapped to his. Francis made sure his voice was lower register. “You’re going to be okay. You can take this call. I’m right here. You’re not alone.”
Mark nodded and swiped on the phone, then lifted it to his ear. “Hello, Mom.”
And that there was enough for Francis. Whether it had been only his mother or both parents, Mark had been abused as a child and those people had their claws in Mark still.
Chapter Five
“Mark, how was your Thanksgiving?” Mom asked, her voice practically vibrating with excitement. She always called the day after holidays, hoping for any excitement, any danger he might’ve been in she could brag about later.
“Nothing special this year, Mom. Pretty quiet,” he answered honestly, even though he knew lying would’ve been easier.
“What? Nothing at all?”
“No, not even a drunken disorderly or a DUI.”
Mom scoffed out loud. Mark knew what would come next, and his heartbeat kicked up a notch. He hated the reminders of where he’d been. He didn’t want to be a big city beat cop ever again.
“That’s what you get for moving in the middle of nowhere! Now if you were still in a large city—”
“Yes, it would be more exciting—” He knew he’d fucked up as soon as he opened his mouth, but he couldn’t listen to her talk about the horrors of his life as if they were good things.
“Don’t youeverinterrupt me again.” Her voice was filled with rage, and he was pretty sure he could hear her teeth grinding.
The phone was taken from her, and his dad came onto the line. “What did you do, Mark?”
“S-sir, I—”
“Did you just disrespect the woman who carried your sorry ass for nine months and nearly died when you clawed your way out of her?”
The booming voice and the familiar words filled his head, and he closed his eyes against them. “N-no, sir, I didn’t mean—”
