“Flowers,” I whispered into the dark bedroom. There was a window above her bed, with a half-moon letting in a partial glow. She wouldn’t need to turn on the light.
She didn’t stir.
“Flowers,” I said, a little louder.
She jerked then, her senses alerting her to my presence, and in a move worthy of a Tom Cruise action film, she immediately rolled to one side of the bed, hopped to her feet and dug out from her pillow a small canister.
Instantly, I held up my hands. “Hey, it’s just me.”
But her chest was pounding and her eyes were wide and for a second, I thought she didn’t know who I was.
She thinks I’ve come to hurt her.
“Flowers, it’s me,” I said, more authoritatively. “Put down whatever that is in your hand.”
She had this body tremor, but then she lowered her hand and stuffed what I assumed was mace back under her pillow.
“What the fuck, E.G.?”
“I’m leaving,” I said quietly. “You need to lock the door behind me.”
She wore a t-shirt and loose shorts. I could see her legs, and for whatever reason, they looked way more naked than they did when she wore a skirt or dresses. Of course, her thighs were on display and that was never the case in a skirt.
I never thought I’d wish she was in a pair of black leggings.
“You had to wake me up for that?”
“Your door needs to be locked. I can’t do it from the outside without a key.”
Next time, I would make sure I had one.
Next time? What the fuck are you talking about?
“Follow me,” I told her as I left her bedroom, breathing easier the second I did, and walked the short hallway back to her living room to the door. “Lock it behind me,” I said as I stepped outside. “And…”
Suddenly, I was at a loss for words. How did I thank her for what she’d given me?
Solace. Peace. Shelter from my grief storm.
She shook her head, her eyelids still a bit heavy. “You don’t have to say it,” she said. “Never happened. Night.”
She closed the door behind me and I waited outside her door until I heard the lock turn. Then I made my way down to the street to wait for the Uber, which at this early hour, was over ten minutes away, but I wasn’t about to do to Ricky what I’d done to Flowers. At least the Uber driver was already up.
The car pulled up and I got in the back seat. The driver said nothing, for which I was grateful.
The day was over. It was September 29thand I could move on with my life.
I would go home, workout, shower, and make sure I was in the office before Flowers arrived.
I thought about maybe doing something nice for her, a thank you coffee or donut.
Instead, I did exactly as she suggested and pretended the entire day never happened.
TWELVE
ANNA
The colors caught her attention first. It was a toy for E.G. He would hate it. And love it.
