“She’s gotten it into her head that I need to rest,” I make air-quotes around the last three words. “So she’s mostly in her room. And then it’s either people inviting themselves over or she's hanging out in the clubhouse with the girls…”
I’m quite worked up at this point, but Squid laughs.
“You do know what you’re describing is a good thing, right?”
We stop in front of my home, and the invisible leash that ties me to Marissa is now being tugged almost violently.
“I know,” I admit. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want some of that time for myself.”
“Patience, Hawk. You’re 38, act like it. I’ll see you in an hour,” he says before turning and, pulled by his own leash, heading towards his woman.
As I unlock and open the door, I make as much noise as possible to make my presence known. “Is anyone home?” I yell out for good measure.
Marissa is still hypervigilant and flinches at sudden appearances.
“We’re in here,” she yells back, and I find her on the couch, looking frazzled, while DJ crawls around on the floor.
She’s wearing soft-looking brown leggings and a very faded tie-dye Grateful Dead T-shirt that is at least three sizes too big. Her face is framed by two braids. She looks like a real flower child.
“Nice shirt,” I tell her as I squat and lightly squeeze one of DJ’s tiny feet. “Hey, little guy. Have you two eaten yet?”
“Not yet. I’ve baked some veggie muffins for DJ and was gonna fix myself something later.”
“I have some three-cheese pasta with eggplant,” I say as I inspect the freezer. “It’s two portions, wanna join me?”
“Oh, sure, let me…” She makes to stand up, but I wave her away. “I’ll pop it in the microwave and go wash up.”
She thanks me, but her eyes are still kind of sad.
Like Squid said, patience. She’ll tell me when she’s ready.
The whiteboard in my bathroom reads 2385.
I take a deep breath before heading downstairs.
“How was your morning?” I ask as we both watch DJ pulverize the muffin with his hands.
“I made a mistake at the autoshop,” she says quietly, like she’s trying to hide it from DJ.
I lean closer to her. “What happened?”
“Lucy had gone to the bathroom, so I was alone at the front desk when the phone rang. A woman asked for Frank, so I put her through to the extension indicated on my list. Next thing I know, it's mayhem. I heard a crash, and when I looked through the glass, I saw Hammer throwing things and yelling while two people were trying to restrain him,” she breaks off and grimaces. “When Lucy came out of the bathroom, and I told her what happened, she explained that the woman on the phone was Hammer’s ex, who apparently was never to be let in or put through to him. But no one told me that, Hawk, I swear!”
“I believe you,” I tell her as I put my hand on her forearm. “What happened then?”
“Lucy apologized but still sent me home early, like I’m the one who did something wrong.”
I suck air in through my teeth. “That sucks. I’m sure she only sent you home because you were scared and upset, not as punishment.”
“Yeah. Hammer overreacted, though.”
I push her plate closer to her, and she obediently takes a bite.
“He did,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “And I’m sure they sent him home, too. I’ll give you some context, not to defend him, but to help you understand. Hammer was married to his high school sweetheart for, like, 20 years."
"Was she the woman who called?" Marissa asks, and I nod.
"One day, he came home early and caught her having sex with her lover in their family home, pulled the guy off her, and beat him to a pulp. He spent a year behind bars and has been in anger management, but he’s still... touchy about it. It doesn’t help that Erica keeps trying to get in touch with him.”
