Delores sighed and nodded. She placed the bottles of water she’d just purchased inside the car, locked it, and together they walked to one of the wooden picnic benches outside the main entrance.
It was one coffee while her headache eased off. She couldn’t drive in this state anyway. One coffee while the thud subsided enough for her to drive in a straight line. Just one, and then she could be on her way again.
Chapter Seven
Delores
Delores watched the trees sway in the light breeze and sighed.
“You do that a lot,” Mark commented. He stared straight ahead, squinting ever so slightly as the burning sun shone down on them.
She looked at him with a small frown.
“Sigh,” he clarified.
Heat rose to her cheeks. “I didn’t realise.” She lied. In truth, she already knew that she did that, but she let him believe that he was the first to note this about her. Perhaps then it would draw less attention to herself.
“It’s okay, nothing to be embarrassed about, it was just an observation. Again, it’s sort of part and parcel with the job really. And then there’s my sparkling personality of course that makes it impossible to keep thoughts in my head.” It was his turn to blush now as he pointed to his head.
Delores sensed he was fishing for her to ask him what job he did, but she didn’t want to ask. She didn’t care. So instead she looked down into her coffee. It was much more bitter than she liked it, but she didn’t expect anything more from gas station coffee. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had tasted good coffee, and she liked that.
She liked that the happy memories were fading away.
“It’s okay. People keep too many things trapped inside,” she said without thinking. She took another sip of coffee and grimaced. Her legs were crossed at the ankles, making her thighs hot and sticky, the flesh clinging to itself. She separated them and allowed her legs to swing freely, allowed the cool air to slice its way up her parted thighs.
They were sat atop one of the wooden picnic tables. Mark had climbed straight up preferring the table part to the actual bench, and she had followed suit for reasons she didn’t understand.
“It’s not very nice is it?”
Delores shook her head. “Not really,” she answered honestly.
“Shame they don’t sell any liquor, a glug of whisky would have sorted it right out,” he chuckled and slid out of his denim jacket, letting it fall behind him. “It’s boiling, isn’t it? Why are we even drinking coffee?” he chuckled again.
Delores looked up through her lashes. “They say a hot drink on a hot day can cool you down,” she mumbled.
“Really?” Mark exclaimed with genuine surprise.
She nodded and cast her eyes downwards again. “I think it works best with tea though. But I don’t like tea.” Her words trailed off on the last part.
Michael liked tea. Cold tea, hot tea, lemon tea. She couldn’t stand the stuff. When Michael was working his way up the corporate ladder and money was tight, she’d still buy him his tea and do without her coffee. Even though she needed the caffeine fix to keep her awake after being up all night with the children. Even though he could get tea at work.
Giving.
Selfless.
That’s what the doctors had always said about her. She paused on the thought, but it slipped away like everything else. An image of Michael stood in the doorway as she drove away pushed its way to the forefront and she winced at the sight of his face.
He was so angry with her.
Barely even upset by what she had done. Yet pure rage had filled him to the brim. He was so full of it she thought he might burst.
Her brow furrowed as she grasped for the thoughts that were on the precipice of her mind.
Michael had been angry a lot. She couldn’t say or do much without him being cruel towards her. He liked to ignore her. He’d get the children to do the same. He’d take them out and leave her at home. He’d take them to friend’s house. And Delores would be there, alone in the house for hours and hours. The ticking clock her only companion.
Delores put her head in her hands, a pain behind her eyes beginning. She could see the thoughts, the memories, but she couldn’t grasp them. Every time she tried, they’d slip away like mist.
Her happy perfect life. So many of the puzzle pieces missing or they didn’t make sense. So many things that just didn’t fit, no matter how much her brain tried to force them to.
