A longer pause. Dell swallowed.
“I had an alarm, for the house I mean, and I guess it went off, but I’m a heavy sleeper, or, well, I used to be. I only really remember waking up when I heard something, someone, right outside my door, and then—the pops.”
For the first time in the story—well, if one could count Dell’s awkward sentence fragments as a story—Mae gasped, a short, quiet intake of air.
“They had a gun?”
“Yeah. I was shot here”—Dell pushed down the comforter an inch or two, pointed to the scar on his shoulder—“and in my thigh. Both shots were lucky, according to the doctors. Both that they missed more essential parts of my innards, and in the kind of gun they had, that it was just a handgun. That the bullets didn’t rip me to shreds like the rapid-fire assault shit people have now.” Dell’s face twisted in disgust, another angry huff leaving his lips. “Feels weird to be grateful for the simplicity of being shot with a handgun, but here we are.”
“Jesus,” Mae whispered. “Dell, I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah. Anyway, because of the alarm, I guess first responders got there pretty fast, and like I said, the doctors said I was lucky, and did a good job in helping me heal, so.”
And now that the story was out there, Dell didn’t quite know what else to say.
“The wounds get sore sometimes when the weather changes, when it’s cold, but mostly they don’t bother me too much anymore.”
A short silence stretched until Mae said, “But…but what happened then?”
Dell turned to her. “What do you mean? Me moving to Greyfin Bay after? I don’t know; it just felt?—”
“No.” Mae shook her head. “I mean, yes; I want to hear about that, too, but…what happened after you were shot? Was the intruder caught? Did you know them?”
“Oh.”
Dell turned back to the ceiling.
“I don’t remember anything, after I was shot.” Dell had worked on the shame about that in therapy, but part of him still felt like an idiot saying it out loud. That his body held on to this trauma over an event he couldn’t even fucking remember.
Then again, Mae was the first person he’d said any of this out loud to in years, so he supposed his therapist would’ve told him to give himself a break.
“And…no, they were never caught. The police guessed, due to the erratic nature of the break-in and the shooting—they barely even stole anything good—that it was likely someone, or multiple someones, on drugs. Like half of the shit that happens in our country is because of people on drugs.”
“Dell,” Mae said. She sounded almost breathless, pained, and it made Dell wince. “No wonder you don’t like going back to Portland, when this person that hurt you could just be…out there. I can’t?—”
“It’s okay.” Dell lifted his hands just slightly, flattening his palms against the air. “I’m not…” He sighed, unsure how to explain it. He’d almost saidangry, but that wasn’t exactly right. He was still angry, at a lot of shit. He’d just learned to not invest too much energy in that anger. “It doesn’t matter so much to me who the person actually was, if they’re still in the state, whatever. Honestly, even if they did find them, the idea of taking someone to court, having to live through everything again, knowing they’d probably be thrown in jail when I would just want them to get treatment—” Dell rubbed a hand over his face again. “A fucking nightmare. But yeah, I couldn’t sleep in that house again. Moving here, after, felt like the right thing to do.”
“I get that,” Mae said. “God, Dell. I do. I just—fuck.”
“I’ve been to therapy,” Dell said, unable to repress the defensive note of his voice. He knew Mae had been a social worker, knew she probably had a ton of stuff to say about trauma, but he just…didn’twantthat from her, at least not right here, right now. He just wanted her bare legs against his again. “So you don’t need to therapize me yourself, or say anything else. I’m okay. My triggers lessen by the year. I’mgoodin Greyfin Bay. I hate that you’ve had to see me lose it fucking twice now, but this week was the first time I’d been in Portland in a long time, and the other week when I mistook your knocking for gunshots, it was right around the anniversary of the break-in, which isn’t an excuse for me almost hurting you, but just so you know that this isn’t a super normal occurrence anymore.”
“Okay,” Mae said, voice placating. “I get it. I won’t therapize you, promise. I feel honored that you told me, but if you never want to mention it again, that’s good, too. It’s good, Dell.”
Dell closed his eyes, worked to calm his heartbeat.
“I’m glad I was with you, though,” she added, voice soft again. “Last night.”
Dell swallowed, eyes still closed. “Yeah,” he managed. “Me too.”
A torturous moment passed before Dell felt her shift toward him. Just enough for her body to brush against his side.Thank god, he almost said out loud.
“That was a lot,” Mae said after another beat, “so if you don’t want to talk about the other thing, we can wait.” Another pause. “We do have to talk about it, though.”
Dell’s mouth twitched into an almost-smile. It was that moment—Mae, still standing her ground, not actually letting him off the hook—that confirmed telling her had been okay. That maybe everything was as okay as it could be.
“The other thing…meaning my fisherman,” he said, after a long stretch of silence.
“That’s the one.” Mae’s voice had gone soft again. She danced her fingers up Dell’s shoulder, and he repressed a shiver.
