Writing in Public, Story 6, Scene 15

15

After Randy left to try to talk to his father. Nikki walked back to the house to get her car.  The sun sparkled at her, as if pleased she was walking out in it.  But it didn’t lighten the fear that settled in her belly.

Randy had been frightened, too.  And he’d admitted he hadn’t been honest with her.  Once he’d done that, she’d seen the lie in his words that he had spoken…something he hadn’t told her.  She had wanted to call him out on the lies, but she didn’t want to dynamite bridges that she might need later.

So she followed along the line of the great houses, her ankle boots clicking on the sidewalk.  She paused in front of each house, giving it a lingering look.

Trying to feel the music.

She reached for each house, imagining that she was putting her hands on the brick walls.

Nothing.

No music.  Only the wind as it ruffled fingers through the oak leaves high above.

She ran her hands through her hair, trembling.  She wanted to think it was how far away she was from the houses, but a stench came to her…like a black hole rotting away.

The thought made her quicken her pace.  She did not want that to happen to her house.

Yes, her house.

Almost as if she’d been telepathically transmitting her thoughts, a horn beeped right on the end of that thought.  She turned, shading her eyes.

Brian.  In his big Ford Bronco.  The engine grumbled as he pulled up next to her.   The passenger window rolled down.

He leaned across the seat, giving her that golden smile of his. He was wearing sunglasses, so she couldn’t see his eyes.

“I was wondering what became of you,” he said.  “Why are you walking?”

If she’d been two, she would have reluctantly dragged her blanket behind her.  She sighed and walked to the open window.  He had the air conditioning on high and one of his remixes playing.  A child’s voice cried with wonder, sliding into a man’s voice.

“I just came back from lunch,” she said.

“You should have called.  I would have gone with you.”

She would have normally done that.  It amazed her that she hadn’t even thought of that.

She rested her elbows on the bottom of the window frame, the weariness of the day suddenly hitting her.  She did not want to deal with this.  She wished she could find a hole and hide from the rest of the day.

“What do you want, Bryan?” she asked.

“C’mon.”  He reached across to stroke her left hand.  “I just wanted to be with you.”

That was a lie.  One that hurt.

She reminded herself not to burn this bridge either.

“I wish you’d called,” she said.  “It’s hard for me walking around my family’s house.”

He squeezed her hand, all smiles. His cheerfulness actually hurt because it was so plastic.

Nikki withdrew her hand, trying to make it look like she was only shifting position.  “Please.  Don’t go in fix-it mode, Brian.  Sometimes things don’t always need to be fixed.”

He pushed his sunglasses down on his nose, looking at her over them.  “Then why are you hanging onto the house for so long if it’s making you sad?”

The question scratched at her anger.

“I’ve been here exactly two days.  That is not a long time.  What the hell are you up to?”  She slammed her hands on the window sill.  It stung her palms and she didn’t care.  “Which one of my family told you to get me to sell the house?  What story did they tell you?”

So much for this bridge.  But it had Brian squirming.

He pushed his sunglasses back up to hide his eyes.  “They just want to help.”

“No, they don’t,” Nikki said.  “That’s just what they’re telling you.”

A man in Bermuda shorts and a Dodgers t-shirt approached on the sidewalk.  Nikki fell silent, waiting until he passed.

Then she caught of whiff of peppermint mingled with cigarette smoke.  It awakened a memory in her.

Of the last time she’d been in the house as a child.

Nikki leaned into the window again.  “Brian, make up your mind which side you’re on.  Right now, I don’t know if I can trust you anymore.”

Filed under: Thoughts