Coffee with a Devil Part Seven
Coffee with a Devil
A Story in Serial - Part Seven
This is part seven of the serial story I’m currently writing. If you have not read the story from the beginning, you might want to go check out part one first. Click here to read it now. This is a story you get to help me write by providing your feedback in the comments or by sending me a message through my Contact page . If I like your ideas, they might just end up in the story, or I might name one of the characters after you!Part Seven:Five Days Ago
It had been a while since Viggo had used the coffee brewer, but he managed to get a decent cup of coffee going after some trial and error. He thought at one point that it might have been easier if he’d turned the lights on in the kitchen, but old habits die hard. An infantryman for years, he’d learned to adapt to his environment and function in the dark without the aid of unnatural light. “We own the night” was one of the many sayings he remembered from his time in the Army.
Old sayings die hard, too.
It was still early, so he decided to drink his first cup on the porch and enjoy the last few minutes of starlight and the symphony of cicadas. As he made his way through the house, only stubbing his toe once, he hoped that Lisa was safe. Their argument had been intense, but he didn’t like the idea of her driving somewhere in the middle of the night while her emotions were high. He’d called her name and checked all of the rooms, but she wasn’t there. Viggo had decided not to try and call her cell. If she was angry enough to leave without telling him where she was going, she wouldn’t bother answering the phone.
He also wanted an argument free morning. He wanted to enjoy his coffee and get dressed without the fear of being hit over the head with something. Not that she’d ever hit him, but the threats had been increasing lately. That nagging feeling that he was going to be exposed crept into his mind, sending chills of panic up his spine and spiking his heart rate.
He did his best to push those thoughts away as he pushed the screen door open and stepped out onto the porch. The cool Carolina air drifted through the doorway, instantly calming him. He eased the screen door shut, even though the sound of it slamming against the frame wouldn’t wake anyone; Lisa wasn’t there, and his neighbors were too far away to be woken up that easily.
“Since when do you drink your morning coffee on the porch?”
Viggo gasped and stumbled backwards. Coffee sloshed out of his cup and onto his hand. He heard the splashing as some of it hit the floorboards, but he mostly ignored the burning sensation on his hand. He absently switched the mug to the other hand and shook the liquid off, but his eyes were fixed straight ahead. To the steps where Lisa sat.
“Lisa?”
“Liar?” She was still staring into the night with her back to him as she spoke, replying in a mocking tone with the only name she’d addressed him by in the last week.
His shoulders drooped, and he sighed. “I was calling your name.” He paused, but she didn’t respond. “Be alright if I sit with you?”
In the dim moonlight, he saw her slender shoulders rise and fall. “You still pay the mortgage, last I checked.”
“Well just asking. You seem peaceful and all. Don’t want to bug you.” He took a sip and waited for her to respond. He saw her short hair—dark brown in daylight but practically black in the almost not there light of the quarter moon—shake back and forth.
“All of a sudden you’re worried about how I feel about something you do.” She sucked her teeth. “Do what you want, Viggo.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, forcing himself not to reply. She was convinced of a lie, and he knew he’d have to tell her the truth or risk her thinking the worst, but he was crippled with fear. He took another sip to suppress the trembling that was taking over his body, the fear trembles as he’d begun to think of them. And there were those voices again. Conflicting voices. Some of them said to tell her the truth; others said to stick to his story. Others still didn’t tell him one way or the other; they only mocked him, telling him that he was going to lose everything. She would find out on her own, and then she’d find out more. And more.
He sat down and draped his arms on his knees, holding his mug in both hands.
“Ugh, next time turn the lights on,” Lisa said. “You can barely make a decent cup of coffee in broad daylight. That mess smells terrible.”
He turned his face to hers and took a slow, spiteful sip, making sure to slurp. He couldn’t make out much of her features, but her high cheekbones and slightly pointed chin stood out, reflecting what little light there was. He finished his sip and made a satisfied “ahh” sound before lowering his cup. He never looked away. She couldn’t resist a smile, and she even laughed a little, but the laugh was a blip on the radar of their relationship and the smile faded into the her scowl.
No, not a scowl, he thought. Something else: sadness.
“You are going to lose her and everything.”
Viggo looked away and frowned. The voices were nearly incessant. He knew he wasn’t imagining them, knew they were really there.
He stared straight ahead, into the woods at the end of their driveway. “How long have you been out here?”
“Not long enough,” she said. “Too long.”
Viggo nodded. “You sound torn about that one.”
At first, she was silent. Then she turned to face him. He could feel her eyes on him, so he turned and looked into her eyes. They were light brown in true light, but in the dark they looked black and empty.
“What’s her name, Viggo?”
Viggo looked away and hung his head.
To be continued…
If you enjoyed this rough draft, you might also enjoy my finished works in the Journey of Fate series. Check out the prequel short story now, for free, by signing up for the mailing list!
