Sunday Morning: A Damaged Novella (4 page)

T
he day after Kirk took me for a ride, a twitchy kid
showed up at my trailer with a key. I studied it all evening, wondering if I
should tempt his generosity by hanging out at his place.

Fuck it, I decided. He offered. He gave me the key.
Whatever happened next would happen.

On the third floor of a four-story building, I
discovered a nicer apartment than I expected. Not fancy by any means but a wall
of windows allowed in a lot of sunlight to the large living room. I shut the
door behind me and locked it out of habit. Walking slowly, I took in the scent
of the place. I recognized Kirk’s cologne. Nothing fancy but like the
apartment, I found it impressive. Everything about Kirk interested me.

A folded newspaper rested on the table, and a large
TV took up one corner in the room. The couch didn’t look new as much as unused.
My wannabe biker boyfriend spent most of his time at the strip club. Resting on
the soft leather couch, I thought he was nuts not to spend all of his time in
this homey place.

I stood up and walked to a galley-style kitchen
where I poured myself a glass of water. Inside the refrigerator were only a few
beers. More proof Kirk rarely spent time at the apartment.

Before I returned to the living room, I walked into
Kirk’s bedroom. I assumed he knew I’d peek so I didn’t feel guilty about poking
around his place.

Much like with his living room and kitchen, the
bedroom looked barely used. Did he fuck women at the club? I doubted he brought
them here. The place felt unloved, not like a guy’s party pad or home. It was
simply the place where he stored his clothes.

I relaxed in a spot near the windows and opened my
book. Inhaling slowly, I enjoyed Kirk’s scent and wished he was with me in the
apartment. We could cuddle on the couch and watch sports.
No, Kirk probably
wasn’t a cuddler.
I couldn’t imagine him with a girlfriend at all. He was a
man who fucked women. That was it. I wasn’t a woman so he couldn’t fuck me. One
day, I’d be sufficiently old enough in his mind, and he’d fuck me.
Then
what? Would he take back his key? Or would he simply change his locks?

Until then, I snuggled up on the couch and enjoyed
the peaceful afternoon. Without the noise and chaos of the trailer park, I
dissolved into my book and imagined living the life of Emma Woodhouse in an era
and setting that felt impossibly foreign to me.

For the first time in so many years, I was truly
happy. I hated leaving his apartment. The sun was nearly set when I forced
myself to return home.

For weeks, this was my new routine. I woke up in a
shithole, spent my day in a shithole, and then spent a few blissful hours at
Kirk’s apartment. I began leaving him messages, telling him about my day. One
time, I left an entire essay detailing a girl fight I had with a friend. Kirk
normally just wrote “cool” on my messages. For that one, he got sage on my ass.

“The things you think matter so much now won’t mean
shit in five years. In ten years, you won’t remember the names of the people
you hate so fucking much today. Remember that when you find yourself giving a
shit.”

His advice was so perfect that I carried around his
message with me for months. Whenever life felt too shitty, I read the note in
my head using his voice as if he was saying the words to me.

For so long I didn’t see Kirk except for the small
glimpses. I would sneak to the edge of the park some evenings and wait for him
to walk outside. Each time, I worried I’d see him with a woman. Would I still
want him if I watched him kissing some whore? Probably but I didn’t want to
test this theory.

Those nights when I crouched in the bushes, Kirk
stood on the club’s porch and smoked cigarettes. I wondered what he was
thinking about and wished it was me. I kept hoping he would surprise me at the
apartment and say he couldn’t wait any longer. Kirk never did, and I was
beginning to feel foolish for dreaming.

My birthday came and went with little fanfare. My
school friends only cared about their boyfriends and partying. My mom got me a
birthday cupcake and insisted I share it with her. Angry by the way she hogged
my only birthday attention, I stomped the entire way to Kirk’s apartment. I
wanted to feel excited about turning seventeen, but no one seemed to care I was
even alive.
No one except Kirk.

In his apartment, I found a dozen yellow roses and
a dopey birthday card with a hundred dollars cash inside. I giggled so hard at
the card. Not because the design was really so silly, but because I kept
imagining such a powerful man picking it out for me.

“One year older,” was all he wrote inside. He
didn’t need to say anything more.

After the giggles had ended, I cried because the
flowers were the nicest thing anyone did for me ever. The cash was an easy
gesture, but the flowers and card took time. Kirk put more effort into making
me feel special than my flesh and blood. If that didn’t deserve a good cry, I
wasn’t sure what did.

I left the flowers and money at the apartment, but
I took the card with me. Kirk gave me hope that my life wasn’t stuck in this
one crappy moment. I had a future with more possibilities.

Too many months passed with only hints of Kirk.
More and more, he was a fantasy rather than a real man. When the weather grew
colder and peeking at him late at night was too difficult, I didn’t see him at
all. Kirk was essentially a memory by the time I returned home one night to
find a guy passed out on my bed.

“What the fuck?” I asked, returning to where Mom
was strung out on the couch.

“Don’t be a greedy bitch,” Mom mumbled. “He wasn’t
feeling good.”

Mom normally slept on the couch since she was up
all night. Sometimes she crawled into the full sized bed next to me, but not so
much the last few years. I’d gotten accustomed to having the bed to myself.
Even if I hadn’t, I wasn’t sharing it with a strange man.

“Where am I supposed to sleep?”

“The floor won’t kill you.”

I looked around at our busted up floor with its
chunks of missing carpet. Mouse crap was scattered all over the room. I stared
at my mother, waiting for her to show me some pity. Why couldn’t she give me
the couch while she slept in the bed with her loser boyfriend? Any normal
mother would make the effort.

When Robin only stared at the TV, I stomped into
the bedroom. To reach the closet, I had to climb over the passed out fuckwit.
Once I grabbed clean clothes from the closet and shoved them into my backpack,
I gave the asshole a swift kick in the balls. He grunted but didn’t wake. In
the morning, though, his balls would be swollen and screaming. This part, at
least, made me smile.

The walk to Kirk’s apartment was dicey. Twice, men
started following me and asked questions. I walked faster and ignored them.
When the second group wouldn’t let up, I pulled out a butcher knife I’d taken
from the kitchen.

“How bad do you want to push this?” I asked the
four dirty looking teenagers.

They backed off, calling me a bitch and laughing at
how crazy I was. I didn’t care what they called me as long as they left me
alone.

Arriving at Kirk’s place, I found it empty as
usual. His home wasn’t my home, but I was more comfortable there than at where
I’d grown up.

After I had showered in his blissfully clean
bathroom, I searched his place for an extra blanket to use for my makeshift on
the couch. I eventually cuddled under a thick comforter and worried Kirk might
return home with a woman.

Even if he was alone, he might be angry and decide
to take back his key. Sometime after ten, I dozed off thinking about Kirk and
me riding on his Harley. We were leaving Chesterfield, my mom, and every other
shitty thing about this place. Fantasy or not, I wasn’t ready to let go of a
future with Kirk.

I
walked into my apartment after three in the
morning and found the TV flickering in the otherwise dark living room. My hand
immediately went to my gun. Even startled, I knew none of my enemies were dumb
enough to leave the TV playing while lying in wait. I shut the door quietly and
walked to the covered lump on the couch.

My club brothers sometimes dropped by when hiding
from their women or cops. The lump was too small and smelled too floral to be a
man.

Kneeling down, I pulled back the blanket to find
Jodi’s sleeping face. I wished she didn’t look so much like a fucking angel.
Why couldn’t she be a nasty whore teenager just looking to party? That way I
wouldn’t care about her so much. I never caught any breaks.

Jodi’s eyes suddenly popped open, and we stared at
each other.

“I had nowhere to sleep at my place,” she said.

“Did anyone hurt you?” I asked, sounding like an
angry beast.

“No,” she said.

We watched each other for another minute. I didn’t
know what to say to her. Everything I’d been thinking about involving Jodi
Sears wasn’t something a man should say in a dark room with a teenager.

“Can I sleep here tonight?”

“Yes,” I said, standing up. “Don’t leave tomorrow before
I get up. We need to talk.”

Jodi mumbled thank you while I walked away. I felt
her gaze on me even after I was inside the kitchen. Despite the shock of
finding her in my house, I was tired after a long day of chasing idiots around
town. I kicked off my boots and jeans before crashing within minutes of climbing
into bed.

I dreamed of Jodi cooking me breakfast. When I
awoke, I even thought she might be cooking until I remembered there was no food
in the apartment for her to use.

Showering, I scrubbed my skin extra rough. I wanted
to smell good for Jodi. This thought was fucking stupid. I couldn’t help myself
with Jodi, who made me dumber than when I was a horny teen looking to land my
first lay.

I found her sitting on the couch, watching
Jaws
on TV. She glanced at me and then stood up and walked to the kitchen where I
opened a beer can.

“We need to get food,” I said.

“I don’t have money for food. Robin already used
our food stamps for the month.”

“It’s my place. I’ll pay.”

“Are you mad about me staying here?”

Crossing my arms, I studied her perfect face.
Jodi’s blue eyes revealed true fear at my reaction. I liked seeing her scared.
If she knew how much power she had over me, I’d be a dead man.

“Think your mom would notice if you didn’t come
home?”

“No. She sleeps all day and is wasted all night.”

“So you’ll stay here then.”

“Are you done waiting then?” she asked, not fucking
around.

“Do you even know how to play things coy?”

“I don’t even know what ‘coy’ means, Kirk. I like
your apartment, and I don’t like my place. I want to stay here, but I want to
know what you want. Is that playing coy?”

“No,” I said, reaching out and caressing the soft
skin on her bronzed skin. “I like your honesty better anyway.”

“So what do you want?”

“You in my bed,” I said, not fucking around either.

Jodi’s eyes widened slightly, but she recovered
quickly. Nodding, she glanced at my bedroom.

“Now?”

I laughed. “Is that what you’d be willing to do to
stay?”

“What the fuck do you meaning by willing? I think
about you all the time. In my head, we’re already together.”

Her words nailed me hard in the gut, but I refused
to let her see me weak. “Your fantasies ain’t the real world, kid.”

“Don’t call me that. It’s your way of saying I’m
not good enough for you,” she said, frowning ugly at me. “If you need
remembering, do it silently.”

Fuck, I loved when she stood up to me. She was
nervous, though.
About going to my bedroom. About staying with me.
Mostly, I thought she was afraid I’d change my mind and kick her out.

“I have this feeling,” I told her after taking a
big swig of beer, “that once I get you in my bed, I won’t want you leaving it.”

“What’s wrong with that? Is fucking one woman for
too long bad for your reputation?”

“Screw my reputation. Also, what I’m thinking about
with you isn’t simple fucking, and besides, you’re not a woman.”

Jodi took my last comment as an insult. “And you
think I’ll magically turn into a woman once I’m eighteen? Or are you just
waiting for it to be legal? I think it’s probably legal in Tennessee already.”

I laughed. “Do you really think I give a shit about
the fucking law?”

Walking with my beer to a tiny table near a window,
I smiled at Jodi thinking the law kept me from sweeping her up and walking us
to bed.

“I’d prefer anarchy or street justice than any laws
The Man designs. The fucking law,” I said, still chuckling.

“Why wait?” she asked without joining me at the
table. “Do you think you’re protecting me?”

“You? No, baby, I’m protecting myself by waiting.”

Looking confused, Jodi finally sat in the spare
chair. “I don’t get it.”

“When I was your age, I was a fickle bitch. Thought
I knew everything too. What did I tell you when you were having issues with
those bitches at school?”

“In five years, it won’t matter.”

“Yeah, and I can see me getting all wound up over
you, and then you deciding you need to experience life more than an old fogey
like me can give you.”

“Old fogey,” she muttered, smiling. “So you don’t
want to hook up because I could dump you.”

“My old man heart can’t survive you stomping on
it.”

Still smiling, Jodi studied me. “How long will you
wait before your old man heart can take the chance with my fickle one?”

“I don’t know. A decade? A year? A day? Hell, maybe
I won’t last an hour.”

Jodi’s gaze softened, revealing her insecurities
about this situation. I was the first real guy in her life. I ought to wish she
came with more experience and baggage to make us equal. Instead, I liked
knowing I was the only man to make her feel this way. She was certainly the
only woman to make me feel this fucking weak.

“So I can still stay here?”

Giving her a nod, I downed the rest of the beer
while wishing I’d bought a coffee pot. Most days, I went down to the local
diner for coffee and breakfast.

“What about your plan to wait?” she asked, watching
me like a hawk. “Won’t waiting be harder if I’m here?”

“No, because I rarely am. Besides, I need to keep
you safe,” I said, standing up. “I know enough about your mama to know she has
men coming in and out at all times of the day and night. That’s not safe for
you. Not with those men thinking you and your mom are a package deal.”

Jodi gave me a little snarl, and I knew she hated
those men. She might even hate her mother.

“Put on your shoes. I’ll take you to breakfast.”

Jodi’s pissed expression faded, and she smiled
slightly. “Thank you for letting me stay here.”

“You can have the bed,” I offered, opening the door
for her.

“No thanks.”

“Don’t play the martyr.”

Jodi followed me down the stairs to the front lobby
of the apartment. “You’re too big to sleep on the couch. I can’t imagine how
hard it would be for your old man back to hang off that thing.”

I gave her a side glare, but she only smiled wider.
“I’ll have to remember you’re an old man, so I don’t jump you.”

Now I was smiling too. “Don’t want to break a hip
from you manhandling me.”

Jodi’s eyes lit up in a way that made me think I
was done for. She was radiant in a town where nothing else was. I couldn’t
imagine sharing this woman with anyone else. No, keeping her was a done deal.
Keeping her looked to be more difficult.