Authors: Cheri Lewis
He rubs the back of my hand with his thumb then asks, “Who taught you how to punch?” My brows furrow and I look up at him. He reaches up with his other hand and rubs his jaw.
“I didn’t!?”
“You did.”
I shoot up, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was you—”
“I know and I now know never to sneak up on you,” he jokes trying to lighten the situation.
“My head is killing me,” I say as I begin to rub my head.
“Mine too.” This time I smile at his horrible joke. “How about this, let’s get dressed and go get some breakfast somewhere, or at least some coffee.”
“What time is it?”
“2:30.”
“Where can we eat breakfast at 2:30 in the morning? And don’t say McDonalds.”
“Get dressed, we’ll drive over to Mableton.”
“That’s a 45 minute drive.”
“Do you have anywhere you need to be?” I think a second, and then shake my head. “Good, now come on.” He stands and puts his hand out for me to take it, and I do and he helps pull me to my feet.
****
The drive to Mableton started out quiet, a variety of songs play quietly in the background. I rest my head on the seat and watch the lines on the road. “What do you want to do tomorrow? Well I guess it’s in a few hours now,” Tank asks interrupting the quietness.
I sigh, “Well, I want to go home but…”
“But what?”
But, I’m scared to death to be alone; I don’t want to bother my parents, what if I have that terrible dream again?
I turn to look at him, the light of the dashboard makes his face easier to see. “It’s nothing, I’ll be fine. I want to move back home.”
“Okay, we’ll move you back home.”
I bite my lip then get the courage to finally ask, “How’d you know?”
“Know what?”
My heart races, but I’ve been dying to ask, “How’d you know it was him?”
I watch as he shakes his head. “It was right there in front of my face for hours. I should’ve caught it sooner.”
“Caught what?” I ask impatient and confused.
He looks over at me then back to the road. “How’d he know I was at Weasel’s?”
There’s a long pause. “You’re asking me?”
“No, I’m telling you how I figured it out. There would be no way to know I was at Weasel’s. I was upset. I knew Alexander could find me and I didn’t want to be found. Had the asshole not drugged me I would’ve remembered that a lot sooner when it came time to go pick up my car.”
“But he was at your place and he took your blood to have it tested.”
“Ballsy, I know.”
I turn back and watch the road. “How’d he drug you without you knowing?”
“Good ol’ Cootie, the lover of women, had one of his many lady friends slip it in my drink. She said it was supposed to be a joke, from one cop to another.”
Oh my,
“That’s really messed up.”
“No, what that is, is really fucked up. Of course I’ve heard that Alexander showed up and that didn’t go over too well.”
“Yeah, he was bleeding when he got back with you.” Tank doesn’t say anything just shakes his head and seems to be deep in thought so I ask, “Do you know why me yet?”
“No, they’re digging around and it might take a while and honestly we may never know. We know you fit the physical description of the past women he attacked. Blonde and beautiful. But somewhere, sometime you crossed his path and got on his radar.”
It surprises me when we turn into the parking lot of the Waffle House; the forty-five minute trip only seemed like fifteen. We both climb down out of his SUV. He holds the door open for me then follows me inside. He motions to the back of the restaurant where it’s pretty much empty other than two men who look like truck drivers sitting and enjoying their meal. I briefly smile at both of the men as we pass them but they don’t return my smile. They look me up and down. I instantly regret coming out into public. I reach up and pretend I have an itch that needs to be scratched to help cover up my bruised neck. I slide into the booth and Tank slides into the seat across from me. Before I can voice to Tank how uncomfortable I am our waitress comes up and asks, “Can I get you something to drink?”
We both say coffee at the same time. The waitress is now staring at me; I look down at my menu reading each item on it waiting for her to leave.
When she leaves, Tank leans forward and puts his hand on top of my menu. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Quit putting your head down.”
I look up enough to lock eyes with him and whisper, “I know that, but I feel like I have to explain what happened to me, people are staring at me.”
“It’s that new sexy haircut of yours,” he says with a half grin.
“Nice try.” I roll my eyes.
Our waitress comes back with our coffee and a bowl filled with little buckets of creamer. “Do you know what you want to order? Or do you need a few minutes?”
We order our food, the waitress leaves and Tank says, “I need to go wash up.”
Fear of being left alone in the booth settles over me. “I—I need to go too.”
We walk together to the other side of the restaurant. When I’m finished he isn’t out yet and I don’t want to stand next to the door to the men’s restroom waiting for him. So I walk slowly back to our table and keep my head down. I pass where the men were sitting earlier. An overweight balding man stops me, and he has teeth missing on the right side of his mouth. “Pretty lady, I mean you no harm. If he’s the one beatin’ on you, that ain’t no way to live. You can leave with me and I promise you I’ll take you wherever you need to go or to the police station.”
I look around and notice it’s just him and me. The other truck driver must’ve left already, I quietly assure him, “He didn’t do this to me. He saved me from the person who
did
this to me.”
His kind eyes stare at me a few moments. “If you’re sure you’re alright. You’re much too pretty to be bruised up like that. Whoever he is ain’t worth it.”
I want more than anything to explain that I’m not living with somebody who abuses me but I can’t find the words to even begin. I reach up and touch the bruises on my neck, nod in agreement and walk away. I slide back in the red booth waiting for Tank.
It sure was taking him a long time to wash his hands
.
I add cream and sugar to my coffee, stir it and take several sips before the bathroom door opens. It’s the other truck driver and Tank is right behind him. He has a weird look on his face. He looks amused but pissed off. I furrow my brows and pick my cup up again to take another sip. As I watch him walk toward me I take him in. He really is a good looking man. His jeans hang low and his shirt hangs loose. His arms are long and muscular. I find myself thinking about his half smirk and how sexy it is when he slides in the booth in front of me and I ask, “Are you alright?”
I can tell he’s trying to find the right words. “You had a couple of men coming to your rescue.” I look over at the two truck drivers now standing at the tall counter paying their bill. The one who spoke to me nods his head and the other keeps looking between Tank and I then looks back at the waitress who is taking his money. “They thought I put the marks on you.”
“I know. I told the one in the blue shirt you didn’t.”
“It would’ve been nice if I had been asked before I got shoved into the bathroom stall.” My jaw falls open as he continues, “It took me a second to get the situation under control but we quickly came to an understanding.”
“He shoved you into the bathroom stall?” I ask in disbelief.
He nods while taking a drink of his coffee. The waitress arrives with our food and starts setting down different plates of food. My stomach growls. I am starving and can’t wait to taste my waffle. “What’d you do?” I ask as soon as she walks away.
He picks up his fork and stabs it into his eggs. “Well first I had to escape the stall, and then we had a chat.”
I stop buttering my waffle and look directly at him. “You jumped over the top of the stall?”
He sticks the fork in his mouth, raises his eyebrows and then nods. I look back down at my melted butter trying to imagine him climbing over a bathroom stall. “After we move you back home tomorrow, do you want to do something?”
“Like us together go do something?”
“Yes.”
“Like a date?” I instantly regret those words when they fly so easy out of my mouth. He slowly chews the bite he had just taken, and then swallows. He opens his mouth to speak but I get there first “I was just clarifying. I’m not ready to go out into public and I’m not trying to get you to take me out on a date. I just wasn’t sure what you were asking.”
He isn’t relaxed anymore and his eyes are guarded. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
I wave my hand and shake my head. “Tank, I don’t want it to get awkward. Let’s just forget I said that please.”
He sets his fork down and with a sincere look he says, “I’ll explain it one day but not here okay?”
I nod, “Okay.”
He tries sounding upbeat but I’m not fooled. “So since you don’t want to go out into public what do you want to do?”
I eye him and finally take a bite of my waffle covered in syrup. I don’t want to look like a pig and just shove my face down in my plate so I take another bite, then a sip of coffee. “You don’t have to babysit me. I can go to my parents if I get bored or find something to do.”
“So now you’re blowing me off?” I’m sure it was meant as a joke but it doesn’t come across that way.
My shoulders drop in defeat.
I can’t win with him
. I lean forward not to make a scene and try keeping my voice down to not draw any more attention. “Argh, no I’m not. I just don’t want to be a bother. I have taken up the last few weeks of your life and I’m sure you have things you want to do besides look after me.”
“I can’t really think of anything else I’d rather do.” This time his words are very sincere and I know he means every one of them.
I drop my fork and it clanks against the plate. “See, that right there. You say these sweet things sending me mixed signals. I don’t understand what exactly we have going on between us.”
“I just know I like being around you. Being around you makes me feel better. Isn’t that good enough?”
His face doesn’t give anything away but his words are causing more confusion and I’ve had it. “No, it’s not good enough. That’s another incredibly sweet thing to say. One minute you’re touching me and making me feel like the most important thing in the world and the next you’re shutting me down. What. Do. You. Want. With. Me?”
“I don’t want anything,” he replies quickly and a little too blunt for my already strained day.
I close my eyes.
I can’t believe I am sitting in a Waffle House at 4 o’clock in the morning after I’ve almost been killed, trying to discuss having a relationship with somebody who clearly doesn’t want one. How stupid am I?
“Are you finished eating?” he asks curtly.
I open my eyes and look down at all of our many little plates and we both have a lot of food left but I know one thing for sure I’m not hungry anymore. “I’m done.” I say in aggravation.
He slides out of the booth and motions for our waitress, and then walks to the check out to meet her. I slide out and leave him in the restaurant. I wait by the SUV for him. The lights flash and I hear the doors unlock so I open the door and climb inside. I wait for him to speak first. He’s obviously upset with me about something and I’m upset with the mixed signals he keeps sending.
I’m not stupid. Either he likes me or he doesn’t, and I know he likes me. It isn’t that hard to decide is it?
We spend the entire ride in silence and every mile we drive the more upset I become.
I can’t deal with someone who can’t tell me what he’s thinking. Why, why, why do I finally find someone I’m interested in and he’s got more problems than people on the
Jerry Springer Show
.
When he pulls up in front of his building I barely wait for the SUV to come to a complete halt. I sling my belt off and march to the front door. I roll my eyes when I realize I didn’t bring my key and I have to wait on him to unlock the front door. He comes and stands beside me. “Are you going to ignore me the entire rest of the morning?” he asks very stupidly.
I open my mouth then close it.
Ignoring him? I’m not ignoring him!
“I’m not ignoring you, you’re ignoring me.” He shakes his head and unlocks the door, I wait for him to enter but he just stands there. “What are you waiting on?” I ask exasperated.
“I suck at relationships,” he says while looking at the door.
“Clearly,” I say too sarcastically and instantly feel like a big pile of dog poop when I see his reaction. “Tank, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just one minute I know we have something and the next you’ve got all these reactions all over your face like you just ate something bitter.”
“What do you want from me?” he asks almost in a whisper.
I’m not sure he’s really asking me but I answer. “Just admit that you feel it too, that I’m not imagining things.”