For You(33)
Author: Mimi Strong

As Bell and I approached the door, they cleared out of the way and kept a respectful distance. Though he wasn’t with me, I felt Sawyer’s protective presence.

The kids glared at me silently. I kept expecting something bad to happen, like for them to throw something at me or try to take the little television. I kept my body between them and Bell, but nothing happened.

Back up inside the apartment, I set the television on the coffee table, and as Bell danced around, I caught my breath. My heart raced from the stairs plus my nervousness about seeing the kids.

My cell phone started ringing with a call from an unknown number. I answered, sure it was a wrong number.

“Did you just get home?”

Sawyer Jones. So he had gotten my number.

Warily, I answered, “I did just get home. Why do you ask?”

“Don’t freak out, but I was riding past your building to see if those little shitheads were hanging around the front door. I know your place isn’t on the way to my house, so I’m not going to lie. I was driving by… because I just was.”

I went to the window and looked out. Our unit was on the corner, and one side looked down onto the front street. “I see you.”

He waved up at me, leaning against his bike, his helmet taken off. “Now I know what apartment you’re in. I got turned around last time I was here, and wasn’t sure if you were in that one on the corner. Now I’m going to have to drive by accidentally-on-purpose and see if your light is on or not. Do you think that qualifies as stalking?”

I leaned my forehead against the glass, wishing I could see the expression on his face, but he was too far away. “I don’t mind if you check in on me a bit.”

“I think I saw your daughter. Was that you just now, with a television in your arms?”

“That was us. I made a friend through Bell. Well, she made a friend, and I met her mother, and they loaned us a television.”

“Friends are good. Am I your friend?”

I didn’t know how to answer that—didn’t like that he was asking—so I said nothing.

The phone beeped to warn me the battery was low, then Sawyer said, “I wish you could come down, so we could go for a ride.”

“Gotta give the kid her bath and get her ready for bed, but she’s already got the TV plugged in, so… good luck to me with that.”

“What’s the bath thing all about, anyway? Why don’t little kids have showers in the morning before school, like regular people?”

“It calms them down before bed. You should try it sometime.”

He ran his hand over his hair, turned to look behind him, then back up at me in the window. “I already know what calms me down before bed.”

The sexy gravel in his voice sent a shiver through me.

My phone beeped again, its final warning. “My battery’s about to die.”

“So, are you going to invite me up or not?”

“Not tonight,” I said.

I didn’t get his last words, because the phone completely shut down.

Down below on the street, Sawyer shook his phone and jokingly pretended to throw it away, across the road into the trees. Then he stood still and stared up at me. I waved goodbye. He gave me a quick wave, then put on his helmet and disappeared into the night.

I stood at the window for a long time, even though Bell was squealing for my attention. Why hadn’t I asked him to come up? Then he’d be inside the apartment with me, and not red taillights streaking away under an orange sky.

My chest ached with loss. If he’d called me from his house, it wouldn’t have been so sad, but he’d been right here, and now he wasn’t.

Bell probably wouldn’t have minded him coming up. She was outgoing, and every new grown-up was just a friend she hadn’t met. She was more cautious around kids her age, but now she had a friend in Taylor. Taylor seemed like a normal, sweet kid, and I could imagine the two of them being friends for life.

What would that feel like, to have a best friend? Natalie had opened up to me so quickly, as though she’d never been let down before—as if the simple willingness to become friends was all it took.

Natalie wouldn’t want to be friends with me if she knew I snooped in her medicine cabinet when we were at dinner, or that I’d stole from her jar of expensive-looking eye treatment. It was the stuff that came in individual gelatin capsules. I hadn’t put it under my eyes, but stood at her sink and squeezed a gold capsule between my fingers. Gently first, and then harder. I squeezed until the capsule burst open, and then I washed the gel away under the hot water, until nothing was left.

Why had I done something like this? I couldn’t explain it. When I was not much older than Bell, something happened while grocery shopping with my mother. One day after my mother had yelled at me about something, an idea came to me from nowhere. It was a familiar-feeling idea, whispering in my ear like something I’d always known. I wandered off from her and found the cleaning products aisle, and then I found a nice row, six across, of plastic bleach bottles. The bottles were blue, and the label had a rainbow that made me angry. My mother had called me bad names, and I felt myself being the things she said I was. One by one, I unscrewed the caps on the bleach bottles and removed the protective seals, then put the caps back on, tight enough that the caps wouldn’t fall off, but loose enough that the contents would leak if they tipped over.

There was a darkness inside me, a destructive force. My mother could see it, which was why she hated me. This darkness convinced me that if someone picked up a bottle of bleach and spilled some on their clothes, it would be fair. That bad things only happened to people who deserved what they got.

I was in bed that night, treading water near that waterfall edge of sleep, when my cell phone beeped with an incoming text message.

Ever since I’d gotten the phone, I’d had more wrong numbers than right, so I rolled out of bed with a groan, because the phone would just keep beeping until I checked or it died.

The text was from Sawyer, and read: How was bath time?

Me: A few tears. Shampoo in the eyes.

Sawyer: That’s always my excuse when I cry.

I grinned at his text and jumped back into bed, cradling the phone in my hand. I had never understood why people enjoyed texting so much, but as I read Sawyer’s joke, I imagined his voice and face a bunch of different ways, from serious to corny.

Me: ?

Sawyer: Holy shitballs! Are you saying I made you smile?

Me: It wasn’t quite LOL but close.

Sawyer: I have the whole day off tomorrow.

Me: …

Sawyer: And I talked to Bruce so of course I know you have the day off. What I am trying to say is we should go to the beach and make sand castles.