Color of Loneliness (44 page)

He quickly grabs a cigarette and lights up, taking a couple of drags as he continues staring at her front door. He needs to go back in there and tell her right the fuck now. He’s put this shit off for too long. He doesn’t have to leave immediately anyway. He knows Myra would never judge him about all of his shit. That isn’t the issue. His problem is talking about that shit period. Because it hurts. But he can do this. He has to do this. She deserves to know.

He nods his head as he opens the door and steps out. Stretching his achy back and puffing some more on his cigarette, he stares at her front door a few more minutes. As he takes a step forward, his heart starts to race. He stops and takes in several breaths before he takes another step forward. His chest tightens and he has trouble breathing.

Turning around, he stumbles breathlessly back to his truck and leans against it with his eyes closed, trying to get himself to calm the fuck down. After a couple of tense moments, his heart rate starts to slow. “Goddamn it,” he mumbles under his breath before he slams his fist into the door of his truck. Yanking it open, he climbs in and shoves it into reverse.

* * *

While Myra dumps the pancakes into the trash, her phone rings. Her shoulders slump when she sees the caller ID.

“Hey.”

She frowns when she hears loud chewing and crunching on the other end of the line. “Sorry,” Susie says. “I’m on my lunch hour. I’m having the worst day ever. I’m pissy and hung over and you see what time it is. I’m only about three hours past my lunch. And you know I don’t do well without my food.”

Myra smiles and hums in agreement.

“Sorry I didn’t call you last night. I had to go with Jeff to one of his boring-ass work things. And I was so damn bored that I ended up getting drunk by the end of the night.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Oh, it was a barrel full. I’ve had more fun getting a wart burned off my big toe. Guess what Jeff did to me when we got home? I fell asleep so he left my drunk fat ass in the car. I mean I know there’s no way he could have picked me up since I’m Fatty McLardopants.”

“You’re not fat. Quit saying stuff like that.”

“No problem, Miss I-Weigh-93.3-Pounds-With-My-Coat-On-And-Rocks-In-My-Pockets,” Susie says in a sarcastic voice. “Anyway, I woke up at like five-thirty this morning with a nasty crick in my neck from sitting in that stupid car. I asked Jeff why the hell he left me out there, and he said something about how it would’ve taken a nuclear blast to wake me. I asked him if he had any plans on waking me up for work, and he said he was going to get out the garden hose and nail me in the head with it while he blared the car horn. I hate that man sometimes.”

Myra laughs.

“So what’re you doing today? Moping around and missing your scruffy hot-as-fuck tool man? When’s he coming back to town? Is he still calling you all the time?”

“Um…”

“What? You talk and I’ll eat.”

“Well… he showed up last night and,
wehadsex
.”

Myra hears spluttering, coughing, hacking and wheezing coming through the phone. “Are you okay?”

When Susie finally speaks, her voice sounds strangled. “No…” she says before she stops to cough again. “I just took a big old gulp of Diet Coke when you said that and snorted it right out my nose. Then I swallowed, and some went down the wrong pipe. You almost killed me. My nostrils are burning, my…” She has to stop again to cough. “… throat is on fire, and I’ve got tears running down my cheeks. And the Diet Coke that went flying out my nose, landed right on my slice of pizza.”

“You’re not supposed to be eating pizza.”

“I’m stressed and I’m cheating so who gives a shit. You had sex with the scruffy Greek god asshole?” Susie shouts. “The dirty tool man of my dreams? Oh my sweet baby Jesus on a post-it note. I can’t believe it. I thought you said you weren’t going to have sex with him.”

Myra sighs. “I was weak. I couldn’t resist him.”

“Good God above the earth, girl, no one, I repeat, no one could resist that sweet piece of flamin’ hotness,” Susie says before squealing giddily and breaking out into another coughing fit.

Myra rolls her eyes.

Susie clears her throat. “Was he a savage? I know someone that angry has to be full of some serious animal savagery. Did he rip your clothes off? Please tell me he shredded your panties.”

“No, of course not, he was a total gentleman.”

“No panty ripping? Damn. I totally had him pegged as a panty ripper. God, I’d love to have someone rip my panties from my body. But I think the only way Jeff could get my ginormous grandma undies shredded would be with some garden sheers or a bush whacker,” Susie says before giggling crazily.

Myra can’t help but laugh along with her.

“Now I’m not buying that the scruffy Greek god asshole was a gentleman.”

“Well, he was. He was sweet and tender and passionate all at the same time.”

“Okay, that’s not working for me. I need something dirty here. So was he packing a fully-loaded footlong?”

“Oh my God. I’m not answering that.”

“You better or I’ll do something to embarrass you. You know what I’m capable of.”

“Fine. Yes. Are you happy?”

Susie lets out a shriek. “I knew it. I knew that man was packing the beef.”

Myra squeezes her eyes shut and covers her face with one hand in mortification.

“So where did you do it?”

Myra frowns. “You mean the first time?”

She immediately smacks herself on the forehead for letting that slip.

“What do you mean by ‘the first time’?” Susie asks slowly.

“Uh…”

“How many times did you copulate with your contractor?”

“I don’t know.”

“Spit it out.”

“More than once, okay?”

“Please tell me he had more than one condom on him.”

“Well…”

“I told you to use a custard catcher,” Susie yells. “Why the hell didn’t you listen to me? What is wrong with you? Now you probably have some hoochie coochie cooties.”

“We just, we got carried away the first time, and I figured we’d already done it once so…”

“I can’t believe you. This is the damn twenty-first century. His footlong could be carrying E-coli or some freaky deadly wiener disease. You know better than that.”

“I know.”

“Well, go buy a box of custard catchers before you sex him up again. When are you going to see him next?”

Myra takes in a deep breath. “I don’t know. This morning... after we... he got some bad news and he left.”

“What bad news?”

“I don’t know. He said he’d explain it to me later. I haven’t heard from him since.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Susie shouts. “He left and said he’d explain later? He couldn’t bother to take two seconds to tell you why? God, that pisses me off. He’d better not be pulling a fuck and duck. That’s some shit Trent would do and that makes me want to do some incredibly violent things to that fine ass of his. God, I can’t believe you got to see that ass. Did it look good? Did you spank it a little?”

“No, now stop.”

“Sorry but your man’s cheeks are fine. Look, I hate to run, but I gotta get back to work. I’m swamped.”

“Okay,” Myra says.

“I love you and I’m so proud of you for riding the tool man’s drill,” Susie says. “Trust me, you needed it.”

Myra shakes her head and laughs at her crazy but incredibly loyal friend. “I’ll let you know if I hear from him.”

“Good. And if he doesn’t get in touch with you, I’ll have my Kung Fu ready to kick his fine ass.”

Myra smiles. “Thanks. Hopefully that won’t be necessary.”

* * *

After Myra does some laundry, she sits down at her kitchen table with a cup of coffee. She takes a sip while staring out of the window. She frowns as she thinks about her conversation with Susie.

For once, Myra completely agrees with her best friend. Dylan’s behavior did mirror Trent’s with the secrecy and the empty promises because why couldn’t he have told her where he was going? If it was a family emergency or something, why couldn’t he have just said that? And why does he keep hiding his past, promising to explain it to her but never doing it? If it’s this difficult for him to talk about, his past might be something that Myra might not want to hear about or be involved in at all.

Being patient and understanding with Trent allowed him to make a total fool out of her. She can’t keep repeating this cycle with the men in her life.

She thinks back to how Dylan freaked out over their first kiss. Her stomach grows queasy as she considers the fact that he could be having a similar reaction to their sleeping together.

Her phone buzzes with a text and Myra’s heart skips a beat as she picks it up and reads it.

Hd 2 go 2 Boise. Cal u ltr. – D

She frowns as she reads it again. So if he had to go to Boise, then his emergency must have something to do with his family. Why didn’t he just tell her that this morning?

She quickly sends a text back.

I hope everything is okay. – M

Myra chews on her thumbnail as she stares at her phone, waiting for a response. She re-reads his message over and over again, trying to find some kind of hidden meaning in it. She waits and waits but he never responds.

* * *

Myra startles and her mouth drops open when someone knocks on her door. With her heart in her throat, she looks outside and cringes when she sees Jackie.

“Hi. Have you had dinner? I brought Chinese,” Jackie says, holding up a bag. Myra shakes her head before they walk into her the kitchen. “I’m starving. I didn’t even have time to eat today. I placed an ad to replace the guy that quit at the bookstore so I’ve had a couple of responses so I’ve been trying to prepare myself for interviewing people. Have you ever interviewed anyone before?”

Myra shakes her head as she sets the silverware on the table.

“I have no idea how to do it. I’m really great at interviews myself because I have no problems talking with people and everything because I just have that type of personality,” she says, grinning. “But it’s going to be so hard hiring someone. What if I hire the wrong person and it doesn’t work out?”

“Then you fire them.”

Jackie’s eyes widen. “I could never fire someone. That would be terrible. I would feel just awful taking someone’s job away from them especially in this economy. That’s why I have to do this interviewing thing right. What should I do?”

Myra sighs and rubs her temples. “Well, probably the most important thing is to check their references and talk to previous employers. As far as interview questions go, you work in a bookstore. Look it up.”

A huge smile splits Jackie’s face. “I didn’t even think of that,” she says with a giggle. “What would I do without you?”

Myra shakes her head as she takes a bite of her chicken and broccoli and her thoughts drift to Dylan.

* * *

Myra sighs as she picks up her phone again and checks the bars. There’s no problem with her phone, yet she never got a response to her text. And he never called. Sighing, she closes her laptop and makes her way upstairs.

Lying in bed in the dark, clutching the pillow Dylan used last night close to her chest, Myra stares at the green glow of her digital alarm clock. She watches as the numbers slowly change and the minutes and hours tick by.

The fact that Dylan didn’t bother to respond to her truly hurts her. How long does it take to send a text? A couple of seconds? He couldn’t take two seconds to let her know how he was doing? She wasn’t worth the effort? Negative thoughts finagle their way into her mind. Clearly, she meant nothing to him; she was probably just the latest in a string of one-night stands. Why else would he act like this?

The more Myra thinks about it, the angrier she gets. She had a bad feeling about Dylan right from the start. She should have cut things off with him as soon as she found out about Sabrina and he refused to talk. She did this exact same thing with Trent. She knew something was wrong with their relationship yet she ignored her suspicions of him until it was too late. Well, she won’t let that happen again.

She decides to confront Dylan. Tell him that if he wants to be with her then he needs to talk. There can’t be any more secrets between them. She can’t do this anymore.

She frowns when she realizes she doesn’t even have his address. Sitting up, she turns on the light and flips open her laptop. With a quick click of a button, the Google box pops up. Her fingers hover over the keyboard as she stares at it for a minute. Finally, she types in his name and locates his address. In a larger town, she might not be able to find him so easily, but in Nyssa, he can’t hide.

She decides that if she hasn’t heard back from him by morning, she’ll go to his house and demand an explanation. Because it’s time for her to stop letting men crush her. It’s time for her to make some changes in her life.

* * *

Myra’s heart rate quickens when she nears Dylan’s street. Of course she never heard from him. She takes in a deep breath as she turns down the road. She slows, going way under the speed limit as she searches for the house numbers, but immediately spots his truck in the driveway of a small brick ranch-style home. She can’t help but feel somewhat relieved when she sees it. At least he didn’t have to stay in Boise yesterday. But if he didn’t stay, then why didn’t he call her?