The Fourteen Day Soul Detox (17 page)

“Appreciated,” I told her,
knocking the bar once. After ringing up the order and putting the
tips in our tip jar, I headed for the staff room.

Taking my frozen meal out of the small
freezer section of the mini-fridge, I pulled it from its box and
pulled up a corner of its plastic wrap. I stuck the tray in the
microwave for seven minutes, and then pressed start.

Reentering the bar, I made eye contact
with none of the customers as I walked to the side of the bar.

“Excuse me,” I said to the
crowd of expectant drink patrons blocking the exit to the bar.

“Sorry, beautiful,” A large
hairy guy said as he moved out of my way.

I gave him a smile as I passed. The
crowd wasn’t as thick steps from the bar. People either sat in
tables or gathered around the stage where the bluegrass band was
finishing their set. I immediately saw Gina sitting at her one person
table with the ‘reserved’ sign still on its top. She had
headphones in her ears and a book in her hands. She lifted the straw
of her diet soda to her lips, never taking her eyes off her
paperback.

She wore her graying hair up in a
twist, that, and her beautiful, elegant features made her look odd in
the oversized T-shirt she was wearing. I knew that the shirt was one
she had printed herself at a local printing shop; it read ‘Designated
Driver Volunteer,’ in big thick, black letters.

As there were no other chairs at her
table, I stood on the other side, waving.

Gina looked up and when she saw who it
was, smiled. She plucked her headphones from each ear, and said,
“Hey, babe, pull up a chair.”

“Would it be okay if we talked in
the staff room? It’s private in there and I have some food in
the microwave.”

“Well, of course, let me just
gather up my stuff,” she said, while she slipped a bookmark
into her book and stored it in her tote bag along with her phone and
headphones.

We remade our way through the crowd,
asking them to move aside again at the edge of the bar. When we were
in the staff room, I opened the microwave and pulled out my lasagna
tray. Peeling back the plastic, I held the tray out as the cloud of
hot steam rose.

“Are you hungry? I could split
this in half,” I said.

“Not at all, eat your food,”
Gina said. She took a seat on the big green worn-in couch that I’ve
been hounding my father to replace. Though Gina was not a large
woman, she never lost her muscles from her years of public service.

“I like the flowers,” Gina
said.

Looking around, I noticed a large
bouquet of colorful daisies in the corner. Their large blooms
exploded out of an overtaxed glass mason jar.

“Wow, I didn’t even see
those. I bet José brought them in from his garden.”

“How many times have you been in
here today?”

“Twice,” I said, blowing on
my food.

“You need to pay better attention
to your surroundings, especially if you’re in some kind of
trouble.” She pierced me with blue eyes—eyes that had
probably seen through a thousand deceptions by paying attention to
small details.

“You’re probably right. I
feel like I’m constantly on autopilot,” I said, taking a
seat next to her.

“With your life, I’m
surprised you’re even awake to talk to me,” she said.

“Yeah, me too.” I took a
bite of lasagna, chewing slowly and looking away.

“You have fifteen minutes left to
tell me, babe. I’m assuming this is a hard thing to tell me
about since you’re obviously not rushing to talk,” she
said, her gaze never leaving my face.

I sighed. “It’s my
neighbor, he’s been harassing me.”

“Sexually or otherwise?”
she asked.

“Sexually, I guess, but it’s
tricky to explain. I actually tried to tell the complex’s
manager about it. I asked to be moved to another apartment. It’s
just he never says the wrong thing, he never says anything
inappropriate, it’s how he says it.”

“Give me an example,” she
said.

“Yesterday, he overheard me and…”
I cleared my throat looking away.

“Do not be afraid to tell me.”
She touched my arm. “Your shame is his weapon against you.”

Taking a deep breath, I met her gaze.
“He overheard me and Cameron together; we had sex by the door
of my apartment. Later that day, Clarke, my neighbor, asked me if I
had been putting up pictures by my door. When I blushed, he laughed
and told me if I ever needed to hang pictures again, he’d be
happy to help.”

“I see,” she said.

“He’s been making comments
like that since I first met him. At first I thought maybe I was just
imagining things, but I know that I’m not. And when I tried to
tell the manager, I really, really sounded like I was imagining
things. I told him that Clarke told me he got a new big screen TV he
wanted to show me, or that he had the steam cleaner for an extra day
and offered to clean my carpet. He’s said nothing overtly
wrong; it sounded like I was just paranoid.”

“What did the manager say?”

“That he’d already moved
two of my neighbors due to noise complaints about Sarah. That he
understood about our particular situation. That he’d keep an
eye on the situation and move us as soon as there was a suitable
apartment.”

“Basically, he gave you a fat
load of bullshit,” she said.

“It would have helped if I could
have given him a specific example of Clarke clearly sexually
harassing me. And he never does it if anyone else is nearby to hear,
except for Sarah.”

“Have you told anyone else?”

“No,” I said, my head
falling into my hands.

“Sweetheart,” she patted my
back. “Most women do not report sexual harassment, probably for
all the reasons that you haven’t.”

“It’s just if I told any
one of my friends or family, they’d tell Susan or Cameron.
Either one of them would automatically threaten, or more likely,
attack Clarke. When the cops came, Clarke would only look like a
victim. I have absolutely no proof that he’s doing anything
wrong. Both Susan and Cameron have a history of violence, and they’re
so hot-headed.”

“So you’ve just been living
with it alone?” she asked.

I nodded.

“For how long?”

“A month and a half,” I
said.

“But something happened today
that scared you enough to risk speaking out,” she said.

I nodded again.

“What happened today?” she
asked.

“He cornered me in the laundry
room, insisting that I wait until he moved his stuff, he blocked my
path out. I agreed to wait for him to move his stuff, but when I was
past him, I told him that I was going to wait another day to do my
laundry. Instead, I went to another laundry room and started my stuff
there. He was waiting for me when I exited. He didn’t say
anything, just gave me a look. Then later, when I got my laundry, all
of my normal, not sexy underwear was missing.”

I paused to wipe tears from my face.
“At first I thought it must be Clarke who took the underwear,
but then Cameron told me that a guy would have probably grabbed the
lacey thongs instead of taking the more normal pairs. I agreed with
him until I realized I had only two choices now, sexy underwear or
nothing.”

“He’s controlling you,”
she said simply. “Was he waiting for you when you left the
house?”

“He came out as I left, called my
name,” I told her.

“It makes sense,” she said.

“Yeah, I know. But I imagined
telling this to the complex manager or a cop that doesn’t know
me. They’ll think what Cameron thought.”

“They might. I’m assuming
you’re seeking my help because you want my advice from a cop’s
point of view, am I right?”

“I just want your advice,
period,” I said.

“Alright, first, eat your food
while I talk, you only have five minutes of break left.”

“Alright,” I said and took
a bite of lasagna. The tomato and parmesan flavors were even stronger
with this bite.

“As a cop, I’d tell you to
first find a way to avoid all contact with Clarke. Then, go in and
make a police report. Tell your friends and family about what is
going on. If you do see Clarke, find some way to record what he says
to you.”

“But he’s my neighbor, how
do I avoid all contact with him?”

“Go stay with friends, or with
your dad. Not as a cop, but as someone who was waiting outside your
delivery room, I’m telling you to move. It’s very hard to
prove harassment, especially because he is so careful. Getting a
restraining order against him would be difficult. You’ll have
to present evidence of harassment at a hearing and he’ll still
be allowed to be in his house and yard.”

“I might have the money to move
soon,” I said.

“I’d suggest you move now,
at least to a temporary place,” she said.

“I’ll think about it…
I’ll try,” I said, sagging forward.

The door to the bar opened. “Hey
Jamie! I need you out here!” José called out.

“Sorry, one second,” I
called. I looked at the clock. “Shoot, I’m five minutes
over.” Standing, I threw away my lasagna tray and plastic fork.
“Thank you so much for all the advice,” I told Gina.

“You call me, day or night,
Jamie. You have one person who believes you, and I have a nine
millimeter pistol and a concealed carry permit.”

I wiped another tear away. “Thank
you, Gina.”

“Now get back to work. I’ll
follow you out,” she said.

I walked into the bar, finally feeling
as if I had taken a little control of my situation back.

This is the end of Volume One of The Fourteen Day Soul Detox.

Keep
reading for an excerpt from Volume Two.

Volume
Two

Day
Two

Eating
My Feelings

After exiting my car and crossing the
parking lot at the side of my duplex, I peeked around the building.
Soft white light outlined my front door and porch. Almost no light
escaped into Clarke’s neighboring yard, and I had to squint to
bring the yard into focus.

Unless he was ducking behind our
adjoining fence, he wasn’t in his yard. I took a deep breath.

Behind me, a loud swooshing sound broke
the silence.

I jumped, spinning to see a neighbor
stepping out of the light and away from their open window.

Exhaling heavily, I turned back to my
duplex.

Clarke still wasn’t there, no one
was there.

“You’re being such a
chicken shit,” I whispered to myself. Taking my phone out of my
purse, I pulled up Cameron’s name.

Me:
You
awake?

Cameron:
Yes.

Me:
Will
you open the front door for me?

A second later, Cameron opened the
door. He stepped out, looking around. The light silhouetted his dark
hair, giving him a crown of light.

I hurried up to him, not quite running,
but close. “Hey,” I said in a low voice.

“Everything okay?” Cameron
asked when I stopped a step away from him. Though shadows entirely
masked his features, I could feel his gaze intently on mine.

I nodded. “Yeah, fine.”

“Okay, good,” he said,
stepping back inside.

After following him in, I turned,
making sure to lock both locks before looking back to Cameron.

He smiled down at me. “Hey, baby,
how was work?”

“Busy, busy. But I made almost
three hundred in tips.”

“Nice,” he said, leaning
down and giving me a soft kiss on my lips. “I still haven’t
given you your birthday present,” he said, stepping back but
taking my hand.

“Oh, yeah,” I said,
grinning. I tossed my purse onto the table we walked past.

“Yep, it’s all wrapped up
in your room,” he said with a smoldering grin.

I laughed. “That type of present,
is it?”

“You’ll have to see,”
he said, bobbing his eyebrows at me.

“Ha, okay. I’ll just check
on Sarah, and then meet you in there,” I said, lifting his hand
up and giving it a quick kiss before releasing it.

Sarah was fast asleep in her bed, her
leg thrown over the covers. She snored softly, her wavy hair streaks
of blonde in a sea of purple.

I tucked her foot back under her covers
and smoothed the blanket over her. Giving her a soft kiss on her
forehead, I whispered, “I love you, angel.”

Quickly, I checked that the window in
her room was securely locked, and then I left her room, closing the
door behind me.

I walked into my room to find Cameron
lying across my bed.

I stopped, just taking in the sight of
him lying across my bed. His head was propped up with his hand. The
grin twisting his lips invited me closer.

“I never see you on my bed,”
I said, then I corrected, “When I’m not in it.”

“Do you want me to sleep in your
bed?” he asked, and though his expression stayed casual, his
gaze seemed intense.

“Well… Sarah still crawls
in bed with me most nights,” I said, shrugging.

“If you warned her first, I think
she can handle it. I’ve been staying over for close to a year
now and she sees how we act together.”

I swallowed. “Maybe… Could
we talk about it later? I’m just a little too tired to talk
about anything serious.”

“Yeah.” He nodded, and then
looked down. Looking back into my eyes, he took a deep breath.
“Alright, well, come over here I want to give you your
present.”

He held up a medium-size rectangular
package, wrapped in tissue paper.

I crawled onto the bed toward him.

Cameron dropped the box, and grabbed
me, leading me to straddle his lap.

“Is it a book?” I asked,
looking down at him.

“You’ll see,” he said
with a grin.

Picking the package up from where it
landed on the bed, I ran my finger under the tape. The tissue paper
tore in a long fissure up the length of the present. Pulling the
paper away, I stared down at a photo-montage frame.