I hadn't really cried myself to sleep Thursday night, but I did soak through several tissues while a silly romantic movie played on television. Typical fare for the Sappy Film Channel: a couple almost became a couple and then something stupid broke them apart. But there was still a slender thread of "whatever" that was enough to bond them through the crisis-of-the-day. As if.
After I'd settled down, I checked my e-mail and looked at some of the idiocy on everybody's favorite social network. I vaguely wondered if I'd ever be so bored that I'd seek comfort there. Hmm. Now that I was completely unencumbered by that new guy in town, perhaps those posts and comments could soon become the center of my social existence.
Before I left for work Friday morning, I stood at my back door and looked out over the distant pond. A large hawk with a white chest soared over the water and then assumed a commanding position atop a tall oak to the north a bit. I wished I knew its name. I wondered what it saw or waited for. If a he-hawk, he probably waited for a gullible female, like me, to stumble into his clutches. Well, I'd already been torn to shreds and spit out. I didn't plan on being a predator's victim ever again.
The mysterious pirate I'd encountered under bizarre circumstances was gone — in my life one day then poof, disappeared. Maybe that's what Ryan did when he'd left wherever and arrived in Greene County. I wondered where he'd gone and why he wouldn't just tell me.
Ryan Hazzard was pretty much as I'd pegged him from the very beginning: a typical male who'd find the right key words to get me abuzz — then he'd steal my honey. And zoom away.
Well, I had no need for that experience again. No sir, not Kristen Prima. There were plenty of other local women who'd be only too happy to swoon for that buccaneer, but not me.
I'd left a window partly open and Ryan pretty much broke the whole pane trying to squeeze through getting inside. There was already enough shattered glass in my life. No more.
"Why wouldn't Ryan tell me anything?" I may as well have asked the hungry hawk outside. Elvis sauntered over and stretched magnificently, as cats do so well. At least I had a correspondent now. "Okay, Elvis, tell me why on earth I should spend another Verdeville minute thinking about a man who gets me interested, busts his head wide open, sleeps on my couch, then stiffs me for days, strolls around with that lawyer tramp, writes stupid notes that don't reveal anything, leaves bizarre voicemails that don't say anything. Then, when he finally calls me four days later, he acts like we should just forget everything, start over, and whatever. Oh, but it'd have to wait 'til he got back. Then I ask him one simple question, 'where are you?' and there he goes back to his standard non-communicative baloney. How can everything about this new guy be a long story?"
Elvis had been rubbing against my shins until that final question. Then he stopped and stared intently into my eyes.
"If you were Pyewacket, I'd be able to understand what you just said. But since you're only Elvis, I'll take that for your complete agreement. Ryan Hazzard is merely one more doodle mark in my book of horrible history."
A glance at the clock reminded me I had to hustle. The last thing I wanted was an extra Friday snarl from Miss Zachery.
****
As soon as I put my key in the back door of the mall branch, I remembered that Aynette would be gone all day, for two medical appointments on the south side of Nashville. She'd explained only one to me; her husband snored so badly that Aynette wasn't getting any rest at night. So their Verdeville doctor referred her to a sleep specialist in the City. The way Aynette explained it seemed to typify her entire life with Dellun the Dullard. "My husband snores so bad that I can't sleep, and they're gonna medicate me!"
****
My entire shift was the pits. Miss Z seemed to have a complete set of extra eyeballs to monitor my every twitch. I felt like I was in high school biology lab — a live insect writhing on a long pin while the sadistic teacher examined me.
During my lunch break I took a chance at reaching Ellen at school. I couldn't remember her schedule, but hoped I'd catch her. I didn't, so I just left a message for her to call me.
Ellen called back while I still had about seven minutes left of my own break. "What's up, Kris? I don't have long before my next appointment."
I hated to bother my good friend, but she was where I often found level ground. "This whole thing with Ryan was just a pipe dream, Ellen." I explained the bizarre phone call Thursday and all my ruminations since.
"Well, maybe that's for the best — a little time might help. Things seemed to move quickly with him on your couch. Now the pace has slowed." She paused, probably to give me time to digest her observations. "If this is more than physical attraction, there's nothing to rush about. It might even be good that he's out of town right now."
I took a moment to think, but didn't really concur. "You know, from the very beginning, something's been fishy about this whole Ryan business."
"You mean the rumors and such?"
"Well, that. But I've been half-way thinking that maybe he got himself locked up in that armory on purpose, just so he could sidle up and get me all goofy about him."
It sounded like Ellen closed her office door. "Kris, do you know how that sounds? Think about it. If that were true — if he'd planned that initial event — do you realize how fantastically involved it would've been?"
I sputtered. "But you said almost the same thing before…" I recalled the first time I'd revealed those circumstances. "He just had to hide for an hour or two and then come to my rescue. I wouldn't put it past him."
"Well, I've had time to think about it because I sat down and tried to write a similar scene." Ellen paused to gather the facts. "Ryan pretends to fall asleep, manages to elude detection by all the people leaving, waits in total silence and darkness for you to wake up and start yammering, then he gropes his way over to you. Plus, he fakes a hangover, bribes a city policeman to roust you both, risks big trouble in court, and even trains a spider to hide your key."
Stated that way, it did sound slightly unlikely, but Momma used to say, "Where there's smoke, there's fire".
"Now don't you think your, uh, imagination is running away on this one?" Ellen probably meant to say paranoia.
"Okay, maybe you've got a point. But it sure is weird that a stranger could get under my skin like Ryan has."
"Kris, that could be a good thing. You need somebody under your skin. It's been a long time. You need to thaw out your heart enough to let someone peek inside. Maybe that's what happened at the shelter last weekend." Ellen paused. "You need to relax enough to start trusting somebody again."
"I trust you." I had to think because it was a short list. "Uh, Eric — I trust him. Except he swipes my beer and eats all my snacks."
"Not the same thing…"
"I know, I know. You're right." She was almost always right; that's why I depended on her so much. "I know you have to get ready for your next session and I've got to go too, but I really appreciate this, Ellen. You're always a big help."
"I'm pleased to help if I can, Kris. But remember — you're the one holding the keys. Unlock a few doors and let in some air and sunlight. And if a pirate with no background check wanders in, at least give him a chance. Okay?"
"Yeah, okay. Thanks, Ellen."
"Remember, you've got the keys. Bye."
My eyes were damp as I closed the phone.
****
The afternoon wasn't nearly as bad as the morning. Miss Z gave me a little space — if not physically, at least emotionally — and the few customers were mostly pleasant. Still no sign of the money order scuzzball.
As soon as I turned in my money drawer, I hurried to my car. The mid-November air was cool but not uncomfortable, perfect weather for my flight jacket.
If anybody had asked me how I felt that morning I would have snarled, but at that particular moment I felt pretty good. I wasn't exactly certain why. Maybe because I finally realized I'd probably see Ryan again — sometime, somewhere — but I'd decided to stop fretting about it. And we'd either pick back up where we left off, or not. It would happen or it wouldn't, and no amount of angst would affect that either way.
It kind of felt like I'd shed a rough, heavy skin which I didn't need anymore. I took a deep breath. Yeah, I felt good enough to grab an early supper and go to the football game at seven o'clock.
When I got home, I gave Elvis a kibble snack and took a short nap. Nuked a pot pie for twelve minutes and wolfed it down.
Hey, my appetite was back.