I sleep like shit, so when it’s finally an acceptable hour to get out of bed I’m on my feet. My shower is cold, and my towel is rough and most mornings it doesn’t bother me. But today I feel like my skin is sensitive. Everything that touches it feels uncomfortable and I don’t like it.
I fucked around in the barn last night until it was way past midnight and I thought Dorothy would be asleep. Dotty. That little bundle piece came out of that car and walked in this house like she belonged here. The goddamn problem is that she looked like she did.
A city girl with clean jeans and sandals, wearing a too-tight sweater, looked like she fit right in even though this place is a pigsty. I’d never really felt ashamed of my home before because my excuse was that I worked too hard to come home and wash a plate, but seeing her staring at my mess made me want to apologize. But what did I do instead? Oh yeah, stomped out of there like a cat with its tail caught in a barn door and hid out of sight until she was asleep.
I hung my head in shame as I went to bed, not even bothering to turn on the lights. God, I did so much to update this place, but the past few months have been hard. It’s not that I can’t keep up, but I just keep working myself to the bone every day, and I’ve let things go. I thought by hiring a live-in cleaner it would help, but now I just feel like a failure.
After I pull on my jeans without bothering to put on underwear, I grab a white shirt off the top of the dresser. I haven’t done laundry in so long, I’m used to not wearing underwear anymore, and white shirts are cheap and easy to come by.
I tiptoe past the guest room, carrying my boots in my hand so I don’t wake her up. I pause at her door for a second, and the image of that fucking ring on her finger flashes in my mind. I turn away quickly and make my way downstairs. I’ve never spent time thinking on what it would be like to have a woman, but I’d burn my farm to the ground before I let her sleep in another man’s home. I didn’t realize I could have that kind of anger, and the reaction to her ring surprised me.
I’m lost in my thoughts when I get to the kitchen and don’t realize the light is on. I stop mid-step when I see Dotty in front of the stove frying up some country ham and gravy.
“Good morning.” She smiles over at me, and my chest tightens.
I open my mouth to say something, but I think I might be having a heart attack.
She’s got her blond hair in a messy bun with no makeup on. She’s got on an oversized T-shirt, long plaid sleep pants and she’s barefoot. There’s nothing sexy about what she has on, but I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.
Her honey-wheat eyes meet mine, and for a second I can see it. I can see her here in this house as my bride and the mother of my babies. I picture her down here every morning in the kitchen, barefoot and smiling at me as I leave for the day. I can almost feel her warm body pressed against mine as I hold her and just absorb her love into me before I have to go.
But the shine on her ring catches my attention, and the vision evaporates like smoke.
I nod as I walk past her and over to the small table in the kitchen because I never eat in the dining room. I pull on my boots and it’s then I glance around and see the kitchen is clean. All the dishes have been put away, and there’s no trace of my mess. God, how long has she been awake, or did she do this last night while I was gone?
“You hungry?” she asks, holding out the spatula to her side with her other hand on her round hip.
“Yeah.” I sit back and she serves up a plate with homemade biscuits, and my stomach rumbles. I can’t remember the last time I ate anything homemade that wasn’t me opening a can.
“I packed you lunch too.” She smiles as she moves around the kitchen like she’s used to being there.
I take a bite of the ham, biscuit and gravy, and groan. I lean back in my chair and close my eyes because I don’t know if I’ve ever had something so good. She laughs, but I can’t look at her. I can’t see what might be there as I enjoy what she’s made for me. In my mind I think that this is just for me, but she probably gets up early like this all the time and was making her own breakfast. I’ll reap the benefits of it, if that’s the case, but part of me wants to believe that it’s mine. I’m not used to this feeling in my chest, and once again it’s tight. It feels like jealousy, but that doesn’t make sense. Why would I be jealous she did all this when that’s what I’m paying her to do?
Speaking of paying her, she’s probably up early to get her money. I take my wallet out and pull out a stack of cash. “That’s yours.” I say and nod to the money.
“Oh yeah, I forgot about that.” She smiles again but doesn’t make a move to take it. I go back to eating while she turns on the water at the sink.
“You not eating?” I ask as I look over for another plate.
“I have a hard time eating right when I wake up. I usually just have coffee.” She holds up her mug and takes a sip.
I stop chewing and look at all the food then look back at her in question.
“I thought you might be hungry, and I knew you’d be up early. I just wanted to start the day off on a better foot than yesterday.” She reaches over and grabs a bagged lunch and places it beside me on the table. “I’m going to go take a shower, but feel free to eat the rest or it will go to waste.”
She turns around and walks away, and for half a second I want to reach out and grab her. I want to pull her onto my lap and tell her how thankful I am that she did this for me, but I don’t. Instead I sit in silence as she walks out of the kitchen and up the stairs. My plate is empty, but somehow I’m still hungry. I feel hollow inside like I’ve never been full, and I rub at my chest. Why won’t this feeling go away?
After I eat another plateful of food, I decide to clean up the dishes. She did all this work to make it look nice and got up early to cook for me. The least I can do is put my dishes away. I take my time and dawdle a little longer than necessary, but it’s definitely not because I want to see her again before I leave.
When I hear Otis whistle outside the barn, I know I’m out of time, so I grab my lunch and my hat on the way out the door. The fall air is cool this morning, and it smells like winter is hot on its heels. At the last second, I go back inside and throw a couple of logs in the fireplace and light it up, thinking that I don’t want Dotty to catch a chill.
When I get to the barn, Otis gives me an odd look as he drinks his coffee. “You okay this morning?” I nod and he cocks his head to the side. “You look different.”
“How?”
“Don’t know really.” He walks over to the stables and places his mug on the railing as he grabs the saddle. “But you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I stop and stare at him as my eyebrows pull together. “What?”
“Not scared or anything. It’s hard to explain.” He looks me over again as he carries the saddle to the next stall. “You just look like you’ve seen something, maybe something for the first time.”
Otis turns his back to me as he saddles the horse, and I think about what he’s saying. I glance out of the barn doors and to the big house where Dotty is in the shower. I think about seeing her in the kitchen and how much I ached to hold her. I’ve never been touched by a woman, not even for an embrace, but I imagine a hug from her would make this ache in my chest go away.
The problem is she’s got a ring on her finger, so she belongs to someone else. But if she were mine, I don’t think I could ever let her go.