found myself in a bit of a pickle. I was a creature of habit, committed to my routine and its comforting predictability. And ever since Ted passed away, I’d become so reliant on that predictability and how grounding it was that any major deviation left me feeling anxious and lost. So when Jake woke me up that morning with his tongue between my legs and then wanted to spend the day together, I had to figure out a way to gently let him down and, without hurting his feelings, get it across to him that I needed my routine.
“So, what do you want to do today?” he asked with far too much pep in his voice for a Monday morning. He took a sip of coffee and poured himself some cereal.
“Umm,” I hummed. “Ah … ”
“Do you have to go in to work today?”
I gave him a regretful nod before scooping half a cup of granola over my yogurt. “Yeah. Don’t you?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess I do.” His lips curled into a wolfish grin. “Though I’d much rather play hooky with you.”
“I know your boss. Best not to piss him off.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Okay, well, what time are you off?”
“Five.”
“I can come pick you up.”
“Umm … ”
He lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t want me to?”
“Well … ”
“What’s wrong?”
“I … it’s just that I have my routine. And I always go for a run on Monday nights.”
He shrugged. “Cool, I’ll come with you.”
“Umm … ”
He snorted. “You don’t want me to?”
I avoided his probing stare and busied myself stirring my breakfast. “No … I … it’s my time, my ‘me’ time and I need it. I’m not sick of you. That’s not it. I’m just … I miss my me time.”
“Okay.” He cocked his head to the side like an adorable puppy. “Were you afraid to tell me?”
“I just didn’t want you to think that I was getting sick of you. ’Cause I’m not. I just need some time to myself.” I made a regretful face. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize for wanting some space. But … well, I do like spending time with you.” He shrugged. “When can I see you again?”
“Tomorrow night?”
He pouted but then thought about it and nodded. “Okay, tomorrow night. Meet you here after work?”
“Actually … I usually go to the gym with Emma for kickboxing on Tuesdays. It’s where we met. James takes the girls for a couple of hours. So after?”
He nodded. “Sure. I’m sure James could use a hand anyway.”
“You’re not mad?”
“No, of course not.” He abandoned his cereal and came up, his arms encircle my waist. “I mean, of course I’m disappointed, but I’m not a monster. I can bring dinner and we can Netflix and Chill.” His brows bobbed up and down.
“Netflix and Chill, eh?”
“Yeah, with less Netflix and chilling and a lot more sex.”
I threw my head back and laughed. “Okay, Tuesday night. But,” I checked the clock on the microwave, “I’ve gotta run. Can you lock up?” I reluctantly peeled myself out of his arms, grabbed my Tupperware container of my breakfast, pecked him on the cheek and was out the door.
That night, after an outstanding and invigorating thirteen-kilometer run around a budding neighborhood on the side of a small mountain—there were lots of parks and children playing with chalk or on bicycles in their driveways and I wanted to live there—I found myself toying with idea of calling Jake and inviting him over. I’d had a wonderful day at work, interactions with my students and co-workers could not have gone better.
I was just getting out of my car in the parking garage when a lone, dark figure moved in the shadows, making me jump.
I squeaked. “Oh, you startled me.”
“You Ted’s wife?” the big blob growled.
“Uh … yes.”
“Where is he?”
“Dead.” I was tired of telling people this and at that moment was too drained to be nice about it.
There was a startled strangle in the big behemoth’s throat, but then he coughed and rolled his shoulders. “Says who?”
That’s a weird thing to say.
“Says the coroner and the death certificate I have. Why? Who are you?”
“Yanni’s not going to like this,” he mumbled to himself, but his big baritone made even a whisper fill the concrete room with foreboding sound.
“Wh-who are you?” I stammered, fear finally taking hold of me as my eyes frantically searched the garage for another human being or a security camera. I knew they were in there, but the big lug remained in the shadows and, I was sure, in a blind spot.
“Your husband is in a heap of trouble, lady.”
“He’s not my husband anymore,” I whispered. “I told you, he’s dead.”
“Then you’re in trouble now.”
“How am I in trouble? What did Ted do?”
He sighed, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly but not detracting at all from his sinister shape and size. “Your husband was doing some work for my boss. He delivered the goods but never got the cash to my boss. And Yanni isn’t happy about it.”
“What kind of delivery?” My mind reeled with what kind of people Ted could possibly have gotten caught up with.
Oh God, Ted, even from beyond the grave you’re causing me all kinds of problems.
“If Yanni doesn’t get his money, he’s going to be pissed.”
“How do I know you’re not just some stranger trying to shake me down? Who’s this Yanni?” The words came out before I could stop them, and I quickly covered my gasp with my hand. How stupid could I get? Arguing with an enforcer the size of a Corolla.
With a low and menacing chuckle, he stepped out of the dark and into the hue of the dim orange light. I struggled with the urge to step back, but his face alone made me look away, pockmarked and scarred with a droopy left eye and half an ear missing. Combined with his size, barrel chest and greasy comb-over, he was what nightmares were made of.
“Imma give you thirty days to come up with the money your husband owed Yanni.”
“How much?” My heart beat rapidly, as though it was fighting to get out of my chest. I thought I was going to choke, with no one around but this frightening monster to hear my strangled cries.
“Fifty grand.”
It was though an elephant had just sat on my chest. “What? I—I don’t have that kind of money.”
His shoulder lifted, and he snorted. “Not my problem.”
Anger built inside me.
Ted and his schemes.
Ted and his lies.
I’d had enough.
No more.
His problems were not my problems.
Not anymore.
I threw my shoulders back and stared him straight in his cold black eyes. “And I told you he’s dead, so it’s not my problem either.”
“You’re making a big mistake, lady.”
“And you’re trespassing.” My entire body shook, but thankfully my voice was still pretty even. He couldn’t know how terrified I was, how much I wanted to just flee and bar the doors in my apartment and never leave again.
“You’re going to be sorry.” He turned around and sank back into the shadows, but not before sending me one last, final, gut-wrenching threat. “Oh, and don’t even think about going to the cops. I’d hate to have to hurt that pretty blonde friend of yours. The one with the two little kids.”