Smother (20 page)

“Why are you here today?” she asked.

“Why are you?”

“Well, I wouldn’t be if I hadn’t seen you here.” Moving behind the desk, she perched on the stool and watched him across the room. “What are you working on?”

He lifted his eyes to the wall before him, lips pressed into a straight line. “A drawing.”

“Oh? And here I thought you were baking cupcakes.” She shrugged her coat off, setting it, along with her stocking cap and mittens, on the counter.

“You thought wrong.” Leo turned his attention back to his artwork.

Reese got up and walked over to him, curious to see what he was drawing. It was half of a face, perfectly sliced in two. The features were nondescript at the same time there was something terribly sad about them. There was no gender separation and it seemed to be a symbol more than anything. To her, it was joy and sorrow, emotions separated and yet still so close to each other. It was hauntingly poetic, if images could be construed as such.

“What does it mean?”

“Nothing. It’s just a drawing,” was his curt response.

She turned her gaze from the picture to his stiffened posture. He was hunched partially over it like he didn’t want her to see it. “Why do you do that?”

His gaze moved to hers, a suspicious cast to his dark eyes. “Do what?”

“Try to hide.” Reese wasn’t only talking about the drawings. She was talking about him, and all the many sides Leo wanted to remain concealed.

“Why do you?” he shot back.

She opened her mouth, then closed it. Shrugging, Reese said, “It’s how I protect myself, I guess. Is it the same for you?”

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to. She knew it was true. Leo got to his feet and snatched the sketch from the desk.

She put a hand to his chest when he tried to move past her. His heart beat beneath her palm, steady and strong. “What you do is amazing, which makes you amazing. You shouldn’t try to hide that. Do you pay attention to how people respond to their tattoos? Do you ever look at their faces when they leave here? They
glow.

“Okay, sometimes it’s just because they’re dumb and feel awesome since they tattooed their skin with macho crap, but other times—like that woman who lost her baby—remember her? When you tattooed that image of her baby on her shoulder you gave her back a piece of what she’d lost.”

He was staring at her and Reese stepped back when the heat of his gaze became too much. She cleared her throat and moved toward her coat. It was time for her to go. Why did she tell him that? Opening up to him was horrible idea, even if the subject was him.

“Anyway, I like the drawing. See—”

“We all think we’re less than what we really are.” he interrupted.

“What?”

“You think it.”

Reese swallowed. “I don’t—”

“It’s nice to know someone thinks we’re more.”

There was meaning behind his words, making them heavy, and it was aimed at her. There was a thank you in there, along with praise.

“Do you have plans?” The subject was changed, and Reese was glad of it.

“Plans?” She raised her eyebrows, purposely pretending she didn’t know what he meant.

“It’s Thanksgiving.”

“No.” Reese swallowed. “I don’t.”

“Come with me,” Leo said as he reached over and handed her, her coat.

“No, thanks. Go ahead.” She nodded to the door. “I’ll close up.”

Belligerence flared to life in his eyes, lightened them. “I mean it, Reese. Come on.”

“What, you don’t trust me? I’ll follow you out and lock the door. Promise.”

“That’s not the point. It’s Thanksgiving.”

Reese scowled at him, giving him a quick shove. “Get out of here. I’m not going with you. I don’t want to be around you and whoever you’re going to see. That would be awkward.”

“We’re not going to be with anyone I know.”

She frowned at him, but he was facing forward, pulling her along after him. “Why not?”

“Because.”

“Good answer. Mature.” Reese tugged her wrist from his grip as they stepped outside. “Then where are we going?”

He didn’t answer her, locking the door behind them. She shivered as freezing air blasted her from all angles. Even so, the air smelled of snow and baked bread, the combination somehow alluring in her cold state. Reese quickly shoved her arms into her winter jacket and zipped it up as she waited, wondering why she wasn’t crossing the street to her apartment with her middle finger waving goodbye to her boss the whole way. She shoved her stocking cap on her head and put her gloves on, brushing bangs from her eyes.

Leo looked at her and then jerked his head toward his silver Dodge Durango. “Get in.”

“You have no personality, you know that?”

The look he gave her said he wasn’t too concerned over that. He headed for the vehicle, and with a sigh, she followed.

“Where are we going?” Reese asked as they got in the SUV.

He wordlessly started the vehicle.

“Don’t you have any family you want to be with?” She was genuinely curious. It said volumes of her self-centeredness that she’d never thought to ask such a question before.

“Seatbelt.”

Reese stared at him, but when he remained unmoving and silent, she quickly buckled the seatbelt. His was already in its proper place. He pulled the vehicle out into traffic.

She crossed her arms. “You know—”

“Talk too much.”

“Don’t talk enough,” she mocked in a low, raspy voice. His lips twitched and Reese allowed a small smile to graze hers as she turned to look out the window.

Streetlamps covered in Christmas decorations and lights led the way to their unknown destination. They got off the main street and into a residential part of town, the glow of multi-colored lights increasing as they went. Reese watched the holiday decorations with longing and sadness clenching her chest. They reminded her that her childhood had small, infrequent, pretty blankets of lies over the ugliness that lived in the house with her, strewn together in an uneven string of Christmas lights, presents, and fake smiles.

“Why do people ruin Thanksgiving with Christmas lights?” she asked, her face close to the passenger window.

“Why does it ruin it?”

Reese rolled her eyes, but didn’t say anything to that.

“Where are we going?” she asked a few minutes later.

He didn’t answer.

“Do you murder small animals in your spare time?”

The vehicle lurched to a stop and her head whipped forward and back. She glared at him, swearing she could see the faint outline of a smile upon his mouth. When she realized they were parked outside of a church, Reese’s veins froze. It didn’t matter what denomination it was. No church was a good church. Hypocrites and liars entered those kinds of places. They sinned, confessed, and sinned again. She might do bad things, but at least she didn’t pretend she didn’t.

“Hell no,” she muttered, twisting in her seat to face him. “I’m not going to church. Take me back home. Now. Never mind. I’ll walk.” Reese unbuckled the seatbelt and reached for the doorknob. A vise immediately cuffed her wrist to halt her. She stared down at the lean-fingered hand wrapped around hers.

“We’re not going in the church part.”

Her eyes lifted to his. “Then where are we going?”

Leo released her wrist and got out of the SUV, opening her door before she could. The kind gesture was a stab to her jaded heart and she retaliated by bumping into his shoulder with hers as she strode past.

“Don’t be nice to me,” she muttered and crossed her arms so that her gloved hands were tucked under her armpits to better preserve warmth.

“Why? Would that make you nice in return?”

“Now there’s a scary thought.”

She stopped at the steps to the stone building, noting the sign stating it was a Methodist church. Her stomach rebelled her presence being here, because she was unholy and because churches made her nauseous. Her adoptive father was big on religion, and if that wasn’t the most messed up truth of all.

Leo walked past her, assuming she would follow. With gritted teeth, Reese had to admit he was right—she followed him.

They went around the back of the building and walked through a door that led them down a set of stairs. The space around them was constricted, the air chilled, but there was also a mouthwatering scent swirling about. Cinnamon and ham and baked bread teased her senses. The narrow hallway opened up into a room filled with long tables, chairs, and numerous people. A row of tables was along one wall, with people standing behind the tables serving food. A staggered line of mismatched bodies that started beside her was making its way to the tables.

Leo nodded at people as they said hello, threading his fingers through Reese’s to pull her along. She told herself she shouldn’t enjoy him holding her hand, since it was merely to better maneuver her behind him, but it felt nice to have her hand lost within a larger one that promised safety merely by proximity. He moved to stand behind stacks of cups, and went about filling them with lemonade, milk, water, or coffee upon request.

Reese stood next to him, feeling lost, until he nodded at pans of varying desserts and said, “Those need to be cut and distributed.”

“What do you mean, distributed?”

“Take them to people.” Iron eyes under lifted eyebrows fixated on her until she moved.

“Right. Okay.” Reese grabbed a knife and cut a pumpkin pie, plopping the pieces on paper plates and dousing them with whipped topping. “Why are we doing this again?” she asked Leo as she took two plates and moved around him.

“Because these people need us.”

“They don’t need us. They don’t need me. They just need someone,” she protested. It was a weak argument.

Leo stepped toward her and placed his mouth next to her ear. “Look at them. Really look at them. It’s Thanksgiving, Reese. Be the thing someone is thankful for.” He nudged her. “Go. Look. Smile.”

She grumbled to herself as she weaved her way around men, women, and children, thinking this was stupid. But then a little girl smiled up at her with big brown eyes as she took a slice of pumpkin pie, and an elderly man patted her hand when she gave him a piece of chocolate cake. Reese’s heart shrank only to widen as she allowed something inside. She didn’t put a name to it, she didn’t think she could. But she moved around the room, and felt like she had a purpose, and it was a good one.

Reese avoided Leo’s eyes, not wanting him to see that she understood. She wanted to be selfish with the knowledge, hug the shining light of awareness tight to her chest so that it didn’t blink into nothingness. It wasn’t always about her. Yeah, she’d had a shit life, but so had others. She wasn’t the only one with problems or that struggled. Reese could tell even Leo had his share of bad things to deal with. What really mattered was how people decided to handle their shit lives.

She’d been doing a horrible job so far.

They stayed until the last person went through the line, and when no one else came, they helped clean up. Reese didn’t speak to anyone. She moved, cleaned, and felt. Leo brought her a plate of turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, stuffing, corn, and a buttered roll. A smaller plate housed a large piece of pecan pie with whipping topping sliding down its sides.

She sat down to eat, starving and exhausted but with a glow inside. It was a foreign inclination, but Reese wanted to smile. Her face yearned to release the feeling of accomplishment she’d experienced with the curving of lips.

Leo sat across from her, his plate of food twice the size of hers. She kept her eyes on the meal as she ate, and she didn’t think she’d ever had anything that tasted better. It tasted good because she’d worked for it, she’d earned it. And not because she’d had to, but because the longer she walked around the room serving those in need, the more she wanted to be there.

He kicked her leg under the table.

Scowling, she looked up with her mouth full of bread.

“Done good, Reese.”

She swallowed the bread down and drank from a glass of water. “Thanks for your approval.”

He didn’t say anything to that, and when the stillness of him became exasperating, she looked up again. Leo was smiling at her. Not a big, wide smile that shone like the sun and showed teeth, but a hesitant, shy one that was twenty million times better. Reese finally let her own come forth, laughing softly as well.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” she told him, meaning it.

Leo winked at her before digging into his food. Reese decided this Thanksgiving was one she wanted to remember.

Her hand shook as the phone number and name she was looking at registered in her mind. Pressing a hand to her eyes, Reese ignored the call, relief blanketing her when the shrill noise ended. There was no reason for that name and number to be calling her. They hadn’t spoken in years. She never wanted to speak to them again. But as soon as the call ended, the cell phone immediately started to ring again.

It rang five more times before she answered it. She was going insane listening to it. First Reese turned the phone to vibrate, and then she silenced it. She considered turning the phone off, but knew she had to face whatever they wanted with her sooner or later. Reese took a deep breath and answered the phone.