Deadly Dosage (3 page)

Oh hell. It’s amazing how food can trigger emotions. I walked
back into the kitchen and hugged him from behind.

“You win, Sam,” I said holding him tight.

He turned in my arms, smiled, and kissed me. “Back on then?”

I returned his smile and nodded. 

He gave me a little squeeze and continued cooking.

I watched him as he placed four strips of bacon on one of my
Corning ware plates. He added three perfectly fried eggs and a couple of
buttered, slices of rye toast. He pulled open a drawer and grabbed a fork.

I took a plate and fork and followed him. He placed the plate
on the table and pulled out a chair. I sat down with my plate and fork. He looked
at me strangely and sat down. Before I could reach for the toast, he slid the
plate over, and began crunching on a slice of toast.

“Where’s mine?” I inquired.

“Where’s your what?” he asked between chews.

Was he serious? “Food,” I said with much exasperation.
“You’re sharing, right?”    

“No. If you’re hungry, make something,” he said and shoveled
a gob of eggs into his mouth.

I jumped to my feet. “Out!” I shouted. “Right now!”

He looked at me crossly. “Now what?”

“I’m so stupid. You’ll never change. It’s all about you.
Leave, Sam.”   

“I’m not done,” he said. “Besides, I don’t have my shirt. Sit
down and relax.” He lifted the fork and I knocked it out of his hand.

“Get out, Sam.” I stood firmly and pointed to the door. “Put
on your jacket and leave.” I grabbed it and threw it at him. “I changed my
mind. We
are
through! Over. Finito!”

He pulled his jacket on over his bare chest. His anger was
apparent. “You’re psychotic, Sunny. Christ, don’t bother trying to call me
until you get your head on straight. Until then, we’re through!”

“Finally, you get it!” I pushed him out the door and slammed
the deadbolt in place. I went back to the table, grabbed the plate of food, and
wolfed it down without stopping.

 “Bastard,” I cried under my breath.

Chapter 4

It was
past noon when my sister Spring called from our dad’s house. They were heading
out to a movie and wanted to know if I cared to join them. Spring spent sixty
percent of her time traveling for her sales job, so it would be nice to see her
again so I agreed. Ten minutes later, I was dressed in my favorite gray jeans
and bulky navy sweater. I maneuvered into my black ski coat with the fake fur
collar. It had been a rare gift from Sam. My gloves were in the pockets, so I
grabbed my no name, black leather handbag, and left, being sure to lock up
behind me.

A dusting of snow covered my brand spanking new, black Kia
Forte Koup. At 1.9% financing, I could not pass it up and I splurged on the
navigation package. I’m a lousy map-reader and Autumn told me I deserved it.
Usually when I buy stuff, it’s due to Autumn’s insistence. I’m not a tightwad
by any means; I just don’t like spending money on myself. My only regret is
that it didn’t have four-wheel drive, since I’m not the best driver in winter,
which seems to encompass half the year in Wisconsin.

As I drew closer, I noticed a glimmer of silver running
across the top of the door on the driver’s side. “Shit!” I screamed into the
winter wind, running my gloved finger across the car’s first blemish. Someone
had scraped the finish off with a key. The voices in my head told me Sam did
it. “Okay,” I said softly, trying to get my rage in check. “Revenge is best
when served up cold.” His day would come, when he least expected it. I jumped
in and slammed the door shut. I cursed once more and drove off.

When the car began heating up, I hit the play button on the
CD player and sang along to “Dreamer” by Supertramp. It only took a little over
fifteen minutes to get to my dad’s house, yet the car heater worked great and I
was nice and toasty, almost hot by the time I arrived. However, four seconds
after I opened my car door upon arrival, I was freezing again. I ran around
Spring’s company car parked in the middle of the drive, pulled the front door
opened and quickly stepped inside the house.

My parents divorced when I was a feisty fourteen. Spring just
turned seventeen at the time and became quite melodramatic and Autumn, going on
twelve, became withdrawn. I took it in stride outwardly. Internally, I cried.
Things are never quite the same after a divorce no matter how hard you try; you
can’t bring back the past. Long story short, they told us they just grew apart,
still friends but with no romance. I think that’s why Spring, Autumn and I are
all a little afraid of commitment.

My parents’ house hadn’t changed since the divorce;
traditional late sixties style, white brick with burgundy trim with yews out
front and a huge silver Maple tree by my old bedroom window. Mom didn’t want
the upkeep of a house, so she moved into a chic downtown condo in a renovated
brewery close to the travel agency where she was employed, and had been there
for the last twenty years.

Dad stayed in the suburbs where he fit in and did his best to
finish raising us while working for Bucyrus-Erie as a mechanical engineer. Mom
took us on trips each year; free travel benefits extended to immediate family.
We stayed close, and saw her most weekends, however none of us wanted to live
downtown and the city schools weren’t the greatest, still aren’t.

Usually when I entered my childhood home, my dad would be
cooking something. Today was no different. I inhaled the distinct aroma of chop
suey as I entered the kitchen. “Yum,” I said lifting the pot cover.

“Have some,” said my dad.

“Do we have time?” 

Spring looked at the wall clock. “Go ahead; we have
forty-five minutes to kill before the movie.”

I dished out heaping spoonfuls into a bowl, crumbed some
crunchy noodles on top, and drowned it in soy sauce. I sat at the table and
chowed down. “Delicious,” I managed to squeak out between mouthfuls.

“Don’t you eat at home?” my dad asked with concern.

“Tapeworm,” I said. He laughed and slopped some more into my
bowl.

“I hope you get fat,” Spring said somewhat seriously. Spring
tended to pack on the pounds easily. She complained she practically lived on
the road and had to eat what was available. I told her to make healthier
choices. Willpower isn’t her strong suit, yet she never seemed more than ten
pounds overweight. At the present time, she looked great.

     Unlike
Autumn and I, Spring always looks professional. At 5’6”, she towers over us,
which at times is intimidating. She wears her hair short and stylish and the
color changes with her moods. It’s currently auburn with caramel highlights;
not flattering in the least.  

     “New
hair color I see.” I took my bowl to the sink and rinsed it. I figured that if
I kept my head down, avoiding eye contact, I wouldn’t have to offer my opinion.

“Nino hates it,” she seethed. Nino Paragopolous is her on
again, off again boyfriend of four years. He’s a thirty-five year old Greek
restaurant owner, who came over from Greece with his immediate family when he
was a teenager. He seems to be related to everyone, is handsome in a stuffy
sort-of way, and can be irksome. Nino prefers platinum blonde, the color she
had when he met her at his brother Leo’s sports bar.

     “Makes
you look like a hooker,” my dad exclaimed.

     “Jeez,
thanks, Dad.” Spring shot him a look that could wilt fresh-cut roses.

     “So,
what are we seeing?” I needed to change the subject quickly and defuse an
upcoming argument. I know them all too well.

     She
grabbed the paper and pointed to the schedule. “It’s either this romantic
comedy with Matt dreamy…”

     “He’s
a crappy actor,” my dad interjected.

Spring and I smiled at each other. Dad was very opinionated.
Over the years, we found it easier to agree with him than to debate him. It
took a lot of passion on a subject to convince my dad he might not be entirely
right. He absolutely loved Nino, who agreed with him on all fronts.

     “Yeah,
okay, Dad,” Spring finished, “or this cop thriller with Clint Eastwood. They’re
both at the same time.”

     “Let’s
go with the cop thriller,” I said. Maybe I could learn some revenge tips.

     “Good
girl,” my dad stated giving me a pat on the shoulder. At least I knew how to
make him happy.

Chapter 5

After the
movie, we dined at a family restaurant owned equally by Nino and his cousin,
Agapios Voullo. Aggy, as he liked to be called, has been trying to date me for
years. I’m one hundred percent positive I’ll never be desperate enough to say
yes. Call me picky but I like a guy who’s taller than me, without coarse, pubic
hair curls on his head and chest. Aggy’s multilayered chin ended where his
chest began. If it were not for the numerous gold chains he wore about his
thick neck, it would be lost forever in layers of fat. Sadly, he’s worth a cool
million.

I chose my usual sliced turkey with mashed potatoes, lots of
gravy and cranberries. You can’t go wrong with a Thanksgiving type meal at a
Greek restaurant; trust me on this. Aggy is always there supervising, so he
swung by to say hi to Spring and my dad, and then asked me out. For the
umpteenth time I turned down his offer. He was a persistent one.

     “You
should go out with him, he’s rich,” my dad stated when Aggy left the table. My
dad had absolutely no taste in possible gentleman callers. Even if I put a
brown bag over Aggy’s head, and turned off all the lights, he would still gross
me out. I consider myself darn lucky I wasn’t born in the olden days when the
father chose the husband for his daughter.

“Someday you could own this restaurant,” he said with
emphasis.

     “Not
worth it,” Spring and I said simultaneously. We giggled like schoolgirls.

     We
finished up and Spring suggested we go to Leo’s Bar and Grill for a drink. I
declined stating I was tired and wanted to relax and read a book I started. I
love them dearly but I can only handle so many family hours in a day. Spring
dropped me off at my dad’s and they took off after I started my car. This time
the car was only lukewarm by the time I pulled into the apartment parking lot.
On evenings like this, when my breath freezes while walking down the sidewalk,
I wonder why I haven’t moved down south. It’s not like there isn’t an abundance
of nursing homes in Florida.

     I took
the stairs two at a time, holding the fake fur of my jacket over my mouth. I
shoved the key into the lock and turned back and forth but the door wouldn’t
open. Sometimes it freezes, so I threw my body into the door and tried again
and it opened. I entered my apartment just as it started to snow. My answering
machine was flashing three new messages. I punched play and listened while I
took off my jacket and gloves. Dead air. Beep. “Hi Brandi, that was me before.
Sorry. Call me back.” Beep. “Sunny, Sam. I want you to return the DVD you
borrowed.”

     I
was halfway through that movie and it was really funny. I planned to watch it
tonight while I ate handfuls of semi-sweet chocolate chips and washed them down
with instant cocoa with marshmallows. I walked over to the cocktail table, picked
up the package, read the back, and then opened it. Pushing down on the center
clips, I withdrew the DVD disk and placed the package back on the table. I
walked to the patio doors, unlocked, and slid the door open. A cold burst of
air blew into the apartment. Ignoring the cold, I walked out onto the snowy
balcony and tossed the disk like a Frisbee toward the dumpster. I missed and it
landed behind a car that was in the process of being backed out of its parking
space. I heard a crunch and smiled. Take that Sam! I walked back in, slid the
door into place, and locked it. Returning to the table, I picked up the
package, walked into the kitchen, and tossed it into the garbage can. I know I
bit off my nose to spite my face but I felt compelled to do it. Besides, Donna
gave me a book I wanted to start.

Chapter 6

Sunday,
February 12th

A foot
and a half of new snow had fallen during the night and I woke up Sunday morning
with the beginning of a migraine. I got out of bed, tripped over my throw rug
and crashed into my dresser. Swearing under my breath, I made it to the
bathroom and downed a couple of migraine caplets. I looked across the hall into
Brandi’s bedroom. The door stood open and I glimpsed a naked male butt. I know
this sounds strange; the butt looked familiar. I sneaked into the room for a
better look. He turned over and my mouth dropped open.

     “What
the fuck?” I swore loudly, and covered my mouth. I usually try hard not to say
the f-word to avoid sounding like a truck driver. At this moment, all other
words escaped me.

I know I broke up with him, but wasn’t it a little soon to
hop into bed with my roommate? I felt like kicking him in the head. Instead, I
did the next best thing.

I went back into my room and quickly got dressed as quietly
as I could. I tiptoed into the living room, grabbed my jacket off the coat
tree, and slid on my boots. With my keys in hand, I ran down the stairs and
plunged through the knee-high snow to Sam’s truck.

That truck always meant more to him than me. I looked around,
and when I was sure no one was watching, I ran my key from his front right
fender to the truck bed for good measure. Revenge! Ha! Now I had to cover my
tracks. But how? I was stumped only for a moment. Like a squirrel playing, I zigzagged
through the parking lot making trails to different cars, which was no easy feat
in almost two feet of snow. I ran up and down the set of stairs in the rear of
the apartments, kicking up the snow as I went. Sure that my trail could not be
followed, I went back upstairs and quietly let myself in.