How to Save a Life (8 page)

That’s alright, I rather liked that Sadie couldn’t answer me. I didn’t have to deal with back talk or smart attitudes.

After cleaning up the mess, in which I had to throw out my mop because it was now stained red, I went ahead and started preparing breakfast.

Sheridan still hadn’t emerged from the other end of the house, so I hoped that she was a fan of omelets.

I placed my skillet on the burner closest to me on my right and turned the knob to my electric stove on high, to get the pan nice and heated. Next, I diced up some ham, peppers, and mushrooms into bite-sized pieces and placed them to the side, letting a few ‘accidentally’ fall to the floor. I was really surprised that Sadie didn’t try to gobble up the leftover spaghetti with her vacuum of a muzzle, but she was very quick to snatch the ham off the floor.

Cracking a few eggs into a bowl, I scrambled them up with a fork.

A light “ahem" stopped me during my assault on the eggs.

I casually peeked over my shoulder at Sheridan leaning against the counter and the fork I was holding slipped out of my hand, making a loud clang as the metal from the utensil clattered against my glass bowl.

I had instantly felt my lungs deflate as all of my oxygen left my body.

Sheridan had emerged freshly showered with a haphazard braid cascading over the front of her shoulder. She was dressed pretty casually in a pair of short cut-off shorts, much like what she was wearing earlier, and a black, white, and green striped top which hung off of one shoulder.

The creamy flesh of her shoulder was very enticing and I felt myself longing to wrap my lips around the juncture where her neck and shoulder met.

But that wasn’t all, she had done something to her eyes to make them stand out and appear more prominent. Mascara or something, I wasn’t one who paid attention to the beauty terms and what not.

And her lips. Those beautiful, tempting, sultry lips were painted a deep crimson.

Red
the color of love, lust, and seduction.

Dear God, my resolve was almost non-existent within a day of being around her. She had bewitched me. How did I think this arrangement would be possible?

“Goddess."

Once the word slipped from my lips, I tried my best to think of something to cover up my accidental word oversight.

“Mike?" she asked questioningly as her face morphed into a look of pure confusion.

“Yeah," I said as I quickly recovered grabbing the fork and remembering what I was supposed to be doing at the present time.

“Omelet?" I held up the bowl that contained the eggs and fork.

“Yes, please." She said as her eyes suddenly got wide and she raised a hand to where she was pointing past me to my stove. “But uh, your pan is smoking."

Jesus Christ, if we needed a sign that neither of us should be in the kitchen for
any
reason, we definitely had it.

I quickly moved the scorching pan to the cool back burner and turned the exhaust fan above the stove on high. I hoped it would get rid of the billowing smoke quickly.

I rested a hand on my hip and lightly chuckled. “Contrary to what just occurred, I can cook," I said while cracking a small smile.

I heard Sheridan’s breath hitch and I looked back at her and saw she had a bewildered expression on her face.

She went to the cupboard to retrieve two coffee mugs. I had only went as far as to make the coffee, and hadn’t even had a cup.

“How do you take your coffee?" she softly spoke to me.

I had resumed my omelet making process and lifting the cutting board up showing what all could be put in the omelets.

She quickly eyed the choices and immediately said, “Everything in it, please. Oh, but extra mushrooms." She finished a bit sheepishly and I began adding in chopped bits of ham, peppers and fulfilling her request of extra mushrooms.

I guess I was taken aback because Erin never asked or hell even offered to make my coffee. Now that I think of it, she never ever cooked me a meal, and we were married several years. Sheridan cooked dinner for me last night, granted it was left uneaten and ended up covering my kitchen floor, but it was the thought that counts.

Realizing she was still waiting on my answer, I said, “Black, two sugars, please."

Nodding her head, she went to work on my coffee while I kept an eye on her omelet.

Things were kind of awkward between us and I wondered if she was embarrassed about seeing me in all my naked glory. She liked what she saw, she was just trying to cover it up with her smart mouth.

“You seem different this morning."

“Different, how?" I quipped. I began racking my brain trying to think if I was acting any different.

“You seem…happy I guess. Nice even, you even laughed a bit and smiled. It was…nice." Her cheeks turned flushed. She stirred my coffee with a small spoon and tapped off the liquid remnants on the side of my mug before placing it next to me.

I almost started feeling a little nervous at the thought of her being flirtatious with me.

I flipped her omelet over so the underside would cook thoroughly as she again spoke up.

“You must’ve gotten over your PMS’ing."

I whirled around to see her back to me as she placed the milk back in my fridge.

Sheridan and her smart mouth was going to get her into trouble one of these days.

We each took our plates into the living room and sat respectively on opposite ends of the couch, making sure there was plenty of room in between us.

She was sending all sorts of mixed signals, so I thought I should stick to my original plan of not wanting anything to do with her.

I reached for the remote off of the coffee table and she ended up snatching it up just a split second before me.

“What do you think you are doing?" I asked in a no nonsense tone. This was
my
house wasn’t it? Who did she think she was just stealing my remote and manning the TV?

She continued to sit back on the couch, casually flipping through the on screen guide, trying to find something suitable to her liking I supposed.

Finally ending her perusal on a show that I hadn’t watched in years, she tucked the remote underneath her thigh and picked up her fork so she could start digging into her omelet.

“Mmm…this is really good, Mike, thank you."

“Sure, but why are we watching
this
?" I scoffed.

“Are you pouting because we are watching
Roseanne
? I absolutely love this show. And even though it had the most epic ending ever, my favorites are still the early years."

I sat back and began devouring my own omelet and in between taking sips of the coffee Sheridan made. I knew she didn’t do anything different to it, and even though I actually brewed the coffee, it still tasted better than any I had ever made.

The episode that was on was a fight between the oldest daughter Becky and Roseanne. I believed that’s what most of the episodes consisted of; a fight amongst someone within the family. But like any good sitcom, it was resolved by then end of the thirty minute time slot.

“You know what I like most about this show?" Sheridan spoke in the midst of swallowing a bite, breaking the silence that ensued between us after a few minutes.

“What’s that?" Normally it wouldn’t matter to me either way whether she answered or not. But I felt almost as if I wanted to get to know her better, what made her tick, what she was afraid of.

She pointed her fork at my TV to accentuate what she was trying to convey. “The fact that they are a regular family, they didn’t have much money. Hell half of the time they would call the utility company and tell them some kind of fly by the seat of their pants lie that their check ended up being sent to the cable company. When, in fact, they just didn’t have the money to pay for it. But whatever obstacle they faced, they did it as a family. They may not have been your typical All American family, but what I wouldn’t have given to be part of the Conner clan."

She sounded almost sad towards the end of her explaining. I wondered if her home life was less than to be desired.

“Did you not have a good life growing up?" I didn’t think before I reacted, but I couldn’t just sit and stew on it, I needed to know.

“No, nothing like that. I had a fantastic childhood, never lacked for anything. I was an only child and my dad started having heart problems early on, but that has never really stopped him from enjoying life. My mom is absolutely amazing, my best friend, but she is so extremely soft spoken, I don’t think I’d ever heard her yell at anyone a day in her life. See the reason why I wished I was part of the Conner family, even though I know they are fictional, it’s the fact that Roseanne never took shit from anyone. If a boy didn’t treat either of her daughters with anything less than the utmost respect, she effing told them about it. I don’t blame my family at all, because overall it was my fault. But if I had been a little less blinded by love and my mom a little more forceful in her actions, then maybe my outcome would’ve been a whole lot different."

“Well, what about your dad, couldn’t he have done anything?"

“Well, as I said my dad has heart problems, he never really knew the entirety of what went on. I think if he knew even close to the extent of what I’ve endured, it would kill him. So keeping him secretly in the dark, is what was best."

“I see. And what exactly went on?" I got the impression it had something to do with a guy, but she wasn’t being any more forthcoming on her past.

Before she was able to answer, not that she would have anyways, her cell phone rang.

Looking at the screen, she gave me an apologizing glance and answered.

“Hey, Mama," I heard her say. I had finished eating my omelet and was going to take both of our plates into the kitchen.

I overheard her ask how
he
was so I assumed she was talking about her dad since he had heart problems.

Having her talk about her parents made me miss my ma. She passed away six months after her official diagnosis.

That was the worst day of my life. My heart broke for my mother’s breast cancer diagnosis, but it was completely obliterated at the loss of my princess.

I braced my hands on the edge of my sink and hung my head down low. Hannah would’ve been eight soon. It was something that I thought about every day, and even with time the pain never lessened. But for some reason today it got to me a little more. I didn’t know if it was the fact that my emotions were running rampant. Sheridan brought out every single emotion, even the ones I had thought that I had buried down deep long ago.

That day was still as fresh in my mind today as if it had happened yesterday. The gut wrenching agony I felt, I changed as a person, honestly what parent wouldn’t? I would never have any more kids, I couldn’t ever place myself in the position ever again.

Another valid reason to keep my distance from Sheridan, she was young and vibrant, and more than likely would want children. We couldn’t ever have anything more than a physical attraction.

My mood had now turned sour, I needed to get out of this house, away from the thoughts of possibly wanting more out of life.

Mike

I pulled in front of Ray’s Auto and shut off the engine, I was trying to decide if I wanted to go in or not. It was still early in the day, so Brock would still be working, and he would take one look at me and then the assault of questions would commence.

Brock was really the only friend I had around Brown County, he was the only one I felt comfortable enough confiding in. Yes, he knew about my past, but he was the only one here that did, and I preferred it that way. If he had mentioned it to Tessa, his wife, I didn’t know. She had always busted my chops from day one, but that was just the type of person that she was. I had no doubt in my mind that if she knew, things would’ve changed between us.

I wondered for a brief moment if Sheridan would get along with her, but Tessa made it her mission to get on everyone’s good side.

I decided to go ahead and head inside, hopefully Brock would have some work for me to accomplish. Working on vehicles took me back to my roots, it was
home
.

Hopping down from my position in my truck, I carefully closed the door and went into the garage through the open bay door.

Brock was definitely working and by the sounds of what was currently blasting through the speakers, Ray wasn’t. Foreigner’s “Juke Box Hero" was up almost a few notches too high, but that was how we worked best.

Walking further into the bay, I immediately felt myself relax as the tension left my body. Just the lingering smell of grease and oil, my bad mood was rapidly dissipating. Now let’s hope that he had some disassembled car that I could tinker with.

I went to the old Magnavox Shelf Stereo, something that was made probably circa 1990 and turned the volume down by using the control dial. Yeah, no remote for this thing, it even had the Cassette player along with the CD player. But inside a dingy garage, where there was grease literally in every nook and cranny, you didn’t want to have some top of the line iPod docking station only to be ruined by a miscalculated thrown wrench when you were aiming for the toolbox. Not that I was speaking out of experience.