Brute: The Valves MC (6 page)

One particular Missus held my hand longer than was customary and started a long lament about our chronic irresponsibility as a nation, as a school and as teachers. She believed God would keep her family safe from all misfortune and proceeded to list how long some of the forefathers of Christianity had lived. Her argument was, since then there were no vaccines, the reason for their prolonged lives must’ve been the fact that they didn’t immunise their children.

Hearing her tirade made my head feel like it was about to crack and I was on the brink of sending her on her way when Dawson came to the rescue. “May I steal Miss Bennett from you for a second?” he cooed at the woman who, after turning a sharp gaze at him, melted visibly and nodded.

“Thank you,” I mouthed, careful not to be heard by someone.

He smiled and took me closer to the door. We couldn’t leave the classroom because my presence was needed, but the air was less tense there and I could feel my migraine ease away.

“I’m sorry I made your day worse, baby,” he whispered, looking true to his words.

“It’s all right. I can manage it. Just don’t let me fall into this trap again. Okay?”

He was struck by my serious expression and I laughed. He shifted on his feet and I guessed that he wanted to kiss me. Too bad we had to restrain ourselves for the time being.

To settle him and because I was feeling grateful for his intervention, I reached a hand to caress his arm but, before I could touch him, he jerked his phone out of his front pocket and looked annoyed at the caller ID. He started for the door but a rather heavy man was blocking the way and he looked too involved in a conversation with the Principal to leave soon.

I frowned. Dawson looked like a cornered animal and I felt something was wrong. I stepped closer to ask him about it but I stopped in my tracks.

“Don’t ever call me on this phone again! You hear me, Rust?” I heard him say through gritted teeth. His words made me turn on my heels and look for something else to settle my mind. I really didn’t need another mystery for the day and his seemed like one I wouldn’t like one bit.

CHAPTER NINE

I grabbed my purse and checked to see if I haven’t forgotten anything. Then I looked up and saw Ginger almost ready to go. “Shall we, honey?” I asked, crossing the empty classroom and taking her extended hand.

She nodded and started to walk in step with me. In the hallway, I looked around to make sure no one saw us. For this weekend, Dawson asked me to take Ginger directly from school and I was wary to be discovered. My heart was already beating like it wanted to jump out of my chest when we were finally within a few steps of the exit.

“Miss Marigold Bennett?”

My heart skipped a beat. I always felt uneasy around my boss, especially since he had the uncomfortable habit of using my full name. It felt like I was being scolded and it was cringeworthy that he always talked like he was scolding someone.

“Yes, Mr. Deck?” I said, turning around.

“Finished for the week, then?” he inquired, eyeing suspiciously the little girl beside me.

“Yes, Sir.”

I never knew how to talk to him. You couldn’t make jokes or talk about the weather, I suspected. At least, he didn’t look like a small talk type of guy.

“And Ginger Holt?”

My mouth opened but my brain lagged behind.

“Why are you with your teacher, dear?” he asked, bending down. His voice had turned into something shrill rather than sweet. The thought that he shouldn’t be allowed by law to use his kid voice crossed my mind.

“We’re going to…”

“Her father asked me to pick her up. We live close in the same neighborhood and I thought of the girl’s best interest first, Sir,” I took over, afraid Ginger might spill the beans.

She made a scrunchy face, unhappy with my cutting in, but I squeezed her hand in an attempt to comfort her. How could I explain to her the reason behind why I was lying?  Not only that I lived right next to her father, but I was to pick her up and take her to my place for the weekend. Not home. She was a clever little girl and she saw something wasn’t right with my behavior.

“We have to go. Have a nice weekend, Sir,” I said, to stop her from saying anything else. As I turned to leave, I saw Mr. Deck’s face gather to one side, in an expression that reminded me of a terrible cringe. I saw it in his eyes. He didn’t believe me. I didn’t think he ever believed anyone and that would pose a big problem.

I walked across the street and unlocked my car. Taking Ginger’s bag, I threw it together with mine in the back, and lifted Ginger in the front seat. Rounding the front of the car, I took my phone out and dialed Dawson. I knew he said he was busy, but I needed to tell him the principal might be suspicious. Maybe Ginger had said something to her classmates and Mr. Deck overheard. I had been almost a month already into this arrangement and he never even crossed my path, let alone asked me about Ginger.

The memory of those two children didn’t help with my state either. My hands were shaking and I almost dropped my phone twice. The onset of another anxiety fit was getting stronger with every ring Dawson didn’t pick up.

“Maybe I’m overreacting,” I whispered, as Dawson finally answered.

“What?” he asked, in a much harsher tone than I was expecting.

“Hi. It’s me, Mari. I took Ginger. We’re leaving now,” I reported, unsure of what to say now.

“Oh. Sorry, all right. Thanks.”

“I’m sorry to call, I know you’re busy, but…”

“Yes?”

He seemed impatient. I couldn’t say anything; this wasn’t a talk to have in a hurry.

“It’s nothing. Sorry I called. I’ll look after Ginger and we’ll talk when you’re free,” I said, instead, and hang up. I felt like crying. Straightening my posture, I opened the driver’s door and got in. “We’re going home, honey,” I said, as sweetly as I could.

“Okay. Can we play Jenga?”

“Sure, honey. After we wash up and eat lunch, all right?”

“Mmhmm.”

I drove in silence, unable to take my mind off Dawson’s attitude. I thought we were past the tiptoeing phase of the relationship. I’ll admit, we started everything backwards, but, even so, the way he spoke was, at best, rude. If not demeaning.

Besides, what was so important in the job description of a bouncer to require complete radio silence? It wasn’t like he was a celebrity bodyguard or anything. What was going on? I kept thinking this over, and a shadow began clouding my thoughts. I didn’t want to acknowledge it. I didn’t like it.

“What’s wrong, Miss Bennett?” Ginger’s voice snapped me back to Earth.

And in that moment, I knew. Her interruption brought me clarity. I was in doubt. Doubting me and my feelings, doubting him and his words. The realization hit me like a sucker punch.

“Nothing, honey,” I said with a smile, and reached to caress her hair. I would be putting her before anything else; I knew this. “And call me Mari when we’re not in school, all right?”

CHAPTER TEN

Placing the plates in the sink, I looked over at Ginger, who was sitting by the window, trying to see in the darkness outside.

“What are you doing, baby?” I asked, smiling.

“Trying to see my house. When will Daddy be home?”

Her sad voice hurt me. Poor baby, she missed him. “It’ll be sometime, baby. But I’m here. Wanna play a game? Or watch TV?” I wrapped my arms around her, hugging her protectively.

“Yeah, maybe some TV. But, just so I know, what games do you have? I’m bored of Jenga.”

I laughed again, steering Ginger towards the living room. “Maybe some cards. Do you know how to play cards?”

She scrunched her nose. “How are you a teacher and not have any games?”

“Well, I don’t teach children at home, baby.”

And immediately as I said that, I knew I shouldn’t have.

Ginger looked up at me, climbing on the cream couch beside the window, with a thoughtful expression on her tiny face.

“Shall we play Jenga, then?” I tried to change the subject.

She wouldn’t have it. “You don’t?”

“What, dear?”

“Have children at home?”

I paused for a second. What should I say? If I told her yes, she’d ask about it, and if I told her no, she’d just do the same. With a heavy sigh, I decided for the truth. “No, baby. I don’t usually have children at home.”

The child looked at me intensely. I could almost see the little wheels turning in her head. “So, if you don’t…Why do you have me, then?” she followed, tracing an imaginary line along the edge of the couch.

I didn’t know how to go about that. I was beginning to see that, despite working with children daily, I knew nothing about dealing with them. I cleared my throat, trying to stall, but Ginger’s interest didn’t seem to settle.

“Okay,” I said, turning to face her. She straightened in her seat, physically prepared to listen. “Your dad and I are…very good friends. And neighbors. And what do neighbors do, honey?”

“They are being good neighbors?” she tried, like she was answering at school.

“Yes, they are being good neighbors. They help each other, baby. And your daddy asked for my help because he has to work. He couldn’t have left you alone on the weekends, could he?”

“But I never was alone on the weekends, Mari. Daddy usually stays home on the weekends,” she said, scrunching her little face again.

My doubt spiked again, but I stifled it. He could’ve changed his schedule. “Are you sure, baby? He does work odd hours and you might’ve not noticed if he changed something.”

“Odd hours?”

“Oh, it means that he doesn’t work the usual hours most people do. Like, during daytime.”

“Hmm, but he does work like that. Sometimes. Sometimes he works nights, but always at home. Before we came here, he didn’t leave a lot on weekends. Maybe once or twice. Oh, one time...”

I couldn’t listen to her any longer. Her voice trailed off in my ears, becoming just a subtle background noise while I was trying to reconcile what I had just learned with present reasoning. It was entirely possible for him to have changed his schedule after he moved here. After all, a change in location would change telecommute time and will ultimately affect working hours. Yes, there was nothing there for me to worry about.

But what does a bouncer do working from home? I turned to ask Ginger but I stopped short, seeing her busy with a pen and my notebook. It didn’t concern her, after all. Or did it? Worry began rising in my core, bringing hints of bile in my throat. What was he really doing? My thought shifted towards his motorcycle. Was he in a riding gang? Was he one of those awful creatures that terrorized passerbys around bars?

And what about Ginger? Poor baby, what she might’ve seen…What did she mean by working from home? Did he bring bikers home, traumatizing his own daughter? I couldn’t think straight and I had to find out more. So I sat beside Ginger, gently touching her small back. She was drawing a cat with wings. I smiled. She always used her great talent to make mysterious creations. “What is that, honey?”

“Nothing. Just a cat. I like cats, you know…”

“You do?”

She nodded, adding a finishing touch to one of the wings. “How do you like it, Mari?”

I took the drawing and looked at it like an art critic, making various faces and turning it every other way. “Hmm, yes, I see. Why does the cat have wings?”

“I don’t know. Cats should have wings. Don’t you think?”

“Yes. But you know they can jump and climb very well already, right?”

She nodded. “Yeah, but wouldn’t it be super cool if they could fly, too?” Her face livened up with excitement.

I laughed. “Sure, baby. If only we could make one such cat…”

“Oh, we can’t, silly. You can’t make animals. Or people. People only make things. Like houses and books and ice cream.”

I rose from the couch, knowing full well what she was about to ask next.

“Can I have some ice cream?”

I was already coming back with a big tub of Ben & Jerry's when she asked. I saw her smile threatening to expand beyond what her face permitted. “Cookie dough! My favorite!” I gave her a spoon and we both sat on the floor. I turned on the TV, searching for cartoons when she asked, “Why are you good friends with my daddy?”

“I…don’t know, dear. You aren’t good friends with your daddy?”

“No. He’s my daddy, silly. We can't be friends!”

I nodded before her wisdom. She seemed sure of her stance. I couldn’t help it, “What kind of work does your daddy do at home?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “But I didn’t see him work at home since we moved here.”

“Mmhmm. So, how do you know he worked from home?”

“People used to come and go. Well, not lots of people. Just some other men. Once, there was a woman. And Daddy used to say, ‘this is business, nothing I can do’, so I asked my last neighbor what ‘business’ meant. That’s how I knew Daddy worked from home. I didn’t know it was possible for people to work from home.”

I nodded slowly, torn between fueling my negative insecurities, or face the fact that Dawson was an unusual man and he changed jobs coming here. The only thing I was certain of was that I needed to talk to him. We were in terrible need of a proper discussion. Where were we standing, about us? And where are we heading, more importantly?

I looked at Ginger and smiled. She had forgotten about our talk and seemed content watching a rerun of ‘Sailor Moon’. She didn’t seem familiar with it, judging by her opening her mouth and starting a series of clear cut and detailed questions that kept going in episode as long as her young breath could allow.

I got engaged in our anime debate. A while into it, I received a text message. I looked up and noticed it was getting late, the night already impenetrable outside. “We should get ready to sleep, baby, all right?”

She did what she did best whenever something unpleasant was presented to her: she scrunched.

“Oh, don’t be like that. You know as well as I that it’s getting late. And we need to sleep. After all this ice cream, we have to dream a lot of sweet dreams. We don’t want an upset tummy, do we?”

“All right. I will go get ready.”

The sweet dreams seemed to convince her. She got up and went into the bathroom. I gathered the ice cream paraphernalia and started the dishwasher. I knew I had to look through some paperwork for my principal, and I decided on doing it after I tucked Ginger in.

She came back into the living room, already changed in her pajamas, ready to sleep.

“You’re so pretty, dear,” I said, twirling her around. She giggled. “Ready for bed?”

“Yes. I like your bed.”

“Really? Then, we shall cuddle in it soon.”

She was fine with that, as I lifted her on the bed, and covered her tiny body.

“I will be right in, too. Just need to see after the dishwasher. Okay, baby?”

She nodded, already getting into her sleepy state. I smiled and kissed her forehead. Tucking her tightly, I felt something unfamiliar taking over my insides. A certain warmth, mixed with pain was settling in and I knew it was a permanent move. I felt on the brink of tears, but I couldn’t identify if they were sad or happy. I just knew I needed to control my breath, which seemed to sting my chest, in order to keep my composure.

Leaving the bedroom door slightly open, I was beginning to suspect I was developing deeper feelings for this little girl. And I didn't know how to deal with that.

Back into the living room, I opened my briefcase and took out the files of paperwork. I needed a time frame for tonight’s work, or I knew I would just lose track of this unpleasant process. I checked my phone and saw the message I got earlier.

It was from Dawson, and I felt butterflies seeing his name. “I was an ass and I apologize. Tell me anything you want and I will try to make up for my asinine behavior. Would you?”

I smiled. Taking this as confirmation of his good nature and of my correct judgment, I wrote back that I would think about it but he better be prepared to keep his word.

In the next hour I spent working he didn’t get back to me but I didn’t think much of it as I knew clubs could be especially noisy. When I was finally ready for sleep, I texted him ‘Goodnight xx’, then cuddled Ginger protectively.