Copperback (13 page)

I
sat as long as I could, forcing myself not to be sick. Getting up and running off
to the bathroom would make a scene. I couldn’t say any more to him, so I began
to drink the wine in my glass, choking down the bitter alcohol. Derrick had
already moved on to another topic. I filled my mouth with another slice of
bread, waiting for our food to arrive. The waiter must have read my mind,
because it showed up just in the nick of time.

The
smell of the dead pink fish was too much, and I couldn’t wait any longer. I
excused myself and took off in a run to the women’s room, not even waiting till
the stall door shut behind me. The wine and bread came up first, followed by
the bile still in my stomach from earlier. As soon as I thought I had finished,
another wave hit me, and I dry heaved in the bowl until my eyes felt like they
were going to pop out from all the pressure.

I
sat on the floor thinking of how demanding Job had been about the date. He knew
I was going out with the man who had destroyed his life because of me. He knew
everything, yet didn’t say so. The one time he had dropped a hint in an
insistent manner, I couldn’t read between the lines to see what he was saying.
Instead, I attacked him, and did everything I could to hurt him. I wanted to
stay on the floor. Facing Derrick again would only bring another bout of dry
heaves. I wasn’t sure what excuse I could come up with to have him take me
home.

I
managed to pick myself up and out of the stall, to look at myself in the
mirror. I hadn’t started crying yet, but the force of my stomach had brought
tears, smearing my makeup across my face. I wiped up as much as I could, but my
eyes remained bloodshot from the upheaval. The feeling in the pit of my stomach
wouldn’t leave. I walked out of the restroom slowly, hoping he had already
left, but he was standing there talking to the waiter, motioning that I was
sick. He caught a glimpse of me and hurried over to hold my arm. I hadn’t
noticed that I was light-headed and about to fall over till he was almost
completely supporting my weight. I didn’t want his grimy hand on me, and yearned
to remove it, but I was too weak to even try.

Walking
me back over to the table, he expressed his concern over me, making the assumption
that I was not over the flu and should go home to get some rest. I think I had
nodded my head, but everything was a blur. With food boxed and paid for, he
told me to sit down while he brought the truck around to the front. Matt
offered me a glass of water in his absence, but my hands were shaking too bad
to even hold it still enough to get it to my mouth.

I
could barely recall the ride home, other than the nauseating smell of the
truck. I was filled with such guilt that it blocked any concentration I had on
the conversation Derrick was attempting to have. I heard bits and pieces along
the way. Most of it was about how much he had wasted on a good meal. Even in my
sickness, he was only concerned with himself. It was adding to the churning of
my stomach, and I had to beg him to pull over, even though I had nothing left
in me. The thought ran through my mind of not telling him and heaving on the
floor, to cover up the other smells of the truck. I had actually planned to do
it the next time, but the truck stopped before the next time came.

I
gathered myself enough to see the door to the house, with its peeling paint,
and knew I was back home. He hadn’t tried to whisk me off to some unknown place,
thinking he could take care of me, and later, take care of business.

I
still wasn’t stable enough to walk down the path by myself, and held onto him
only because no one else was around to help. He got me slowly to the front door
and rummaged in my purse for the keys. A woman’s purse is a personal place, but
I was in no condition to argue with him about invasion of privacy at the
moment. I barely had enough voice to tell him I could handle it myself, so I
could try and leave him standing on the porch before he could say goodnight,
but I managed to croak out the words. As much effort as I put into it, however,
he ignored my request and pulled me through the front door to the living room. The
fear of him being in my house caused my stomach to lurch again, adding to its
already volatile state.

I
could feel my feet taking small steps toward the hallway, as Derrick tried to
lead me to my room against my will. It dawned on me that my room was still
naked of any linen, since the bulk of it now belonged to Job. It was a giveaway
that something was amiss in the house, and could raise questions. Even if I
explained that I had just washed them, it would lead Derrick to the basement. I
had to think fast, past the cloud surrounding my brain.

“The
couch is fine. It’s closer to the bathroom, anyways.” It was another lie, since
my bedroom was next to the bathroom, but with the doors closed, it would be
hard to tell which door was which room. He circled back around and deposited me
on the sofa, pulling the blanket down and wrapping it around me.

I
could feel his slimy hands pulling off my shoes and trying to rub my bare leg
to comfort me. I just wanted him to go, but the clues that I dropped were not
being picked up, and he continued to sit by my side, making sure I was ok. I
was going to have to find a way to remove him from my home.

“I’m
going to call–” There was a muffled banging from the vicinity of the kitchen
that should have not been there, cutting him off.

It
continued, and I knew the kitchen was not the source of the sound, but the
basement. A sudden pang of alarm ran through my body, adding to the sickness.
It was replaced by another queasy thought of Job attempting to make it up the
stairs, dragging his useless leg behind him, my horrendous words taken to
heart. I must have looked surprised, since Derrick was instantly on the alert,
sitting upright and listening to the noise, knowing that it should not be
there. I made an attempt to sit up, trying to pull his attention away from the
sound, but was instead pushed down quite hard with one hand as he stood up to investigate.

“You
stay here. I’ll see what it is.” He was quick to make it into the kitchen, and
I couldn’t see past the corner near the basement door. I held my breath,
waiting for the door to open and expose what I had been hiding for the last
week. There would be no way to save him this time.

I
could hear the door opening, and I still couldn’t breathe. My heart pounded so
hard, it was about to beat out of my chest and onto the floor where my dinner
would have been, if my stomach had not emptied its contents at the restaurant.
There was a commotion from the kitchen, and I was able to exhale when I saw
Derrick’s shadow followed by another walking behind him. He popped into view,
carrying a large box, with Chase in tow, holding a smaller one.

“Yeah,
I just stopped over to pick up some of the stuff I left here,” Chase was
telling Derrick as they came out to the living room. “I had been looking for it
since I moved, and figured it had to be in the basement.”

“Well,
I’m glad it was you and not someone else. I would have had to kick them into tomorrow.
You’re lucky I recognized you before I did.” Derrick was happy to show off
again in front of me. I had heard enough of his fighting stories for one night.
Just thinking about it again was making my stomach tighten. I had no choice but
to moan and hold it with my hands, trying to get the cramps to stop. I wished I
was faking it at that point.

“Emily?
Are you ok? You don’t look so good.” Chase had taken notice of my condition.

“I
think that flu is making a second round. Do you think you can stay with her
tonight? I was going to stay, but I don’t want to take the risk of catching it.
I still have a place to run in the morning.”

If
I had any composure left, I would have told him what I thought of him, but I
couldn’t let go of my stomach as the cramps got worse. I wrapped my arms around
my midsection and curled up as much as possible. I just wanted him – both of
them – to leave.

Somewhere
along the line, Derrick said he was going to call me to see how I was, and I
could feel another spasm in my stomach from the thought of having to see or
talk to him again. I half expected him to try to kiss me, but then remembered
he cared too much about himself to want to risk catching whatever was making me
violently ill. His arrogance was a blessing for once during the night. I heard
the door shut behind him and Chase moving towards me. I could barely see him
from the corner of my eye. It was too hard to concentrate on anything other
than the pain in my abdomen.

“Wow,
you have come a long way with lying,” Chase said. “I don’t think I could have
faked sick as well as you just did. You gotta tell me how you did that. I have
to use it someday to get out of work.”

“I’m
not making it up. I really threw up and I’m really sick.” I managed to get
myself in a seated position, even though my stomach wasn’t letting up. There
was a tingle in the back of my throat and I was waiting for another bout to hit
me. “What are you doing here, anyways? I thought you had forgotten all about us.”

“I
didn’t forget about you. I…I just had some other things come up, and I thought
you could handle this on your own. It looked like Sally did a good job with him.”
He was avoiding looking at me.

“Really?
What could have come up that was more important than helping out? You disappeared
off the face of the planet for the last week. Did you even know that we have
the wonderful task of amputating his leg tomorrow? I doubt you want to be
around for that.” My stomach still hurt, but I was too upset to care.

“That
really sucks. Does he know?” He continued to stand there, hovering over me. He
seemed surprised by the news.

“I
think so. I never told him, but I’m sure he’s figured it out by now.” I had
lowered my voice just in case Job could overhear our conversation from the
basement. Chase sat down next to me on the couch. I could tell he knew it was
tearing me up inside just thinking about it.

“I’m
sorry. I came over to tell you that I found out who attacked him.” His apology
sounded heartfelt.

“I
already know it was Derrick. He just told me. Why didn’t you say anything
sooner?

“I
was scared. I wasn’t sure how I could come over every day and see Job, but go
back to work and not accidently say anything.”

I
could imagine how hard it would be, staying with Job and then listening to
Derrick brag about how he put Job in his place all day. The thought made my
stomach churn yet again. At this rate, it was never going to settle down. I
wanted to jump off the couch and run down to see him, tell Job I was sorry and
hope that he would accept my apology.

 “Did
he say anything to you?” I said at last. “When you were down there?” I had to
know what I going to walk into. When I had left him, he was furious at me. I
wanted to make sure it was going to be safe to walk down, and not have a dish
chucked at my head.

“No,
he didn’t talk to me. He wouldn’t even look at me. I think he was upset about…you
know. You know, if you want me to, I can come over tomorrow and, well, help out
so you don’t have to. It’s the least I can do.”

It
was a sweet gesture, but I had already made up my mind that I wanted to be
there to hold his hand through this, if he would let me. He had trusted me, and
I had crushed him. It was the least I could do to make up for the vile things I
had said earlier. I had to see this through to the end.

“Thanks,
but I think I’ll be okay. Sally has everything under control. I can call you if
we need help.”

“Well,
do you want me to stay? I can take care of him tonight, if you want. You can
get some sleep. You look like crap.”

“Appreciate
that. No. I think I’ll be fine on my own. I have to do something, anyways,
before tomorrow.” I didn’t want to tell him it was an apology of my own.

“Okay.
Well, call if you need me.” He got up off the couch, leaving the boxes on the
floor. I assumed he had used them for cover so Derrick wouldn’t suspect
anything. It had been smart thinking on his part. I was actually surprised he
had thought of it.

I
followed Chase to the back door and closed it behind him. Leaning my back up
against it, I looked at the door to the basement. It didn’t feel as inviting as
I wanted it to be. The dread of what to expect lay behind the door, and I
closed my eyes hard, hoping that, when I opened them, the door would be gone,
and a bare wall had taken its place. I opened them back up to see the wood
frame still intact. I could avoid all of this if I still wanted to and just go
to sleep, but it was never going to be the same. I had to at least try to make
an effort.

I
pulled the door open and proceeded down the stairs. I could feel the acid in my
stomach building again. I forced it back down the best I could. Downstairs, nothing
had changed. The bed was still in place and the sheet pulled up around him to
his waist. The busted leg that would become a stump in less than twenty-four
hours still stuck out, only covered by the towel and the used ice packs, which
had melted hours before. He had his head down, but he wasn’t sleeping. He had
moved the pillow to his lap and was picking strings out of the fringe, making a
pile of them beside him. If he had noticed I was in the room, he was hiding it
very well.

The
dinner still hadn’t been touched and sat on the chair next to him. I was hesitant
to move any closer, wondering if he would snap at any second and catch me off
guard. The plate could be moved later. I needed to say what I came down here
for.

“Job?”

He
didn’t even move at the sound of his name.

I’m
sor–” I couldn’t even get the rest of the words out before I had begun to cry.
Between the spasms I could feel in my stomach, and the overwhelming guilt and disgust
in myself for how I had acted, I couldn’t even stand anymore. I collapsed on
the ground, letting everything out. I had no idea if he even heard me or cared.
I couldn’t look up at him. If he could really feel emotions, then he would know
how I felt right now. I continued talking, but it was almost impossible, since
every word that came out was choked by another sob.

“I
didn’t – mean – what I said. I don’t – want you – to – to leave. I want you – to
– stay – with me. I’m – scared and I – care about – you. I don’t want – to see
you go through – this. I’m sorry.” I sat and waited.

Other
than the sounds I was making, whimpering on the floor, there was silence. I
wasn’t surprised. If I had been in his position, I would be just as livid, if
not more. Even though he had been upset earlier in the day, I was sure he had
moved past it and gone back to being angry.

I
picked myself up off the ground, wiping away the tears that had streaked down
my face and left blots on my blouse. He still had his head bent down, only
showing his messy, sandy blond hair, his face hidden by shadows. He had stopped
picking at the strings, and had his hands laying across the pillow in a non-menacing
way. He had been listening to everything I said, but none of it was getting
through. I had gone too far, and I was never going to get him back.

I
saw the twinkle of the bracelet still around my wrist, bringing back the sick
thoughts of Derrick. The trinket felt as though a piece of him was still stuck
to me, burning into my flesh. It had been such an innocent gift, but it came
with a price. My anger at myself focused on the trinket. I had to remove it as
quickly as possible. I wasn’t willing to mess with the clasp, and started to
tear at it, feeling the small diamond cuts along the links dig into my wrist. I
didn’t care about the pain. It was a fraction of what Job had been through
because of me. I could feel it begin to draw blood, but I kept pulling at it,
hoping it would rip the rest of my skin off before it gave way.

At
last, the clasp snapped, and it was free of my hand, leaving behind deep gouges
where it had been. I wanted to be rid of it completely. I threw it as hard as I
could against the wall, hoping it would shatter into pieces. Instead, it
bounced off and landed on the bed next to Job. I didn’t want him to see it and
be a reminder of everything I had done. I had to go over and pick it up to dispose
of it.

I
didn’t even look up at him as I rounded the bed, reaching across with my
bloodied wrist to take it away. Picking it up, I could feel his large hand on
mine, stopping me from pulling back. My initial reaction was that he was going
to hurt me and make me pay for everything I had put him through, but seeing his
face looking up at me, I knew that would never happen.

He
wasn’t angry at me, but I could see how badly I had hurt him. His brown eyes
showed pain beyond anything I had ever seen in him, a deep down hurt that he
couldn’t hide. I couldn’t keep looking at him without wanting to turn away,
blaming myself. I could feel the grip of his hand had lessened, but wasn’t willing
to let go. He looked down to study the blood trickling onto the sheet from the
cuts carved into my wrist.

His
expression changed into one of concern. His frown, and the distraught look in
his eyes, told me he wasn’t pleased with me mutilating my wrist. I didn’t want
him to worry about me, but I couldn’t bring myself to draw my hand back from
him. I wanted him to keep holding it and not let go. He reached out with his
other hand to the napkins, still situated under the plate of cold casserole. Gently,
he brought them to my hand, trying the cover the wound, wrapping his hand
around them to stop the blood flow. As pleasant as the silence was, I had to
say something while he was willing to listen to me.

“I’m
sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” I could feel the tears start again.

“I
know.” His voice was just as husky as mine.

“Are
you still mad at me?”

“No.”
Still holding my wrist in his hand, he looked up at me again. His expression
was so kind. He was telling the truth. There wasn’t a part of him that was
showing signs that he meant anything different.

“Even
though this was my fault?”

He
let go of my wrist long enough to let me hold the napkin myself. I knew the
first aid kit was still down there, but I was locked on him, and my injury
would have to wait.

He
seemed perplexed at my question. “What is your fault?”

“Derrick
and his friends hurting you.” I could feel myself getting emotional again. No
matter what he was going to say, the tears from the guilt that I would always
carry were never going to stop coming.

“It
wasn’t your fault. It was mine. I did something he didn’t like.”

“He
said it was because you scared me – because of how I reacted. How were you supposed
to know I was going to do that?”

“I
didn’t, it was what I did after that made him attack me.”

“What
did you do?”

“That
night, he was talking about you, and he saw me…smile when he said your name.”

The
same blush came to his cheeks again, like earlier. I could see how nervous he
had become, having to share this information. The hidden smile appeared, even though
it was attached to the bad memories of the event.

“So
he did all this because he was jealous?”

It
explained why things had gotten out of control. Derrick had become enraged that
Job had shown signs of liking me. According to Derrick, I was his, and no one –
especially a Sayner – would stand in his way, no matter how insignificant the
gesture might be. My disgust for him was bringing back the knot in my stomach.
It was also making me want to be with Job that much more.