The sound of the doorbell roused me from papers I'd been grading for the last three hours. Music theory was dull even to those of us who taught it. I set my coffee aside, slipped on my house shoes, and tossed my cat out of my lap before I meandered down the hall toward the door. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I wondered who would be stopping by at seven at night. Living in the country, the only visitors I ever had were the mailman and occasionally the UPS driver. I hadn't made any friends since moving here and hadn't ordered anything. Late in the spring in South Carolina, the days linger long past dinner. When I opened the door, the features of the man standing in my doorway were blacked out by the sun setting on the horizon.I glanced behind him before shielding my eyes to meet his face. It was hard not to notice his height and broad shoulders, but when he spoke, my heart soared to the melody of his words. "Remmy?" He was clearly unsure if I was indeed who he was looking for.
I didn't hear from Dan the next day, nor the following. I'd almost given up hope I would until Monday morning between my Musical Theory class and Composition when my phone vibrated in my desk drawer. "Hello?" I answered the cell as I gathered my things to go to the lecture hall."Lissa?" "This is she.""Hey. It's Dan."I hadn't recognized the phone number since I didn't have his name in my contacts. "Hi. I didn't expect to hear from you." My tone wasn't ugly, more detached, even though I was secretly thrilled to have him on the other line. I'd been manhandled too many times in the past-I wouldn't welcome it again. My defenses were up, my inner-security back on high alert."I'm sorry. I had hoped we could go out Saturday night. When I got home, I crashed. I didn't even change clothes. I woke up mid-day on Saturday and had the worst allergy attack I've had in years. Brett ended up taking me to the ER that night for allergy shots. They knocked me out most of yesterday, and I was a
I'd called Dan on my way home. He told me to dress casually and asked how I felt about pizza and beer. My love of pizza and microbrews was as essential to my identity as Doc Martens or Chuck Taylors. The debate weighed heavily in my mind about allowing this man to see who I truly am, but the idea of trying to keep up appearances if there were a second date was draining. I wear business clothes to work because I have to, but at home, jeans and a good pair of shoes were as good as it got. "Wow." Not hello, not how ya' doing, but wow was the only word he said when I opened the door. His eyes skipped my face dragging down my fitted t-shirt, to my skinny jeans, and black Doc Martens before returning to meet my eyes."Wow, yourself." The smile I gave him was wide enough to narrow my field of vision as my eyes scrunched up. "Let me grab my keys, and we can go."When I returned to the front door, Dan and Cosmo were in the midst of a standoff. The cat's hair stood on end as he perched on t
I signed the release papers with instructions to get plenty of fluids and rest. I'd left Matt a message that the hospital would release me at lunch but hadn't heard back from him-not that I was surprised. He and my parents had only come by the hospital once and not together. I thought it had been to make sure I hadn't slit my wrists, but the reality was, it appeared they'd hoped I had. None of the three stayed long. They came in to tell me how grief-stricken they were, as if I wasn't myself, and left as quickly as they'd come. My mother and father couldn't bear to look me in the eye, but Matt had. Matt had driven nails painfully into my psyche as he spewed hate. I accepted each word knowing what I'd hear from people who never loved me would be far worse. Everything that happened was my fault. I expected nothing less. There was nothing anyone could say I hadn't already said to myself. No words could be more demeaning than those echoing in my head whether I was asleep or awake. It had be
The woman at the impound lot was less than friendly, and while she didn't say anything outright, it was more than obvious she knew who I was. Her co-worker shot me sympathetic glances but never spoke. I didn't deserve sympathy. Every glare I received, every hurtful word mouthed before or after my name, was duly earned. When the guy brought the car around, he held my stare a little longer than necessary and finally offered me a piece of advice before I left. "Get some plastic to cover up that window until you can get it replaced. Here's the card for a guy who does good work." I took the business card and his advice. The moment he stepped aside, the sight of the broken window sliced through my heart. I couldn't bear to see any more. There was no telling what was in the vehicle itself that would cause an onslaught of memories to shred my fragile spirit even further. But somehow, I had to force myself to get in...and drive away. My lungs burned trying to hold my breath, and tears stain
In the years since Joshua passed away, I had spent the vast majority of my time alone. After the trial, my family quickly became a thing of the past. Matt held on for a while, but he couldn't deal with the aftermath either, and my friends weren't able to cope. I'd managed to hold on to my job the remainder of that year and through the next, but after I was convicted, the school had not renewed my contract due to the negative publicity it brought. I'd worked odd jobs trying to get back into teaching, but my image was shot in Texas. There wasn't a soul around who didn't recognize my face or know my story. I did what I had to do to get by, but after a year without success, I started applying to colleges and universities outside of Texas.It was an adjustment having someone around regularly, but Dan was religious in his pursuit. Relentless. I tried to keep him at arm's length, for his safety more than my own, but there was never a day he didn't call or send sweet text messages. If I gave
I'd thought having Dan in my class would be awkward, but it only took a few minutes for me to forget he was there and get lost in the group. These were all seniors who played beautifully. I used them as excuses to join in, which they graciously allowed me to do. By the end of the class, Brielle, the best in the bunch had challenged me to a dual of strings. I loved this form of banter, the way the mind worked to create quick snapshots of fantastic tricks to highlight a performer's skills. It was a conversation of sorts, a musical jousting, but with the right partner, it was fun and playful. Brielle reminded me of why I'd always loved the violin. I conceded, granting her the win when the class was over. Each of the students talked gaily as they packed up their instruments. When I'd finished with my own and closed the case, Dan joined me at the podium. "Bye, Dr. Jackson. Have a great weekend.""You too. Stay out of trouble." I winked at Brielle knowing the girl likely couldn't spell
The police station had been godawful, but nothing compared to what I would face when I got home. I had talked to three different detectives who all had the same questions asked in a slightly different way, but my story never changed. I'd been exhausted. I had lived on three to four hours of sleep for months, and my body demanded rest. I had done the responsible thing. I pulled over when I realized I was too tired to drive. It was the afternoon on a busy interstate in Texas. The rest area was buzzing with people, taking a quick nap should not have resulted in anything catastrophic. Despite the number of times I recounted what I knew, another officer came in and repeated the same steps as though they were trying to get me to falter, but there was nothing to mistake. I didn't remember anything between locking the doors and waking up in the hospital. I'd sobbed with each officer, begged them to believe it had been an accident-but each one left the room with pained expressions. After six