Pillow And Bookshelves
Dahlia
“You know there aren’t enough bookshelves for all of these books.” Vex slides a book into the bottom shelf, filling it to capacity.
The never-ending piles in the middle of the room have made this abundantly clear. “I know.” What am I going to do? “When I first bought this place, I thought it would be big enough. Then my parents started bringing the boxes over from their attic. Now I don’t know what to do.”
“We could put up more shelves.”
Just like that. He says it like putting up shelves is as easy as going to the store and buying a table lamp. “Absolutely not. I cannot handle the hassle of contractors.”
“And if contractors aren’t an issue?”
How could they not be an issue? “Um. Where would they go? The walls are full. ”
“We could put one row down the center or if you think you’ll be getting significantly more books, we could make several aisles.”
Hmm. “Wait. We? Have I mentioned I’m clumsy and not mechanically inclined? I tried to nail in a picture frame and managed to bruise my thumb and put a hole in the wall.” The soft smile Vex gives me would make me agree to almost anything… except manual labor.
“Shelves aren’t hard. How about I put them up and you supervise and bring me snacks?”
That sounds fair. “Is this going to be another one of those things you try to pay for to irritate me while being incredibly sweet?”
“Definitely.”
“Vexing.” It’s so tempting to stick a tongue out at him like I’m still five. “Where did your name come from?” I’ve heard some interesting names in my life but his doesn’t feel like a real one.
“Dahl.”
Oh, that’s not a good Dahl. That’s a back away we’ve hit a serious topic. But isn’t that what this weekend is about? “I know you live a scary life. And I’m not asking you to share it all with me. Just why are you called Vex?” That shouldn’t be a big ask. It’s not like I asked his body count… either body count. Neither of which do I ever want to know.
“You really don’t want to know.”
Probably not. “Tell me anyway.”
“It’s not a pretty story.”
Vex needs something silly to break up the stress and worry. “Hold on one second.” I jump up and run out of the room.
Everything I need is right up in my bedroom and the kitchen. I dash back into the library, dropping a half dozen pillows on the floor.
“Dahl?”
“Be right back.” On my second trip, I pile an armload of quilts on top of the pillows. The last group of stuff I shove into a bag and dash back up the stairs.
“What are you doing? ”
“Building us a tent.”
“A tent?”
“If you’re going to tell me scary stories, I need a tent and some s’mores. Would you tuck the quilts on the top shelf under some books so they don’t fall on our heads?” I start to spread out some quilts on the floor, shoving piles of books out of the way.
“This isn’t a cute story.”
I know that. The knot building in the pit of my stomach knows that. “Don’t worry, I brought s’mores too.”
“You’re a nut.”
“Scary stories need s’mores.”
“Is that one of your sweet treat rules?”
Absolutely. “Always.”
It doesn’t take us long to get the little tent built. With every second, my anxiety builds. What if I can’t handle this? What if he walks away? What if? I ruined my life worrying about what-ifs. Reality can be dealt with. What-ifs just destroy your soul. “Do you want a s’more? I don’t have a little torch, but it probably wouldn’t be smart to use one with all this flammable stuff around. They’re so cute though, aren’t they?”
“Only you would think a blow torch is cute. No, Dahl, I don’t want a s’more. Are you really sure you want to know this story?”
No. “Yes.” I shove a marshmallow in my mouth, knowing it won’t be enough sweet to balance out the horrible he’s about to share.
“My life wasn’t like yours.”
That’s the understatement of the century.
“I didn’t grow up in a house in the burbs with two parents and a white picket fence.”
“Our fence wasn’t white.”
“Huh?”
“Our fence wasn’t white. They get dirty too quickly. We had a green fence.”
Vex raises an eyebrow at me .
“Sorry, when I get nervous, I ramble.”
He reaches across our pile of sweet treats and tucks a hair that escaped my messy bun hours ago behind my ear. “I know. You’re cute when you ramble. But this isn’t easy to talk about.”
“Zipping my lips.” I slide the imaginary zipper closed and bite my tongue. That marshmallow disappeared all too quickly.
“My life wasn’t like yours. Most of it was spent with unsavory people on the street.”
“You lived on the street!” I slap a hand across my mouth to avoid blurting out anything else stupid.
“No. I always had a place to live. But most of my time was spent out on the streets dealing with people that I hope you never know exist.”
You knew his life was hard. Don’t cry. You know for them to think he’s a crime lord, Vex couldn’t have grown up normal.
“It’s common on the street to have a monicker. They can mean so many different things. But mine was given to instill fear. Vex was the one thing my father gave me that I don’t hate.”
Fear. Hate. Oh, that doesn’t sound good. I reach across and grab his hand. Whether it’s to comfort myself or him, I’m not sure. He doesn’t need a name to instill fear. A simple look is all it takes. Vex hates his father. Why? But I keep my lips sealed.
Vex pauses for a long moment, staring into my eyes.
Is he looking for fear? Or encouragement to go on? I’m not afraid of who he was or who he is now. Give him something so that he knows that. But I can’t give him words. The only thing left is a gentle squeeze of his hand combined with a nod.
Believe in me.
Trust me to know who you are regardless of your history.
“The story on the street is they call me Vex as a warning. Vex him and vanish.”
Vex vanish? “They think you kill everyone that irritates you?”
He nods, but his gaze never leaves mine .
Who lives in fear to the point that they give their child a name to shroud them in a cloud of violence? To hide the good man in a haze of evil? To take away a child’s sense of morality? “Why do you like it?”
“Because it’s who I am.”
“You’re not a senseless killer.”
“Why aren’t you crying and running away? A woman like you shouldn’t be defending a man like me.”
“A woman like me? I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted.”
“Dahl.”
“Vex, I told you I love you. I’ve never said that to another man. My eyes are wide open. So, when you doubt me and think something as trivial as a nickname is going to scare me off, think again.” That sounded firm and determined.
“Never?”
“Not once.” Now say it back to me.
Silence echoes.
***
The pillows and blankets are definitely good for more than just sharing secrets. Cuddling up on a mound of pillows while reading a book is everything I wanted to do.
“Is your book that good?”
“Huh?”
“You’ve sighed four times, but I haven’t seen you turn a page.”
“That’s your fault.”
“Mine?”
“You gave me the perfect day.” Well, mostly perfect if you ignore the drama from Hope and our little exercises in getting to know one another. Okay, fine, it’s basically been the last hour or three doing nothing but being lazy .
It also doesn’t hurt that even though I’m pretending to lie on a mountain of pillows, I’m mostly lying on Vex’s shoulder.
He takes a long deep breath, and I sigh inside.
“Dahl, we need to have a conversation.”
That’s not a happy voice. We aren’t going to discuss a book or how many shelves to stuff in this room. Or what kind of chair he wants to go next to mine. Though right now I’m leaning towards one couch that we can both sprawl out on it kind of like this. “Are you going to say something I need marshmallows for?”
“No.”
I let out an actual sigh this time. With more effort than would be expected, I push myself up and into a sitting position with my legs crossed, facing Vex. “Hit me with it?”
“Have I told you that you’re nutty today?” His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Maybe. Whatever it is, you don’t need to worry about me.”
He practically snorts.
Talk about cute. “Okay, only a little worrying then.”
“You’re all I think about.”
WOW. That got heavy fast.
“Since I carried you out of my club, all I’ve done is worry. What I’m about to do feels wrong? My job is to protect you, and instead, I’m about to expose you to more trauma. You can say no. Do not in any way feel obligated. Only do this if you believe it will benefit you.”
Um. This is odd.
“I’ve noticed your hand trembling and occasionally you act like you might have a panic attack.”
How did he—I haven’t been hiding it as well as I thought.
“When I carried you out, I hoped that—Anyway—This is stupid. They’ve got to be wrong.”
Huh? What could possibly have Vex this discombobulated? “Who is wrong? ”
“A doctor. The doctors have to be wrong. Exposing you to more trauma can’t be good for you. I won’t do it.”
Doctors. Vex talked to a doctor about me. “What do you mean, exposing me to trauma?”
“You weren’t the only one that filth roofied.”
WHAT?
“One of the women survived.”
Survived. One. “How many?”
“Does the number really matter, Dahlia?”
It shouldn’t. “Tell me.” Don’t tell me. I want to hide under a blanket and pretend none of this happened.
“Hundreds.”
That many. Wait. “The serial killer they talked about on the news. That’s him. The man that tried to take me.”
Vex nods.
“They have a manhunt out for him.” They’ve plastered his face up everywhere.
“A fruitless hunt.”
My hand trembles a bit not from fear, because Vex just reminded me that the evil was permanently taken care of, but for the mark that lingers on Vex’s soul. It’s tempting to lean over and kiss him. To thank him in a simple but meaningful way.
But our first kiss shouldn’t be haunted by memories of evil. “Thank you.” I reach out and squeeze his hand.
“Don’t thank me until you hear the rest.”
The rest.
One survivor. “Someone survived.”
“Yeah, Dahl, someone survived.”
There’s a woman out there that understands. “The news didn’t mention her.”
“That’s because the police never found her. ”
All the pieces fall together. “You did. You saved her. Because of me.”
A somber frown mars his face as he nods.
“I want to meet her. To talk to her.”
His head pops up, and shock replaces sadness. “What?”
“You said there was only one survivor, but there’s two, her and me. I can’t understand fully what she went through—”
“Dahl, no one can understand. She’s broken. What that filth did to her can never be fixed. And I don’t want you to be—" His eyes fall away as they fill with moisture.
His pain radiates through to me. “Is that what you’ve been worrying about?”
“The doctor said it might be good for the two of you to meet. That you might be able to help each other through it. But if it hurts you in any way—"
“The doctor is right. I’d like to meet her.”
“Are you sure? Be very sure.”
Am I? No. But I’m doing this anyway. The only way is with Vex’s help. “Tell me about her.”
“Her name is Imogene and Payne is taking care of her—"
Payne? “That doesn’t sound like a doctor’s name.”
A rough chuckle burst out of Vex. “Payne is my best friend. He pulled her out of the pit—“
“Pit!”
“Yeah, Dahl, he left them in pits.”
They showed the burial markers on the television, but they didn’t mention that detail. “Why is she with Payne?”
“It’s either she stays with him, or we admit her into a facility.”
“A mental hospital?”
Vex nods.
“When can I meet her?”
“You’re sure about this?”
“Positive.”
“It might not be for a while with your work schedule. ”
Adonis would understand. But I can’t tell him. “I’ll ask for Tuesday off tomorrow.”
“You don’t need to do that, Dahl.”
I really do, but he doesn’t understand what life was like for me before. If I can help someone else and in turn be helped by myself, then I NEED to do this. “Tuesday. Or let me know if another day would be better.”
“Dahl, are you sure?”
Somehow, this man is more afraid than I am. “As long as I have your arms wrapped around me, you don’t need to worry about a thing.” That was probably the wrong thing to say, but it’s the truth. “Now on to the important question. Should I make ‘get well soup’ or ‘feel better bread’.”
Vex chuckles. “Maybe you should make both. I’ll taste-test them and tell you which one to bring.”
“You mean you’ll eat them both and tell me to make your favorite again.” I grab my book off the floor and twist around so that I can ‘rest on the pillows’.
An arm wraps around me almost immediately.
“Now it’s a perfect day again.” I don’t bother to hold in the sigh.