15. That morning coffee, brewed it for ya. One touch and I brand-newed it for ya
15
That morning coffee, brewed it for ya. One touch and I brand-newed it for ya
Moth
T he rest of the movie was a blur. I tried to concentrate, but my brain wouldn’t let me. I stared at the screen, and occasionally at my phone, which stayed silent. By the time the credits were rolling across the screen, and Amelia was stretching, I finally came back down to earth. I could feel the scratchy fabric of the chair against my bare legs, and smell the caramel corn and candy in the air. It was like I’d come back into my body after an out-of-body experience.
“Predictable and campy,” Amelia giggled, retrieving her shoes off the sticky floor. She could never wear shoes and watch a movie. I didn’t get it, but that was Amelia for you. “But that’s my favorite.”
I chuckled. It sounded dry and humorless, and she noticed.
“What’s up?”
I sighed, shrugging.
“Nothin’. ”
“Bullshit,” she grumbled.
“I’ll tell you back at my house,” I said, dropping my popcorn bucket into the trash on the way out. I’d barely touched it.
We were silent as we walked back across the street and got into our cars. When I was alone in the confines of my car, I finally allowed myself to breathe. The drive back home was both heavy and weightless at the same time, somehow. I felt the wind in my hair and the sun beating down on my shoulders. I felt free.
I didn’t feel the dread until I pulled into the driveway. When I saw the house rising out of the grass, I began to feel the contents of my stomach slosh and my muscles cramp. It was like walking down the dark stairs as a child, convinced that the shadows were reaching out to touch me.
It was fear, all over again, but now, just like then, I couldn’t let the fear win.
I grabbed my purse and kicked the door open. Amelia parked behind me, hurrying to catch up as I ambled up to the door, my keys in my hand. Before I even shoved them into the lock, I tried the door.
It was locked, but part of me hadn’t expected it to be.
I wondered silently to myself if maybe he was too busy following me around to break in, but after I tossed my purse down onto the dining room table and strode into the kitchen, I discovered I was wrong.
The kitchen was not as I left it. It was cleaner than I’d ever seen—at least since Mom was alive. The dishes were done and stacked neatly in the drainer. The counters had been wiped down, and the grime that seemed to cake the front of the stove from Dad’s bacon obsession had been scrubbed to sparkling perfection. Even the floor had been swept. On the island, the coffee cup that I’d plopped into the microwave and forgotten about had been refilled, and judging by the steam rolling off of it, the coffee was fresh and piping hot.
Stepping over to the counter, I laid the back of my hand across the glass coffee pot and immediately ripped it away. It was hot. That coffee was fresh.
He had poured out my old stale coffee and made me a fresh pot. He’s cleaned my kitchen just like I’d asked him to.
Sighing, I looked over at the mug. It was steaming, swimming with perfectly beige coffee, with fresh, cold whipped cream piled on top. Someone had slit a strawberry and added it to the rim. I eyed it suspiciously, like an old farm dog eyed shadows in the fields at dusk.
“What’s up?” Amelia asked again, and I sighed, pulling out my phone.
“Nothing,” I said, but the tone of my voice was nothing but nonchalant. I was annoyed, and it showed.
I pulled up my texts and typed a quick message.
What did you do to my coffee?
I stared at the phone until I got a reply, and it took a while longer than I would have expected for him to send me a single winking emoji.
“Oh my god,” Amelia had come to stand beside me, and while she couldn’t see my phone, she could see the cup, and she was smart enough to put two and two together.
Are you trying to fucking drug me?
I’d never hurt you, Moth.
There was a long pause, but I could see by the dancing ellipsis that he wasn’t finished yet.
“Is that from…?” Amelia asked, pointing at the cup, but even as I slowly shook my head no, the message came through, and I knew that I was lying.
We both know that I’m going to end up inside you one way or another, so you might as well drink me with your coffee like a good little girl, or I’ll have to find another way.
That answered that question, and it was right there in plain black and white. He’d done something to it, but it wasn’t a drug.
Sighing, I dropped the phone onto the counter and picked up the mug.
I couldn’t make a big deal out of this, not after the conversation I had with Amelia in Mae’s parking lot. I couldn’t show weakness. I couldn’t let her see that something was wrong, or that I was scared.
I couldn’t let myself think of it too hard, so I brought it to my lips and took a quick drink. Amazingly, I didn’t taste anything. I snatched up my phone and hurried from the room.
But it’s still there , the voice in my head reminded me, and I shook it away.
Nope. Don’t think about that.
“Nessa!” Amelia groaned at me. She followed me into the living room, where I kicked off my shoes and flopped down on the couch.
I was oddly calm about this. Why was I so calm about this ?
Maybe I’d just been through so much in my life that I couldn’t be shocked anymore.
Yeah, I’m sure that was it.
“What?” I asked, looking up at her as innocently as I could manage.
“Are you sure you should be drinking strange—”
“The neighbor came by and helped me out. She made it,” I lied.
I was lying for him?! Why was I lying for him?
“Oh,” Amelia said sheepishly, flopping down on the couch beside me. “Sorry.”
I took another drink, quickly swallowing it down before it could touch my tongue for a little too long.
Why was I doing this? Because he told me to?
I told myself that I didn’t have a choice, but was that just an excuse?
Maybe I liked it.
I shuddered at the thought and silenced the gag that lifted in my throat with another quick sip of the coffee.
Oh god. Maybe that was a bad decision.
“Woah,” Amelia groaned, stepping around the room, her head on a swivel as she took in every inch. I silently thanked her for the distraction. “This is where you grew up, huh?”
“Yep,” I said, looking down at my phone. It stayed silent. I slurped another drink without thinking about it. “It’s a little different from what it was when I was growing up, though.”
“It’s beautiful.”
I snorted .
“My dad neglected it,” I said, and I could hear the venom in my voice. “He let it go to shit.”
“You sound a little…” she shrugged, turning to me and plopping down on the couch beside me. I cringed at the cloud of dust that erupted into the sunbeam streaming in from outside.
“Bitter?” I asked with a shrug. I took another drink. “You could say that.”
“How come?”
I sighed, looking down at my mug and swishing it. The whipped cream had all melted in.
“When my parents first got together, my dad bought this house for her,” I said, looking up at Amelia. “She fell in love when she saw it, and she just had to have it. She had so many dreams and ideas that she wanted to do to the house.”
“Then she got sick?” Amelia asked, sighing. Her voice sounded sad.
“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “I wasn’t very old… I think in elementary school when I remember the first appointments. She just kept getting weaker and weaker, and at first, he really tried to do everything she wanted. But he got so overwhelmed.”
I stopped, taking a big drink. I felt something slick slide across my tongue and forced myself to swallow quickly.
Don’t think about it.
Don’t think about it.
“It’s hard,” Amelia said, nodding solemnly. “My mom was a single mom and…”
She trailed off with a sigh. She never had liked to talk about it .
“Right. I know,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say. “Then when she died, I was only eleven. I tried so hard to do what she would have done, but I was just too young.”
“And caring for an alcoholic father,” Amelia finished for me.
I reached up and wiped the tears out of my eyes.
“Right,” I nodded. “Just wish he would have kept his promises.”
There was a long pause, and eventually, Amelia was the one to break it, reaching over and taking my hand in both of hers.
“I’m sorry, Nessa.”
“No. Don’t be sorry. I don’t want you to be sorry. Hell, I don’t even want him to be sorry. He had his demons, and I never could get him to talk about it.”
She nodded again.
“It’s a cop thing,” she wrinkled her nose, shrugging. “They think they have to be strong and emotionless. It eats at ‘em.”
If anyone knew, it was her. She’d been engaged to a cop for four years straight out of vet school. Sadly, he had been killed in an accident.
“I know it is,” I said, shrugging. “That’s why I’m not mad , ya know? Just…”
“Disappointed,” she finished for me.
“Exactly,” I said. Another drink.
“I mean,” she said, looking around. “You could still keep it. Fix it up like your mom would have wanted.”
“I can’t stay here,” I said, shaking my head.
“Right,” her lips lifted in a mischievous grin. “Stalker.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. And just like that, he was in my head again .
“No, it’s not that,” I said, and it was the truth. “I’m not afraid of him.”
I said it louder, and with all the conviction I could muster. And my phone dinged just a few seconds later.
You shouldn’t be. I will never hurt you.
Just what I was expecting. He was listening in, using my phone, no doubt. I could have turned it off and put it in a different room, but where was the fun in that?
I sighed, and I lifted the mug to take another sip. I was almost half done now.
“That smells good,” Amelia groaned, reaching out to me with grabby hands. “Gimme a sip!”
Normally, I wouldn’t even think about it—I’d hand her the cup and let her finish the rest. Now, my heart leaped, and I quickly tossed my head back, gulped what was left, and swallowed hard.
“Sorry,” I said bashfully, forcing a smile. My stomach tightened, and I had to force myself to think of something else—anything else. “Haven’t been sleeping the best. There’s a whole pot in the kitchen, though!”
Amelia gave me a pout but popped up off the couch, reaching for my mug. She took it and skipped off into the kitchen, her blonde hair bouncing.
“Clean mugs are in the drainer!”
The minute the words left my mouth, my phone dinged again, and I lifted it to my eyes.
Such a greedy little cum slut. I can’t wait to feed it to you straight from the source .
I should have been disgusted. I should have retched at the thought, but instead, they settled way down low in my belly, and I was left confused. My fingers typed a reply all on their own.
How are you gonna do that?
He started typing right away.
Daddy’s gonna shove it down your throat until you choke.
These words settled even lower, and I crossed my legs tightly. What the fuck was wrong with me?!
When?
When you’re ready.
Tonight?
Not tonight. You’re not ready yet. Why? Do you want me to?
No, you make me want to fucking puke.
Bullshit.
I huffed, my face scrunched up and my lips pulled into a frown. I began to type, but he cut me off before I could.
Get that look off your face, you little brat .
With another huff, I darkened the phone and tossed it down onto the couch, crossing my arms across my chest.
That was the moment Amelia chose to walk back into the room, and she gave me the oddest look from the doorway as she sipped her coffee, and I couldn’t blame her.
Not even a little.
“Did someone shit in your cornflakes, dude?” she asked, stepping toward me and plopping down on the couch.
“No,” I said, quickly wiping the pout off of my face.
Just came in your coffee.
This time, the voice in my head made me chuckle at the ridiculousness of it all.
“I’m just really tired,” I said, looking over at her.
“That’s to be expected, ya know,” she said, drinking deeply before sitting her mug on the cluttered table. “But I can help you make dinner tonight?”
“Meh,” I shrugged. “I dunno. I don’t feel like shopping, and I’m not a good cook, anyway.”
“Shopping?” she pulled a face. “For what? You’ve got a fridge full of food in there?”
I went completely quiet, dumbfounded.
“I do?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Did your neighbor say—”
“She must have,” I grumbled, snatching up my phone.
I already had a text from my little black heart.
You’re welcome .
There was a pause. I spent it staring at the texts, and Amelia spent it staring around the room, taking in every little detail. Conflict raged in my head like a hurricane, and I was stuck in the eye. I’d gone from terrified to angry so fast that I should have had whiplash, and now I was just… what? Indifferent? Darkening the phone, I dropped it into my lap and looked over at Amelia.
“So, do you wanna see the rest of the house?” I asked.
She jumped up with excitement.
“Yes! Right now?!”
I laughed and stood up off the couch, my feet bare as I stepped around the room. I showed her the old boarded-up fireplace in the corner that had worked at one point, and maybe could again. I showed her all the crown molding the previous owners had painted over and told her all my mom’s plans for stripping and restoring them. I showed her the window I cracked with a baseball when I was twelve and told her about how scared I had been that my dad would be mad that I hid in the barn loft until well after bedtime.
“I bet he was mad!” she laughed.
“He didn’t start off mad,” I said, grinning. “He didn’t get mad until my mom called it in as a missing person, and the whole force was all over the property looking for me.”
We continued through the house. I showed her my dad’s office, my mom’s old ‘closet room’ that she’d never cleaned out, still full of her old clothes, and my dad’s bedroom. She sighed when we reached the guest room I was staying in.
“This house is so beautiful,” she said as we went back downstairs. “It’s like something you’d see in some fantasy novel. You sure Narnia isn’t hidden in a closet around here somewhere? ”
Not Narnia, but maybe a stalker?
I ignored my thoughts and moved out onto the front porch. She followed me, and I pointed out the rusted old hooks where my mom’s favorite porch swing had once hung.
She sighed contentedly as we sat down on the edge of the porch, our legs swinging over the edge as we looked out over the lawn. I could feel tears prickling at the corners of my eyes, and I forced myself to blink them away. There were so many memories here. I still felt like my life was here, and I belonged here. Mom was still here somehow, and now, so was Dad.
As a kid, I had dreamed of the day it would be mine, and I’d have my own family running around in this yard. I’d re-hang the old tire swing and push my kids as the sun set in the distance and the fireflies rose from the grass.
Somewhere in me, I still wanted that.
Could I really walk away and leave it all to rot? Could I sell it and never have the option to come back? The more I thought about it, the more I realized I wanted anything but that.