7. Deer Crossing
deer crossing
César
T he drive home is the most agonizing thirty minutes of my life, and it has nothing to do with the gunshot wound in my arm.
I’ve assessed the damage and thankfully I can avoid a hospital visit.
The last thing I need is to go there and run into my sister, who is doing her PA clinicals in the emergency room in the nearby hospital.
I wouldn’t know where to begin explaining this unique relationship with Deirdre, and I’d rather not try. It doesn’t help that I don’t even understand what it is I am doing anymore. What happened tonight could’ve been avoided, had I actually been doing my job.
What I did instead was reckless and extremely unprofessional. Estupido . I’ll admit a lot of my recent actions have been unprofessional and invasive, but I can’t explain it. I can’t tell anyone either, because it feels so wrong and so right all at the same time.
I have this aching need to know everything there is to know about her; things I shouldn’t be allowed to know and aren’t my business. Like why can’t she sleep at night? What makes her so anxious and why are her eyes full of sadness? None of that is my business, yet I can’t shake it.
Deirdre Klarke isn’t someone who hides from danger. She embodies it, and you cannot fear what you are. However, I’m to blame for the fear in her eyes tonight. My stomach churns at the thought of this unfortunate first impression.
I came straight home from the airport, itching to check her camera feed, and decided to keep myself busy with tasks around the house instead. Once I completed them, I showered and climbed into bed, hoping sleep would take me. But I was wrong.
I couldn’t sleep in Puerto Rico while surrounded by photos and memories in my abuela’s home. The realization became more apparent as I prepared the space for her to spend her final days in hospice care.
Eventually, I gave in and checked Deirdre’s cameras, relieved to find her sleeping soundly in bed.
As I paced my home, I stared down Abuela’s pilón that no one else wanted.
The thought crossed my mind, and before I knew it, my keys were in hand, and I was heading for her house at two in the morning.
It was bold of me to stride inside as if I lived there, but at least I wasn’t empty handed.
I’d been quiet enough, and have done this countless times without disturbing her.
Except the layout was different; she’d moved her vast collection of plants from the kitchen, nearly filling her spacious living room.
I toed around, thinking I’d been being careful, but my size often complicates things.
I’m not usually a clumsy guy. But I was, and at the wrong time tonight, I stubbed my toe on a planter hard .
Then I jumped back and knocked over another huge planter with a loud crash.
If the crash didn’t wake her, cursing to myself did.
It made a huge mess with soil and shattered ceramic all over the floor.
Thinking quickly, I rushed to toss the shards, not wanting her to get hurt, attempting to clean it herself, and the hunt for a broom is how she spotted me. The least I could do was clean up after myself, and I would’ve taken care of it if she hadn’t shot me.
The fact that she lives alone, has an arsenal of weapons, and doesn’t go anywhere without a gun, would make a wise man wait for a vacant home before breaking and entering. Except I never said I was wise.
I’ll admit I hadn’t considered that she’d really shoot me until she actually did. Silly me for thinking all of our inside jokes meant she changed her mind. Let that be a lesson: you can’t laugh yourself out of a death sentence.
At the time, it felt like a grand gesture and so necessary, but instead I earned a reality check and a gunshot wound.
I’m ripped from my thoughts when a white-tailed deer darts out in front of me.
My feet slam on the brakes in time to avoid a collision, and she stops in her tracks to pin me with a stare.
The familiarity of this standoff sends a chill over me, and my gaze doesn’t waiver as I wait anxiously for her to either pass or lunge toward my truck.
The latter seems impossible, but the Doe in my life did just shoot me.
So maybe I ought to have more respect for quarry.
I roll down my window slightly, clicking my teeth to encourage her to move along. She breaks our gaze, staring into the woods as if she’s waiting for someone. Moments later, a fawn emerges from the rustling brush to join her. She glances at me once more before they retreat across the road.
“What a fucking night,” I say, taking a deep breath as I resume my drive.
Thankfully, I had everything I needed at home to clean my wound and wrap it. I lean over the sink as I swallow some acetaminophen for the pain and remove my blood-soaked hoodie, tossing it aside.
I examine the graze wound before rinsing it with saline and cleansing. It looks like shit, but at least I’ll have another cool scar. I’m turning off the water when I hear my front door open followed by a familiar voice calling out. My sister’s timing couldn’t be better.
?Maldita sea!
My eyes dart around at the bloody towels surrounding me, and I glare at the ceiling, mouthing, you think this shit is funny, huh?
A lie isn’t going to convince her once she walks in to see all the blood-soaked towels.
The floorboards creak as her footsteps grow closer, but I remain silent as I frantically scramble to clean up.
Of course, she finds me…as I’m shoving bloody towels under the sink.
What do I even say? My girlf— subject shot me?
How did I end up here?
“What the fuck happened, César?” she exclaims, and before I can respond, she’s at my side assessing me.
“I’m fine. I just got caught on something,” I lie.
“I know what a gunshot wound looks like. I’m in medical school, estupido! Or did you forget since you’re DIY-ing my job? Does Mami even know you’re back?” she asks, fishing her phone from the tote bag on her arm.
“Please don’t tell her. She doesn’t need this right now,” I beg.
“Start talking, Chuki. Now,” she demands, crossing her arms and sucking her teeth. She stares at the wound, shaking her head as it starts to bleed again.
“Okay. I’m seeing someone. It’s new.” Her eyebrows jump up, and before she can start asking more questions, I continue. “I was hoping to surprise her when I got back from Puerto Rico. You know I was getting the house set up for Abuelita .”
“Yeah, and?” she urges, waving her hand for me to hurry.
I sigh. “Well, I scared her and she…shot me. I promise I’m okay. Just grazed me.”
Her face scrunches in disbelief, and she asks, “If you’re dating…and you came over to see her, why would she shoot you?”
“She—uh, scares easily.”
That’s a fucking lie.
“She would never intentionally hurt me. It was an accident, and she’s pretty shaken up, and I’d like to get back to her.
You know, more women should carry weapons,” I suggest with a shrug, ignoring the pain.
“So, are you going to keep interrogating me or will you help wrap this up since you barged into my house?” I say, pointing at the gauze on the counter.
Now, I understand how she felt about uninvited guests.
“Uh—sure.” She crosses over to my sink, washing her hands before applying gauze to my bicep. “You know, for a dummy, you did a good job cleaning this wound.”
I snort. “Thanks. You can learn anything on the internet.”
“You could’ve called me,” she reminds me in a soft tone, focused on the task at hand.
“You mean to tell me I’m paying for you to learn shit like this when it’s online for free ?”
She rolls her eyes, stifling a laugh. “You’re an idiot. So, when can I = meet the woman who shot my brother? Maybe she could give me some pointers,” she adds with a cackle.
I mock her laugh. “I’m not ready for her to meet everyone yet. The last thing I want to do is scare her off. And don’t tell Mami .”
“Fine. You’re all set. I’ll get out of here,” she tells me as she pats the now covered wound, making me hiss out my exhale.
“Please. It’s late, and I know you love the guest bed. Go on,” I assure, tilting my head toward the hallway.
She stands on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek. “Goodnight. Be safe.
Maybe call before you drop by this time,” she teases as she proceeds down the hall.
“Says you ,” I chime after her, and she blows a raspberry before shutting the bedroom door.
The drive back to Doe’s is calm and free of deer. I stand outside her bedroom window at a respectful distance to find her peeking out the curtain as if she’s been expecting me. Her eyes widen when she realizes I’ve returned, and I greet her with a text.
I live to piss you off another day. Go to bed, Doe.
She picks up her phone and smirks. I give her a wave as I head back to my truck. I shake the curiosity of what it would be like to sleep beside her. That ain’t happening , I tell myself when my engine roars to life.
I know exactly what makes her so dangerous, yet I’ll be back tomorrow and the next day. She ain’t getting rid of me that easily.