11. The Gift
Chapter 11
The Gift
M y eyes keep glancing at the diner door every time it opens, not because I’m worried we’ll suddenly have a rush of customers, but because I’m looking for one specific customer to come back through the door, even though I know, the likelihood of that happening is probably slim. He and his brother didn’t belong here, and stuck out like a Catholic nun at a Black Sabbath concert. Still, there is a part of me that wants to ask him why he left me that outrageous tip after the way I treated him, and if I’m being honest with myself, I found Nic incredibly hot. So hot, in fact, that I might have cum with his name on my lips, and his image blazing a hole in my mind, this morning in the shower.
The reality is that I’ll probably never see either of those pretentious fools again, and that’s arguably a good thing. I don’t need to be getting myself hot and bothered over anyone. I have so much other shit to worry about, like how I’m going to come up with the missing amount of rent for this month and next. January is usually slow at the diner, and I’m guessing it will be the same at the strip club. A surge of disappointment runs through me, knowing there is no way I’m going to be able to afford the social worker courses I want to start taking at the local community college in the spring.
Once again, I’m reminded of all my shitty choices. I could have gone to college on a full-ride, straight out of high school. Instead, I allowed something that happened to me, through my own trusting naivety, to derail my life and lead me down a further path of struggling. It seems like I’m doomed to make one mistake after the other in this life, with no refuge in sight.
Daisy tried to talk reason into me this morning, telling me to just do one day at ‘the hole’. I didn’t immediately shut her down like I usually do; if things continue to go to shit on me, soon enough, I won’t have much of a choice. Can I really allow some random stranger to fuck me, without ever seeing their face, for money? A shudder races down my spine at the thought, and unfortunately for me, it’s not filled with revulsion.
As I’m contemplating how far I’ll stray from my moral compass, and berate myself for being an uptight bitch about sex, my phone vibrates in the waistband of my leggings. I pull out the phone that has seen better days, with its cracked screen held together by transparent tape, and all my hopes and prayers, and see that it’s a text message from an unknown number.
Sweet little temptation, what if I wrapped my hand around your neck and pulled you forcibly into a dark corner, taking your ability to scream away? Would you fight me, or would your pretty cunt flood with juices?
Shall I remove all your options, including the one to breathe, and see what happens? I have a theory, and I’d like to be proven right.
What the fuck, who the hell is this? My eyes almost pop out of my skull at the perverse words on my screen, and I find myself scrutinizing the patrons within the diner, to see if anyone in here is playing a joke on me. When no one stands out as suspicious, I decide to reply.
Listen here, freak. You come near me, and I’ll gut you like a pig at the slaughterhouse. Stop fucking messaging me, you coward.
I delete the messages and block the number, rage filtering through my bloodstream, and making me hot all over. Who is this sicko that’s messaging me? Could it be one of the bouncers or regulars at the club? Maybe it’s the slimy neighbor on the corner, who stares at me whenever I head to work at the diner. How did they even get my number? More importantly, how would they know that being kidnapped and restrained, with no ability to fight back, is a fantasy of mine?
“Hey, Princess , can you stop daydreaming for a bit, and get that order over to table five, or shall I do everything around here, while you stand around and look pretty?“ Dolores’s raspy, smoker’s voice startles me out of my thoughts.
I grab the food from the service window and drop it off at the table, my mind still on the text messages and who they could be from. “Will you look at this?” Dolores gets my attention and points up the television screen we have in the corner, flashing the news. On the screen, there are a bunch of people coming and going from a gray brick building, in full, bright yellow hazmat suits. I read the banner below that states they’ve had a chemical breach at the local morgue. Dolores reaches for the remote and takes it off mute, the diners around us forgotten.
“The breach is believed to be the work of local gangs, wanting to destroy incriminating evidence. The coroner’s office has indicated that all precautions are being taken to assure the safety of workers, and that the remains are being handled respectfully. The chief of Boston PD released a statement indicating they’re committed to finding and arresting the culprits, and keeping the community safe. More on this story as it develops.”
“Lord have mercy, you can’t even die in peace now, without someone desecrating your body. What is this world coming to?” She huffs as she gets back to work, and mutes the television once again. With one last look at the screen, I get back to work, hoping to make enough tips to grab Toothless another bag of kibble, before all the stores are shut down for Christmas.
At least one of us will be having Christmas dinner.
My feet are wet, frozen, and killing me, as I walk up to the front door of my house, trudging through the dirty slush that litters the concrete walkway. The rest of the day dragged on at the diner, and I’m dead tired. I have a few hours left before my shift at the strip club, Toothless still needs his walk, and other than three cups of coffee and some burnt pancakes, I haven’t eaten much today. Not that there’s considerable hope for a lavish meal at home, but I’m pretty sure there is still a can of tomato soup, and some stale crackers in the pantry.
There’s a bright yellow ticket taped to the glass of the front door, and with a discouraged sigh, I rip it down, already knowing that it’s a collection notice from the electrical company, warning that they’re going to shut off our service. Dammit, I thought Daisy said she took care of this. I shift the large bag of kibble from one arm to the other to insert my key, and my head tilts, as I realize that I don’t hear Toothless pawing at the door like usual when I get home. I hope he hasn’t gotten out again, or Daisy hasn’t forgotten him outside all day, and he’s frozen.
Shit. I push the door open, rushing through the hallway in my wet shoes, and calling out for Toothless, as my heart bangs rapidly in my chest. “Baby, where are you? Toothless, come to momma, right now!” I can hear how frantic and shrill my voice is, and I’m seconds away from having a full panic attack. That dog and Daisy are my only family and I can’t lose either of them. I throw the bag of dog food down on the kitchen table, and race from one room to the other, searching for him, but I see no sign of his large black body.
I reach my room, and a massive lump below my comforter has my breath catching in my throat. Please don’t be dead, fuck, please. I won’t be able to handle it if you are. I approach the bed slowly, my legs trembling as my breathing increases, and terror claws at me. I grab the edge of the worn comforter and push it back, until a large head is revealed with two dark hazel eyes staring back at me lazily, and a tongue wagging out of his mouth. “ Jesus, Toothless , you almost gave me a heart attack!“ His ears twitch, and his stubby tail moves the remainder of the comforter in happiness to see me. “Why didn’t you come to greet me at the door, lazy bones? “ I wrap my arms around his ample neck and squeeze, burying my nose into his warm fur with relief. He lets out a gruff of annoyance at how tight I’m holding him, and squirms on the bed with a groan. “Come on, boy, let’s go potty.”
I release him and walk out of the room, chastising myself for almost having a mental breakdown. Toothless follows behind me, looking a little dopey as if he’s still fighting sleep, but heads out to the backyard when I let him out. I turn to search for the can of soup, my stomach rumbling loudly, and decide to heat it while he’s doing his business. Then I can feed him and take him for a walk, even though everything in me protests, and says I should take a nap instead. I reach the bookcase that acts as our pantry, and dismay hits me like a ton of bricks. The can’s gone, and so are the crackers. Other than a few cans of carrots and peas, and a random can of pasta sauce, the shelves are bare. “Fuck, I guess I’m going hungry today.”
I pour Toothless his kibble and make myself a cup of instant coffee, to ward off the hunger in my belly, while I consider eating the can of peas and carrots. I head back to the door with a towel, ready to bring him inside and wipe his wet paws, but he catches my eye out on the porch. He’s climbed up on the dirty patio table, and is busy sniffing something that I can’t see. Shit, is he eating cigarette butts again? Fuck, I told Daisy to get rid of that shit. I can’t afford another vet bill, because Toothless ingests stuff he shouldn’t.
I race out onto the wet patio in just my socks, and try to grab him by the collar, to haul him back and away from whatever he’s intent on. “No, Toothless, don’t eat any of that!” I attempt to wrestle with the beast that outweighs me by over fifty pounds, and finally manage to push him away, but not before he tears into whatever he’s trying to get to. He whines and barks, trying to get around my body, as I yank him off the table. What the fuck is that?
On the patio table littered with old discarded, empty beer bottles and half-smoked butts, is a torn package wrapped in black wrapping paper, and a red bow lies lopsided and damaged next to it. There’s a chunk out of the side of the box, and Toothless’s distinct teeth marks gracing it. Shit, what is that? Could it be poison from that idiot neighbor two doors down, who is constantly calling animal control on Toothless? “No, boy, you can’t have that. It could be bad. It’s not a treat!” I grapple with the giant beast, and finally manage to get him back inside the house, before returning and lifting the package.
“Hey, Chris, you home?” Daisy’s voice calls from within, and I turn to look at her through the patio door, while still holding the package in my hands. She opens the door wide and steps outside, her loopy smile letting me know she’s smoked a blunt, and is high. “Hey, what’s that?” She approaches me and tries to take the box from my hands, but I pull back and prevent her from reaching for it. “Don’t know. It was out here on the patio table, and Toothless tried to rip it apart. I’m guessing it’s probably fucking rat poison or some shit, from the guy two doors down.”
“Hmmm, whatever it is, it’s dripping, Chrissy.” Daisy points at my hands and down at the red-stained slush at my feet. A feeling of revulsion fills me. Did this asshole send us a dead animal to scare us? Fuck, what is wrong with people? I place the box back down on the table and rip it open, fully prepared to march down to his house with whatever dead animal is in there, and shove it down his unstable and vengeful throat. When the package is wide open, bile races up the back of my throat, and I have to lurch to the edge of the patio, to release the meager contents of my stomach. I can hear Daisy’s screams, but they seem to be coming through in a fog. My eyes trail back to the destroyed package on the table, and disbelief and fear fill me.
“Is that... what... what I think it... is?” Daisy questions through a sob. I can’t take my eyes off the red mess in front of me to stare at her and try to reassure her.
“It’s two hands, severed hands. Male... male, if I were to guess.” Jesus fuck, someone left severed hands on our back porch for our dog to find.
“Does... does that mean... whoever they... belong to is... dead?” Daisy questions, and she grabs onto my bicep and pulls me closer to her, burrowing her tiny body at my side, as the sound of Toothless’s excited pawing at the door is heard.
“I don’t know... but I hope not,” I exclaim, unsure of what to do. “We have to call the cops.”
“Are you nuts, Chris? We can’t call the cops. I still have a warrant out for my arrest, for forging bad cheques. They’ll take me in.” Daisy shrieks, and releases her hold on me. I go to drag my hands down my face in frustration, and realize that they are covered in blood, and Toothless’s slobber. “What do you suggest we do with them, Daisy? Someone sent us severed hands, for fuck’s sake. That’s not sane!”
“I... I don’t know... we get rid of them... maybe at the club. I can’t go to jail, Chrissy. It’s the holidays!” This can’t be my life; any moment now, I’m going to wake up, and all of this will be nothing but a bad nightmare. Please fucking wake up now. I blink my eyes a couple of times, hoping that the mess will disappear, but unfortunately, this is my reality and not some sick dream.
“Get me a couple garbage bags and the small shovel,” I instruct, and Daisy scrambles off to do my bidding. She comes panting back and hands me the bags. Shit, I forgot to ask her for some gloves, not that I think we even have any. “Hold the bag open wide.” I grab the bloody box and throw it, and its contents, into the black garbage bag, tying it off and putting it in another one. “What are you going to do, Chris?” Daisy questions with a pale face.
“Bury it. What else can we do?” I set to work in my soaked socks, digging a hole into the frigid ground of one of our disheveled flower beds, with the shovel that I swear we must have stolen from a kid. By the time I’m done, I can’t feel my fingers or my toes, my chest and face hurt from the cold air, and I’m positive I’m losing my mind.
Why would someone send us two male hands? Who the hell would be deranged enough to do that?