Chapter 6 Damon – Cave rescues
Die for adultery? No.
King Lear, Shakespeare
I pulled into my drive feeling exhausted.
Fishing with Sam and Cameron was fun, but it was such a long day.
We left our houses at stupid o’clock, arriving at the dock while it was still dark.
Sam had borrowed his uncle’s boat, but none of us knew anything about fishing, se we came home empty-handed after hours of just sitting in a boat.
We had fun chatting and drinking the occasional beer, but it would have been nice to catch something.
Even though I had no idea how to prepare fish, Mom would have loved it if I’d been able to drop something in for her.
Cordelia next door seemed to like to cook.
I’m sure she would have loved some fresh fish too.
I went to my trunk to pull out my bag but noticed a cloud of black smoke coming from the next-door backyard.
Shit! I ran and banged on their front door.
No answer. I couldn’t just leave. Running into their backyard, I noticed the gate was open.
I wandered in, almost doing a double take at what I saw.
A mattress sat alight on the grass, though there was barely any flame.
It was more of a smoky smolder. I guess mattresses don’t burn that well.
Cordelia sat on a lawn chair, close to the mattress but far enough back to not choke on smoke.
She had a bag of open marshmallows next to her and one jabbed on the end of a thin stick.
She was holding it over the “fire,” but she was smoking the marshmallow rather than toasting it. Harrison was nowhere to be seen.
“Cordelia? Everything ok?” I asked. Everyone seemed to call her Cordy or Cords, but I liked her full name. It was dignified and elegant, everything I’d come to learn that she was.
She looked up at me. She wasn’t actively crying but she had mascara streaked down her cheeks, evidence of earlier tears.
“Damon,” she slurred. I looked down and saw the edge of a tequila bottle behind her chair. “Come join me. Marshmallow? You’ll have to find your own stick.” She held out the bag.
“Nah, I’m good. I’m going to put out your little campfire here though. It’s mostly smoke, and Peggy will call the fire brigade soon, if she hasn’t already.”
Peggy was the elderly neighbor next to Cordelia and Harrison’s house. She was a nice, if a bit bossy, old lady and her husband Reg was her obedient sidekick. She’d have Reg over here investigating soon.
Using the hose, I sprayed the mattress until the tiny flames died and the smoke began to lessen.
“So, what’s happening Cordelia?” I asked, crouching beside her.
She burst into tears, wiping her face with her hands. “Do you really want to know, neighbor man?” she asked between hiccups.
“Yes, I do. Where’s Harrison? Is he okay?”
“Oh, he’s okay. He fell into Emma’s beaver and got lost. He found his way out in time to apologize, but then they left, so he probably fell in there again. Maybe you should go after him, but make sure you use one of those rope guide thingies in case you fall in too.”
Who the fuck was Emma? He fucked some chick named Emma? That would explain the burning mattress, the tears, and the booze. What an asshole.
“Okay. It’s okay. Maybe we should move inside. It’s getting cold and the smoke isn’t helping your eyes.”
She sat there, staring at the discarded mattress.
“In my bed. In my fucking bed. When you’re having fun, time flies apparently.
I wasn’t even home early. He just was ..
. Emma has a chipmunk face. Like a girl Alvin.
Or maybe the other one, the nerdy one with the long t-shirt.
She had the fucking nerve to ask me to look away while she got dressed, like I wanted to see her fucking pussy ever again.
” She took a swig of the tequila bottle.
“Yep, okay. Let’s just move it inside.” I put my arm under hers, guiding her up and out of the chair. She stumbled, obviously more drunk than she seemed.
We reached the backsteps, and she slapped the door.
“Motherfucker,” she yelled drunkenly. I winced.
Peggy was all about shutting down profanity in the neighborhood.
Her priority was dealing with all the stray cats in the area, but profanity was a close second.
Opening her door, I moved her into the kitchen and guided her to a chair.
She sat and flopped face down on the table, crying fresh rivers of tears.
I was out of my depth here. “Have you called one of your sisters?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she slurred. “Randa is coming. Jules is working. Maybe she’s on the Emma’s beaver medical team? Maybe Harrison hit his head in there? It was probably really dark. I don’t know. He said he loves her.”
I was a little over discussing this Emma woman’s vagina, but I knew Cordelia was angry and needed to vent.
I poured a glass of water and grabbed the tissue box, putting both in front of Cordelia. She was pretty quiet now, muttering random words every now and then. I heard the key in the front door and a split second later, a furious-looking Miranda was in the kitchen.
“Shit Cords, I can’t believe it. I’m gonna castrate the bastard.” She pulled a chair up next to her sister and put her arms around her sobbing frame. “Oh, hey Damon.” She looked briefly at me, maybe confused as to why I was there.
“I extinguished a burning mattress in the backyard,” I explained. “I wanted to stay here until she had someone with her.”
“Thanks,” Miranda said sadly, kissing her sister’s head. “I’ll sort it from here. But truly, thank you.”
“No problem.” I stood up to leave. As much as I felt out of my depth, it felt wrong leaving Cordelia like this. “If Harrison comes home and gives you any trouble, my number is in Cordelia’s phone.”
“Thanks, but I can handle that weasel. In fact, I consider ‘handling’ Harrison my new full-time occupation,” she said, with a glint in her eye and a devious smile.
I rubbed Cordelia’s back awkwardly and said my goodbyes. By the expression on Miranda’s face, I’d say Harrison had more to worry about on his return than an angry, hungover girlfriend. Hell hath no fury like the fiery sister of a woman scorned.