Penny
Gloom surrounds us as we walk down the driveway.
In the daytime, the evergreens around us are beautiful. At night, they’re dark, sinister shapes making perfect hiding places for the scary kind of wildlife: bears, coyotes, mountain lions, and moose that cause car accidents.
I’m walking beside a dangerous creature too. A man who took away my freedom and put a collar around my neck. A man who says he resents me, yet looks at me like he wants to eat me alive.
Jacob and I turn right at the end of his driveway and head down the hill. It’s steeper on foot, and the waist-high snow piles made by a plow force us to walk single-file along the shoulder.
Only two streetlights light the way, the twin amber pools just barely easing the darkness. More trees line the sides of the hill, their branches clacking in the wind and stretching out to touch us.
The steady sound of our boots crunching in the snow calms my mind. My anxiety about the darkness disappears. I take deep breaths of the cold, fresh air, grateful for it on my skin even though it’s making my face numb.
I’d be freezing if it weren’t for Jacob’s sweater. It was nice of him to lend it to me. His faint scent on the cotton makes it seem like he’s giving me a warm hug, and I’m trying to ignore how much I like that.
Today was… something.
I wouldn’t say challenging because I didn’t experience any actual hardship, but it wasn’t as easy as I expected.
Being by myself? Fine by me.
Going several hours without my phone or tablet? Not fun but doable.
Spending the entire day trapped inside with nothing to do, cut off from everyone and everything familiar? I wanted to crawl up the walls or run out the door screaming.
I tried to busy myself with cleaning. Jacob keeps his home tidy so there wasn’t much to do. At least a load of laundry allowed me to wear underwear again.
I did some pencil sketches but it didn’t hold my attention for long. Nothing did. There was just this constant sense of restlessness.
Snooping in Jacob’s bedroom wasn’t as entertaining as I hoped either. His closet only had clothes and shoes in it. A drawer that likely contained his important stuff was locked. The laptop on his dresser was password-protected.
Freedom from distraction did not allow room for self-reflection. Memories of the “intake process” pestered me all day instead.
No matter how hard I tried to think of something else, my mind always returned to Jacob’s hand sliding up the inside of my thigh, higher and higher, between my legs shamefully tight and warm. Then his perverse question would fill my head.
Would you let Daddy slide his cock inside you for thirty thousand dollars?
Before she met Jacob, Mom used her body to manipulate men to give her whatever she wanted. These guys would wear expensive watches. It would make me sick seeing that gleaming symbol of prosperity disappear under my mother’s short skirt.
When I got older and Jacob wasn’t in our lives anymore, she started encouraging me to do the same thing.
Hold a man by his dick and he’ll let you take him wherever you want to go.
I would’ve respected her more if sex work were her actual job, where she had honest transactional relationships. She used sex for scams and I’ve never followed in her footsteps. I wouldn’t respect myself if I did.
I’m insulted Jacob even dared asked me that question. I’m also ashamed that it’s the money part that bothers me the most.
The sordid truth is that I wanted him to touch me. If he’d slid his fingers into me, then asked me if he could slide his cock into me next without mentioning the money, I don’t know how I would’ve responded.
Would I have let my ex-stepfather fuck me?
Your pussy is the only honest part of you and it’s wet for me.
I need to leave my thoughts alone. They aren’t good company at the moment.
“How long have you been living in Wenora?” I blurt out, my breath fogging in the cold air.
“Almost a year,” Jacob says.
“Oh, you haven’t been here long. Where were you before the move?”
“Barrie for a few years. Georgian Bay a few more after that.”
“You kept moving north.”
“Yep. I don’t plan on going any further than Wenora.”
There’s more room on the shoulder now that we’re at the bottom of the hill. I move to walk beside him, debating whether to ask a specific question. It didn’t go over well the last time I sort of brought up the topic, but I’m too curious to let it go.
“Why do you work for the water company?”
“I applied. They accepted me.”
I give him a sidelong glance.
“You know what I meant.”
He remains silent. I start to give up on getting a response when he speaks.
“It used to be my job to earn profit for a small group of people. Despite doing that pretty well, I was on the chopping block the day I was arrested. I was the face of the company. They couldn’t risk that chart line going in the wrong direction.
” He pauses. “So I decided to switch to a job that benefited the public but kept me in the shadows. Nobody knows the guy making sure their water is safe to drink and tastes good.”
“That’s why I liked my hotel job. I worked by myself and didn’t have to directly deal with customers most of the time. It was nice.”
He looks at me but it’s hard to see his expression in the gloom.
“Was? You don’t have that job anymore?”
“My boss didn’t like me asking for time-off on short notice this morning.”
“You live alone in Toronto?”
“After Mom passed, I moved in with my Aunt Deanna and her son Kevin. Do you remember them?”
“The bible-thumper and the creepy one.”
I huff. “Harsh but accurate.”
“Are your aunt and cousin the only ones who’ll miss you while you’re gone?”
“Not really.”
“What about the person you sent that picture to?”
My eyebrows draw together. “What picture?”
“The one of you in the black shirt and pink underwear.”
Oh. Right. That picture. The one that made him hold on to my phone so he could take a good, long look.
Warmth fills my face. “I never sent it to anyone.”
“You took it for someone.”
“Yeah, a guy I was interested in at the time.” Self-conscious, I quickly add, “It was the first and only time I ever agreed to do something like that, though.”
I remember shaving myself, putting on the sexiest pair of underwear I owned, and taking at least twenty different shots before I decided that one was the best.
After all that trouble, I changed my mind and didn’t bother sending it. I should’ve deleted it too then Jacob wouldn’t have seen it.
He’s seen a lot more than what’s in the picture.
“This guy isn’t in your life anymore?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“He was a bit immature. I prefer older—maturity in men.”
“Hm. Makes sense you would have daddy issues.”
I give him another side-long glance. “You of all people should feel weird saying that.”
“I’m comfortable with uncomfortable truths. Your bio dad was never in the picture, and I was only around for a few years. Of course you’d be into older guys to fill that hole in your life.”
The way you looked at me this morning, it seems you’d like to fill a different kind of—
I imagine myself with a straw broom vigorously sweeping away that filthy thought.
When it starts to snow, Jacob insists we turn back so we don’t get caught in the storm. We’re walking past the red brick house at the bottom of the hill again when there’s a loud crash and someone screams.
We stop and swivel our attention at the sound.
“What the hell?” I say.
People are yelling inside the house. It’s hard to hear the exact words though it’s obvious they’re angry. Abruptly, Jacob pivots and marches up the driveway. I follow after him.
“Hey! What are you doing?”
He glances back at me. “I want to find out what’s going on.”
“Do you know the people inside?”
“Ruth, the girl who brought the cupcakes. This is her house.”
As we approach the stairs, it’s easier to make out the voices and the words. It’s a man and a woman shouting at each other.
“—didn’t think I wouldn’t find out?”
“You never would’ve if you hadn’t been a fucking nosy bitch!”
“Fuck you, Wayne! If you hadn’t been up to no good, I never would’ve had to spy on you in the first place! I never would’ve seen—” The woman’s voice abruptly drops to a harsh whisper. “Someone’s on the porch!”
Jacob lifts his hand to knock on the door when it swings open. A stout man in a stained white t-shirt and black sweatpants stands in the doorway.
Behind him, an overturned chair with a broken leg lies on the floor, and a woman peers at us with a scowl on her flushed face. My eyes widen at the familiar blue highlights in her hair.
What’s her name again?
Sarah…? No. Sasha.
“What the fuck do you want?”
The stout man shifts a glare between me and Jacob. He stinks of booze and his breath is diabolical.
“Just making sure everything’s OK, Wayne,” Jacob says in a calm voice.
Wayne sneers. “Who the hell are you? How do you know my name?”
“He’s the guy who helped Ruth bring your drunk ass into the house the other night,” Sasha says in a mean tone.
“Is Ruth home?” Jacob asks.
Sasha forces a smile. “No, she’s at work. Everything’s fine. My husband and I are just having a little disagreement.”
Little?
The broken chair begs to differ.
“So mind your own fucking business!” Wayne snarls.
He slams the door shut in our faces, rattling the windows. I flinch at the loud sound. More angry whispers follow from behind the door, growing fainter as though they’re walking away.
Jacob shakes his head then turns away from the door. He places his hand on my back and I look up at him, trying not to pay attention to his touch as he guides me down the porch stairs.
“I know that lady. She’s the nurse who attended to me after my accident. Their little disagreement might get worse. Should we call the cops?”
Jacob lets his hand fall to his side as we’re walking down the driveway and I miss his warmth.
“No. We’re going to mind our own fucking business.”
“How come you tried to intervene?”
“Wayne is Ruth’s stepdad. She gave me the impression they aren’t on the best terms. I wanted to make sure he wasn’t hurting her.”
On one hand, it’s nice to see that underneath the thick layer of frosty meanness, Jacob still has a caring middle. On the other, jealousy needles me.
He didn’t think twice about rushing to Ruth’s rescue. Meanwhile, I literally had to get down on my knees for his help, and it still came with conditions.
Ruth doesn’t have a bitter history with him like I do.
Maybe she even makes him happy.
Ruth comes to mind. Her beautiful face, her gorgeous auburn hair, and her sweet smile as she handed me the cupcakes.
These are for Jacob.
The needling becomes more of a stabbing, forcing words out of me.
“Are you dating Ruth?”
He scoffs. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not? She’s pretty.”
“She’s too young for me. I’m old enough to be her dad.”
Good news, he’s not with Ruth.
Bad news, he’s not interested in dating younger women.
Why is that bad news to you?
I avoid thinking about the answer to that question and focus on the journey back to the house.