Page 63 of Give Me Redemption

“Shoo, man. You don’t want to wake…” And then my eyes land on the couch and floor. Files after thick files are stacked and falling. I look closer and see pictures of a girl and several photos that look to be mug shots, maybe? Shit, it’s too dark in here to make it all out.

I’m confused and beyond curious, but I move along and head to her bedroom. The bed is unmade, and pillows are on the floor. Clothes are thrown onto a chair, and I see a gun sitting on her dresser.

What the fuck is this?

Why does she have a gun?

Why is her room so messy? I mean, I don’t give a shit about the mess, but this doesn’t seem like Dalton. I know we haven’t known each other that long, but you get a sense of who a person is. She seems like she’s got her shit together. This doesn’t seem like a person who is well-composed.

I lay her down onto the bed, carefully removing her shoes before sliding the covers over her. I look down as she sleeps, wishing I knew more about her. Wishing I didn’t have to go. I exhale, bend, and kiss her hair before walking toward the door.

I reach over and turn the box fan on that sits on her dresser before pulling the door to and walking back into the living room. Slim still meows loudly. Finding my leg, he rubs against it.

“I guess you’re hungry, huh?” I ask him. I walk into the kitchen, and holy shit, the trash is full of peanut butter jars and cat food. On the counter is an almost empty liquor glass. I lift it and take a whiff.

“Jesus, Dalton.” She’s drinking the hard stuff.

I rub my face in frustration. “What the fuck is going on here?”

I lean back against the counter, looking over the mess, and then I realize, she never talks about herself.

Ever.

I’ve asked, but there’s always been something that interruptus us.

We’ve talked on the phone plenty, and she’s given her opinion about my life and my problems, but the only thing I really know about her is she’s a librarian, she loves sports, has two parents, and no siblings that she speaks of. I know she likes seafood and nuts. She has a cat and likes to run.

But I don’t know the deep stuff. I look around the apartment. And this looks deep.

Slim rubs against me again, and then I remember the guy is hungry, so I go after some food for him. Pulling the cabinets open, I see there’s hardly any human food here, but luckily there are a few cans of cat food.

Damn, does the girl ever eat?

I mean, she was going to the grocery store once a week, but it looks like she hasn’t been in a while. I wouldn’t know because I’ve been at Pops. I reach for a can and pull open some drawers until I find the opener.

“Here, Slim,” I say, placing the food on the floor. He happily strolls over and starts feasting.

I guess I should leave now. I look around the messy kitchen. This isn’t my place, but I care about that woman in there. I’m doing all kinds of things that isn’t my style, so fuck it. I reach over and dump the liquor glass before grabbing the soap and dishcloth. I wash a few glasses in the sink before getting the trash off the countertops and lifting the overflowing bag from the bin.

I make my way to the living room and look down at the files scattered everywhere. I know I should mind my own business, but who wouldn’t look? I reach down and pick up a file before flipping it open.

“What are you doing?” I hear.

I snap my head up. “What is this?” I ask.

“That is none of your business.” She barges in the room and snatches it from my hand.

I back up a tad and narrow my eyes at her. She bends down and starts picking up the files before placing them onto the table in a hurry.

“Get out,” she says. “You’ve crossed the line.”

“What?” I ask disbelievingly.

“You heard me,” she says, looking up at me. “This is none of your concern. You touched all my things.” Her eyes are red, her hair falling around her face. She looks almost like a different person.

I look around. “How is this not my concern? My girl…”

“Stop,” she says. “Whatever you think this is…” She stands up with the files against her chest. She seems smaller. Not like the woman I’ve come to know. Fragile and borderline wild. “It isn’t. I’m not your girlfriend, Jace.”

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