Page 8 of Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

His cheeks burn a bright red. “See you bright and early tomorrow for training. We open at seven sharp for the folks commutin’ to work.”

“I’ll be here.”

He dismisses me without so much as a goodbye by turning to pick up the phone behind the counter. “Hired a new girl,” he says—but that’s all I hear as I walk back outside the filling station.

After leaving the station, I continue on into town, stopping off at the small grocery store to pick up food and sundries for my house, along with a Styrofoam Igloo cooler and a bag of ice for the perishables in case my house still lacks electric.

Everyone’s so friendly, wanting to talk. I’ll have to come back later to look around after getting the food put away.

Back at home, I have to let the water run for a while to rid the system of the brown, mineral-filled liquid, but the pump for the well works and now clear water runs through the faucet. The water heater, as I find out, needs to be lit manually because of its age. And unfortunately, I don’t own a lighter. Scouring thoroughly through each kitchen drawer, I finally stumble upon a tiny, half-used box of wooden matches.

Before I turn any knobs on the water heater, I think it prudent to jog out the back door to make sure the pig—what you call a large propane gas tank—still holds gas. Which, luckily, the tank is more than half full. But it had been turned off years ago, too. After years of nonuse and weather, it takes me a half hour and several large blisters on my hands to finally get the knob to twist. Yet twist it does.Hallelujah!

The knob on the water heater—located in the back vestibule, situated beside the washer and dryer, which both run on gas—turns so much easier. An hour later, my house has hot water. It could have heated before that, but I waited an hour.

With clean water and soap and sponges from the store, I begin the daunting task of cleaning and setting up a home for myself.

Hours pass before I stop to eat. There was a certain satisfaction when during those hours, I heard the pop as the electricity powered up and the refrigerator kicked on, and after a thorough cleaning I transferred all the perishables from the cooler into their final home, the old Frigidaire, giving me a sense that this place might just save me. Without thinking, I begin grating the sharp cheddar—pulled frommyfridge—to go in my special cornbread that I make whenever I make chili.

Gage’s favorite.

He loves my chili and cornbread. When a single tear leaks from my eye, I know I have to shove all thoughts of Gage out of my mind. I love him, but he’s a Lord. He represents everything I don’t want in my life.

Forcing all thoughts of the man out of my head, I finish the food prep.

Finish eating.

Finish cleaning up.

Then I set the alarm for sixa.m. and lay down on my clean sheets. Thoughts of Gage unfortunately fill my mind again.

Love sucks.

Why can’t I just put him behind me?

Why do I feel so guilty for leaving?

My fingers don’t bother to ask my brain for permission before shooting off a quick text to the man, to the number I’ve known for years, burned in my memory. Just two words.

I’m okay.

But, boy, do those two words open a floodgate.

Liv baby? Where are you? I’m so worried.

Do I answer him? I mean, I knew he would be—worried, that is. Of course I do. I can’t help myself.

Not telling you where I am. Didn’t want you to worry tho.

Baby,he texts back.Why did you leave me?

That’s the hundred-million-dollar question, isn’t it?

I couldn’t do it anymore.

Liv.

Shit. I hear his sadness in that one word.

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