Page 55 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
“Sure. I know you won’t be okay in that house alone. I’ll carry these for you.” He takes my heels, swinging them in his hand as he leads the way.
I don’t say anything as he continues along the road, obstructing the few cars that venture through this tiny town.
His walking on the road is a giveaway that he’s angry, so I hang back a few steps.
It’s the only giveaway because he says nothing.
Opting to stay silent, too, I follow him past the last of the fast-food restaurants. The pavement leads the way for me as another car edges around my fast-moving boyfriend.
“Do you want to get food?”
It was a simple question, met with Shane’s anger.
Red with fury, he turns, teeth bared. All I see is a monster in the approaching nightfall. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but it’s a sight that forces a laugh from me.
I do that sometimes, laugh when nervous.
But Shane doesn’t see the funny side, his snarl growing.
The diamantes on my fancy new shoes light up the sky as they travel through the air before landing on the other side of the road, almost hitting some woman who is all dolled up.
“I wanted a fucking drink! I wanted to stay out! We could have gotten food later! Why do you always have to be such a boring cunt?” Shane marches on, continuing to be a hindrance to another vehicle while I step through the fog of shock and collect my heels.
Still wide-eyed, my apology is sincere as I bend at the woman’s feet. I don’t admire her painted toenails with the chips, but I like the color.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell her as I kneel on the road barefoot, and she stands on the pavement in glamorous gold heels that complement her dress.
She’s a little older than me, pretty and together, with her hair curled into waves too sophisticated for the bar she’s likely heading to.
I don’t recognize her, and I almost feel like I should warn her about the place, but she’s the one to voice a warning as I rise to my feet.
“Don’t apologize to me. Not for a man, honey. Especially one who isn’t worth your time.” She gives me a sad smile. “And be careful not to dirty those pretty gloves.”
My pretty gloves are already stained from the dirt I’ve just brushed from my shoes.
A tear falls from my eye, and I pat it away as I stand alone.
She—the glamorous woman—is already caught up with friends. I watch momentarily as her long, dark hair bounces, wondering what she meant by Shane not being worthy of my time when there is only a small possibility that she knows him, given that he grew up two towns over.
Spinning around, I find Shane is nowhere to be seen. All I see is a string of small businesses with barely any customers. I pass by each one before turning into the chicken restaurant on my right. I figure food will sweeten him up, so I put aside the limited options for myself and hope there’s enough change in my purse to get him something.
Shane is already in here. Fast fingers move along his phone screen as he waits to be called next. As I move toward him, I brace myself for the charges that will hit his credit card tomorrow, because that’s what he does when he’s in a bad mood. He pulls out his phone and recklessly spends money he doesn’t have. And it will be my fault.
“You hungry?” he asks, his attitude lighter, thanks to the smell of greasy chicken.
But I’m still on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop—or for them to be tossed across the street again.
“I’ll just get a small fry if that’s okay.”
“Sure. Go grab us a table. We’ll eat here.”
The muddy hill to the house dirties my feet. As I move through the house, the dry mud flakes off with each step, and guilt trickles down my spine. This is still partly Ambrose’s home, and he wouldn’t like these germs.
Shaking out my hair, I rid that man from my mind.
Looking back at the prints makes me second-guess the carpet Shane and I discussed for the entire downstairs floor plan.
Shane has finally learned to close the front doors, but I linger in the doorway to the reading room just in case he needs a hand. At least, that’s what I tell myself as I stare into the darkness.
