Page 2 of Dare
ChapterOne
Ayda
Youknow it’s going to be a good day when you start it by falling out of bed. In mydefense, some jerk startled me from a vicious dream by pounding on the doorlike the cops. Before I was really awake, I tried to leap from the bed, whichisn’t recommended when the sheet is wrapped around your feet.
So,here I am, a grown twenty-four year old woman lying on the floor amid a puff ofdust bunnies. I really should clean under my bed. The pounding resumes, and Imake my way through my apartment to answer the door where a disgruntleddelivery driver thrusts a clipboard at me. “Sign here.”
Myeyes struggle to focus since I didn’t grab my glasses, but I manage somethingakin to my signature. A box is shoved into my hands and the nominee forfriendliest delivery man is off without so much as a “have a nice day.”
“Fuckyou very much,” I grumble, tossing the box into my office. All this for printerink. A glance in the bathroom mirror makes me laugh. No wonder the guy couldn’twait to escape. In addition to the usual ugly I carry, my face bears a largepink imprint of my wrinkled pillowcase. Wild, dark curls spray in everydirection and my stretched out T-shirt makes me look like an overgrown child.
Well,that’s what he gets for waking me at the crack of noon. I retrieve my glassesand grab a yogurt for breakfast, flopping in front of the T.V. while I eat. Afew minutes of the so called news is all I can take. Besides, it’s sunny outand there won’t be many more days like this. Indianapolis seems to go fromninety degrees to snow overnight.
Myapartment overlooks the pool and since it’s the middle of a weekday, there areonly two people swimming. It’s a good time to work on my tan. I throw on mybikini, grab a large towel, my phone and a bottle of water, and headdownstairs.
Thepool is a typical apartment complex pool. Rectangular, with a set of stonesteps disappearing into the shallow end, it’s surrounded by deck chairs with afew umbrellas thrown in for those who don’t worship the sun like I do. In a fewhours, the pool will be brimming with swimmers and sunbathers, and you couldn’tpay me to come then. The stares and murmurs ruin the experience. People areridiculous.
It’sall clear now except for a young mother—I think her name is Sunny—and hertoddler. We’ve spoken a few words in the past and unlike most people, shedoesn’t question me. I give her a smile as she coaxes her son to jump in thewater, and she waves.
Isettle on a lounger, put in my earbuds, and push play on the new Hozier album.I’m totally in love with this man’s voice. I lie there, eyes closed, and losemyself in the music. This is one of my favorite ways to spend my time,especially on days like today.
Thesun warms my body and a light breeze dries the sweat on my skin. I could stayhere forever. Summer is over, but Mother Nature doesn’t seem to notice, and thetemperature climbs into the mid-eighties, so a dip in the pool is definitelycalled for. The water is warm, almost too warm, but I know the breeze will coolme once I’m wet. After a few laps, I sit on the steps, letting my legs danglein the water.
Sunny’slittle boy dog paddles over to me. “I swim!” he exclaims with a grin beforeclimbing the stone steps to stand beside me. His grin widens and he puts twofingers in his mouth. I know the second his gaze lands on my scars. “You haveboo boo?”
Sunnycatches up with him and instantly apologizes. “Ayda, I’m so sorry. Brody, don’tbother the nice lady.”
“Shehas boo boo,” he announces, his face pinched with concern. “Owie? I kiss?”
“It’sokay. They’re old boo boos,” I reassure him. He’s so sweet. “They don’t hurt.No owies.”
Hesquirms and protests when he’s scooped up in his horrified mother’s arms. “Brody,hush.”
“It’sfine,” I assure her. “It’s sweet of him to want to help. He’s really learningto swim isn’t he?”
Hersmile betrays the pride she feels. “Like a little fish. I’d better get him infor a nap or he’ll be a beast. It was nice to see you.”
“Youtoo.”
“Nonap!” Brody cries, and Sunny rolls her eyes, carrying him out of the pool. Ihave the place to myself, so I spend another thirty minutes basking in the sunbefore heading back to my apartment.
Acool shower feels even better than the pool and I revel in the sensation of thechilly water washing over my scalp, taking the heat of the day down the drain.My growling stomach reminds me all I’ve had to eat is a container of yogurt. Apackage of sliced turkey makes my mouth water when I look in the fridge and Idecide it’s a good day for sandwiches.
Iquickly throw together two turkey, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches, placing onein a baggie. After finally locating a storage container to match the lid—howthe hell do I end up with too many lids?—I spoon in a double helping of potatosalad and seal it up. The sandwich, potato salad, and a bottle of water go intoa plastic bag, along with a spoon. My plate finds a temporary spot in thefridge while I run the bag downstairs to the parking lot.
“Tucker?You here?” The stench from the dumpsters is sickening in the afternoon heat.I’m glad to see Tucker isn’t hidden behind them. His sleeping bag and blanketsare folded up between the dumpster and the wooden enclosure surrounding them,so he isn’t far.
Imet Tucker a few months ago when I was taking out the trash. We started chattingand though he won’t let me take him to the mission or a homeless shelter, hewill accept food. Once a week or so, he uses my shower, and I wash his clothesand blankets. I keep hoping he’ll let me get an agency involved and get him offthe street, but he doesn’t want that.
“Heythere, Ms. Ayda,” Tucker calls, and I see he’s seeking shelter from the sununder a tree.
“Hey,I brought you some lunch. You staying cool? It’s brutal today.”
“Gotnothing on Afghanistan. I’m fine.” He accepts the bag of food. “Thank you,dear.”
“You’rewelcome. Take care of yourself.” I always feel guilty leaving him out here, buthe’s a grown man, so there’s little I can do.
I’mwaiting on my photo editing software to load when Sadie calls. Filled withindecision, I hesitate over the accept button before I finally tap it. “Abouttime. What are you doing?” she asks.
