Page 50 of Malachi

A nod sufficed. It was all he was willing to give me.

“Where is she? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I do.”

“I’m sorry.”

There it was. The pain in his eyes intensified as he cut them in a different direction. I dropped the subject, knowing it wasn’t one he wanted to discuss. I began to wonder if she’d left him, divorced him, or died in some tragic way, like I had almost done two years ago.

I utilized the silence as a moment to indulge. The food that smelled absolutely divine was waiting for my tastebuds. When the first fork full of zucchini landed on my tongue, I moaned with pleasure. The test tasting I’d done while cooking served the dish no justice.

God, this is incredible, I thought while piling more vegetables on my fork.

After a second bite, my eyes wandered in his direction. He remained quiet, not bothering with his food anymore. He pushed the fork around his plate, but his interest in filling his stomach was lost. I watched his left hand as it rested against the table. Desperately, I wanted to extend my arm and place my hand on top of his. Refraining was a challenge like no other I’d faced in life. And when it became too much and the silence became too loud, I folded.

“Worry me,” I begged, garnering his attention.

His head lifted as his eyes lowered in search of something unknown.

“Worry me,” I repeated. “Tell me what’s the matter.”

“I think it’s time you leave, aight?”

“Malachi,” I pleaded.

“You don’t fucking know me, so don’t call me that. And don’t worry about what’s wrong with me. You’re here to do a job, one job. Until that motherfucker start, stay on your end of my property and I’ll stay on mine. If that’s too much to ask, then leave.”

In a haste, he was up on his feet and headed for the kitchen. I stood to my feet as well, following him to the trash can to empty my plate. Suddenly, I wasn’t hungry anymore. All I wanted was to get out of this man’s home and back to my end of the land.

He’d made it clear he didn’t want to be bothered, but I wasn’t happy with the idea of leaving him alone. It was as frustrating as it was intrusive. The best thing for me to do was respect his boundaries and stay out of his way, but the task was just too hard. In some weird, twisted way, I knew he needed me even if he didn’t know it, yet.

Beside the trashcan, I stood on one side and he stood on the other, raking the food from our plates. He sat his on the counter and turned to walk away. Seeing him go felt like torture. I couldn’t watch him, but I couldn’t turn away.

“See yourself out,” he demanded.

“Malachi,” I called out to him, finding it difficult to stick to the name he’d given me.

Within milliseconds, he was across the room and in my face, breathing down on me as anger budded in his chest. He bothered me none. He wore his agony on his sleeves and I understood. Life had a way of beating up on us and it was obvious he had some scars. They ran deep. Much deeper than the surface, but I could see them. I could see him.

“I’m sorry,” I choked out. “I’m sorry life has been so unkind to you, but please don’t be mad with me. There’s just something inside of me that won’t let me let you be. You don’t deserve the dark hole you’ve been in. It’s lonely down there. I just want to help you out of it.

“I know you hired me for a job and I’m going to do it well. But I can’t ignore the fact that taking good care of your daughter starts with taking good care of you. So, worry me. I have my battles too. We all do. When you’re ready, I’m just down the road.”

It was my turn to walk off because I couldn’t stomach seeing him do so again. My heart couldn’t take that. I brushed away the tears that fell onto my cheeks, anticipating the moment I was alone to dig deeper and discover an explanation to why I felt so invested in a man I didn’t know and why my heart hurt for him the way it did. But, before I was able to take a second step, there was a shift in my direction.

My feet left the ground as all the oxygen left my body. One hand held me close to his body while the other tightened around my chin. Our bodies didn’t stop moving, not even for a second, as he made his way through the kitchen.

“What the fuck do you want from me?” he barked. “Huh? Who the fuck are you and where the fuck did you come from? How do you know so much?”

He fired away, calling out questions one after the other without giving me a chance to answer any of them. There was a small inkling that he wasn’t looking for answers, either. I had a feeling he truly didn’t want to hear anything I had to say. He bathed in my silence as I fed it to him in small doses.

When my bottom graced the table,I said nothing.

When my back rested against the table,I said nothing.

When my dress was pushed up my body,I said nothing.

When my breasts were exposed,I said nothing.

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