Page 24 of Desperate Haste
We both order our sandwiches and I ask to get them to go. She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m going to take her to one of my favorite spots to eat. After arguing about who is going to pay—me, because I’m not an animal—she finally relents and lets me swipe my card.
Darryl chuckles from behind the register. “You know, you two argue like an old married couple.”
This gets Ophelia to shut up and snatch her sandwich off the counter. “I’ll meet you at the truck. Nice meeting you,” she says with a curt smile.
“Just sex, huh?” he asks with raised brows as the door closes behind her, causing the small bell above it to ring.
“Darryl,” I sigh.
He raises his hands at me as if I’m threatening him and smirks. “Hey, don’t get mad at me. I’m not the one who looks at her like a lovesick kid.”
I roll my eyes at him and toss a few dollars in the tip jar. “Goodbye, Darryl.”
“Bye, son, you and yourfriendcome back soon now,” he calls out with a laugh.
She’s leaning against the truck waiting for me, staring down at her sandwich with heavy eyes. She looks like she’s lost in a thought or a memory and doesn’t look at me right away when I reach her.
“Something on your mind?” I ask and take one step closer to her than I’m sure is allowed for two people who are only having sex.
“I’m not the marrying type,” she says after a moment with a sigh, finally bringing her eyes to mine. The way she looks at me is almost as if she expects this to upset me.
“Okay? Who said anything about getting married? This isn’t even a date, I just took you to get a sandwich,” I tease.
“I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea about who I am. I have no interest in getting married. Ever.” She enunciates ‘ever’ as if it were underlined and bolded. I bring my face closer to hers before speaking.
“Neither do I,” I admit, shaking my head a little as I do. Her face blooms into surprise as I open her door and wait for her to get in. Once inside the cab of the truck, she buckles her seatbelt and looks at me once I take my place in the driver’s seat.
“You don’t want to get married?” Her voice borders on the line of curiosity and surprise.
My hand turns the key of the ignition and I listen as the engine roars to life. “Nope. I’ve never been one for formal displays of love.” I swing my head to look at her and give her a coy smile. “I much prefer the spontaneous, physical type of love, if you know what I mean.” She studies me from the passenger seat as we pull away from the curb and make our way down the road.
“So I assume you’re not working at the bar today?” she asks after a few minutes, keeping her eyes on the road.I guess we’re moving on from the conversation of marriage.
“Not today, no. I got today off because I closed last night and organized the charity event. I open tomorrow, though.”
“You seem to like it there. At least it always looks like you’re having a good time while you’re working.” She flips her hair over her shoulder and I’m intoxicated with the scent of her lavender shampoo. I inhale deeply, trying to soak in every last drop of it.
“Have you been watching me, little fox?” I joke with a laugh and she clicks her tongue at me. I take a breath before continuing. “I love it there. Butcher and Block saved me, gave me a purpose, and gave me something to put my energy into.”
This causes her to look at me again. “What do you mean, it ‘saved you?’”
I hesitate for a minute, glancing at her and then setting my eyes back on the road. Am I really going to tell her? I don’t normally share this part of my life with the women I’m sleeping with. The only people who know my whole story are my friends, my parents, and Marshall. Yet again I’m surprised by the way she makes me feel and in this moment she’s making me want to be honest with her. To tell her my truth. All of it.
“A lot of people don’t know this, but Butcher and Block is a place of healing.” My eyes flick to her quickly as we make our way towards the water. “It’s owned by a good friend of mine, Marshall, who also happens to be my sponsor.” I pause and wait for her to say something and I look at her when she doesn’t. When I catch the image of her, I see that her mouth has fallen open into a small O and her eyes have filled with a sad knowing. When she doesn’t say anything after a beat, I continue.
“He opened the bar to give recovering addicts a space to heal and get back on their feet. Everyone who works there has some kind of addiction; drugs, alcohol, you name it, we have it,” I chuckle, trying to make light of what I’m telling her. She doesn’t laugh or even crack a smile. “I’ve worked there for the last five years ever since getting sober. The people there are like my family. Behind the guys, of course.” I nod and press my lips together.
We pull off the main road and head down a dirt path that’s been forged by tires driving down it over and over again. When the truck wavers as we go from pavement to dirt, she looks around to see where we are. We drive down the road for half a mile before I pull off to the side and back in so the tail of the truck is facing the water.
“Where are we?” She leans over the dash to look around as I turn the engine off. The river moves downstream behind us, the sound of it seeping in through the closed windows.
“We’re in my favorite spot,” I answer with a smile as I reach to unbuckle my seatbelt to hop out. My hand pushes the door open but before I can get out, she reaches over and grabs my arm to stop me.
“Malcolm, wait.” I turn to look at her and she’s worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. “Can I ask you something?”
I close the door gently and turn to face her. “Of course you can, as long as it’s not to marry you. We’ve already established we aren’t into that kind of thing.”
“Would you stop trying to be cute?” she sighs.
