Page 21 of Sterling Clay

Damsel in distress, be damned.

I think of the care she gave me when I was sick. Making me dinner, hopeful I’d be home. We would have eaten together like a family.

She doesn’t appear all that stressed out to me.

She’s a survivor, like me.

+ + +

Unfortunately, try as I might, I don’t make it back to my place for dinner as I’d anticipated each morning. There was always one more order to check on. One more project. One more this or that.

A gnawing twist churned my stomach every time I thought of Mavis waiting on me. I wanted to get home to her and Dutton. I really did.

But by the third night of missed dinners, Mavis wasn’t waiting. The house was dark. Mavis locked inside my guest bedroom with Dutton. Her car in my drive was the only hint she was still present.

I stood outside her bedroom door, fist raised, prepared to knock, but what could I say to her? An apology for another missed meal felt fruitless. She didn’t owe me anything so why was she putting forth the effort? And I didn’t owe her an explanation, so why was I going to apologize?

Still, guilt chewed at my insides. This is why I didn’t have a woman in my life. A family outside of my siblings and their offspring. Long ago I determined I was destined to be alone.

But I wanted more. Man, did I want more.

Deciding against a knock, a risk of disturbing Mavis and Dutton, I turn toward my room. Two nights in a row Mavis left a plate covered in the microwave, ready for me to reheat. Tonight, there wasn’t even a leftover.

For some reason, the absence irked me when it had been my own damn fault. I should have called Mavis. Better yet, I should have been here. I have managers and assistants, and employees in different departments who could handle what I couldn’t get to, and I was always feeling I had something to get to. My excuse was that I didn’t have anywhere else to be or anyone waiting on me.

But Mavis was here, and I was blowing an opportunity to get to know her better. We’d hardly crossed paths since that deep confession the other evening. I didn’t know what she did with her day. I didn’t know if she was having trouble with her insurance. I was letting a virtual stranger live here and I needed to know more about her.

Because I had a feeling about Mavis. An over-all good vibe about her character. Mavis made some wrong turns in her life, but who hadn’t?

After a quick shower to wash off the day, I slip on loose fitting pajama pants and head for the kitchen, wanting a beer to cap off my foul mood. The wind howls outside the windows. Another storm is brewing.

Within seconds, rain lashes at the panes. The glass covered with thick rivers so opaque I can’t see outside them.

A rumble of thunder booms.

A flash of lightning snaps.

Then a scream. And the lights go out.

I set down my beer without thinking about the action and race for my guest room. Thankfully, Mavis hadn’t locked the door and I push it open with enough force it swings inward and slams against the wall.

A muffled cry occurs. Mavis sits upright on the bed, both arms wrapped around Dutton like she can pull him into her chest. The position is all I can make out of the two of them in the pitch blackness.

“What happened?” I call out just as another bolt of lightning illuminates the room.

A whimper sounds.

“Dutton is afraid of storms.” Mavis’s voice carries to me, and I cautiously enter the room that contains a queen-sized bed and a dresser, and not a lot of additional floor space.

“I’m not much better.” Her voice is small, quiet, but brave enough for her son.

Another clap of thunder happens. The storm is right above us.

“I’m approaching the bed,” I warn her, so I don’t further frighten her. Running my hand along the edge, I use the next flash of lightning to guide me onto the mattress.

Dutton is deeply tucked into Mavis, her arms protective like the mother bear she is. Something inside me snaps, and I slide my arm around her shoulders, tugging her toward me, Dutton between us.

Another crack of thunder. Dutton trembles so strongly that the vibration quivers against me.