"A Love That Binds"
"Daphne hadn't wanted to go with him, but he'd called her crying and vomiting."
Daphne hadn’t wanted to go with him, but he’d called her crying and vomiting.
What was she supposed to do?
Kenny smiled at her from the driver’s side. He was suddenly all smiles; his cheekbones rose high, all 32 of his white teeth glimmered, and his hand was much too close to her thigh. Daphne watched his hand rest on the cup-holder when they made stops.
“I’m glad you came.”
She smiled nervously, tugged at a loose braid, tucked it behind her ear, and repeated the motion. For his 33rd birthday, he wanted to sit in a car at the beach and talk to her. He had brought her favorite things: sushi, coffee, and he had brought his, fried chicken and orange soda.
They weren’t together. She had finally left him and had gone months without contact, so it had surprised her to get such a frantic call from him. It sounded like…like he was going to kill himself, and she didn’t want his blood on her hands.
Daphne was a good girl, she really was, and Kenny was…not so good.
“I promise to treat you right this time.” His hand finally landed on her thigh and gently squeezed the supple brown flesh. He slowly pushed her skirt back, revealing biker shorts. This made him laugh. He loved a good tease.
She pushed his hand away, “I didn’t say we were together.”
It was nighttime, and they were driving into the eye of a storm…and she wondered if she had made a terrible mistake getting in the car with him.
His jaw clenched, and he swallowed hard, “What do I gotta do to get you back?”
“Nothing.” She felt nervous speaking so honestly with him as the rain pelted his jeep. She thought they should turn around and head back, and she said so, “Maybe we should go home?”
She flinched when she said home, for she didn’t mean the home they had once had, but the one she had now, and the one he had…wherever he had it.
His eyes glinted, and a sad smile played about his full lips. That was the only thing she could see: his lips, his eyes, and his bright white teeth, for it was dark, and Kenny had skin like midnight.
Like the Cheshire Cat.
And he was just as kooky and deceptive as the purple thing, too.
The seawall was abandoned, but Kenny parked anyway. He stepped out and walked around to open Daphne’s door.
He was unusually gentlemanly. He had never opened any doors for her past the first month of dating, and he certainly didn’t offer his hand—like he did now—to help her get out of his car.
Still, she had decided she wouldn’t go back. She would be nice to him just this once, and then she would go home, and she would block him, and he’d have to figure out life on his own.
It had stopped raining, but the sea raged. The strip of sand that was the beach had become thinner from the waves rolling back.
Daphne looked up at the black sky and the twinkling stars, and she felt a chill in her bones, “Let’s go back to the car, Kenny.”
“Will you get back with me?”
His back was to hers as he watched the angry water slap against the shoreline.
“Kenny…I can’t.”
“Why?”
“You’re not good for me.”
“I can be good for you.”
“You can’t.”
When he turned around, his eyes were sad. He reached for her, and something deep within told her to run away, to go back to the car, but her heart, her stupid big heart, wept for him. He was a sad man.
She let him hold her hand.
He moved towards the water, and she tugged her hand gently, “That’s too close.”
He didn’t say anything.
“Kenny!” She tried pulling her hand out of his grip, but he was stronger, bigger.
Kenny didn’t say anything, but he began to hum an old love song.
She screamed, and he hummed louder.
“Kenny, please!”
And he continued to hum in pitch with her mournful and frantic screams as he walked them into the cold, unforgiving water.