PS - The Stranded fiction anthology comes out on the tenth! I've got a story in it! It's gonna be awesome! More hype!
Washed
Right Out, Chapter Eight.
Prompts used: Gatorade bottle, is that really you?.
Riley
was never one to make dramatic announcements. When he said something,
he kept to the point. So when he told Sonia what he wanted, what he
really
wanted,
it was serious.
"I
need to make Jonathan disappear."
Somehow,
Sonia managed to calm Riley down long enough to convince him what he
needed to pursue was legal recourse. Mainly, a restraining order. She
promised to take him to the courthouse and begin the process.
"Can
you come over?" Riley kept the slowly subsiding panic out of his
voice. "I don't know if he's outside anymore,
and I can't leave if he is."
"Riley,
why would he be outside?"
Riley
quickly told Sonia about his brush with Jonathan on the front steps.
"Did I overreact?"
"Dear,
he cut off his hair. That's like cutting off a limb." Sonia's
low exhale almost flowed between their mobiles and into his ear. "You
have no obligation to apologize to him, to make him feel better about
what he did, or to take him back. If he's in pain for some reason, he
gets to deal with it himself. If he drags you into it, that shows
what kind of person he is."
He
smiled. "Sonia, did I ever tell you how glad I am you took psych
courses at Oxford?"
"I'll
tell my loan officer you said so. I'll be over momentarily. Don't
budge."
That
wouldn't be hard to do. He couldn't even get close to the windows
without worrying. After ending his call with Sonia, Riley paced
through the apartment rooms, randomly straightening objects that
didn't need the help. Anything to keep his mind off what had happened
in the last ten minutes of his life.
Riley
was absentmindedly rearranging one of his bookshelves when there was
a knock at the door. A second later, his phone buzzed in his pocket
with a new message. He quickly shelved his advance reader copy of
"Gunn's Golden Rules" to check his phone.
R,
I'm at the door. It's okay now. -Sonia
He
found Sonia at his door, as promised, a stylish canvas bag slung over
one shoulder. In her pearl-colored
tunic and print leggings, she looked like she’d walked off the
runway, not out of her own boutique down the street.
As
soon as she stepped into his apartment, Sonia dropped her bag against
the nearest wall and embraced Riley tightly. It wasn't too tight a
hug, but Sonia wasn't usually so physically open, even with her
friends. He tried not to ask if this was really Sonia and not a
convincing looking impostor.
She
eventually let go of Riley and stood back to look at him. "How
are you feeling?"
"Other
than harassed and upset?" At this, Sonia frowned. "Not you,
Sonia!" he added.
"I
didn't think so. It's just—I'm so mad that someone would try to
hurt you like this."
"Well...
thanks for coming over."
"Any
time, darling." Like that, Sonia was back in business mode. She
grabbed her canvas bag from off the floor and strode into Riley's
sitting room. He watched from the entrance as she methodically
emptied it onto his coffee table. "You don't have to worry about
him. He wasn't here when I arrived."
"Really?"
"Really."
There were now several stacks of important looking papers and folders
set out on the coffee table, joined by a brightly colored bottle of
Gatorade, a package of flavored crackers, and several metal cylinders
without labels. Despite himself, Riley shut and locked the front door
before joining Sonia in the sitting room. "These are for you. I
know someone in the police department.
I can call them for you if you like."
"The
police. Right."
They
locked eyes across the table. Sonia's expression grew heavy. "Okay.
No police."
"What
is all of this anyway?" Riley picked up the Gatorade bottle.
"This lemon-lime
looks kinda gross."
"It's
good for you. The food," she explained, "is so you don't
have an excuse to leave the house between now and tomorrow morning.
The papers are legal in nature. I'll handle those. I'll still need
you to supply answers,
but I can do the writing.
"And
these are for your protection." She handed one of the cylinders
to Riley, who recognized with a start the spray nozzle discreetly
centered on the cap.
"Mace?"
"Yes,
of course."
"You
want me to mace my ex? Why do you have so many?"
Sonia
shot Riley a pointed look. "Dear, do you really need to know why
a young foreign black woman in the city needs mace?"
He
mentally gave himself a slap. "Right. Sorry. And now I need it,
too."
"Yes,
most likely. Please remember to shoot it with the nozzle facing
your assailant."
Riley
stuck out his tongue. "Got it, mom."
"If
I was your mom, I'd pinch your cheek and send you to bed without
dinner." Sonia chuckled. "But I think I'll let you be.
Someone has to fill out these papers."
She
perched herself on the end of his couch, a packet of papers in hand,
and put on a sharp pair of reading glasses from her bag. "Do you
need anything before I start?"
Riley
sat on the other end. His mouth set itself in a hard frown. He
cautiously eyed the world outside his window. In his head, broken
snippets of the earlier confrontation with Jonathan ran at dizzying
speeds.
He
didn't want to go to work. He didn't want to leave his apartment.
Jonathan knew where he worked, where he lived, where he bought
groceries and got his hair cut and visited his grandparents and the
library he went to every other week. There was no place he could keep
safe from his ex now.
Riley
didn't want his ex held back by legal means. He really did want
Jonathan to disappear.
"No,
nothing. I'm fine."
The
sound of Sonia's pencil scratching across the paper's surface
couldn't drown out the thoughts of bad things in his head.
Here are the other bloggers who are flashing this Wednesday:
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