Background
Miranda Jessup Buckley is back to find out what happened to Dougie Wilcox.
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So far, Miranda has set her sights on finding our what happened to Dougie Wilcox. Her neighbor, Aaron Earl, is back in town having dropped out of seminary school. She also found out she is going to have a high school boy working with her.
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I feel bad for Aaron, but he's the kind of guy who jumps into things with both feet before he looks at where he's going to land. Sometimes the frying pan is preferable to the fire.
"Are you disappointed," Aaron asks after uncapping the beer I hand him.
"Aaron, you weren't happy. Why would I be disappointed in you giving up something that didn't make you happy?"
He guzzles over half and shrugs. "I don't want to tell my dad."
"Dammit, Aaron, would you grow up? You just tell him. You're almost thirty years old. You don't owe him any explanation. Just say, "Dad, I made a decision about my future. I don't feel like I've been called to be a preacher. I'm not sure what God wants me to do, but I'll let you know as soon as I figure it out."
Aaron cuts a sly look at Waylon then turns back to me. "Could you tell him that?" He grins as he brings his beer to his mouth.
"No. I can but I won't."
He tells us about some of the guys he was in seminary with. To be honest, a few sounded like bullies. Knowing Aaron like I do, he wore his heart on his sleeve the entire time.
"Oh, Miranda, I forgot to tell you. Matt called about ten minutes before you got home. Said to tell you to be on your best behavior tomorrow," Waylon says.
I narrow my eyes but say nothing. Does he think I'm going to be a raging lunatic? I'm not going to take my anger out on a kid.
"Matt took it upon himself to hire a high school kid to work a few nights a week with me."
Aaron nods. "That sounds like a good idea."
My head all but snaps as I look to see if he's serious.
"Well, you were kidnapped, and shot at." Aaron says.
"That's old news. I survived. I don't need a babysitter."
Waylon looks up from his phone. "If anyone needs a babysitter, it's you," he says, a laugh mingled in his words.
"Don't you have homework?"
Aaron scoots his chair closer. "He's worried about you. Hell, we all are. All that stuff you went through. You ain't a superhero, Miranda. You just kept on going. That was some traumatic shit."
"Thank you, Aaron, but I'm fine." I say. I take the empty bottle from his hand and walk over to throw it in the trash under the sink.
I busy myself washing the couple of utensils in the sink, officially ending the conversation. As I'm rinsing the soap from the knife in my hand I hear Waylon whisper to Aaron, "We've tried to get her to go talk to somebody, but she won't do it. Even Mitch said it's just a matter of time before it hits her."
I don't turn around. I just act like I haven't heard a thing. How dare they talk about me behind my back. I'm not some fragile little girl. I handled what happened. Instead of being proud of me, they're talking about me behind my back. And this new working arrangement, did Mitch put Matt up to that too?
"Aaron, welcome home. I'll see you tomorrow. I'm exhausted. I'm just going to turn in." I hug Aaron, pull away and look over at Waylon. "Finish your homework, and don't stay up too late."
"Night," Waylon says.
I step into the bathroom and turn on the shower. I hate feeling like I'm being watched and judged. Especially by those who should have my back.
I look at my reflection in the mirror. She's quiet ... for once. "Come on, I know you of all people have some salty little comment to say."
She feigns innocence. "Me? You're a tough chick. You don't need anyone. Least of all a shrink."
"I never said I didn't need anybody. I just don't like talking about my personal stuff to a complete stranger. Maybe that works for some."
She nods. "Therapy is for sissies, right? Not tough old broads like you."
"Stop. I'm gonna take a shower. I'm done talking to you."
My reflection rolls her eyes at me. "Can't even talk to yourself? Now that's real trust issues."
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I toss most of the night, finally falling asleep just before dawn. I wake to hear Waylon rummaging through the kitchen cabinets for a pop tart or granola bar. I should get up, spend a little time with him but I don't. Instead I tug the blanket up over my head.
Today is one of those days where I just don't want to deal with anything or anybody. There's a headache starting to bloom in my skull. I could call out and lie, tell Rita I have a migraine but Matt would think I'm calling out because of the kid, Preston.
And why does he have to have that damn name? Ed Preston haunts my dreams still. Now I have to work with someone named Preston. Perfect.
I crawl out of bed and make a pot of coffee, maybe I can take a cup of coffee over to Aaron, but when I look through the kitchen window towards his trailer I see his truck is gone. It's just as well. I probably wouldn't be good company anyway.
I throw my jean jacket around my shoulders and carry my mug out to the porch. It's a peaceful morning. The early autumn cool not yet burned off by the sun.
"Haven't seen your cop boyfriend around much lately. You run him off too?" The scratchy voice of Mrs. "Two packs a day" Fine puts an end to the peace.
"No, Mrs. Fine. He's still around. Thanks for asking."
"I see your other boy toy is back in town."
"Yes, Aaron is back but he's not my boy toy."
She takes a drag on her cigarette then flicks the still glowing butt towards the road. "Whatever. It's none of my business who you sleep with."
I fight the urge to march over and punch her in the face. "Not sleeping with him."
She waves her hands. "Like I said, it's none of my business."
I take a big gulp of coffee. "It really isn't any of your business yet here you are bringing it up again." I stand and raise my mug in mock cheers. "You have a nice day, Mrs. Fine."
I wonder if when she dies, the earth is just going to open up and some demon is going to snatch her. Or should I start sharpening stakes just in case.
