87[...7
The road sign read Grand Lake, thirty kilometers, and Dylan couldn't be happier. She was nothing more than exhausted, physically and mentally. The last twenty-four hours with Lauren had been more than Dylan signed up for. Lauren was full of energy, fueled by the fanfare of the wedding that was only a few days away. There hadn't been any time to recover from the night before that seemed to disappear after Dylan's shot of tequila. She remembered the cab ride home, but the rest was nothing more than bits and pieces connected by fuzz, which leaked from her subconscious throughout the day.
The final fitting went well (thankfully), and the girls approved the florist's trial run of the bouquets. Last minute odds and ends were taken care of, followed by a test color mani-pedi. Dylan was never keen on strangers touching her feet but was grateful for the much-needed downtime.
A late lunch at the Cole Harbour Country Club wasn't exactly part of Dylan's ideal plan. She had basically been MIA from the rest of the world for the last couple of months. After only a few of minutes, Dylan agreed with herself that her coming out party was better there than at the wedding. There wasn't an elephant in the room. The women at the Club had no problem discussing Dylan's life since her grandmother passed away, oh, and what she needed to do to get over Charlie. The bottom line, her face would be sore the next day from the forced smiles. If she wasn't still a shade darker than a white sheet, a bottle of wine would have come in handy at that moment.
The diminishing sun disappeared behind the closing garage door, shutting the world out behind it. Dylan stepped out of her compact Hyundai Accent, tripping through the stuffy garage, still cluttered by the outside patio furniture. The chairs on the screened in porch served enough of a purpose; Dylan not wanting a neighbor to take pity if she dined alone outside, stealing away her solitude. The door to the kitchen should have given way to a cool breeze through the archway, only there wasn't a breeze and there was nothing cool about it. Instead, the air lay heavy and stale, perfumed with the smell of rotting trash.
"Not again," Dylan muttered, hoping Lauren had possibly turned the air conditioning down or off before they left that morning. The thermometer not only read on, but it recorded a balmy 92 degrees inside the house. It was too late to call a repairman...again, but also too hot inside the house and out. Dylan cherished the summer heat that cooked her lake throughout the day, leaving it the perfect temperature at night, but this was ridiculous and she needed to sleep. The windows throughout the house protested as Dylan opened each one, providing little relief. She towed the offending garbage to the cans outside and made her way to the over congested garage once again. There was a small window air conditioner that sat beneath a pile of boxes. Dylan prayed it still worked. By the amount of dust and dirt that now covered Dylan's dress, she guessed the boxes and the unit had sat in the corner for years. The odds of a desperately needed cool nights sleep were diminishing by the second.
Dylan's bedroom window was the furthest from the garage, naturally, she thought, as she struggled to carry the load around the house. She was tempted to install the unit in her grandmother's window, which was closest to the garage, but hadn't allowed herself to take over the master bedroom yet. The wooden shutters, that blocked the elements throughout the offseason, remained closed to Dylan's bedroom, uninviting the world into her life. The latch to separate the two slats of wood had rusted throughout the years and Dylan could hardly uncoupled the two. The ending to a hellish day washed over Dylan, surging through her fists as she beat on the shutters. Defeated, the tears began to well, clouding her vision towards the angry wasps that intended to justify her intrusion.
Sidney couldn't sleep, he hadn't even tried to go to bed. Instead, he sat for hours in his great room, staring at the wall, trapped by the line between shadow and daylight. How could he let this happen? She loved him, Dylan loved him. But did she or was that an alcohol fueled sleep confession? And he laid with her, held her...touched her. Would she remember it? Did she feel him touch her, violate her?
An enormous weight lifted off Sidney's chest when he heard Dylan's car pull into the driveway. She came back, that had to account for something. But just as quickly as the pressure released, the weight returned knowing he would have to face her. Sidney would be able to tell by the look on Dylan's face just how intoxicated she had been. Sidney began his normal routine of preparing to mingle with the outside world, followed by his sunlight arsenal. The sun had already begun it's decent, but burning skin was the last thing Sidney wanted to deal with throughout the night. He wore jeans and the thickest darkest tee-shirt he could find. He lathered sunscreen meant for a small child over every inch of his exposed skin and then pulled a ball cap down over his eyes.
Sidney could see Dylan in the distance; carrying something heavy, struggling, oh, and in a dress again. She was going to be the death of him, he thought. Sidney wanted to yell out for Dylan to wait, that he would help her, but he needed a moment to compose himself. The sun was so bright and he didn't want to seem too eager if Dylan did in fact remember. Sidney was midway across the yards when the frantic screams began. He could see the tiny wasps diving at Dylan's body, her hands flailing desperately at them.
The nest seemed to disappear instantly at the site of the predator approaching them. Sidney waved off the offense with one arm, grabbing Dylan's swollen hand with the other. Tears already saturated Dylan's face.
"Are you OK," Sidney said, turning her arm, inspecting the damage.
"Yes, I'm fine," Dylan said, showing her worst poker face. "No, actually, I'm not fine, I'm not OK. Nothing about this is OK. My grandmother is dead, my brother might be, and I've lost most of my friends because my boyfriend cheated on me! I'm trying my best to be there for my best friend who is about to get married, but in actuality, I can't bear to think about it. I have to walk down the aisle with Charlie while listening to everyone telling me how I am supposed to deal with all of this. I vomited twice today and wore dress, all to make Lauren happy. I am tired and exhausted and all I want to do is sleep, but I can't, because my air conditioning is broken...again! And now I'm covered in dirt and I was just attacked by a million wasps! And I feel like if one more person asks me if I am OK, I'm going to lose it!"
And then she broke.
Tears were overshadowed by sobs and Dylan covered her face with her swollen hands. Before Sidney knew it, Dylan's cries were muffled by his chest and his arms wrapped around her. He held her into him as tight as he could, running his hand through the back of her hair. He hated to see Dylan hurt, but nothing in the world felt more right than her in his arms.
Before she realized what was going on, Sidney carried Dylan into his house, placing her onto his counter. Her eyes were puffy and her face was wet.
"I feel like a child," Dylan said with glassy eyes, trying to compose herself. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't be, it looked like you took a beating out there," Sidney said, inspecting the stings. "Let me get some ice."
The freezer was within arms reach. Without thinking, Sidney opened the door, exposing the bags of blood he stored on top of the ice. Panick nearly breached the surface of his exterior as he grabbed a handful of the frozen cubes. I've got to better humanize this place, he thought. Distracting Dylan from his exposure, Sidney ran his hand behind her exposed knee, lifting Dylan's leg to retrieve a t-towel from the drawer below her.
"It looks like they got you in your leg as well," Sidney said, wrapping Dylan's hand around the ice. "Where else did you get stung?"
"On my hand and my leg," Dylan sniffed. "I am so sorry, your shirt is wet."
"Dylan, it's fine, it's just a shirt," he said, lifting her head to his. "It looks like one of them got you over your eye too."
Dylan watched Sidney continued his inspection, running his hand along her thigh. Her leg burnt from the venom, despite the goosebumps that formed under Sidney's cold touch. The welts ran high and so did his hand. Sidney felt Dylan's blood quicken, catching himself.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be so intrusive," Sidney said, realizing he had pulled Dylan's dress up, exposing what he already had seen...touched.
"No, it's fine," Dylan said meeting his gaze. "Your hands are so cold, they feel good. It still burns a little."
"Must be from the ice," Sidney muttered quickly. "Uh, I think I have some Benadryl cream, I will be right back."
Dylan sat on top the granite counter, surrounded by the rich dark wood. Se realized this was the first time she had ever been inside Sidney's house. It was breathtaking. The house was so open, but she had to wonder why each window was masked by a dark shade.
"What is he hiding from?" Dylan whispered to herself.
Sidney returned to the kitchen, carrying a tiny tube of cream. "I found some. It's a little old, but I think it's still OK."
"Thank you," Dylan said slightly embarrassed. "Why are you being so nice to me?"
"Because I know you," Sidney hesitated, "and I think you would do the same for me, without wanting anything in return."
"I would," Dylan said, smiling for the first time, "but I have to think so would many other people."
"You'd be surprised," Sidney said rubbing his jaw. "I don't want this to sound off, but, people usually do jump at the chance to help me out, but it always seems like at a price."
"A price?" Dylan asked.
"Yeah, like an autograph or seats or something like that," Sidney said.
"Oh, but I asked you for your dock!" Dylan said, mortified with herself.
"Come on Dill," he laughed, "I know you were joking. That's the thing, anyone else would have dimmed me out a long time ago, jumping at the chance to tell people where I was. You're different. It's like I'm just Sidney from Cole Harbour to you. You never treat me any different."
"Well you are," Dylan blushed.
"Why haven't you ever asked me why I am here, hiding out?" Sidney questioned, leaning against the counter.
"I don't know," Dylan said shrugging her shoulders. "I guess I just assumed that if you wanted me to know, you would tell me, and...and I know what's it's like to have something shitty happen to you. I know what it's like to want to be left alone."
"Yeah," Sidney mumbled, knowing he needed to face that about himself.
Sidney couldn't help looking Dylan over. Her tears stained through the dirt on her face. She was a mess. Sidney couldn't help himself, bringing his body closer to hers. Dylan's eyes grew large as Sidney's thumbs wiped away the moisture and mascara from her cheeks.
"You're a mess," Sidney said, twisting Dylan's dress between his fingers. He slid his hand once again over the swollen bumps on her leg, trying not to grip her thigh, pull her into him. Dylan's breath quickened and he knew it. Sidney closed his eyes, pulling Dylan's head to his. Their foreheads touched, their mouths only a breath away from one another. Sidney allowed himself to lean in towards her just enough. Every part of his body burned as his hand slid a little higher.
Dylan breathed, feeling his hips brush between her knees. Sidney didn't move, he stood, holding on to her like he was tempting himself, it made her nub throb beneath her panties. She opened her eyes to meet his, fear illuminating behind them. She was scared, afraid to let another person in. But at the same time, he trembled before her too. Sidney looked as broken as she did. "I think I need a shower," she whispered.
His grip held her for a moment longer, Sidney desperately needing to hang on to something real. He was so close to Dylan, closer than he had been to anyone in his life for so long. As much as he tried to pretend he could go without needing someone, it became apparent at that very moment that it was a lie he told to himself that was unraveling before his eyes.
"Yeah," he said, stepping back from Dylan's touch, pretending the last moments never happened. "I laid a towel and some clothes in my bathroom. You can shower over here," he said clearing his throat. "At least you will be cool."
"Oh, OK, thanks," Dylan said, taking Sidney's hand as he helped her off the counter. His touch sent shivers through her body as he tried to entangle their hands before letting go. "It's the last door down the hall, my room."
"OK," Dylan said as he held her stare. "OK."
The bedroom door barely made a sound as Dylan shut it behind her. The room was immaculate, draped in shades of grey and white, black furniture, and more sealed off windows. To a normal person, it would seem creepy, but to a man whose life was always on display, perhaps this was needed, Dylan thought. The bathroom light was on and the clothes and towel promised were laid out neatly on the corner of the counter. Dylan couldn't help but blush as she held the oversized Penguins shirt up to her body.
The stone shower that stood beside the whirlpool tub engulfed the entire bathroom. A far cry from her outdated cast iron tub that barely fit into the box she called a bathroom. The various knobs to the array of shower heads overwhelmed her. Picking one, Dylan let the water warm as she turned to face herself in the mirror for the first time. Horror shot through her mind. Her hair disheveled, drapping her face from tears and sweat. Her eyes red and swollen and the sting upon her brow wasn't helping things much. Not to mention the dirt. She unzipped her dress, letting it fall around her ankles, staring at her body as the shower began to steam the glass. She unhooked her bra and slipped her panties off, noticing the stain of sex that filled them. She remembered the breath he took that did that too her and the feeling of ecstasy washed over her once again. He was all she ever wanted for so long, and now that the moment had come, Dylan retreated to the only thing she had become to know, solitude. Her reflection began to disappear as her cue that the water was ready.
The water washed over Dylan, doing little to erase what just happened, and she didn't try to forget it. Sidney's shower was the worst place to try. The only shampoo and soap afforded to her bathed Dylan in his scent. She closed her eyes and imagined he was still standing before her. The heat from the water ran down her crevices, mimicking his hands. Her legs widened and her fingers found passage to a place still beating with her pulse. She leaned against the hard cold stone that held her up as if it was Sidney's chest, just like it did the night before. Dylan pressed herself a little harder. The circles of her clutch became faster, lessening the grip she had on her breath. Dylan tilted her head back as the release filled her body.
"I don't want to be alone anymore," she said as her eyes opened.
I love you, I always have.
Don't break my heart too, you would hurt the most.
"Oh God!" Dylan said as the night before came crashing down around her.