Losing Dan
By Christina Crooks

 

“If I were a man I couldn’t offer to pay you,” Alicia told the stranger, sliding a twenty under the edge of his drink coaster. “You’d take it wrong.”

He stared at the twenty, then at her. Middle-aged guy, laugh lines fanning out from the corners of his light blue eyes and slightly deeper grooves bracketing his open mouth. Lips wet with whiskey. He smelled like smoke.

She braced herself against his look of astonishment.

When he only stared at her, she rocked forward and back on her bar stool, warming herself, trying to feel alive but only feeling the heavy, cold steel of her .38 against her lower back. She rocked. An autistic behavior, rocking away the pain. Echoes of the cradle. Backforth, backforth. Her blond hair swung with her movement, straight, deceptively healthy looking.

A waiter slid the man’s whiskey to place a mini pizza before him. Ham and pineapple. Its scent overpowered the smoke, the perfume of the lady two stools away, and even the lemon-ammonia odor of the cleaning rag recently wiped over the counter.

He didn’t eat. He’d closed his mouth. While the waiter rearranged things, he reached into the pocket of a trench coat draped over his bar stool. He coolly checked his cell phone for messages.

Had she taken away his appetite? She had thrust herself at him. He wasn’t touching his food. No longer astonished. Ignoring her.

She should have approached someone else.

But he didn’t immediately return her twenty. He gazed at her sideways, then spoke slowly, as if feeling his way. “I thought this was a respectable restaurant. Families come here, you know.”

“You’re taking it wrong,” she said, her voice as light as she could make it after hearing the word “families.” “I just want to talk.”

“Just talk.” His uncertainty faded along with his interest. He lifted a slice of pizza, took a bite. Glanced up at the big screen TV.        

“Alicia,” she introduced herself, too loud. His slow reflexes as he put down his pizza, wiped with a napkin, shook her hand – that plus the small wet drink stain on his sleeve – calmed her. He had flaws, like her.

“Dan.” He sipped whiskey, and she saw his eyes flick back to the TV.

Dan’s wavy, dirty-blond hair had flagged him as approachable. All the other men had dark hair. Women laughed, lighthearted, ignorant of their good fortune. Couples flirted. In the more distant vinyl booths beyond the bar, families ate. Family women. Motherly voices. Alicia’s heart contracted to a ball of ice, hearing those voices so much like her own.

Dan was her best bet.

“So, what do you do, Dan?”

He responded without looking at her. “I’m a private inquiries agent.”

Alicia grit her teeth, showed Dan a bright smile, hoped he wouldn’t notice anything off about the shine in her eyes.

She tucked another twenty beneath Dan’s coaster.

It got his attention away from the TV.

“What is this, Alicia?”

“I want to pay you.”

“You want to hire me?”

“I want to pay you to listen. At the rate of one dollar per minute.”

He chewed, swallowed. “I’m no therapist.” He gave her a quick, impartial once-over. Not quite dismissive.

She knew he saw a nervous, middle-aged woman, pretty but fading fast, good hair not too frizzed by the cold humidity, nice breasts, ass that didn’t sag too much over the stool, and a pale bit of skin instead of a wedding ring.

“Dan. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want.” She watched the last of the pizza disappear into his mouth. “It’s just that unless I pay you, I won’t be honest. And you won’t be obliged to listen. What do you say?”

“I say you’re nuts. A shrink is what you need.” Dan smiled, not unkindly. “Don’t you have friends, family, anyone?” His fingers flicked at the cash when she shook her head. “I can’t take your money.” His fingers pinched the twenties. He shot her a sidelong look.

“Yes you can. I throw money away all the time. Take it. It’s yours, payment for services rendered. If you agree.”

“Dollar a minute.” Dan shook his head, but tucked one of the twenties in his wallet. “Better than my rate.” The other he waved at the bartender. “All righty, ma’am. You want to go somewhere?”

“Here’s good. Here’s fine. I have to stay here. My family’s coming.”

“Thought you said you didn’t have anyone else.” Now his look was keen, crawling over her, noting this and that. Judging.

She didn’t have anyone else.

The stab of anguish made her gasp for air, then rock again, backforth, backforth, backforth.

A hand on her shoulder!

She shrieked. “Don’t touch me!”

Dan held his hands, palm up, no touchee. “Fine. You got it.” His lips pursed as if he’d tasted something foul, but he didn’t take his eyes off her. It was an ex-policeman’s suspicion. Or a con’s. Or…

Was Dan trailing her? Had he already hired Dan to watch her, judge her? Doubtful. He hid from the truth, he didn’t seek it out.

“I’m sorry.” Alicia stiffened her resolve. “Judge me, I deserve it, but hear me out now. Before it’s too late.”
        
“’Before it’s too late?’” Dan snorted, a cynical exhalation. “That’s right. Your family’s coming. Why don’t you just talk to them? Never mind. You paid me.” He drummed his fingertips, then shrugged. “Your dime.” He ordered another whiskey. He didn’t offer to buy her one.

It hurt her feelings. Rejection of any kind felt magnified.

“I have paid you.” Her voice sounded harsh to her own ears. “So listen.” She had to speak. She had to get it out. She disgorged: “My daughter, Robyn, used to be vibrant, happy. Eight years old. Then she got sick: bacterial pneumococcal meningitis. It gave her blood poisoning. One in twelve people have bad after-effects from meningitis, and she was the one. Her voice, it’s nearly gone, scratchy, raw-sounding. There’s lung damage, speech problems. She looks deformed. The sores left her scarred. Her eyeballs are skewed. You know.” Alicia pointed up and out in two different directions. “She can’t get around without a walker. But she’s still my little girl. I love her so much. I love her more than anything. I can’t stand to see her this way. How will her life be now, especially now that--” Alicia covered her mouth. The pain rose up and up and she crushed her lips with her hand to keep the moan corked inside. No moaning allowed.
        
She rocked until she felt capable of speech once more. Dan’s face blurred to her left. He stared. Of course he stared. It was his job. Private dick. Was he married?
        
Her rocking slowed as she examined him.
        
Attractive eyes, yes, his eyes were his best feature, striking even with that yellow tinge surrounding the blue. His pudgy nose and light eyebrows faded to background, skin pale. And then there were his lips. Drink-moistened, turned down at the corners, pessimistic but curvy, strangely erotic, they delivered a wholly unexpected jolt of lust to the part of her touching the stool, pressing against the bar, connecting her to him in a sickening burst of hope.
        
Her rocking ceased. Resolved, she continued. “This is like going to confession for me, to tell someone. I want someone to listen. To know. To judge, even.”
        
“Confession’s free. Why pay me?”
        
“I’m not religious.”
        
“Therapy then.”
        
More coolness filled mind, steadying her nerves even as her body so inexplicably warmed to him. “Tried that. I went to the best, most expensive psychiatrist. After the first hour she told me not to come back.”
        
“What’d you say to her?”
        
The truth, she wanted to tell him. The coldness of that truth chilled her lies. “I told her I didn’t have much money. That must’ve been hair-raising to her.” Alicia felt his gaze. She made an effort to warm her voice. “Speaking of hair, her poofy country-star haircut probably cost more than my monthly budget. You know… you have very nice hair.”
        
“I thought you said you throw money away all the time.” Dan pinned her with a look.
        
“I do, lately. No more husband, no more budget.” No more reason to save, she almost added, but her lungs began to feel tight, her throat filled again with prickly hurt, and her body began to rock. “Enough of that!” Her voice was inordinately loud. People stared. Dan tipped back his whiskey, and she knew with certainty he was about to push back his stool, mutter some parting words, and leave.
        
She laid another twenty before him. “You’re an excellent listener,” she added for good measure.
        
Dan exhaled noisily. He said nothing, but signaled for another drink. She liked the economical, effective movement of his hand. She liked that he stayed. Listened. Even judged.
        
“The doctors originally said some of her problems might improve over time. It’s been a year, and the only thing that’s changed is her personality. She was such a happy, active girl. I kept bringing her back to those doctors. And then. Then, once when we were supposed to go, she screamed, wouldn’t stop screaming, wouldn’t get in the car. When my husband got home he found me sitting in a corner of the kitchen, rocking and talking to myself. Robyn had locked herself in the bathroom. With a concussion. She must’ve fallen, she needed stitches, my husband was furious. He’d been watching for that kind of excuse. He didn’t listen to me. He never listened to me.” Alicia heard her voice, astringent with bitterness. So very much bitterness.
        
“Ex-husband. Right?”
        
Alicia’s head jerked up. While exploring the terrain of her misery she’d forgotten about Dan.
        
Had her husband hired him? She tried to picture them in the same room, but failed. Dan was different. Alert and aware and not at all like her husband.
         
She let her gaze travel over Dan’s face, his limbs, his body. He really was attractive. And interested in her marital status? His voice carried warmth.
        
She responded to it. She liked him.
        
An idea hit her like a bolt of lightening in a sudden storm. Maybe it wasn’t a hopeless situation after all. Maybe Dan could save her.
        
“Would you be interested in investigating my ex?”
        
Dan nodded as if he’d been expecting the question. “Maybe. Probably.” His lips quirked into a humorless smile. “Your husband’s giving you a tough time, huh?”
        
Despite everything, she felt herself drawn to him, trusting him. The gun seemed suddenly excessive.
        
“Ex. He’s bringing the divorce papers to sign today. And Robyn, so I can say goodbye. I don’t want to say goodbye to her. I don’t want to… She’s… she’s afraid of me. She associates me with the disease, since I took care of her. She doesn’t scream when she’s with her daddy.” Alicia tried to smile, but knew it was a poor effort. “My diseased little girl. She doesn’t deserve the life of a scarred, deformed cripple. She just doesn’t. And him. Convicting me without a trial. He doesn’t deserve her. He hasn’t a clue how to care for her. How could he? He never did. He stayed uninvolved, and now he’s taking her away. Can you help me?”
        
Dan was kind, in comparison. Would he help? Was he interested in her? Did he actually care?
        
It didn’t matter if he cared. But if it didn’t matter, why had she approached him just to talk? She’d chosen him. He let her choose him. The gun’s cold weight pressed on the small of her back.
        
Her head spun.
        
She reached out to him.
        
Touched his forearm, nodded to his drink. “I think I’ll try one of those.”
        
An unfamiliar exhilaration sped through her when he made that beautiful, sure hand movement to the bartender on her behalf.
        
Then he cocked his head at her, made a cute quirking movement with those lips of his. In tandem, one of his lids flickered shut, open.
        
A wink.
        
Her heart thudded against her chest in response, as if it had just learned how to beat. A frisson of desire swept through her like an awakening.
        
“Alicia.” As his lips formed her name, his tongue seemed to caress it. “You are in a shitty situation, there is no doubt.” He patted her arm, briefly. Commiserating. Flirting? The warmth of his fingers seemed to linger.
        
“Yes. Oh, yes. Thank you for understanding.” It had been so long since someone looked at her with a smile like that. So long since she’d been touched with kindness. So long since she’d connected to another.
        
She lifted her whiskey with a hand that trembled. She sipped. It was delicious.         
        
Still, her need compelled a full confession, to give Dan – her savior, though he didn’t know it – not just a sin to forgive, so she could truly begin anew, but full disclosure for the job. “The thing I actually told that psychiatrist? I told her how my ex-husband always said Robyn’s disease was my fault, and how desperately depressed that made me. A disease with no cure. Seeing Robyn so crippled and unhappy sometimes made me want to put her out of her misery. Kill Robyn first, with a gun, make it fast and painless. And then him for being emotionally unavailable and cruel. And then myself. It’s not like I could leave her with him to grow up neglected and miserable. I wanted to take care of my little girl one way or another. He wouldn’t be there for her, he doesn’t know how. You know? It was a horrible thought, a desperate thought.”
        
Dan stared at her. “Wow. That’s just plain wrong.”
        
“No kidding. She should be reprimanded for telling someone so emotionally distraught not to come back. It’s not ethical for a psychiatrist to do that.” Alicia felt a melting kind of relief, a thawing at the core of her body. Dan understood. How his hair glinted. How his voice soothed. It was the sound of a long-needed ally, the voice of authority judging and not finding her wanting, the balm on a thousand wounds.
        
She’d never been more turned on. But it wasn’t just sex she craved. If she could envelop him, swallow him whole, it still wouldn’t be enough. “Dan.” Awe and gratitude.         
        
He didn’t know what he’d accomplished. “Dear Dan.” She nudged her leg against his, a quicktease touch.
        
His eyes registered the touch as his lips quirked into a watchful, lopsided grin. Pleased with her unspoken offer?
        
A rush of affection and excitement stole her breath. She touched her leg to his again, leaving it there, reveling in the contact. “I’m so glad we met, Dan. You have no idea how glad.”
        
He patted her leg. His gaze left hers. He shifted, gentlemanly, to give her more leg space. “Honey, you’re something else. I mean that in a good way.”
        
Hope made her feel alive again. She wanted to share her exhilaration. “I would very much like it if we could spend some more time together.” The husky sound of her voice pleased her. Dan’s answering laughter -- knowing, masculine -- pleased her too.
        
“Yes, that’s how it works,” he replied.
        
She waited until his face turned toward hers.
        
She leaned over and kissed him.
        
His explosive exhale and light shove took her by surprise. “Nuh-uh. Thanks, but no. Oh I don’t think so.”
        
“I’m sorry.” Her breath, stolen again but this time it felt horrid. She whispered, “But I only want to be with you.”
         
“At a dollar per minute? Be your shrink? Jesus.”
        
Alicia blinked. And again. She couldn’t seem to stop blinking. She was losing him. She couldn’t lose Dan too. “I’m not talking about just talking.” She nudged his leg again, desperate, but the timing was off, she knew it even before he stood.
        
“You need help, Alicia.”
        
His tone could have cut diamond. 
        
“You cop to wanting to kill your own daughter and your husband. And then offing yourself. And that’s supposed to be, what, a sick-ass mating call? I’m sorry. Really, I am,” he said even as she felt her insides contract with dismay, “but I can’t take this job.” He flagged the bartender, then dug through his wallet. He looked at her. No trace of friendliness remained. Only cool pity. “Do I owe you change?”
        
Inward forever, imploding. Mourning, she begin to rock one last time. Backforth. A keen began in her lungs. She pressed her lips together and swallowed hard.
        
As she did, she saw her ex and her daughter in the backbar mirror. Her gaze locked on the two. His dark hair sucked up all light.
        
There was the briefcase that held the papers.
        
And there was Robyn.
        
Her scarred, tiny hands, gripping the metal walker. Body lumpish. Voice stolen. Face deteriorated, eyes unseeing. A sad face. A creature to pity.
        
Alicia could relate.
        
“I said, do I owe you change?”
        
Alicia heard Dan, but the edge in his voice no longer cut her. Her savior, fallen.
        
Coldness enfolded, guided her. She rose.
        
Robyn first, fast and painless.

 

End