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1
ROGUE
This apartment haunts me.The girl who rents it is young, around my daughter’s age, and she’s alone. Well, other than the black cat with a collar that reads Lucky. He hisses at me as I enter her space. He doesn’t normally, but I think he can sense that I shouldn’t be here.
“Just checking on our girl,” I explain. There’s no work order for her apartment. Not today. There’s no reason for me to be here.
If she has cameras around the place, she could complain to her landlord, but she doesn’t have them. I know. I’ve checked every time I’m here.
This time, I start my inspection with her kitchen. Her cupboards are stocked with the staples of peanut butter and pre-packaged noodles along with some sad looking protein bars that were in here the last time I checked on her. The fridge isn’t full, but it has a few things. Enough that it eases my worry she might be going hungry.
Briefly, I leaf through the mail on her kitchen table. It’s a wobbly thing that’s probably secondhand from the thrift shop in town. Nothing interesting is in the mail. A couple of vet bills and a notice that her utilities are due soon. But no credit card bills, high interest loans, or overdue notices.
Lucky comes in the room to hiss at me again.
I hold up my hands to show him I’m no threat. I’m not here to do anything other than look after a young woman who’s on her own. I tell myself it’s only because Susie is the same age as my daughter. It’s nothing more than my protective, fatherly instincts.
Moving to the living room, I spot the dollhouse she’s been working on. Maybe this is what haunts me about Susie. She builds intricate dollhouses that are seasonally themed.
This one is decorated to look like a cozy living room with a tiny Christmas tree in the middle. But it’s the mini stockings hung above the fireplace that make me smile. She thinks of every detail.
The only missing items are the dolls. There are never any figures in her homes. Is that an intentional choice? Does she do it because she’s lonely?
The wooden figurine in the pocket of my leather jacket burns. It’s an angel that I hand-carved. Spent hours laboring over it, trying to get every detail just right for her.
Before I can second-guess myself, I pull it out and set it in the middle of the scene. I nod, noting that it seems to fit. Then I exit her apartment before I can talk myself out of leaving it behind. It’s a silly gift, a trinket. She probably won’t even notice that it’s there.
As soon as I’m out of the building, I head straight to the gym in town. Hale owns it and the apartment building I was just in. I work on projects for a lot of folks in town as a handyman. I have been for the past couple of years.
But the gym isn’t just where I go to invoice Hale. It’s also where Susie works. If I’ve timed it right, she’s there right now at the front check-in desk.
Her hair will be in a messy bun with tendrils falling loose as she directs busy mamas with their kids underfoot to the mommy and me classes. Then she’ll try to fix the smoothie machine that’s always breaking down in between sneaking sips of her favorite hot chocolate beverage from Courage Cookies.
“Say hi to her this time,” I tell myself as I pull my truck to a stop in the parking lot. Normally, I’d prefer to ride my bike. But the truck makes it easier to transport tools and materials to my various job sites. “Maybe even try a smile.”
Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. It’s almost Christmas. I can manage to smile for Susie.
“Good afternoon,” Susie chirps the moment I step through the door. I’m met with a blast of warm air and an explosion of Christmas decorations in the foyer. They’re scattered on the counter along with a three-foot tree that she’s decorating. Christmas music plays from the speakers.
This is my chance to say hi, to give her a smile, to let her know that she’s so beautiful she makes my soul ache. Like the eloquent, suave man I am, I grunt.
Something flickers across her face, but it can’t be hurt. Disappointment, maybe. I’m not so sure. All I know is that I haven’t been able to breathe right since the day I saw her at my daughter’s wedding. She was one of the bridesmaids, and I’ve been feeling funny ever since.
“He’s expecting you,” she finally says and drops her gaze back to the ribbon she’s working with. She’s looping it together to make a bow for the tree.
I open my mouth to say something then snap it closed. Nothing to say anyway. A girl like her doesn’t want a man like me. I’m too damn old and too grouchy for a pretty thing like her.
Instead, I turn and thread my way across the gym floor. All around me, the citizens of Courage County are gathering together. The guys are sparring on the mats while the mommy and me class starts on the opposite side. Toddlers fight over toys while frazzled moms gather to catch up on gossip and drink their smoothies.
The combined chatter with the background of Christmas carols puts an ache in my chest. I had people once. I had friendship, community, and intimacy. But that was years ago, before death showed up on my doorstep and took the most precious person in my world.
Hale is on the phone, and he gestures for me to wait for him.
I take a seat across from his desk, impatiently drumming the clipboard against my thigh. I just want him to sign these invoices so I can catch a second glimpse of Susie. Maybe she’ll give me another one of those smiles, so full of light and brimming with hope.
“Yeah, I understand. Listen, you’re doing what’s best for everyone. Thanks for letting me know.” Hale ends the call then rubs the back of his neck.
I don’t ask. It’s not my business.
