CHAPTER
THREE
Cruz
She hasn’t left her house in over a month, except to open the door and bring in the groceries she orders online. I wouldn’t know that, of course, only I installed an exterior camera so I could keep an eye on things when I’m not home.
I’ve been picking things up and leaving them at her door as well based on what I’ve seen her order. I always knock, but she seldom answers, and I’ve seen her ignore Jolie’s attempts as well. I don’t like that she’s self-isolating, but I’m at a definitive loss right now.
We’re not really friends, more friendly acquaintances.
We’re not in a relationship, although if I thought she’d be interested, I would shoot my shot. Well, I would’vebefore, but right now, I think that’s the last thing she’s willing to consider.
But I’m glad I decided to put the cameras in, because that prick was arrested then immediately made bail. I don’t want him coming around and harassing her. Thankfully, due to thecharges, the judge gave her an emergency restraining order, but honestly, those are usually worthless.
As I sit in my living room, I decide that she needs to at least come outside and get some fresh air. Decision made, I head into my kitchen and pull out the steaks I’ve had marinating. It’s time to fire up the grill so I can entice her into joining me. The few times I’ve caught glimpses of her on my cameras, she’s been so pale I’m worried about her overall health.
“Maybe some asparagus too,” I murmur as I ready the baked potatoes to go into the oven side of my grill.
That’s one of the things I made sure to get out of the storage unit my family got for all my things when I was sent to prison. Once I was on parole, I went through it and spent quite a bit of time purging shit. Years spent confined in a ten by ten concrete cell showed me that less was more. The local non-profit operation that takes donations to help those getting back on their feet was thrilled when I pulled up with my truck and a trailer full of shit.
But I kept my Blackstone grill. That fucker cost me a pretty penny because it’s got all the bells and whistles. I head out onto my back deck and look over. All the plants that Mindy took such good care of are now wilted and some are likely past the point of saving.
Once I have the grill heating up, I walk to my hose house and unwind it so I can reach her porch, turn the water on, then begin watering her plants, plucking the dead leaves off as I go. After I finish, I grin and muse out loud, “Well, y’all were certainly thirsty, weren’t ya?”
My mom, who has a green thumb, taught me a bit about caring for plants and I decide that I’ll take a trip out to the local nurseryfor some plant food, as well as a few planters since several pots are almost root bound. May as well throw in some soil too, while I’m at it.
“What are you doing?” Mindy asks, her face peering at me through her sliding glass door, which is open just enough for her to speak.
“Watering your plants, babe,” I reply. “They’re looking a bit bedraggled.”
I hear her sigh, then the door opens wider and she steps out. I’m glad I have a poker face because seeing her pale, wan face is concerning. Her hair is a ratted mess, she’s wearing sweats that are at least two sizes too large, and the circles under her eyes are dark and bruised looking.
“Yeah, I haven't been able to get myself back online yet,” she murmurs, her eyes looking over my shoulder.
I hate that she won’t make eye contact with me. While I logically understand it, it’s as if she’s embarrassed or something and as far as I’m concerned, she doesn’t need to feel that way around me. She was a victim, plain and simple. I just wish I had been home earlier on that night, so I could’ve stopped it from happening to begin with, but since I can’t change the past, there’s no use in dwelling there.
“Understandable. I’m going to put some steaks on the grill shortly. You’re coming to dinner,” I decree.
“Oh, I am, am I?” she sasses, a bit of the spark she lost coming back.
“Yes, you are. I want to see you eating food for myself, Mindy. You look like a strong wind would blow you away.”
“Haven’t felt all that well this past week or so,” she admits. “Not sure how I caught a bug since I’ve been home for weeks now.”
I shrug. Viruses and shit are airborne, for the most part, so one of the packages she handled could’ve had germs from the shopper or driver on them. Who the hell knows? Still, it explains why she looks so fucking wiped out at least.
“Let me know if you need anything picked up,” I say. “In the meantime, it’ll be about an hour or so before dinner’s ready.”
I don’t say it, but I’m sure the implication is received based on her flush. I’m letting her know that she’s got time to get cleaned up before we eat. “Um, I’m not sure I’ll be able to get a brush through my hair, Cruz,” she replies. “I, uh, yeah, I’ve been doing the bare minimum and that means I haven’t messed with my hair at all.”
“How are you able to work like that?” I ask. “I know you have those Zoom meetings, right?”
She snickers, but there’s no real mirth behind it. “It’s amazing how a hair clip can make you look put together. That and plenty of concealer, a nice top, and voila! I look presentable.”
“Is there a reason you don’t want to shower, Mindy?” This time, my voice is quieter because I’m genuinely concerned. While I’ll never pass judgment on someone else’s hygiene habits, it’s not healthy to completely forgo soap and water a few times a week, at least.
“I… well, I swear when I get inside my shower, the walls close down around me and I end up with a panic attack,” she says. “Logically, I know my door is locked, the alarm is set, and there’s no way for anyone to get inside, but I can’t think logically when I’m naked in my shower stall.”
