Page 59 of Soft Flannel Hank

“Unfortunately, our time is up, Hank,” Nadja said, wrapping her shawl more tightly around her. “I want you to think about that question between now and our next session. What do you want now for yourself, your life? And do you really want Esther in your house? Or are you just indulging that hero complex of yours? Maybe journal about it? Because you deserve boundaries. And a healthy boundary might be finding a different situation for her, with somewhere else to stay.”

“Indulging that hero complex of yours.”Hank clenched his jaw and nodded. He was angry. Not because she was wrong, but because shewasn’t.

Hank sat in the truck in Nadja’s parking lot for a few minutes. It was raining again, just a drizzle, and he watched the drops slide across the windshield until they created streams and collected into larger seams of water trailing down. What did he want?

He leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. He tried to imagine his perfect life. What he wanted most for himself. It felt decadent, and he was almost ashamed to picture it, as if he didn’t deserve it, but he pushed past that sticky discomfort.

He was sitting in his recliner. Esther was on his lap. They were smashed in so tight that Hank worried about the chair falling apart, but he wouldn’t have moved her for anything in the world. His phone rang. It was Anna. She was returning his call to tell him all about her new graphic design job in Chicago. He put her on speaker phone and listened as Anna and Esther talked about a new web comic they were both loving. He didn’t know a thing about art or design, but he felt himself smile in his fantasy as he listened.I love you, Dad,Anna said as she hung up. And Esther tipped her chin up and kissed him on the cheek.

Hank opened his eyes and found them wet. He scrubbed the tears away with the heels of his hands. “Ugh. Goddammit,” he said as he blew his nose into a fast food napkin he grabbed from the center console.

“You’ll never know if she’ll stay unless you give her a chance to stay.”

Nadja’s words rang in his ears. He felt the clawing anxiety revving up in his chest as he pulled into the gas station and parked in front. As he opened his door and went inside. As he picked out a dozen roses from the stand by the hot dog roller.

It felt familiar. He’d performed this same dance just a few days before. Buying gas station flowers he was ashamed of for a woman he desperately wanted to keep.

But it felt different this time. The other day, he hadn’t been prepared to ask her to stay. Today, he was going to. He was going to lay it all out on the table. His past. His fears. His wants. He would spread it all out like evidence for her scrutiny and submit himself to her verdict. Could she stay? Could she maybe try?

Hank was so lost in his daydream that he didn’t notice the man that came to stand right behind him until he cleared his throat.

“A bit early in the day for romance, no?”

Hank turned and looked at him. He was tall. Nearly Hank’s height. He wore tight black jeans and a black T-shirt under a leather bomber jacket in the same color. Black combat boots only laced up halfway. He had a sinewy, rangy sort of musculature, like Hank had seen on lightweight MMA fighters. He wore an easy smile, but it didn’t meet his eyes. He had neck tattoos and close-cropped hair that looked light brown but Hank wasn’t really sure.

His presence set Hank on edge.

“They’re for a friend.”

“That’s awfully nice of you, bud,” the man said. He had a thick southern accent. It reminded him of Esther’s.

Hank grunted and turned back toward the register, though his instincts told him not to show this man his back.

“You’re Hank Dove, right?”

Hank turned slowly. “Who’s asking?”

A cocky smile spread across the man’s face. “I’m Robbie Cain.” He stuck a hand out. Hank clocked the tattoos on Robbie’s knuckles. Not because he was judging them, but because he was cataloging them. Hank raised an eyebrow and fixed a passive stare at Robbie, forcing his body to release, to act casual.

“What can I do for you, Robbie?”

“Well, I’m trying to find my girlfriend. We got separated on a road trip. It’s a long story. But she told me to meet her in World’s End. My cell phone broke, and I haven’t been able to get a hold of her.”

“Uh-huh.”

Robbie continued, “I’m sure she’s worried sick about me, and I’ve heard from everyone I’ve asked that you’re the man to talk to about what goes on around here.”

“Not anymore,” Hank said, feeling the muscle tick in his jaw.

“I’ve got to find her, Hank. Her name’s Esther. She’s about this tall,” he said, gesturing, “Bright red hair. Blue eyes. Freckles. Have you seen her?”

Hank was accustomed to looking closely at people when they talked. After all, he’d been doing it for his entire professional life. He saw Robbie’s big smile and clasped, pleading hands, but also noticed the coldness in his eyes that did not match the smile. He felt that coldness echoing in his own body.

This man was dangerous. This man could not be trusted. This man was a threat.

Hank forced a placid look on his face. “Sorry,bud. I haven’t seen her. I don’t get out much anymore. You should try the police station.”

Robbie didn’t say anything else, but Hank could feel his eyes on his back as he paid for the flowers. He could feel him watching as Hank got in his truck, as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. Hank forced himself to drive the speed limit, to keep his eyes on the road. His hands gripped the steering wheel.