Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79486 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79486 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
I ducked my head under the low doorframe as I entered. It was hot and humid in here. I could hear the window A/C unit chugging away, but it didn’t seem to do much to take the edge off the summer heat leaking through the thin walls. A few potted plants sat wilted in the corners of the living room. Dina slid past me and into the kitchen, where I heard pots and pans start clanking.
I looked at the walls. A few pictures were hung up in cheap frames. One of them was slanted off-center, and I reached up to adjust it. The picture was of a man and woman on the back of a motorcycle. The girl had her arms squeezed tight around the man’s torso. Both of them had wide, beaming smiles. They looked downright ecstatic to be with each other.
“I love that picture,” Dina said as she emerged into the living room with a pot of tea and two mugs in her hand. “Olaf looks so happy there.”
I let my hand fall to my side. “Yeah,” I said. “He really does. You both do.” I turned and joined her on the striped couch pushed up against one wall.
She poured out a cup of tea for me and handed it over.
“Thanks,” I muttered as I took a sip and set it down on the table next to us.
“So, Ben, how are you? How are things?” she asked. Her voice was earnest, but there was still that undertone of sadness to it, lingering just behind every word.
“They’re okay. Up and down, you know how it goes.”
She nodded. “It isn’t an easy life you chose.”
“It kind of chose me, but I guess you’re right. It ain’t easy.” The dying sun shone through the thin curtains hanging over the window, lighting up the room in purple and red. It made Dina’s hair glow. “But anyway, I didn’t come here to complain about my job. How are you?”
“Oh, you know,” she said, brushing away an invisible speck of dirt from her knee, “I’m doing fine.”
“Do you need anything? Money? Help around the place?”
“No, no, please,” she demurred, waving a hand at the suggestion. “I don’t need anything.”
“Because you can always let me know if you do. I want to help however I can. The whole club does.”
“I know that.”
“Good. Don’t forget it.”
We fell silent, not looking at each other. I didn’t know what to feel or do or say. I was always shit at these kinds of situations. But for some reason, I felt compelled to come back over and over again, even though nothing new had occurred to me. It was the same sad shit repeated every time.
“It’ll be three years next month,” she said quietly.
I looked up and saw a tear glistening at the corner of her eye. She wiped it away quickly. “I know,” I said quietly. “Can’t believe it’s been that long already.”
Her eyes met mine. She looked fierce all of the sudden. “I can. Every day is so long.”
I didn’t know what to say to that either.
“You must have come for a reason. Did you come to tell me something?” she asked. “Do you know more?” She was leaning forward and squeezing my hand tightly between her fingers. “Do you know who did it?”
I laid my other hand on top of hers. As gently as I could, I said, “I’m sorry, no. We still don’t know.”
The sudden spark of life faded away, returning her to the same grey, depressed woman who had greeted me at the door. “How can you not know?” she said. Her eyes were staring into the middle distance. “How is that possible?”
“We’re trying, D. He was important to us, too. We’ll find a way to make things right. He deserves that.”
Another tear welled up in her eye. Her bottom lip was quivering. “They shot him so many times,” she whispered. “I could barely recognize his body. Whoever did it was a monster.”
I opened my mouth to talk, but the words just wouldn’t come. Dina succumbed to the crying. Sobs took over, racking her from head to toe as she buried her face in the couch cushions. I patted her back softly and let her cry.
I couldn’t even fathom what this woman was going through. Was she really the same as the girl in the picture? That girl had looked so happy, so head over heels in love. And now look at her. She was a wreck, always just a few words away from a sobbing fit. Three years to cope with her husband’s murder, and she was still barely keeping it together.
A wail from the other room interrupted us. I looked around, confused, but Dina shot up immediately, wiping her eyes as she tried to pull herself together. She disappeared through the doorway connecting the living room to the bedroom. I sat and waited. A moment later, she emerged with a bundle in her arms.