Doves for Sale Read online

  “It’s too late. My bank account has three dollars in it. I just got paid.” She spouts off several words that I overlook. Hell, if it were me, I would’ve punched something.

  “Sweetheart, we will take care of it. I can pay whatever bills for you until you get your money back. It’s okay.” I try to penetrate my words with comfort, but her clenching and unclenching fist doesn’t convince me of any success.

  “Ezra, it’s not like you can pay my bills. I’ll just explain the situation to my apartment manager. I’ve never been late before. They’ll understand.”

  “No. You won’t. You’ll let me help you. This is ridiculous. I have the money. Trust me.”

  “Yeah? You just have a ton of money laying around?”

  I did not want to go there with her yet. “Yes. Actually, I do.”

  Her head snapping in my direction makes me think that she doesn’t believe me in the least.

  “Shit. I wasn’t ready to tell you this yet.”

  “Oh God, Ezra. You know that there are only so many things my brain can tolerate at one time.”

  “We can talk about it at your house.”

  “Fine.”

  I churn the impending conversation over and over in my head. There has to be a way to tell your current girlfriend that you want to help her pay her bills with your dead girlfriend’s money, right?

  Right?

  Shit.

  Damn. Damn. Shit.

  By the time we get to her apartment, Aysa is really freaking out. I know what she’s doing without even asking. She’s flitting the thousands of implausible scenarios through her head. It’s ridiculous.

  I know. I’ve done it.

  “Come on. Let’s talk because tomorrow is all normal. No talk of weird things.”

  “All we talk about is weird things. Without the weird, we don’t have anything.”

  I sigh.

  “Ezra, I’m just kidding. You need to laugh a little. Come on, Neil, Leon, and Knox think I’m like the funniest thing ever but I can’t get you to crack a smile for the life of me.”

  “After this, it will all be out on the table. Then I can laugh. I promise.”

  “Ugh. More crap on the table. I hate the table.”

  We get into her home and sit down in the living room. Like everything else I’d told her, I want it to be unadulterated and raw.

  We wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “I went to see Mara’s parents after you and I… Anyway, they gave me her journals and told me some things I didn’t know. It’s all in the past, but they did something else. They gave me most of the money that was left from Mara’s life insurance. They wanted me to have it. They said they wanted me to start a life with someone and use it for something good. They had very good insurance on her.”

  “And you think something good is spending it on someone who is stupid enough to have their purse stolen?”

  “So…you left it where someone could easily see it?”

  “No.”

  “You meant to have someone steal it?”

  “No.”

  “You really didn’t want to pay your bills and you’re faking so I will give you money?”

  “What? No!”

  I hoped she realizes the irony in this situation.

  “Then it wasn’t your fault.”

  She flicks off her heels and puts them on my lap. I hope there’s no hidden meaning in that. I think that as long as I live, I’ll never know all of her secrets.

  “I get to pay you back, if I need to. I’m still going to try to talk to my landlord.”

  “That’s fine. Just know that I’m here if you need me. That’s what people you love do, you know.”

  She pulls the blanket from the back of the couch down around her shoulders. It’s the most adorable paradox—Aysa in that dress with a blanket draped over her shoulders. She’s always Aysa, cold and hiding, underneath.

  “Your feet hurt?” She’s flexing her feet. There are several red, angry marks on the tops of them where the shoes wanted her to know they’d been there.

  “They’re killing me. But, it was worth it.”

  “Give them to me.”

  She spreads out her legs over my lap and I kick my own shoes off, but refrain from complaining. I start at her toes and work my way down to her arches. She moans more than once, unabashed. Once I see her eyes begin to flutter, I know I’ve done my job well.

  “I’m gonna go home. I’m picking you up tomorrow for breakfast. I want you to make sure you’re extra awkward and change your clothes a dozen times before I get here.”

  She sighs and I love that she’s not ready for me to go. Before, she was always kicking me out.

  “Only if you promise to give me mixed signals the entire time and then give me the sloppiest kiss at the end.”

  “Deal.”

  I dress, the next morning, in a simple Strokes t-shirt and jeans, pairing it all with Chucks. I haven’t worn my Chucks in months, maybe years.

  I do a quick check for cash and then head out the door. I don’t even make sure she’s ready.

  Aysa

  I promised to take extra time picking out an outfit, but didn’t really expect to go through with it. After changing clothes four times, I’d made that promise come to fruition.

  I huff while looking in the mirror, having settled on a long-sleeve green Henley, skinny jeans and sandals. If he thought a first date required a dress, he is sorely mistaken.

  A quick check of my bank account reveals the truth of my theft. The person didn’t even do it well. They used my money on Wendy’s and Wal-Mart—three times. The least they could’ve done was hit up a Chik-Fil-A and Target.

  I shut the laptop at the sound of knocking on the door.

  Ezra is at the door, but he’s twisting the toe of his shoe back and forth on the ground. His hands are behind his back and his eyes are locked with the floor. “Hey, um, are you ready?”

  This is his pathetic attempt at shy. It’s beyond ridiculous.

  “Not for what you’re handing out. Put that whole thing away.”

  After shutting his eyelids tight while laughing, he finally straightens up and looks normal again.

  “What? I thought you liked the shy type.”

  “No. I like awkward.” I wouldn’t admit to him that even his shy and scared was kind of hot.

  “Then I’ll just be like you.”

  I cock my eyebrow at his sarcasm. “Let’s go. Or should we stay here at the door for a few more minutes. I’m not aware of the protocol.”

  “Let’s go.” As we climb down the stairs, our hands interlock. I could jerk my hand free and claim a redo, as that was definitely against the first date rules until way later in the night, but I loved the feel of his calloused hand woven with mine.

  Ezra opens my door for me. I try to remember if he opened the door for me before, but I think those little things were so trivial before. I can’t remember. He may have. He might’ve been buried too deep to even think about it.

  I mutter a thank you and he nods.

  “Where to first?” I ask when after he rounds the front of the car and gets in the driver’s seat.

  “Breakfast. Any girl can be won over with bacon. Wait, you eat bacon, right?”

  “No. I don’t. I hate bacon. I hate bacon fat. I hate its crunchiness.”

  He sucks in his cheeks to refrain from laughing. I appreciate the lines at the corners of his eyes which once marked his stress, but now marked his joy. I’ve seen other girls check him out. They’d have to be blind not to.

  They’d never get to know his soul.

  It is a crime they don’t even know they’re committing.

  “I’m sorry. I only go out with bacon eaters. This date is over. Have a good day.”

  Have a good day. He is really on it today.

  “Okay.” I reach for the door handle, but his hand is on my thigh before I can pull the damned thing. “Hey, there’s no thigh touching before breakfast. You’re breaking the rules agai
n.”

  “Oh, sorry. I just know you’re a bacon eater. I was using my wiles against you leaving.”

  I slap the tops of my thighs. “No, no, no. There are no thighs or wiles before the meal. I’m calling Knox.”

  The cab of his truck fills with the sound of his thunder of laughter. It’s been a while since I’ve been treated to the sound. I’m not sure if I was ever treated this sound.

  “You’re calling my priest brother to give me first date advice? Now you’re playing dirty.” He grows serious and leans over the bench seat. A shiver skitters down my torso. I can feel his breaths touching my arms. If those breaths belonged to anyone else, I would’ve jolted away. I can stand his. “You’re ruining this date and we haven’t even left the parking lot.”

  “I’m ruining it! I call a do-over.”

  We sound like teenagers for sure.

  “Fine. We start over, but I’m not going back to your door so just rustle up whatever do-over at the door that you want.”

  “Just take me to the bacon.”

  “I knew it. One more shenanigan out of you and I’m taking you for soup.”

  His hand finds mine again and once again I forgive him. There’s something healing about Ezra holding my hand. He’s telling me that he’s there if I need him, but he’s far enough away that I can still do it on my own.

  “So what happened with the drum thing? Are you in a band now?”

  “I went there on Tuesday afternoon. I forgot to tell you. They instructed me to go to a garage. The whole conversation is by text. I drive all the way out there and there isn’t a band member over fourteen. The story is that the band was started by the guitarist’s older brother and when he went to college, the little brother took over. You have a lower voice than some of them.”

  I stay quiet and pretend it’s not the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. I can imagine big, burly Ezra in a room with wiry teenagers still waiting for their voices to catch up.

  “Bummer. I was looking forward to being the groupie.”

  “You can watch me play at my house and pretend. I’ll make you a t-shirt.”

  “Can it say Ezra’s girl?”

  “This is our first date, sweetheart. Don’t put a label on it. Be cool.”

  We are forcing the awkward. It’s even more insane than any first date I’ve ever had.

  “I can’t take it. Forget the awkward. Let’s just be normal.”

  “Thank God. I couldn’t keep that up much longer.”

  Pulling my hand over to his side of the cab, he kisses the top of it three times. I wait until he’s stopped at a red light and slide across the seat to sit beside him. I’ve been waiting to do that since I first rode in this truck, but never had the guts.

  This girl has guts now.

  “That’s better. Took you long enough.”

  “If you want something, you have to ask. I’m still bad at these things.”

  He slings an arm around my shoulder. “I think you’re perfect at these things.”

  We pull into the parking lot at the Pancake Pit, the first place I was ever invited to join Ezra, Neil, Roman, Leon and Gray for breakfast. They’d stopped doing that a long time ago and I blamed myself.

  “You don’t come here with them anymore?” I ask, getting out of his side of the car, holding his hand for balance.

  “No. We stopped doing that. I’m fine with it. This can be our thing. Sunday mornings and pancakes—our tradition.”

  “Sounds like the best plan ever.”

  Ezra has half of his plate finished when I spring the question on him.

  “Tell me what you’re majoring in. I want to know.”

  He steals a piece of sausage from my plate, even though I ordered bacon. I still have trouble with those things, like speaking up for myself—at least with the little things in life. Plus, I’m afraid if I complain about the food that someone will spit in it.

  Ezra gave me most of his bacon as a consolation prize.

  He chews on it and his thoughts, not looking at me. I know what it means when this man doesn’t look at me. It’s that damned ghost invading his thoughts.

  I know she won’t ever stop, but I look forward to the day when she’s not so prominent in his life.

  One day it will happen.

  And I will still be here.

  “I decided to be a high school guidance counselor.”

  He partially shrugs and one side of his face cringes. I tangle my feet with his under the table, letting him know that I’m still there.

  “Tell me why. I think I know why, but I want to hear it from you. Full disclosure Ezra. I mean it.”

  It takes him a few moments to gather his words and I sit patiently, waiting on him like he’s always waited on me. I motion to the waitress for more coffee and her refilling the cups takes up some of the quiet space.

  I know this explanation is going to begin with the word Mara and I brace myself for the blow.

  “Mara went to the guidance counselor once. She told me about it. It was right after she found out about the pregnancy. Her parents were livid and mine weren’t please, understandably. It was a lady, an older lady who had no clue about young kids and what they were going through. Mara said she sat down with the lady. The old bat just asked her questions from some standardized form, checking off boxes like you do with the symptoms at the emergency room. Mara only got thirty minutes. By the time all of her boxes were checked off, Mara’s time was over. The next visit, the woman actually listened to her story and shoved some pamphlets in her hand about responsible decision making and adoption agencies. She also included a pamphlet on abortion. Mara cornered me in the hallway and shoved them all at me, screaming at me. All she wanted to do was be heard and given something other than advice on glossy paper. I started thinking about that when I was enrolling for college. That woman could’ve been the pivot point in another direction for all of us. Ten minutes spent with Mara, just listening to her like a person instead of just another useless teenaged tragedy might’ve saved all of our lives. So, I thought if I could do that for just one person, it would be worth it.”

  He shrugs again and repeats his previous expression.

  He’s looking for my approval and it breaks my heart that he needs it.

  One night can change so many lives in so many ways.

  “There aren’t many people who can say that their profession pays the bills and makes a real difference in the world, Ezra. I think that may be one of the noblest reasons for choosing a profession that I’ve heard.”

  “It won’t make a lot of money.”

  Another crack in my heart.

  “Good thing I’m not a gold digger.”

  He smirks. “No, you’re not.”

  “How long will it take you to finish?”

  “I’m only part time right now. It may take years.”

  The words I wanted to speak swirl in my head, looking for any possibility of harm before I mutter them. “Maybe that’s really what Mara’s money is for. Why don’t you stop working or only work part-time while you study full-time. You’d get done a lot faster. You’d be helping people in no time.”

  He doesn’t respond, instead goes back to his food and I follow suit.

  We pay the ticket. The place belongs to his uncle, but he explains that his uncle has been facing some hard times and the last thing he needs to do is feed us for free.

  “Where are we off to now?”

  “To work off the pancakes.”

  “I’m in sandals, Ezra.”

  “Well, actually, it will be me that’s working off the pancakes. You’ll just be there for the ride.”

  “What ride?”

  With a gleam in his eye, he says. “You’ll see.”

  Ezra

  She doesn’t look impressed.

  At all.

  Not even a tiny bit.

  I don’t blame her.

  “It’s a grocery store parking lot.” I let her stew on the idea. She’s using one of the parking stops as a balanc
e beam. She’s not proficient at balance at all. The thing is only three foot long at most and she’s fallen off a dozen times already.

  That is my Aysa, ever unsteady.

  “You don’t see the potential?”

  She hops down from the parking stop and with hands on hips takes in the scene. This grocery store has been abandoned for years. It is on a stretch of highway between Mansfield and Shreveport that doesn’t get much traffic.

  Which is why it closed not long after opening.

  I’d seen some kids using it as a skateboard venue. I’d even seen one girl in roller skates doing laps here.

  The weeds have overgrown on the fence and other than the yellow, fading lines on the cement, there’s nothing much to see—except a lonely shopping cart.

  “I see the potential for a crack deal. We’re not making a crack deal, are we? I know I’ve got demons inside me, but I think Knox wouldn’t approve. He makes me feel guilty even when he’s not around. Crack is definitely a no-no.”

  I close my eyes, shaking my head against her antics.

  The girl has a lot of antics.

  “I think those demons are gone.”

  “I think you scared them away, you and all your goodness. Me and those demons had a good thing going. They helped me hide when you weren’t there. I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to.”

  I grab her around the waist. “I almost would rather demons than Roman.”

  She nods.

  “Okay.” She claps in insincere enthusiasm. “What am I missing in this place?”

  “Silliness.”

  She sobers. “Dude, I know all about silliness. That’s not a lesson I need to learn.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. You have defense mechanisms. Sarcasm—crudeness—foul language. That’s not silly. I want you to laugh at silliness.”

  “You telling me to laugh at silliness is silliness.”

  “Wait here.”

  I wheel the empty shopping cart over to her and motion for her to get in.

  “Are you serious? That thing might have hepatitis. Haven’t you seen those moms who wipe down the whole buggy before their kids get in? Listen to the antibacterial moms, Ezra. They are crying right now.”

  “Shopping carts don’t get hepatitis. They carry E-coli.”

  “Your coercion is weak.”