Don't Explain (16 page)

Michael sat in the car and started it up. He was sick of rentals. He just
wanted his car. He pulled out of the parking lot and onto a dead street. The low
voice of a newscaster hummed from the speakers. He could have announced the
start of another world war, and Michael wouldn't have heard him.

For a moment he just concentrated on the road ahead. He looked at the
clock. Ten after five. She would be getting ready to go to work. He couldn't go
over there now. He didn't want to upset her too much before she left, and he
didn't want to make her late. She hated to be late.

Instead of taking the road that wound back to her house he continued
straight ahead. He was going to have to learn to live with Margaret again.

He pulled in the parking lot of the motel where he had stayed when he
first moved to town. He figured he would get a couple hours of sleep and then
go to Caitlyn's café later in the morning when she had some time to calm down.

Michael needed to make sure that she was going to be okay and to ensure
her that he wasn't going anywhere. That he still wanted her in his life. He
knew it was dangerous. Being in love with her and living with Margaret, but she
could keep him sane.

He walked up to room twelve. The curtains were closed, and it looked dark
inside. He slid the key into the reader. The door clicked and a green light was
illuminated. He slowly turned the handle and pushed the door open.

The light from the parking lot shone in, and he saw Margaret sleeping in
the bed in one of his old dress shirts. He had left it in her apartment, and
she took it over as her own. He told her once that he thought it was sexy when
she wore his shirts, and from that day on she wore them as a nightgown. The
covers were pushed to one side. She moved slightly as a cool breeze from the
door ran across her bare legs.

She had left room on the right side of the bed for him. He couldn't bring
himself to lie beside her. He closed the door behind him with the same delicacy
that he used to open it and stealthily moved to a small wooden chair with big
arms and little cushioning. He sat down and stretched his legs into the middle
of the floor. He leaned his head against the hard wood and tried to fall
asleep.

#

Michael showed up at Fine and Mellow mid-morning to check on Caitlyn. Margaret
had insisted on coming with him. She wanted to apologize to Caitlyn for coming
to her house in the middle of the night to tell Michael that she was pregnant. He
tried to convince her to stay at the motel and that Caitlyn probably didn’t
want her apology at this point, but she sat in the passenger seat of the rental
car and pressed Michael further. He agreed to take her along under one condition:
she had to stay in the car until he told her it was okay to come in, if that
was possible.

 He was nervous about seeing Caitlyn, but when he saw that the little
wooden building was dark and found that the door was locked, he raced back to
the car and sped the mile to Caitlyn's cottage. Her car was parked off to the
side in the same place as it was the night before. Michael commanded his
passenger to wait in the car. He jumped out, leaving it running with Margaret
inside. He pounded on the door, and the sound echoed through the tall trees.
There was no movement in the house. He pounded again. The house remained
silent.

He tried the handle and rushed through the door when it gave in to his
turn easily. Cold air flooded the very warm room. He looked around; the house
appeared as it had the night before, only instead of Caitlyn sitting on the
couch, Alexis was there. He ran toward the bedroom and Alexis stood up.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

He stopped and turned, “I want to see her.”

“She’s not seeing douche bags right now. In fact, thanks to you, she’s
filled her douche bag quota for the year. So get the hell out and don’t come
back.”

Michael turned and walked to the bedroom door. “I’m going to make sure
she’s alright, and then I will leave.”

Alexis began, again, but he ignored her and opened the door quietly. When
he peeked into the room, he saw a bundle under the thick quilt.

He walked slowly toward the bed, “Caitlyn.” He paused, but the bundle had
no reaction. Lightly he continued, “Are you okay?” He slowly pulled back the
covers and revealed a sleeping Caitlyn. He reached down to check her pulse, but
her chest rose slowly and then fell again showing some sign of life.

Alexis appeared in the doorway. “You need to leave. She will freak out if
she finds you here. You broke her heart. Now you need to leave her alone.”

He covered her and sat on the bed, his shoulders slumped over and his
head down.

“Hello?” Margaret's rose on her toes to look over Alexis’s shoulder and
into the room. Alexis narrowed her eyes and looked as though she might attack Margaret.

Michael stood up and placed himself in front of the unsuspecting
Margaret. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

“I know, but I feel bad. I want to make sure that she is alright.”

“No. She’s not alright,” Alexis said as she moved closer to Margaret, her
hands clenched into little fists. “And Michael’s right. You need to get the
hell out of here. I will tase you both for trespassing on private property.”

A groan came from the pile of blankets.

“Go away.”

Michael began shuffling Margaret out the door, but Caitlyn turned and
looked at the pair who had broken into her house.

“Are you kidding me?” she asked upon seeing Margaret. “Get the hell out.”
This was her final remark before she grabbed the edge of the quilt and pulled
it over her head as she plopped down facing the opposite direction.

“Caitlyn, I just…” Michael shook his head at Margaret to get her to stop
talking.

“Not right now.”

“But I feel really bad.”

“How do you think she feels?” asked Alexis. Michael’s heart twisted. He
had a pretty good idea of how she felt.

“We should go. We'll see her later, when Caitlyn isn't sleepy. She gets
irritable when she is sleepy,” Michael said as he closed the bedroom door and
escorted Margaret to the front of the house.

Caitlyn lay in her sleigh bed surrounded by comfort, but she remained
uncomfortable. Why would anyone come into her house without her permission?
Obviously if she didn't answer the door, she didn't want to be disturbed.

Alexis silently slid next to Caitlyn and hugged her. “Are you okay?”

 Caitlyn scoffed at her. “Why did you let him in here?” Caitlyn did not
want to pick a fight with her friend, but she could not help but feel the
bitterness pulsing through her.

“I didn't
let
him do anything. I forgot to lock the door last
night. He just took it upon himself to burst in here.” Alexis squeezed her
tighter.

Caitlyn wanted to yell at her for not locking the door, but she was
pretty bad about doing that herself. “It's alright. I doubt the lock would have
stopped him anyway.” A small smile crept across Alexis's face.

“She’s not as adorable as you said she was,” Alexis said.

Caitlyn scoffed. “She looked even better than she did last night. She has
beautiful tousled curls. My hair doesn’t do that. Not if I put in a bottle of
hair spray. And I have never had a pair of jeans that fit me that well.”

“She’s not that pretty. You’ve got a lot on her.”

“Like what?”

“Freckles.”

“Freckles didn’t convince him to stay.”

“What happened? When I kick his ass, I would like to know the whole story
so I can make him pay for all of his sins.”

Caitlyn could feel the tears pushing at the backs of her eyes again.
“She’s pregnant.”

Alexis’s mouth fell open. “Shut up.”

Caitlyn just nodded in confirmation.

“Well, you can console yourself in the fact that those jeans won’t fit
her for that much longer.”

Caitlyn accidently let out a quick laugh in between sobs. She looked at
Alexis and thanked her with her eyes.

“Are you going to open the café this morning?”

“I think I’ll take the day off. I just want to stay in bed. Everyone was
entitled to a sick day every once and a while, and today I’m taking one. My
other customer will be angry, but he or she will get over it.”

Her head was pounding from drinking too much wine the night before; her
eyes were red and the lids were swollen. She had a sore throat from screaming
and crying. These were symptoms enough to prevent her from going anywhere
today.

“I can run the place for you. I watch you do it every day. How hard could
it be?”

Caitlyn waved away the idea, “One day won’t matter much in the long run.”
She looked up at Alexis with her streaky face and whispered through the knot in
her throat, “Do you know what would make me feel better?”

“What's that?”

“Blueberry pancakes from Madeline's.” Caitlyn knew that Alexis wouldn't
mind that she was using her to get pancakes.

Alexis gave a quick chuckle, “Alright. I'll be back in little bit. You
want anything else?”

“No.”

Alexis pulled herself up from the bed. “Go back to sleep. If you're not
going into work you might as well enjoy sleeping in.” Then she sauntered out of
the room.

Caitlyn tossed and turned for about ten minutes before she sat straight
up and pounded her fists in frustration at being woken up and now not being
able to go back to sleep. She grumpily got out of bed, and while whispering
curses under her breath, stuffed her arms into her robe. She stomped into the
kitchen and put the kettle on.

The steam rose from the spout, and Caitlyn watched it carelessly dissipate
into her kitchen. She stood there chewing her thumbnail and tapping her foot
nervously. The sadness lingered, but she was now furious, too. It was
unbelievable the way Michael had sprung this on her and more so that he thought
it would be a good idea to bring Margaret to her home the morning after. She
felt betrayed.

Finally, her patience having worn thin, she picked up the phone and
called Michael. He answered the phone with a very cautious “hello.” This Caitlyn
took as an opportunity to lay into him with all of the fury that had building
with the boiling water. “Are you kidding me?” she started. “Did you leave your
mind in Sacramento?”

Michael began to defend himself but Caitlyn wouldn’t let him finish. “You
came here to be with me, and your ex shows up. So, sorry, Caitlyn, got to go.
Why didn't you just talk to her while you were packing your stuff? It would
have been less painful if you found out back in California and then ignored my
messages and never contacted me again.”

It would have been very painful, probably just as painful, but she could
not imagine hurting any worse than she did right then.

“Caitlyn, I don't want to hurt you.”

“Shut the hell up. What did you think was going to happen when you showed
up with her this morning? That I would be relieved? Oh, good she's here; the
pain is all gone. Don’t explain yourself to me. I don’t want to hear it.” It
was hard for Caitlyn not to default to sarcasm. It was the only defense
mechanism she really had and without it and the screaming, she would be in
tears again. The tea kettle whistled, cheerfully announcing that it had
completed its task, and Caitlyn removed it immediately, ready to pounce on and
kill anything that seemed jovial. If Santa Claus had shown up at her door, she
probably would have punched him in the face.

“Can we talk in person?” he asked. Then he lowered his voice and said, “We'll
be alone. I promise.”

“Not a chance.” Before he could make a reasonable protest, she added, “I
am in love with you, Michael. I had made plans, real plans, for my life, based
on you moving here to be with me. But I guess less than week's re-acquaintance
and great sex really isn't enough.” Caitlyn had screamed the words “great sex”
in hopes that Margaret was nearby and could overhear her. “I want you to stay
away. Don't call. Don't come by my house or the café. If I'm ever ready to see
you again, and I don't know if that will ever happen, I'll call you.”

“Caitlyn, you have to understand that this wasn't my intention. My
intention until last night was to be with you.”

“The road to fuck-off-and-die is paved with good intentions.” She hung up
the phone.

Caitlyn took a deep breath, and before she could let it all out, the
phone rang. She picked it up without looking at the caller ID. “Seriously? I
didn’t make my point clear enough?”

“Caitlyn?” asked a gruff voice.

“Oh geez, Ma. I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

“I should hope so. Why aren’t you at work? Is everything okay?”

Caitlyn sat down on her couch, “How did you know I wasn’t at work?”

“Pat Stevenson drove by and said it was all closed up. Did you give up?
Are you over this silly coffee shop phase?”

“I’m just taking the day off.”

“When do you think you will give up?”

“I’m not sure.”