Inconsolable (Love Triumphs 2)

She frowned. She wanted to grab hold of his big arms and shake him, shout at him. What was he doing living in a stupid cave? He clearly had skills, talents even. He could make a living wage, pay rent like everyone else, get his groceries at the supermarket and have enough change to catch busses. He could own more than two shirts, shoes without the toes torn through and the soles blown out. He could be somebody’s employee, somebody’s friend. Somebody’s lover.

“I can’t work you out, Drum.”

He went to the table and pulled out a chair, holding onto its back. He wiped water off the seat with his palm. He stood there looking at the chair until she realised he was pulling it out for her. She was pretty sure no man had ever done that for her and it was oddly hard to swallow. She went to the front of the chair and he moved it so it touched the back of her knees. She sat and her, “Thank you,” hit the air all crackly and unsteady, as if she’d fallen in a hole instead of planted her butt on a damp chair.

He moved around to the other side of the table and lit an old candle. “Our food will be ready.” He left her and went to the kitchen.

She scrubbed her hands over her face. He was killing her: this derelict with manners, this tough guy who spoke softly, refused to be classified easily as a mentally ill person or substance addict and didn’t care if he was understood or not.

She’d composed herself by the time he came back with two burgers, a big serve of thick cut potato chips to share and two bottles of water. He put the tray down and distributed the food, putting a burger and a water bottle in front of her.

She picked up a chip. “I wish I knew your full name.”

He sat, screwed the top off his water bottle. “What difference would it make?”

“I could thank you more personally for surprising me with this.”

His eyes were down on his plate. “It’s not important.” He picked up his burger and ate. She did the same as the sky changed colour.

“Sunrise and sunset.” She shook her head, such an unexpected day. He sat on silently, taking an occasional chip from their shared bowl. “We should be able to talk like normal people having a meal together.”

“We’re not normal people.”

She laughed. “Speak for yourself.” Then nearly gagged. “Oh my God, Drum. I’m sorry.” How was it that he could wrong-foot her so easily?

He took his last mouthful of burger then wiped his mouth with a napkin. “You don’t need to care about me. That’s not normal.”

In every passing exchange he was proving this point. She should go, pay for their meal before she foolishly tried to make more of this night than it was. She played with the blue plastic bottle top. “Thank you for letting me see your sunrise, for letting me sleep.”

“You were tired.”

“Have you slept at all?”

“No.”

“What will you use as a bed?”

“I’ll manage.”

She looked up expecting to see his face in profile or his eyes turned down. He was looking right at her. He was doing this more often now but it was still a shock to see him focused on her.

“You understand why I’m worried about you?”

“It’s your job.”

“Yes, that and after what happened to your stuff. I’m very uncomfortable about you going back to the cave, tonight

or any night.”

“Which is also your job.”

She wasn’t going to win anything here. She couldn’t even get more of a name out of him.

“They won’t come back. I’ll be safe.”

“Hold on. That sounds like you know who did this?”

He gave a brisk nod. “Not for sure, but I have a fair idea. They’ve had their fun.”