I glanced at the monitor and caught the last glimpse of a severed head, wide eyed in shock, rolling off camera. "I'm impressed," I said. "I don't know if I've ever sat through a horror movie where the woman was actually watching the gory scenes."
She pulled her eyes from the screen. The glow of the television made the gold specks in her eyes glitter. Or maybe I was just imagining that they were glittering because her face was always so full of life. "That makes me seem a little creepy, doesn't it?" She placed her hand over her face and spread her fingers wide enough to look through. "Is this better?"
"Sure."
"Actually, if you want to change it, I'm kind of sick of this movie. The main girl is just interminably stupid. I mean, how my times can you put yourself within seconds of being brutally murdered before you realize you're a fool?"
"They do always seem to walk right into those dark rooms without thinking about switching on a light." I lifted the remote and flicked through a few channels. I landed on a commercial about animal abuse with a dog chained up in the snow.
Shay grabbed the pillow back and pushed it over her face. "Hurry, change it before the sad song starts."
I switched to the next channel, an old black and white western.
Shay dropped the pillow. "Thank you."
I turned and rested into the corner of the couch. "You just watched a bunch of people get chopped up to pieces as if you were watching a cooking show but a dog in the snow and you covered your face?"
Her smooth brow arched and disappeared under the long fringe of bangs. "Uh, yeah. Of course. Animals are awesome. None of them deserve to suffer. Didn't you ever have a pet as a best friend?"
"No pets. I always wanted one, but I never asked or considered bringing one into our house. My dad has a cruel streak a mile wide, and like you said, none of them deserve to suffer." I hadn't planned to peel open any of the ugly aspects of my childhood, but Shay was incredibly easy to talk to.
She gazed at me now as if she was trying to untangle me, trying to figure me out, but that knot was far too tight. "That's a shame. Every kid should have a pet. We rarely lived in a place where I could have a dog, but I had Tweety, my parakeet, and then there was Tutu, my grandmother's cat, who used to curl up under the covers next to me and purr me to sleep." She turned to face me and again crossed her long legs kindergarten style. Only there was nothing kindergarten about it.
"Maybe if you had just asked your dad, he would have let you have a pet. It might have made him less cruel. Animals add joy to any house, even if it's a one room apartment with stinky carpet and plastic lawn chairs for furniture. Surely your mom was all right with it."
"No mom," I said quickly. "Just me and my old man, Attila the Hun."
I rested back and took a moment to just look at her. She was that kind of woman, the kind you could just sit and admire.
"My dad is proud of being an asshole. It's what he strives for." I stood up. "Do you want a beer?"
"Yes please."
I walked to the refrigerator and pulled out two cold beers.
She peered up at me as I handed her the bottle. She took extra care not to come too close to my fingers. "He couldn't be that bad." She rested back. "You seemed to turn out all right."
"I've learned how to seem all right. But this unusual situation must give you some clue about my true psyche." I sat down in that far away corner, wishing that I could sit right next to her and drag her into my lap.
I drank some beer, hoping to wash away the dirty thoughts that had just crept stealthily into my head. I knew the one subject that could turn me cold even with a hot woman sitting next to me. "When I was nine, I badly wanted this remote control race car I'd seen on television. I was allowed one gift for my birthday, but it had to meet with my dad's approval. The only thing I wanted was that car. I sat at school all day and daydreamed about racing that thing around the house and yard. I was obsessed with having it, so of course, Dad didn't want me to have it."
She looked at me in question.
"My dad thinks possessions make you shallow and stupid. He has mountains of money, but he rarely buys anything."
"He's partially right, but still, if I had mountains of money, I'd be buying all sorts of useless stuff." Her pink lips wrapped around the beer bottle. Her long throat moved with swallows as she drank the beer. I realized I was hyper-aware of every move she made.
"My crazy old man decided my fearsome fixation—his words—on the toy was a perfect opportunity to teach me a lesson. I woke up on my birthday, and for the first time ever, there was a gift box waiting for me that wasn't flat enough to be a shirt or a pair of underwear. It was a big chunky box wrapped in paper that had race cars on it."