Dirty Law

Even though I didn’t see Tony, I still kept an eye on him. After the rape, I changed everything. My number was different, my address was different; I relocated and basically went off the grid. I had wanted Tony to have as little to do with me as possible, because at the time the media was flaming anyone who knew me. Sometimes I wondered if that was why Effie left me. Maybe the media made it too hard for her to be friends with me.

Tony tried calling me and coming for me. I knew because my previous landlord complained.

“You keep having people come see you,” she said, always sounding irritated. “You don’t live here. You tell him stop coming.” The one silver lining of the whole goddamn thing was that I didn’t have to deal with Linda any more. Linda, the worst landlady in the history of landladies. Linda, the slumlord of South Salt Lake.

One time, my drain was clogged so I called Linda, as she was my landlady. In lieu of hiring a licensed plumber, Linda hired someone off the street. Naturally, this person made the problem worse. Linda the Slumlord tried to pin the problem on me and tried to make me pay for the now broken bath tub. That did not go over well.

Despite my place being cleaner than when I moved in, I didn’t get the security deposit back. Whatever, it was worth it to be rid of her.

Anyway, once a month I drove by Tony’s just to see how he was doing. I sat outside his house like the stalker I’d become and watched him. He lived in the same house he had bought with my mother just two months before she died in the car crash. He kept the garden nice, he took care of the lawn, and he’d never remarried.

Every Sunday Tony tended to the garden. In the summertime I used to watch him water sunflowers. Sunflowers were my mom’s favorite plants. Every week Tony filled up a can and watered sunflowers, and every week I wondered what went through his head. If it had been me, if I had to view a giant flower reminder of my mom, I’d rip it out of the ground. I’d make sure anything remotely looking like a sunflower was destroyed. Yet Tony did the opposite. He watered so it grew bigger and bigger.

Now it was December, and the pale snow had suffocated the sunflowers under its crisp blanket. When Tony came out there was nothing for him to water. Still, he walked around the garden, looking at the frozen ground as if a flower was going to burst through any moment.

I exhaled and typed o

ut a text. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Almost instantly my phone buzzed and I didn’t want to look. I had expected at least a five-minute window to prepare for a reply. Huck was supposed to exist in the ephemeral, swirly-world of Secrets. Now I had his number and he had mine. I felt as if the exchange of our numbers augured something I didn’t want to discover.

“I think I’m getting to know you,” he replied.

“Ha! You wish.” I sent it before I could think.

“Why didn’t you call, Dandelion? Afraid of my voice?” I set the phone down at his reply, deciding to watch Tony instead of responding to Huck. When I glanced up, though, Tony was already inside. I took one last look at the message on my phone and deleted it. Maybe I was afraid.

When I got home, Law was waiting outside my apartment.

“What do you want?” I growled, not in the mood for pleasantries. After “visiting” Tony, I had gotten stuck in traffic. I’d turned the radio on to listen to some mind-numbing pop music, but the stupid DJs were talking. They were doing some moronic segment and guess who was the star? Me.

It was a “where are they now” type feature, and they were trying to speculate about where I was. It was little more than cheap jokes and gags at my expense. I didn’t think they ever mentioned what I might be doing. My finger was poised to change the channel, but I kept waiting for one of them to say something nice. It had happened months ago and yet people still thought badly of me. By the time I got home, my heart hurt.

I shoved Law aside and plunged my key into the lock, ready to drown my sorrows in ice cream and alcohol.

“I haven’t heard from you in nearly a week,” Law said to my back. “Is everything all right?”

“We aren’t friends, Law. You don’t need to check on me and I don’t need to tell you how I’m doing.” I turned the key and entered my apartment. As Raskolnikov woke up from his daily hibernation to jump on my legs, I attempted to close the door. Law slammed his arm between the door and my wall, stopping me.

I stepped back, arms folded, with Raskol jumping all over me. Law stepped inside and knocked my door back against the wall. I watched with slight concern as my doorknob made a dent in the wall. What’s another mark in my life? Raskol, upon seeing Law, changed direction and ran over to him. Traitor.

Glaring at Law, I spat, “What the fuck do you want?”

“You’re right, Nami, we aren’t friends,” Law said as he picked up a now enamored Raskol. “I think we moved past that when we nearly fucked.”

A laugh twisted into a scoff in my throat. “Nearly fucked? Have you lost your mind?” When he didn’t respond, I leaned back against my wall, shaking my head. “Listen, Law, we didn’t almost do anything. I had a slight case of insanity that you were present for. That’s it.” Also you saved my life. And you made me feel like a human again. Yea, that had been nice, but I wasn’t about to give him any more ground.

Law gently lowered Raskol, much to the dog’s dismay, before regarding me. “Really? Granted you did leave pretty fucking quick, but what was all that ‘Just kiss me, Law,’ shit?”

I grimaced at the memories he was dredging up. I opened my mouth to argue and fight back, but nothing came out. The radio hosts had drained all my fight. I couldn’t battle anymore that day. I just wanted to sleep and be numb. The next day I had to continue Operation Make Morris Pay, which still didn’t have a good name. Right then I just needed a little TLC, which came in the form of either ice cream, alcohol, or weed.

I shrugged. “You’re right.”

“And let’s not forget the night I saved you—wait what?” Law quirked his head, as if he hadn’t heard me.

“I said you’re right. I came on to you. I’m a whore. Can you go now?” My eyes settled on a nearly empty mason jar. I remembered the night Law had forced me to go to The Bell Jar. I’d thought him to be terrible. It would have been easier that way. Easier than this…whatever this was.

Now my eyes burned with unshed tears. Maybe if I could muster them up he would leave. Tears tended to make people uncomfortable. I doubted I could really cry, though. The feeling like my eyes were on fire was a feeling I’d had since the rape. I would never cry, but I would always feel their scorching presence beneath my lids.