The night was going extremely badly.

Anna stirred her drink with the fancy cocktail straw, watching the slice of lemon swirl in the glass. “I gotta get out here,” she said to Meredith, barely audible over the noise in the bar.

“Already?” Meredith asked, eyeing the half-full glass.

Anna shrugged. “I’m just not feeling like myself today,” she said, looking across the room to the man who had been watching her for the last thirty minutes. “Plus, that guy is creeping me out,” she said softly, turning her eyes back to the drink in front of her.

 “Oh, yeah…” Meredith groaned. “He can’t stop staring over here.”

Anna thought about Brian; what he was doing tonight. She hadn’t seen him in 2 days. She hadn’t returned any of his messages either. She couldn’t stop herself from wondering if he was also out a bar trying to forget about the explosive argument. She didn’t want to go home again. The apartment felt empty, even as it was full of bitterness. But she didn’t want to stay here in the bar and get stared at by stranger either.

Her phone screen lit up. She saw the message preview in the banner. Did he come home yet?          

“Who’s that?” Meredith asked.

“Mark,” Anna said slowly.

Before she could say more, Meredith’s eyes went wide. She picked up her drink and took a long swig. “He’s coming over here.”

Anna steeled herself, putting on her best disinterested face. It didn’t always work. Sometimes they didn’t take the hint and told her to smile.

“Hi, ladies,” he purred. She hated everything about his voice. It was gruff and his tone was insincere. “Having a little girls’ night out?” He had the audacity to sit down at their table.

Neither Anna nor Meredith replied. Anna lifted her head a little higher, staring at the man who had inserted himself where he didn’t belong. His head was shaved, and his blond beard was nicely trimmed. His eyes were like dust, and there was nothing in them that pulled her in. This man had predator written all over his features. When he smiled it looked like it pained him.

“Whatcha drinkin’?” he asked. “I’ll go get another round for us.”

Meredith cleared her throat. “I don’t think so,” she said.

Anna turned her eyes downward, watching another message from Mark pop up across the screen. She picked it up, swiped to unlock, then pulled up the messages. Are you home now? Are you safe there?

Anna looked at Meredith, whose eyes were also on the texts. Meredith was wearing a pleased smile. “What?” Anna asked.

“He’s in love with you,” she answered.

“No, we’re just friends,” Anna said. “We were kids together.”

“Uh huh,” Meredith said, picking up her drink. The tone said everything the words did not.

The unwelcome man they’d been ignoring was suddenly uncomfortably close, standing over her, almost leering. Anna shrunk away from him. “We could have a good time together,” he said. “Let me buy you another drink.” He dipped his face close to Anna’s. She cringed as she pulled further away, leaning into Meredith’s personal sphere.

“Get out of here!” Meredith yelled.

The murmuring around the bar went quiet, and Anna could feel eyes watching them, weighing intervention. The intruding figure sucked his teeth as he straightened and then wandered away from them without saying another word.

“Creep,” Meredith muttered.

Anna stirred her drink with the cocktail straw, then took another sip. She still had her messages to Mark open. She began to type out a reply, conscious of Meredith watching her. Judging her? No. Hoping for something more for her maybe. I don’t know if I’m safe there.

“Just go to Mark’s house,” Meredith said. “I’ll swing by your apartment, get a bag of stuff for you. Just stay over with him a few days until you know where Brian went.”

She swallowed down the anxiety Meredith’s suggestion caused. She didn’t care where Brian had gone, as long as he wasn’t coming home. “I already have a bag in the car,” she replied slowly. Her words stuck in her mouth, like thick syrup. “I was going to get a hotel.”

Her phone lit up. Do you need me to come over? Mark asked.

Anna drained the drink in front of her, considering her reply.

“Just tell him the truth,” Meredith prompted.

Anna pulled her hair back over her shoulders, chewed a fingernail, used one thumb to type out a response. I wasn’t going to go home just yet.

She sighed, then looked at Meredith. “I’m gonna go.”

Meredith needed no explanation. She nodded approvingly. “Call me if you need me, okay?”

Anna grabbed her purse, headed out of the bar into the warm summer night. She walked one block to where her car was parked, placed her bag in the passenger seat and pulled her phone from her pocket before she buckled herself. Mark had sent her another text. I’m home if you need to come here.

She considered the options. She wanted time to think, but also knew that being alone would not be the best thing for her. Mark wouldn’t pry, but maybe she needed him to ask her about the last few days. If she went to a hotel, then she would have no one to help her with the toxic thoughts racing through her. She felt a mix of relief and regret, the thread between her and Brian cut so thin that it would snap. But it hadn’t snapped yet. She did not know where he was, or if he planned to come home. Until she knew that, she knew she couldn’t go back there. He would try to wind himself back around her, and the thin thread would start to thicken once again.

She began to drive, the anxiety her thinking had stirred up melting from her. She relaxed. Everything felt slow. By the time she was sitting at the light at Baker, where she would turn to get to Mark’s house, she knew something was wrong. One drink wouldn’t make her feel like this. She thought of the man who had sat down at their table. She wondered if he was following her. She stuffed down the panic, and turned right.

Mark lived in an old neighborhood, where the small houses were so close together you could high five your neighbor out the dining room window. There were no driveways. There were barely any front yards. She drove three streets over, driving so slowly that people behind her were passing her, or honking. She made another right, praying she wouldn’t have to parallel park. The car was crawling now. She could barely press her foot against the gas. She scanned the street. There was a long, empty stretch at the curb right in front of Mark’s house. She pulled up, shut off the car, muttered something about being thankful even though there was no one to hear her.

“Siri, text Mark,” she slurred.

“What do you want to say to Mark?” the robotic voice replied.

“I’m here. Help me,” she said. She was vaguely aware of headlights behind her. They reflected in the rearview mirror, but it could have been a blinking lightning bug. She shut her eyes for a second, rubbing her face.

“Your message says ‘I’m here. Help me.’” Siri told her. “Ready to send it?”

“Yes, send it,” Anna said, but her voice sounded strange.

“Okay, I’ll send it.”

Anna grabbed her purse from the passenger seat, exited the car, and stood next to it for a moment, trying to get her bearings. Her body felt like noodles. She leaned against the car frame, the driver’s door open. Someone else shut off a car engine, and she heard a door open, then close.

She turned. It was the man from the bar.

She tried to back away, sure now that he had drugged her. Her legs didn’t respond the way she wanted them to. She tripped, falling against the hood of the car.

“Glad I followed you,” the man said. He was smiling as he came near her. Anna watched in horror as he licked his bottom lip. “Looks like you need some help getting inside.”

“Hey!” she heard from over her shoulder. Mark’s voice was firm, indignant. “Who are you?”

The man didn’t wait around for more confrontation. He retreated. Anna didn’t watch him go. Her eyes were on the pavement. Arms came around her. Mark’s arms. He lifted her off the hood of the car. “I got you,” he said.

Anna lost herself somewhere between the car and the front door.

---

When she woke, she was on Mark’s couch. He’d taken off her shoes and placed them neatly under the coffee table. Her purse was set on top, next to a tumbler, which was beaded with condensate. She had been drooling. The pillow he had given her—one from his bed, not a throw pillow from the couch—was soaked. She wiped her mouth, then looked for the smear of lipstick across her fingers. It wasn’t there. No lipstick stained the pillowcase either. Mark must have wiped it off her lips for her.

The TV was on, and so was the lamp. She threw off the knit blanket he had covered her with. The clock read 4:37. She sat up, reached for the water, guzzled it until she felt like she would burst. It was then she noticed Mark was sleeping on the other side of the sectional. She smiled, before she remembered the reason why she was here, and what had happened outside the house before he had come to her aid. She switched off the television, curled into a ball, and quietly cried until she fell back asleep.

---

The next time she woke, the lamp had been switched off, but daylight was streaming in the windows. He had east-facing windows in the living room, and the morning sun was gorgeous. She could almost forget about her problems in that sunlight. It’s beams were freeing, healing, restorative.

She could hear him in the kitchen. The sound and smell of bacon cooking floated to her, almost beckoning her. She padded through the living room, past the dining table and around the corner to where he was standing at the stove. “Hey,” she called.

He was in a pair of black gym shorts and an undershirt. He was wearing a ballcap to keep his hair from falling into his eyes—or into the food—as he cooked. He had that greasy look about him, like he hadn’t showered yet. His eyes were tired, but he still smiled as he turned his attention towards her. “Hey,” he said. He hesitated, then asked what was on his mind. “What happened last night?”

“Oh,” she said. “Um…I think that guy drugged me at the bar,” she answered slowly, the realization of it weighing heavily in her chest.

“Yeah,” Mark agreed. “That’s kind of what I thought too.”

She chewed her lip. “I was going to get a hotel last night,” Anna explained, “but I was sitting at the light on Baker and I started feeling really wrong…” She held in the tears that wanted to leak out, but her voice still cracked.

Mark glanced at her, watching her with concern. She didn’t continue. He plated three strips of bacon and a huge helping of scrambled eggs with cheese, handing her the food. “Eat,” he instructed. “I’ll be there in a minute.” She took the plate from him and turned towards the table. “I’ll bring you a cup of coffee. Give me just a second.”

He’s in love with you. Meredith’s words crawled through her.

She sat, ate the eggs slowly as she waited for him. He joined her, bringing with him a mug of coffee. He set his plate down on the table, then returned to the kitchen for a second mug for himself. They sat in silence for a time, eating slowly. She sipped her coffee, watching him. He took off his hat, smoothed back his hair. He lifted his mug to his lips.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked, before taking a tentative sip. The liquid steamed around his face.

“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully.

Mark looked up at her and in his eyes she saw a kind of hurt she’d never seen there, the kind of hurt that happens when someone you care deeply about is in trouble, or in pain, and there is nothing you can do to rescue them from themselves. “How long has it been since you talked to him?”

“Oh, you were asking about Brian…” she said. “I thought you were asking about…that other guy.”

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She was not, but she also didn’t want to think about what might have happened if Mark hadn’t been there. “I guess it’s good that he doesn’t know where I live, and that he knows this is where you live,” she joked. But it wasn’t funny. It tasted like vinegar.

“True.” The word slid from Mark awkwardly, as if he tried to pack all his feelings into it and none of them would fit. “I’m sorry,” he said after a moment.

“For what?” she asked, sipping her coffee and trying not to fall apart.

“That he doesn’t value you,” Mark said.

She couldn’t look at him. The truth he spoke cut deep. She had invested too much energy in something that would never bloom, but pruning it still hurt. That’s why she was avoiding going home. She didn’t want any reminders of her wasted efforts.

Mark rose from the table, took her plate and his to the sink. She listened to the water running, the scraping of his fork across the plates. He opened the dishwasher, racked the plates, closed the appliance. He appeared at her side, standing over her as if he was waiting for an answer. She looked up from her mug into his concerned expression.

“You want the shower first?” he asked. She knew this was not the question he really wanted to ask, but an answer to it was more pressing than other answers he wanted.

“No, you go ahead,” she answered.

He squeezed her shoulder, then slowly, lowered his face to her and kissed the top of her head. Like she was a child, or his sister, or a close cousin maybe. That platonic kind of kiss that you give your daughter when she’s been hurting for as long as you can remember. She wanted to let everything inside her loose, but it didn’t feel like the right moment. She was too raw.

Mark went away from her, towards his bedroom. He moved through the back of the house, from his room to the bathroom. When he turned on the shower, she rose from the table, took her coffee and his bottle of Bailey’s onto the porch, and tried to think about nothing.