They spent the day doing mundane things together. They went grocery shopping. They took a walk around the neighborhood. Mark bought them sandwiches for lunch, from a food truck that had set up near the park. They worked on a puzzle in the afternoon. They sat on the porch in the early evening and drank IPAs. Brian did not come up, and neither did the question of when she was going home.
In the early evening, Mark set the steaks he had bought that morning on the counter and went outside to start the charcoal. Anna sat on his couch, scrolling through the options on Netflix when her phone lit up with a notification. It was a text from Brian. Anna set the phone on the coffee table, heart beating too fast, breath coming in shallow gasps. She left the phone on the table and went outside.
Mark looked up from the grill as she came onto the back porch. The screen door banged shut behind her and Mark’s expression grew concerned.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She stepped off the porch and went toward Mark slowly. He was no longer focused on the steaks. He wiped sweat from his forehead, eyes on her as she neared. A flame shot up from the grill but he didn’t react.
“Brian,” she said. She couldn’t say anymore. Fear closed her mouth.
“What did he say?” Mark asked. He dropped his eyes to the grill, flipping each steak as he waited for an answer.
“I didn’t read it,” she whispered.
He looked up from the grill. “You want me to read it?”
She nodded, turned slowly, dragged herself back into the house. She took the phone from the coffee table. There were four texts from him now. She carried the phone back outside. Mark was flipping the steaks again.
“Grab me a plate?” he asked.
She handed him her phone before ducking back into the kitchen, pulling a plate from the cabinet and returning to the grill. He was scrolling on the phone with one thumb. His face was set in anger, stony, like a volcano. She stood awkwardly next to the grill, waiting for him to finish. The fire glowed a glorious amber, and she imagined there was a fire inside Mark to match.
When he looked up from the screen, he seemed less angry, and incredibly unsure. “You wanna know what he said?” he asked.
“A lot of stuff about killing himself, and how I’ll regret leaving?” she guessed.
Mark nodded faintly, took the plate from her hands, pulled the meat from the grill. He placed the lid over the coals, shut the vents. “A few other things too,” Mark answered.
“What other things?” Anna asked softly. Brian had a deep well of awful accusations and threats. She was familiar with every one.
Mark was holding the steaks out in front of him. The meat smelled amazing. Her stomach growled. “I don’t even want to repeat it to you. It’s not fair for him to call you those things, or to threaten you like that.”
“He threatened me?” Anna asked, though she was not surprised. Last time the thread had nearly snapped he had said he’d make her pay for the pain she caused.
“Anna…” Mark began, but she interrupted him.
“It’s okay,” she said, though it really was not. She could feel her spirit withering. “He’s said things like that before.”
Mark began to move, and Anna followed him into the house. She opened the fridge, finding the broccoli salad Mark had also purchased that morning. She also grabbed two more beers. She took two forks and two knives from the drawer and joined Mark at the table. He popped open the beers as she took her seat.
They ate in silence for a time, both of them stewing. Finally, Mark couldn’t keep his anger contained. “I don’t think you should go back to the apartment alone. You’re not safe there.”
She had already come to this conclusion too, but she wasn’t sure where she was going to go. “I know. If I stay, I’ll need to have the locks changed.”
“Even then,” Mark said, looking at her meaningfully. “Anna, he could kill you.” His face was a mask of rage and fear. His gaze seemed to burn her with its intensity.
She sliced another piece of steak, savoring the juiciness of the meat as she chewed. “I know,” she answered. “And this time, I actually believe it.”
Brian did not text her anything else that night, but Meredith did. Did you go home last night?
They were watching a movie, although she wasn’t really watching. Mark made popcorn, and he had eaten most of it. She was on her third beer and feeling rather tired. I went to Mark’s place. She hit send. Still there she typed in a second message.
Good choice Meredith answered. You need me to get some things from the apartment for you? I don’t mind.
Anna looked over at Mark, whose eyes were glued to the screen, thinking of Meredith’s assessment of him. Was he really in love with her? Wouldn’t Meredith do exactly as he had done today if she’d gone to her place instead?
I don’t need anything yet she typed. But I might take you up on that offer in a few days. She set the phone down on the coffee table, reached for the popcorn. It was buttered heavily and salted almost to the point where she didn’t want to eat it. The movie played and her mind wandered, wondering where Brian was. She had the creeping thought that it was a good thing he didn’t know where Mark lived.
The movie’s credits were rolling, and Mark stretched. He took their empty bottles to the kitchen. She heard the glass clinking against the other bottles in the bin. He returned to her, but he stood in the doorway instead of entering the room. He looked expectant. He leaned against the doorframe, his whole body stiff with the things he wanted to say. He smiled at her weakly. “Mind if I go on to bed?”
“It’s fine,” she answered. “I’ll be alright on my own.”
His skepticism was plain in his eyes. His smile changed, almost a smirk. “Okay,” he said.
She listened to his retreating feet with worry. She was a liar. She knew as soon as she tried to sleep, she would not be able to. Not if she was alone. She picked another movie, letting it play as she lay on the couch, quietly crying.
She sat in the car, feeling sick. She wondered if anyone else had gotten food poisoning at the restaurant. She opened the car door, nearly slid from the seat to the pavement. She couldn’t get up from the ground. Her legs were like spaghetti. She had the feeling this had happened before. She was reliving something awful.
She managed to crawl around the front of the car, and pull herself up onto the hood. There was a bright light behind her. She wondered if it was an angel coming to collect her, or to announce a miracle, or to help her into the house. A figure moved towards her and she squinted into the brightness. It was not an angel. It was Brian.
“Good thing I followed you,” he said. It wasn’t his voice. He was the man from the bar—the one who had drugged her. This wasn’t food poisoning. She tried to call for help, but everything was slow.
“Let me help you,” he said, but now he was Brian again. He put one hand over her mouth and another around her neck.
Anna woke with her heart racing. The movie she had chosen was no longer playing. Her eyes were raw. She sat up slowly, gasping for air. She put a hand to her neck, expecting to feel his hot fingerprints.
She checked the time. 1:13 am. She wondered if Mark was asleep. She could hear something playing from the other side of the house. She rose from the couch, crept down the hallway to his bedroom. The door was ajar. She could see the blue light of the television casting its shine on the walls. She pushed open the door, her heart still beating wildly. She peered inside.
He was awake. He was watching an episode of The New Girl, laying propped against a pile of pillows, covers thrown off because of the heat. The ceiling fan spun with a soft whirring white noise. His gaze went to her, almost magnetically, as she pushed the door further open, stepping into the room fully. He’d taken off his shirt, and she was suddenly aware of how thin her tank top was. He sat up, looking somewhat embarrassed, but he didn’t make a move to cover himself. She came to the edge of the bed, standing there awkwardly as he stared at her. She had not noticed before that he was only wearing his underwear.
“Can I…can I sleep in here?” she asked weakly, her voice cracking.
Mark turned back the covers for her and she slid between the sheets. He took a pillow from the stack he was leaning against, tucking it under her head as she laid on her side. She faced him, wiping fresh tears from her eyes. Mark muted the television and waited for her to say what was on her mind. She didn’t know where to begin. She cried harder and he put an arm around her, pulled her closer to him until her cheek was against his bare chest.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re safe.”
“What about when I leave here? I’m not safe with him, and I’m not safe on my own either.” She choked on the words.
“What do you mean?” Mark asked.
Her face was wet with her tears and his sweat. She wiped her eyes again. “I can’t go home. What if he comes back for me? And I’m not safe on my own either. There’s always another one out there’s who is just as bad.”
“That guy from last night,” Mark reasoned. She sniffed in response. “How many other times were you out with Meredith and nothing happened?”
Anna didn’t answer. He was right and he was wrong. She didn’t have the words to explain.
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t be scared, Anna,” Mark continued. She snuggled closer to him, letting her tears leak slowly. “I’m just saying that right now, you’re safe.” He paused, gave her a little squeeze. “Okay?”
She nodded, then cried until she was empty. She slept.
Mark was still sleeping when she woke again. It was early morning, the sky just starting to gray with dawn. She had rolled away from him in the night, but he still lay on his side, curled inward as if he still clutched her. He’s in love with you. She watched him sleep, thinking about what Meredith would say when she told her about this weekend.
She went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of juice. She took a scalding hot shower. She made a plan for the day and hoped that Mark would help her.
“I need to go home,” she said over breakfast, as she buttered a piece of toast he had made for her. Mark stopped chewing, looking at her as if he disagreed. His eyes were dark with worry. “To pack my things,” she clarified. “I’ll get a unit for the furniture until I find another place. And I’ll pack a suitcase for a few weeks, until I can find a new apartment.”
Mark nodded. “You think we can get a truck and storage unit today?” he asked skeptically.
We. He assumed he was part of the plan. She didn’t have to ask for him help. “There’s always the option to rent a pickup from Home Depot,” she said as she shrugged.
Mark drove her to the apartment. He turned off the car, but she couldn’t get out. It was like she had frozen to the seat. The space between the car and door was a canyon waiting to swallow her.
“You want me to go in first?” he asked.
She nodded, her eyes widening with fear. She handed him her keys and watched as he slowly moved towards the door. He unlocked the apartment, then ducked inside. After a few minutes, he came back to the stoop, and beckoned her. She slid from the car, moving towards him, feeling like death was waiting inside.
But inside, she did not find death. She found the leftover chaos of a hasty move-out. Brian had taken most of his belongings. There were no clothes, no movies or games, no toiletries. He had taken the television, the living room furniture and the bed. He took the towels and the bed linens and the washer and dryer. He had left her bookcases, all the books, the dining set and the living room rug. Thankfully, he had also left her computer and her tablet. He had taken about half of the items in the kitchen, including the good knives and the small appliances. He had taken most of the dishes too but had left the cookware. He had emptied the fridge and the pantry.
On the counter sat a stack of her grandmother’s china plates, pristine and beautiful. But one of the plates had been thrown against the wall. She could see the mark where it had struck. The shards of it covered the stovetop and had rained down at the oven’s feet. She felt tears pricking her eyes. She wondered if he had intended to smash them all. She imagined him standing here, in a blind rage, throwing that one plate before he came to his senses.
Mark began to sweep up the shards of the plate without comment. She leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, numb, watching him work. This is how it should have been, she decided. This is what love looked like—self-less, patient, kind. How had she not seen it before? She had been too busy trying to fix Brian that she forgot to think about if he had earned the effort it took from her.
Mark deposited the shattered pieces into the garbage can. She was still watching him. He caught her gaze. “What?” he asked. He looked almost confused by her expression of affection.
“Thank you,” she replied. The words were sweet and wonderful. She hoped he could feel the depth of her gratitude.
They packed up the rest of the apartment. They found a truck, but not a storage unit. They rearranged Mark’s garage, and moved her things into it temporarily. Mark tidied his second bedroom, enough for her to lay out an air mattress and use her suitcase as a dresser. She put her shampoo, her soap and her razor in his shower. She put her deodorant and her hairdryer in the bathroom cabinet.
You don’t need to get my things for me, she told Meredith at the end of the day. Mark and I moved everything out today.
Where are you staying? Meredith asked.
With Mark.
Meredith sent a winking emoji. Anna smiled but didn’t reply.
“What are you smiling for?” Mark asked, a smile of his own creeping across his features. He was standing in the threshold between the living room and dining room. He had a bowl of freshly popped popcorn in his hands. He hunkered down next to her on the couch.
Anna took a handful of the popcorn, daring herself to tell the truth. “Meredith is gonna try to set us up, I think,” she said, stuffing the kernels into her mouth.
Mark laughed and shoveled a handful of popcorn into his own mouth. He chewed, looking thoughtful. “I’m worth more than some rebound fling, don’t you think?”
He’s in love with you. Anna leaned her head on his shoulder. “You are,” she answered smoothly.
He turned on a movie and she reveled in the fact that the thread had finally snapped. She was finally safe.
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.
The Quick and the Dead 