Regan Wolfrom - Coyote

“I didn’t make a promise to anyone. Sara’s not interested in me anymore. She won’t even talk to me.”

“For how many days? You couldn’t even wait a week…”

“And you, Fiona… what am I supposed to do with this? You think you have any right to place some kind of veto on who I’m allowed to be with? Even if you were my daughter you wouldn’t have that right.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Fine.” She walked out of the room, leaving the door open.

I closed the door and laid down on the bed.

I leaned over and picked Kayla’s bra up off the floor. I held it in both hands for a minute.

I knew Kayla would let me try again if I wanted.

She wanted me.

A beautiful young woman who was barely in her twenties wanted this old guy with the bald head and the dying heart.

How could I turn her down?

Today is Friday, January 4th.

I got up to pee in the middle of the night. It happens more and more these days, but I’m just relieved that I still wake up before I let it rip. I won’t need to start scavenging for adult diapers just yet.

I noticed a light from downstairs as I walked toward the bathroom. It wasn’t from the overheads; it was more like a glare from a tablet.

I took my piss and washed my hands, and then I found my way downstairs.

You’re never too old to be nosy.

I expected it to be Fiona, actually, like she’d been struck with some kind of rage-induced insomnia, and I almost changed my mind and headed back to bed.

But it wasn’t Fiona. In the living room, on the couch with no light but the shine of a small tablet screen, was Gwyneth.

I walked over to the couch and waited, but she didn’t seem to notice me. Then I realized that she had earclips on.

I waited a little longer.

She saw me and gasped.

“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Please go,” she said. She sounded more frightened than angry.

“I don’t understand this,” I said. “But if you need to be mad at someone, I’m okay with it being me.”

She was shaking.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I said.

“I… I don’t believe you. Please go…”

“This is silly.”

“I’ll scream…”

“You know that Fiona is my friend, right? That we’ve known each other for almost two years?”

Gwyneth started shrieking. She was calling out for help, calling out for Fiona, and making more noise than I’d heard since Cassy was teething.

I didn’t know what to do; if I ran, I’d look… guilty?

Fiona and Sara came running down the stairs, one after the other.

Fiona sat down beside Gwyneth and gave her a hug.

Sara marched right up to me.

“What the hell are you doing, Baptiste?” she asked.

“I scared her,” I said.

“Why are you down here? Why are you bothering her?”

“I was just checking on her.”

“Who told you to do that?” Fiona asked.

“Just get him away from me,” Gwyneth said. “Please…”

“Fuck this,” I said.

I went back to my room, passing Graham and Lisa on my way. I just threw up my hands as I went by.

I laid back down in bed, but I couldn’t sleep.

I was too busy wondering how many enemies I’d racked up this week.

Graham, Lisa and I skipped the meeting this morning, the first one with the Marchands, partly because we wanted to get the special “supply run” completed, but also because when I asked Sara if she’d be upset if we missed, she told me she’d prefer that I found somewhere else to be for a while.

I don’t think Fiona told her what happened with Kayla.

I think she just hates me for a few other good reasons.

I felt uneasy leaving the cottage in the hands of Matt and one of the Mossbergs, but I dealt with the worry by telling Fiona to go with Sara; they’d be with Justin, which as of today means they should be safe.

Kayla would have to trust in Matt. I feel for her.

We took the cart down toward Helena, our first stop, and on the way I couldn’t help but ask them about Gwyneth.

“Have you guys talked to her at all?” I asked.

“I have,” Lisa said. “She seems nice… a little shy.”

“She wouldn’t talk to me,” Graham said. “I came into the room once with Lisa, and she went mute until I left.”

“Did she ask you to leave?” I asked.

“Why? Do I smell that bad?”

“She’s scared of me. She thought I was going to hurt her.”

“I think she’s terrified of both of you,” Lisa said.

“Terrified?” Graham said. “That seems a little unwarranted.”

“That’s why she’s been hiding from you, eating her meals upstairs. She doesn’t have to stay up there all day if she’s feeling strong enough to walk. And I think she feels strong enough… she was down on the couch last night.”

“I remember…” I said.

“What did you say to her?” Graham asked

“Nothing much.”

“Don’t worry,” Lisa said, “there’s probably nothing you could have done to make her comfortable around you. She’s traumatized.”

“So what does that mean? How long is she going to avoid us?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a psychiatrist. We just need to give her some time. She was held captive for months, maybe longer. I can’t imagine what that would do to a person.”

“Has she talked about it?”

“Not to me. Maybe to Fiona. She’s the one Gwyneth trusts.”

“Fiona’s pretty awesome.”

I wanted to tell Fiona I was sorry. I should have told her I was sorry.

“So tell me something, Baptiste,” Graham said.

“Yeah?”

“Why do we want to keep these drugs? Why don’t we just dump them?”

“They might come in handy,” I said. “For barter… or in case someone’s ever in need.”

“In need of narcotics?” Lisa said. “Good luck.”

“MDMA is legal when prescribed. Some people need it to function.”

“Like who?” Graham asked.

“Like you, Baptiste?” Lisa said.

“You never know when we might need them,” I said. “Maybe Gwyneth could use a little bit of medicating.”

“Sure,” Graham said. “I’ll hold her down while you force it down her throat. That should fix her fear of men.”

“That’s not funny,” Lisa said. “This isn’t a joke.”

“It’s a little funny,” I said.

“No. It’s not funny at all, asshole. You guys have no idea what it’s like. Goddamn male privilege.”

“Easy, Lisa,” Graham said.

“Fuck you, Graham. You have no clue. You don’t live in a world where every second person thinks of you as an object to be used and abused, where you’re expected to just accept that men will treat you like garbage day in and day out.”

“That’s a little harsh,” I said. “Last time I checked people try to kill Graham and I all the freaking time.”

“Oh, they want to kill us, too. After they beat us up a little, and rape the shit out of us, and make sure we’re broken. Then they kill us. Believe me, that’s worse.”

“You’re not exactly a damsel in distress, Lisa. You’re the toughest woman I’ve ever met.”

“Case in point, jackass. I’m a tough ‘woman’ to you… not a tough person. We’re all women first to you. Women… as in pretty little pussies for you to take whenever you want.”

“What the hell? I don’t deserve this shit from you.”