The Accident

"I was celebrating the end of my own mistake last night," I said, finally answering the question Rebecca had tried to ask last night. I looked over quickly and saw she was relieved I didn't press her about her history. "A very long divorce, kind of bitter in the end." She was silent as I spoke, but her eyes were watching me. "I wasn't ready for someone, especially a woman, to...handle me the way you did last night. Sorry if I was a little heavy in the asshole department."

"I was a bitch." Rebecca's eyes went back to her jeans. "I'm not a very good one. I fell apart when you told me I was."

"I never called you that!"

"You were thinking it and you were right." I looked over at her as she fiddled with jeans again.

"I bailed you out because I felt terrible for thinking you were a bitch," I admitted. Her eyes came up to mine. "I'm not very good at being an asshole," I said as we shared a small smile. I moved my eyes back to the road. We were silent for a few minutes.

"My house burnt down," Rebecca said with no context. "I have been living with friends, the last of which will probably never speak to me again." I looked over to her, she was looking right at me. "I am not a good person to know." I wanted desperately to ask her about her house burning down. She was warning me, but it felt insulting to ask. "I probably lost my job for not showing up to work today. The best thing that has happened to me in years is the guy I rear-ended bailed me out of jail."

I was a little stunned at Rebecca's revelations. I wasn't sure how you respond to something like that. I thought Linda had driven my life into the dumpster, but I had been living the high-life compared to Rebecca. At least I had Carl. Stupidly, I held my hand out to Rebecca. Hesitantly, she placed her hand in mine.

"I could use a friend as well," I said quietly. I felt her relax in her seat; her shoulders losing their stiffness. I wasn't as loud or friendly as Carl, but I could at least be present. Her hand felt good in mine. I was reluctant to remove it when I had to make a turn. I pulled into my driveway and prayed silently that my house wouldn't burn down.

"You have a nice home," Rebecca said as if it wasn't a good thing. She looked frightened. She was beginning to scare me. I shook it off. I wasn't going to fall into believing in luck, good or bad. She was basically a good person who had a string of bad things happen. It couldn't go on forever.

My house was small, a bachelor pad in style. It was thirty years old and partially remodeled. It had an open kitchen, bordered by a counter with stools where I usually ate. Beyond the counter was a great room with a flat panel, a fireplace and a set of eclectic, comfortable furniture. There were two bedrooms, one basically an office now, and a single bathroom with a shower. Off the garage was a small mud room that housed the smallest over and under washer-dryer appliance I could find. Anything larger and I wouldn't have been able to open the door to the garage.

"That is beautiful," Rebecca commented as she moved away from my pride and joy. Against the wall, opposite the flat screen, I had a large 210 gallon saltwater aquarium. It had taken me years to figure out how to deal with the salination and waste issues. Now, it was as perfect as it could get. I had given it a light blue rock bottom with natural and fake coral seemingly growing in odd directions. The fake coral created niches the smaller fish loved to hide in. It was bathed in soft light that gave the whole room a warm, blueish glow. Swimming slowly on the bottom, my lionfish sauntered along, its colorful dorsal waving slowly. The tank, and its care, is what kept me sane during the divorce. It was like a soothing movie that never stopped.

"My claim to fame," I said with a proud smile, "that's Mufasa swimming along the bottom." Rebecca gave me a strange look. "So I like cartoons, sue me." Rebecca smiled. A very pleasing smile. I grabbed a pen and paper on the kitchen counter. I wrote down my office number, and thinking wisely, wrote down my home phone for her. "Here's my office number and this is the number here." I said as I pushed the paper toward her. "I am already late so feel free to look around. There should be something in the fridge and clean towels in the closet next to the bathroom. Help yourself, but please call or leave a note when you leave so I know you're okay."

Rebecca smiled at me and sat on a stool and looked at my note. "Thank you so much, Damon. I'm glad it was you I ran into last night." It was meant well, but sounded terrible. She lost her smile and looked at me with concern. "You know what I meant. If I had to run into...."

"I know," I laughed, "the feeling is mutual." There was that wonderful smile again. "I'm late," I reminded her as I hurried out.

"Thank you," Rebecca shouted again as I left. I was late to work, driving a rental, my phone was shot and my best pair of jeans were lost. I had known her for less than a day. Why didn't I hate her?

++++++++++

More meetings. I barely made it to the first on time, and another had been added to my schedule during lunch. At least the second didn't have me staring at a useless PowerPoint presentation. I actually earned my keep during the last meeting. A large batch query some fool devised was taking too long to execute every night. I looked it over, devised an index, broke it into two queries and brought it down to a thirty second job. Not bad for processing a couple hundred million rows. To me, it was a no-brainer. To the moron who coded the initial query, I was a life saver. His first attempt ran over three hours, essentially multiple full table scans with heavy temporary table creation. I accepted the praise and kept my secrets to myself. Sometimes I was a good at being an asshole.

I was back at my desk around three when the phone rang. "Damon Richardson," I answered.

"Damon, it's Rebecca." I cringed and let out a breath. I didn't hear any sirens in the background so maybe my place wasn't on fire. "I can't reach my sister. I've tried a bunch of times, but she hasn't called me back. Do you think you can drive me to a hotel when you get back?" My jaw released and I flexed it. The idea she was still at my house was not a bad one. In fact, it was kind of nice.

"Why don't you make dinner and spend the night," I offered in trade, "I have two bedrooms."

"Dinner?" Rebecca responded. She sounded less than excited about the idea.

"Sure," I continued, "there are noodles in the cabinet above the dishwasher, and some jars of spaghetti sauce next to them." I figured boiling water wasn't going to do any serious damage to the house. I shook the possible disasters out of my head. She'll do just fine.

"Are you sure? I've been here longer than I should already." I smiled to myself, maybe not long enough.

"I don't know about you, but I'm starving," I said with a light voice, "I missed lunch, and it would be wonderful to have a hot meal waiting when I get home." I suddenly felt like I was talking to my ex, back when we were still talking. My thoughts were a little cross-wired.

"Okay, I can do spaghetti," Rebecca replied, and I heard the smile in her voice. It brought one to my lips. "What time will you be home?" Now she sounded like a wife.

"About 5:30."

"I'll see you then," Rebecca said cheerfully. I was about to hang up when I heard her voice again. "Damon, do you have an old t-shirt I can wear? I'd like to take a shower and wash my clothes."

"Bottom left-hand drawer of the dresser in my bedroom."

"Thanks." Why was I so happy she would be home when I got there? So far, knowing her had been a disaster. It has been about three hours since she had broken something of mine. Maybe the trend was over. One could always hope.

++++++++++

I left work a little early and dropped my broken phone at the store. They said they could flip the SIM card and have a new phone fired up in about twenty minutes. Twenty minutes in a phone store feels like a week. I told them I would be back in the morning. At the price I pay for the warranty, you would think they would have a phone fired up and waiting just in case.

When I entered the house, my nose was greeted with a heavenly scent. It was spaghetti, but not like it comes out of the jar. This smelled like it had flavor. Rebecca was smiling when I entered the kitchen. She looked simply wonderful in my Stay Puft Marshmallow Man t-shirt. I had to laugh as she modeled it with a little twirl. It was a little short, but covered all the basics.

"I found your spice rack," Rebecca said proudly, "I gave the sauce a little kick."

"Smells wonderful" Nothing seemed to be broken and there were no flames. Not that I really expected damage, it was just nice that there wasn't any. "Is that bread I smell?"

"Yep, hillbilly bread," Rebecca said, then peaked into the oven. It was obviously not done yet since she closed the door and went back to stirring the sauce.

"Hillbilly bread?" I had to ask.

Rebecca looked at me and smiled. "Regular white bread, a little butter, garlic salt and sprinkled with cheese. It tastes good with spaghetti." I think that was the smell filling the house.

"Ingenious."

"My sister made it for me when I was young," Rebecca said as she peeked into the oven again. This time she grabbed an oven mitt and pulled out a pan of toast. It was golden brown with yellow running through it. She flipped off the oven, which I took to be a very good sign. "I think we're ready. What do you want to drink?"

"Why not wine? I have a few bottles and never have a chance to drink them. There are some wine glasses above the stove." I realized the problem with my statement as soon as I said it. Rebecca turned and reached high to open the cupboard. In my mind, I saw broken glass on the stove as she went on her tip toes. I almost said something then my eyes shifted. Broken glass no longer concerned me.

If you took sexy and mixed it with adorable and painted it blue, it wouldn't come close to the exposed tush I was looking at. The t-shirt had ridden up, and half of Rebecca's tight butt was exposed, neatly covered by baby-blue panties. Her legs were taut, emphasizing her figure. I felt desire and didn't want to let go of it. My eyes didn't move fast enough when she came down with the glasses. I was caught perving and felt my face flush.

I expected an evil look. Maybe disappointment. What I saw was a joyous smile and sparkling eyes. "Wine?" she asked, waving the two glasses she had retrieved. I came out of my fog and gave her an apologetic smile and headed to liquor cabinet.

"White Zinfandel okay?" I asked. I had a red also, but felt it might be too dry.

"Fine with me, you can have anything you want tonight." I turned quickly. I was sure she had emphasized 'anything.' I found her back to me, stirring the sauce. I do believe she was flirting. I closed my eyes and saw the blue panties in my mind. I hoped she was flirting.

Dinner went smoothly. We talked about silly stuff, and I steered clear of accidents or any other topic that might ruin our happiness. I hadn't had a pleasant night with a woman in years. I found it warming and comfortable. I had missed the feeling. Linda had done more damage than I first realized.

"Why the fish?" Rebecca asked while sipping her wine. I looked over to my aquarium; Mufasa was lumbering up a hill of coral.

"It was therapy of sorts," I said truthfully, "everything was coming apart in the divorce so I decided to build something new." I looked back at Rebecca who was staring at me intently. "If you get close, you can see a small orange and white fish that swims in and out of the little caves. I named him Linda after my ex; he's a clown fish."

"I'll take your word for it," Rebecca grinned, "I have no intention of getting anywhere near the tank."

"You afraid of fish?" I asked, a little perplexed.

"They should be afraid of me," Rebecca laughed. "The tank is lovely, and I want it to stay that way." I looked at her with concern. I think she truly believed she was cursed.

"You know..." I began and was interrupted by the phone ringing.

"It's probably my sister," Rebecca said, moving quickly to pick it up. I silently hoped it was not. "Hello," she said and waited a moment, "who may I say is calling?" At least it wasn't her sister. Rebecca covered the speaker side of the phone with her palm and whispered, "Linda Barrow."

"My ex," I said quietly, "I don't want to talk to her." I made an ugly face, as if it would painful. Rebecca smiled and nodded.

"I'm sorry, he can't come to the..oh..phone right now," Rebecca said. The 'oh' sounded sensual. She smiled at my confused look while listening to Linda's response. "No, he's...ah.. just fine. Oh...oh.. why don't you..ah...call back in about an hour. Oh, God!...make that two." She hung up, sounding like she was on the verge of an orgasm. I started laughing.

"She'll know it's bullshit," I said between chuckles.

"Doesn't matter," Rebecca said, overly proud of herself, "she's a woman. Just knowing there's another woman here willing to bullshit her is enough." I laughed again. She was right, Linda would be envious. It was small of me to like the idea, but I liked it nonetheless.

"Your insurance company called her thinking it was still your number," Rebecca said, "she was calling to make sure the accident wasn't serious." Knowing Linda, she was more likely hoping it was very serious.

"Well, you were wonderful," I said, tipping my wine glass toward her, "and the meal was wonderful." That smile again. I walked around the counter and started collecting the dishes. It took us only a moment before we were in a cleaning sync. I washed and Rebecca dried. We had a tendency to touch each other more than necessary. I enjoyed being close to someone again.

My mind wandered to the fact I had known Rebecca for less than a day. Most of it was more nasty than nice. She started humming as she dried, seemly comfortable being next to me. I wondered if my thinking was skewed. I hadn't been with a woman in a while, and Rebecca was cute -- well beautiful. Linda came to mind; she was beautiful to me once and didn't come with a host of problems.

We finished the dishes and Rebecca pulled the full garbage bag out of the can and tied it off. "In the garage?" she asked, holding up the full bag.

"Let me take it," I said, "it's pick-up day tomorrow so I have to haul the can out to the curb anyway."

"I'll take it out," Rebecca smiled, "it's the least I can do." I shrugged my shoulders and allowed her the labor.

"Thanks."

Rebecca hummed her way to the garage and pushed the opener button. There was a loud snap, followed by an even louder crash that echoed through the house. I stood, surprised for a second, until Rebecca's cry brought me to reality. I rushed toward the garage.

The washer and dryer unit was leaning forward in the utility room. A large metal spring was protruding through the wall and had put a large dent in the upper dryer. Rebecca was kneeling on the floor of the garage crying. A thin layer of dust was in the air. The garage door was a foot high on one side and off the guides and down to the ground on the other. The old spring mechanism on the right side had failed and snapped off its support violently and driven itself into the far wall.

"I'm sorry," Rebecca cried, her head in her hands,"I'm sorry." She was rocking strangely back and forth.

"Are you okay?" I asked as I knelt down to her. The damn spring could have killed her.

"I'll leave," Rebecca continued, "I don't want to wreck anything else." She was still rocking, which really disturbed me. I wrapped my arm around her and tried to pull her close. She fought me so I let go.

"You didn't do anything. The damn thing just gave out." I struggled to get her to her feet. She was shaking terribly. There was blood on the right side of her forehead.

"You're bleeding. Come inside and let me look at it." She looked up at me, her eyes tearing like rivers. I could see the defeat on her face and I hated it. It bothered me more than my fucking car, my jeans or my damn phone. I desperately wanted it off her face. I was at a loss, so I cradled her face with my hands and I kissed her.

Her lips were yielding, and I could feel her despair. I don't know what I intended, but to linger wasn't planned. My hands slowly entwined into her hair as my lips refused to release her. I felt her surrender and tasted her tears as she tilted her head to better meet my lips. Her lips became stronger, her hand found the back of my neck. I wanted to live there, in my broken garage.

"I..I broke your house," Rebecca whispered into my mouth.

"My house almost broke you. I would have burnt it down if it had." Rebecca pulled herself closer, more tightly.

"I don't want to sleep in the extra room," Rebecca breathed into my ear. I felt her body heat mine. To hell with the stupid garage. I brought her inside and closed the door. I looked at the large spring poking through the wall. It wasn't going anywhere.

I sat Rebecca on the couch. My kiss had stopped her tears, though she was still shaken. I retrieved a washcloth and some antiseptic spray. I filled a glass with water and sat down next to her. I had her lie down, her head in my lap. She obeyed without question. She had become completely submissive.

I dipped the cloth in water and began to lightly dab the wound. It wasn't deep, and there wasn't any foreign material in it. Some piece must have just flown off when the spring snapped. Rebecca turned her head slightly to give me better access. I dipped the cloth again and made sure all the blood was gone. The wound looked clean, so I shielded her eyes and sprayed the antiseptic. She didn't even flinch. I lightly blew on it; I don't know why. It was something my mother used to do.

"Stuff like that happens to me a lot," Rebecca said quietly. I caressed her hair and made no move to have her sit up. I liked taking care of her. Silly, since I had no desire to take care of anyone else. She turned on her side, looking away from me, and tucked her knees toward her chest making herself more comfortable. It caused me to smile.

"I don't care," I responded softly. I combed my fingers through her hair, and she wrapped her arm over my knees. We sat that way for a while. Just being there. It was comfortable. I hadn't been comfortable like that in a long time.

"I was fired today," Rebecca added to her troubles, "I called this afternoon and they told me I failed to show up for my shift." I continued playing with her hair. "The tips sucked, but it was a job."

"You'll find another one," I said. She curled into me more. I was like a support blanket. I was Carl, just a lot quieter and with a lot more touching.

"I tried to call my friend Tammi on your phone." Rebecca was dumping everything. "She hung up on me. What little I have is at her place. I guess the SUV was the last straw."

"The last straw?" I asked stupidly. Curiosity worked faster than my compassion. Rebecca turned in my lap and looked up at me.

"Is it okay if I don't tell you right now?" Rebecca asked sadly. I felt shitty for asking.

"Give me her number tomorrow," I said, instead of answering, "I'll see if I can't pick up your stuff." Rebecca gave me a weak smile. Homeless, jobless and seems to think herself a bad omen. I should be running, but even her weak smile held me there. So unlike Linda. That was part of the attraction. I couldn't put my finger on the other part. She rolled her head forward, sideways once again. She reached back and took my hand and pulled it over her shoulder and tucked it in with hers. I was truly a blanket.

"Thank you," Rebecca whispered. I held her because she needed it. I held her because I needed it. I didn't want to be anywhere else. I fell asleep there.