Pancakes

She first saw him on her way home one night. It was only late because she had been out with friends. She was shivering, though it was only cold for someone who had never been anywhere colder. He was standing in the playground, smoking something she was too far away to make out in the darkness. She would usually cut through the park to shorten the walk. She considered taking the long way around to avoid him.

She didn’t.

She wouldn’t have spoken to him if he hadn’t approached her.

“Hey there.”

She wanted to pretend that she didn’t know he was talking to her.

“You know, you really shouldn’t be out alone at a time like this.”

She turned around to see he’d put out his smoke. It was too bad, cause she really could’ve used a drag. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said carefully.

He stepped closer to her, and she noticed how much taller he was than her. His eyes were too dark to see in the moonlight, with his head tilted down. He smiled a little. “What’s your name?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Well if you won’t tell me, it’s either real bad or real good.”

“Darla,” she said. She didn’t lie.

“That’s cute,” he said.

“What’s yours?”

“Doesn’t matter. Say, Darla, how would you like some breakfast?”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“It’s early in the morning. Pancakes?”

She moved away from him. “I hate pancakes, actually.” This was true. She had never liked pancakes and was absolutely certain she never would.

“Well. I’m sure we can change that.”

She grew to like him very much. He was not kind to many people. But she felt that something about her softened him.

Whenever they had a disagreement, she found that he was right. He was always right.

One night, she woke to the sound of a scream that seemed to come from her dream. Her mind was always foggy when she woke up. She clicked on a light, though something inside her told her to ignore it. Then she padded downstairs, where she found him standing by the landline, one hand holding the phone to his ear and the other pressed against the wall to keep himself upright.

There was a bright red puddle in the center of the room.

She hadn’t said anything, but he turned to face her like he knew she was there.

He put the phone back. “What are you doing out of bed?”

“What’s going on?” she asked, as if she hadn’t heard him.

“Don’t worry about it.” His hands went to her shoulders, either to soothe her or to push her back to the room. “Hey. You look tired.”

She tried to look back at the floor. “What is that?”

“Are you hungry? I can make pancakes.”

“I don’t like pancakes, I- is that blood? What did you do?”

“Calm down.”

“What did you do?”

His eyes darkened. “Darla, look at me.”

“That’s blood, isn’t it?” she asked again.

“You’re not listening to me.”

“You’re not listening to me!”

His hand rose from her shoulder to her neck. She froze because she didn’t know what else to do.

“You need to go back to bed, darling.”

He called her that sometimes when he was being especially loving or especially dangerous. He said it was because her name sounded so similar. Like if he wasn’t thinking, it would slip out.

His thumb ran across her throat. She was starting to lose focus.

“I’m not tired,” she said.

“You didn’t see what you thought you did,” he said. He tilted her head back so her eyes were forced to meet his. She thought he had pretty eyes. They were darker than any she’d seen. “You didn’t see what you thought you did.”

She wasn’t sure what she had thought.

“What happened?” she asked.

“You seem tired. Don’t you want to go back to bed?”

“I’m not tired,” she insisted.

“Hey, it’s okay.” His hand released her neck and went to brush through her hair instead.

“Why don’t I take you up to bed? You must be tired.”

He was right, she realized. She was tired.

He was to have a party. His friends were going to come over. “You’ll help me host, won’t you?” he asked her. He looked like he was genuinely worried she’d decline.

“Of course I’ll help you host.” She had never enjoyed socializing.

“Lovely. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, you know.”

She nodded from her place at his feet. She was sitting on the floor against the couch because sometimes he said she should sit there.

“You deserve me,” she said.

He stood from his spot on the couch and dropped his book on her lap. She was glad it was a paperback.

“I’ll have to take care of something today.”

She wondered what it was. “Okay.”

“Don’t wait up.”

“I won’t wait up.”

He left her alone in his house. This happened more often than she would like. Sometimes he’d leave for days at a time without telling her in advance. She would feel bitter in his absence, but his return always made her forget her resentment.

The idea of him throwing a party felt wrong to her somehow. She knew he had friends, but she had never met them. She had seen cars pull up to the house, cars she’d watch him get into from the window. He would speak on the phone often. His voice was always too low for her to hear, but he must have had friends to call.

He had left her a list of things to do, but with no clear instructions on how to do them. She was unsure how one was meant to send out invitations or find a caterer. She became alarmed when she realized this because she felt like she should have known these things. Like she used to know these things.

Sometime during the day, she forgot about his request.

When he came home, he found her by the stove with his book from earlier. His first words to her were, “I thought I told you not to wait.”

She blinked slowly, trying to remember. “Oh. Well, I wasn’t waiting. I lost track of time.”

He didn’t seem pleased.

“I’m sorry. Is it late?”

“Very,” he said.

“Are you upset that I’m awake?” she asked.

He watched her with something in his eyes that she couldn’t quite place. “I’m upset that you didn’t listen to me.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“I forgive you. Don’t do it again.” He reached for her face. His thumb skimmed the underside of her jawline, pressing against her chin so her eyes met his. “Listen to me next time, okay?”

She breathed slowly. “Okay.”

He smiled. He had a gorgeous smile that left her dazed.

He didn’t smile much.

The party, he neglected to mention earlier, was that night.

She frowned when he told her. “But I didn’t finish your list,” she said.

“Don’t worry, I took care of it.”

“What do you mean? I thought you wanted my help.”

“You’ve helped plenty. Why don’t you go upstairs? It’s late.”

“But we’re having a party.”

“I’m having a party.”

“You… you said I could help. You said I would host.”

His eyes flashed. “Why is that the part you listened to?”

She had no answer to this.

“Darla. This isn’t about you. It’s important to me, okay? I’m just having some friends over. It shouldn’t concern you.” He looked into her eyes. “But if you want to come, you can. Do you want to come to the party, Darla?”

She began to say that yes, she did, but instead, she said, “No.”

“Then why don’t you go to bed? You seem tired.”

She really tried to sleep. But she couldn’t stay still long enough to feel drowsy. She rolled around the bed, trying to drown out the music and voices coming from downstairs. She didn’t know why she told him she didn’t want to go. She did. But now she couldn’t.

She sat up at the thought.

He’d offered. He said that if she wanted to, she could. Even if he’d be angry, she could explain that sometimes when he looked at her like that she felt bad when she didn’t say what he wanted to hear.

Assuming, of course, he wanted to hear that.

She slipped into a red dress hanging in her closet that she didn’t recognize. He would regularly stock her room with pretty things she never asked for. She found a pair of stilettos to match. When she studied her reflection in the mirror, she realized that they looked like the ones he had in a glass case in his living room.

As always, the door opened silently. She walked downstairs and scanned the room before her.

The scene registered slowly in her mind.

There were many more people than she’d expected for what he’d described. Everyone was dressed the same. It was a sea of black. She thought she stood out as the only person in red, but nobody seemed to notice her.

There was a band in the foyer, playing something loud and hard that made it increasingly difficult for her to hear her thoughts. The space had been turned into a ballroom of sorts. She looked for him, pushing past unfamiliar bodies and ignoring the strange looks. She took a glass from a table.She stood in a corner, partially concealed by shadow. The darkness of it lessened the intensity of the color of her dress. It made her feel a little better.

She tried to drink from her glass, but it twisted her stomach and she could hardly handle the taste. She couldn’t see him. Her breaths were shallowing out. She didn’t know what to do.

Someone laughed to her right. She tried not to focus on the sound. It was a vicious laugh.

She looked for him. He wasn’t there.

She took another sip.

“Darling,” he said. She turned her head at the sound of the only voice she recognized. But he was speaking to someone else.

The woman took his outstretched hand, and they made their way to the center of the room. The chatter quieted, and people shuffled so that they created a perfect circle around the pair.

The woman was dressed in black, too.

The band had changed its tune at some point to something slower, quieter. They began to dance, and she couldn’t help but watch. They moved as if they were made of starlight.

She didn’t know how to feel.

She took another sip.

It was then, as she pressed the glass to her lips, that he caught her eye. His eyes raked over her figure, scarily unexpressive.

Then, he smiled.

She dropped her glass. It shattered as it hit the ground, but no one seemed to notice the sound. She forgot how to breathe.

She turned and left the room. No one stopped her.

She saw bloodstains on the carpet she walked across. She saw his precious stilettos bloodied in the sink. Red enough to match hers. So much blood, she thought, enough to fill a whole body.

But she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

She walked to the yard. He had a nice garden. People were there, too. Smoking. Talking. She wished no one was there. She wished she knew what was happening.

She wished she knew who he was.

She sat under a rosebush off to the side, straight on the dirt. It might have ruined her dress. She didn’t know.

The roses were red.

Everything seemed to be red.

Like his eyes, when he found her.

“I thought you were sleeping,” he said nonchalantly.

She should’ve said something about the party, but she didn’t.

“I think I was,” she said.

He crouched down to sit on the dirt in front of her. “Would you like me to take you back?”

“Yes, please,” she said automatically. She could hardly understand why she left her room in the first place.

He frowned at her response. “Did you see anything?”

“No,” she said.

He reached out to stroke her cheek. “Are you sure, darling?”

“No,” she said.

“Do you feel tired?”

“No.”

His eyes were blazing now. “Darla. I want you to forget about this, okay?”

“Okay,” she said.

“Will you forget?”

“Yes.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” His hand brushed across her lips. “Did you have a drink?”

“Yes.”

“Darla,” he breathed. It sounded reprimanding.

“Yes?” she asked, even though she knew what he meant when he said her name like that.

He hesitated, for possibly the first time since she’d met him.

“Why don’t we go inside now? Come on. Would you like pancakes, darling?”

She tried to remember why she didn’t like it when he said that.

“Sure,” she said.

She never said no to pancakes.