alright," I say tiredly.
"Really, Bedilia?" he says to us both.
"Your family…your mother…," I say.
"I'm only passing through," Myron says. " A cup of coffee at least?"
I lead him back to the kitchen. I know it's foolhardy to take him deeper in. But he's come all this way and short of allowing him and Marcus to get into it when he tries to remove him, I figure it's better to end this now. We go in the kitchen.
Marcus comes too. I go to the machine that makes one cup at a time and fill the reservoir and fire it up. Marcus has his hand on my back. "I'll be right outside if you need me."
I nod as he drags his hand away. He's in the mudroom fumbling around for a coat. I'm leaning against the counter, arms folded, waiting for the coffee. Myron is seated at the table looking around the room, at the beams overhead and the modest but functional space. "Very quaint," he says, a grin.
I hear Marcus go out.
"Why are you doing this?" I say. "We had it out in Chicago, remember? I'm fired."
He stands and comes closer. He doesn't round the table, but he will. "I miss you."
I'm shaking my head. "Don't."
"I'm here to see if you've come to your senses," he takes another step around.
"Yes. Thank you." I hear the coffee maker heat the water, and I turn to get a cup off the hook, and he's behind me. I jump and put space between us. "Cut it out."
He smiles. A thousand watts. "You don't miss me? We had some great times."
"Yeah, it was peachy. I'm moving on."
"That's not wise. Almost six figures and benefits? You're out of your mind."
"You told me not to come back unless I chose you. So it's you, six figures and benefits. I'm not coming back." I push him out of my way and make the coffee.
"You make it sound tawdry and you know it wasn't. I'm the only one telling you the truth here. You think I gave up on us? Guys like him, this is all they want, a cracker-box house, the football game and some fried chicken. Is that all you want for yourself? The only thing he'll be really good at is putting a kid in you once every couple of years. He won't be so pretty once he starts losing his hair and growing his belly. You're clinging to what you know. Didn't I show you some good times, show you there was more? I asked you to marry me, Bedilia."
"That's it. You can't believe I turned you down," I say waiting for the cup to finish being filled.
"For this?" he looks around. "Come on."
I take his cup to the table, round it, sit across from where he stands.
He pulls out the chair and drops. "You're scared of the future. You ran back here like a little rabbit. If it was Mom and my sister, I talked to them. They'll behave. Mothers are like that, no one is good enough for their sons. And I've had a lot of women that want what I'm offering you."
I hear Marcus's ax take a clean whack against the wood. "Offering. It sounds like…a package."
"What's wrong with that?"
"I don't know. Probably nothing. I'm just the wrong girl."
"Are you…with him? Can you?"
"You did not go there."
"Of course, I did. We were never free from him. He was in your head so deep."
"Is THAT why you're here? You want to know if I can have sex with him? So you can what…be exonerated…for what?" I push back my chair.
"Bedilia wait," he reaches across the table and grabs my wrist. "You're taken with this guy, and he's like a body-guard. Is that what you want? He's got some hold on you. I can see what a domineering ass he is. If you need help…if you'd come back…see that therapist…."
I put up my hand. "Look, I bear you no ill will. You can take that coffee with you. I have more cups."
"I'm sorry. You look so tired, baby. In Chicago…you glowed."
"Don't call me that. It's over. I'm sure your family is waiting for you. All those miles…you really can't afford to fall in somewhere."
He grins but I see the sad, like Artie must have seen in me, heard in me, in Marcus. "We'll start over. Pull yourself together and come back to Chicago, Bedilia."
"I'm not coming
"Really, Bedilia?" he says to us both.
"Your family…your mother…," I say.
"I'm only passing through," Myron says. " A cup of coffee at least?"
I lead him back to the kitchen. I know it's foolhardy to take him deeper in. But he's come all this way and short of allowing him and Marcus to get into it when he tries to remove him, I figure it's better to end this now. We go in the kitchen.
Marcus comes too. I go to the machine that makes one cup at a time and fill the reservoir and fire it up. Marcus has his hand on my back. "I'll be right outside if you need me."
I nod as he drags his hand away. He's in the mudroom fumbling around for a coat. I'm leaning against the counter, arms folded, waiting for the coffee. Myron is seated at the table looking around the room, at the beams overhead and the modest but functional space. "Very quaint," he says, a grin.
I hear Marcus go out.
"Why are you doing this?" I say. "We had it out in Chicago, remember? I'm fired."
He stands and comes closer. He doesn't round the table, but he will. "I miss you."
I'm shaking my head. "Don't."
"I'm here to see if you've come to your senses," he takes another step around.
"Yes. Thank you." I hear the coffee maker heat the water, and I turn to get a cup off the hook, and he's behind me. I jump and put space between us. "Cut it out."
He smiles. A thousand watts. "You don't miss me? We had some great times."
"Yeah, it was peachy. I'm moving on."
"That's not wise. Almost six figures and benefits? You're out of your mind."
"You told me not to come back unless I chose you. So it's you, six figures and benefits. I'm not coming back." I push him out of my way and make the coffee.
"You make it sound tawdry and you know it wasn't. I'm the only one telling you the truth here. You think I gave up on us? Guys like him, this is all they want, a cracker-box house, the football game and some fried chicken. Is that all you want for yourself? The only thing he'll be really good at is putting a kid in you once every couple of years. He won't be so pretty once he starts losing his hair and growing his belly. You're clinging to what you know. Didn't I show you some good times, show you there was more? I asked you to marry me, Bedilia."
"That's it. You can't believe I turned you down," I say waiting for the cup to finish being filled.
"For this?" he looks around. "Come on."
I take his cup to the table, round it, sit across from where he stands.
He pulls out the chair and drops. "You're scared of the future. You ran back here like a little rabbit. If it was Mom and my sister, I talked to them. They'll behave. Mothers are like that, no one is good enough for their sons. And I've had a lot of women that want what I'm offering you."
I hear Marcus's ax take a clean whack against the wood. "Offering. It sounds like…a package."
"What's wrong with that?"
"I don't know. Probably nothing. I'm just the wrong girl."
"Are you…with him? Can you?"
"You did not go there."
"Of course, I did. We were never free from him. He was in your head so deep."
"Is THAT why you're here? You want to know if I can have sex with him? So you can what…be exonerated…for what?" I push back my chair.
"Bedilia wait," he reaches across the table and grabs my wrist. "You're taken with this guy, and he's like a body-guard. Is that what you want? He's got some hold on you. I can see what a domineering ass he is. If you need help…if you'd come back…see that therapist…."
I put up my hand. "Look, I bear you no ill will. You can take that coffee with you. I have more cups."
"I'm sorry. You look so tired, baby. In Chicago…you glowed."
"Don't call me that. It's over. I'm sure your family is waiting for you. All those miles…you really can't afford to fall in somewhere."
He grins but I see the sad, like Artie must have seen in me, heard in me, in Marcus. "We'll start over. Pull yourself together and come back to Chicago, Bedilia."
"I'm not coming
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