The Blackout Girl ✔️

chapter twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Lexi was afraid to park near the mobile homes once she caught sight of them. Her rental car was too nice for this neighborhood. Hell, she was too delicate for this. She felt like her vulnerability was written across her forehead. Each step she took closer to Dennis's place was slow, gradual. She was working on finding the courage, mustering it up inside her as she resisted the urge to scream.

"Hey, cutie," a man called out, leering at her with missing, yellowing teeth and leathery skin. He waved at her with a skeletal hand, and she quickened her place until she was out of view.

Under her shoes, gravel crunched and dirt covered the tops of her sneakers. Her laces were coming undone, but she didn't want to stop and tie them. If she did that, she would be out in the open longer than she wanted to.

Alabama sun beat down on her head. The humidity was awful, even though she was used to it after living in Texas for her whole life. She was looking for things to complain about at this rate. It was hard to be optimistic, and even harder to be alive.

She worked her jaw, grinding her teeth as she approached Dennis's trailer. It sat at the end of the long path, tucked in a corner under the heavy leaves of a tree. A small vinyl windmill sat in the planter box, spinning out of control in the breeze.

She could relate.

One push and she was spiraling, over and over again.

She took a deep breath in and didn't release it until she'd knocked.

A man swung the door open, peeking through the screen. "I ain't buying nothing."

"Good, because I'm not selling," she grumbled.

"Do I know you?" he asked.

"You should."

She stepped back as he pushed open the final door dividing them. Once the heavy grey fabric was out of the way, they could take each other in. He was in an ugly Hawaiian shirt that paired with clean blue jeans. Despite the grey in his beard and a new layer of pudge, he looked the same to her. Well, almost. He didn't seem drunk this time. He was sober, as far as she could tell.

His eyes widened with recognition. "Lexi?"

She gulped. "Hi, Dennis."

He looked around nervously. "Why are you here? How did you find me?"

"Google," she said. "And I'm here because I need to talk to you."

He seemed wary, like he was waiting for a trap. She felt the same way. There was a looming, mutually assured destruction over them.

"Come in," he said.

They ended up in his living room. The TV was one, broadcasting a church sermon of some sort. He had a throw pillow with a scripture to match. She stared at it, unable to hide her shock. In the time she'd known him, he never stepped into a church. He was better at sinning than praying.

It had been over a decade. She had changed, which meant he could've too.

"Your parents told me not to come around," he told her. "I guess I don't understand why you would be the one to break that."

"I'm twenty-four," Lexi said. "I can make my own decisions."

"Twenty-four," he echoed, whistling.

A pregnant pause came through.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry. I know I never got the chance to tell you that. I tried to send a letter now and then, but it never got through. There's a lot I would take back if I could."