Bed of Roses

Chapter 3

“So,” Rex begins. “What's with that 'Alfie' boy?”

The car ride has been silent up until now. Peggy turns her head and looks at Rex, observing his sharp features. He keeps his eyes trained on the road ahead, occasionally glancing in the rear-view mirror to acutely glare at a tailgating car almost at the bumper of his own vehicle. Then, she sees it. It happens in a split second, but she catches it. The flames in his eyes, painfully licking at his irises and dilated pupils. Any reply at this point is like walking on sharp, upturned bottle caps or rubbing table salt in a fresh, infected wound.

“You've met him before.”

Rex scoffs, “Of course I've met the kid.”

“He's not a kid. He's nineteen.”

“What's with him?” he asks, ignoring her last comment.

“He's a friend.”

He grunts, clearly not amused or satisfied by her answer. “A friend,” he repeats, appearing to dislike the taste of the words in his mouth. “A friend?” When Peggy doesn't reply, he looks at her briefly, but angrily. “That was a question,” says Rex, a cautionary tone creeping into his voice.

“Yes, a friend,” Peggy replies, more confident this time around than the last.

“Why did he grab ya like that?"

Peggy shrinks in the vinyl seat, folding and creasing herself down so that she cannot be seen. She wishes that she lived closer to the university, but available space and money are two determining factors. She could never hold down a job if her entire life and her friend's lives depended on it. Peggy just settles for her dingy, monotonous apartment in Melbourn about 20 minutes from campus, plus traffic.

“He didn't grab me.”

She can almost see the smoke billowing out of his ears like a chimney of brickwork. Peggy has further angered him and, already, she regrets it. Besides being forced to wait, Rex also does not like it when people disagree with him. He hates to be wrong and only sees things through his eyes and from his spot in his own size ten and a half tennis shoes.

Peggy removes her own coat because even the interior of the car seems to be scorching hot.

“Yes, he did. He grabbed you and pulled ya back to him for a moment.”

She should just stop trying to argue her point, but Alfie always defends her honor. She should at least try to defend his if at all possible with Rex as stubborn as he is.

“He wanted to get my attention.” Apparently, not sufficient enough.

“Well, shit! He could have called ya back!”

“He didn't grab me, Rex.”

“He grabbed you! I saw it with my own two eyes, Peggy!” shouts Rex. She flinches at the sudden change in the volume of his coarse, eroding voice. “He grabbed ya and pulled ya! Just like this!” He reaches over and yanks her forearm, tightening his grip on her skin until red flesh inflates between each individual finger.

Peggy yelps, trying to snatch her limb away from Rex. What was he doing? What in the world was he doing!? “Ouch! Stop that!” Tears well in her eyes and painful, black spots begin to cloud her vision. “Let me go!” He wrenches her arm toward him, accidentally catching the fabric of her shirt on his watch and completely ripping the sleeve off at the armpit. “Rex!”

“You want me to let you go?” he asks. He pulls Peggy closer so that his face is near her own. “You want me to let you go?” Rex shouts at her. “You didn't ask Alfie to let you go, did ya?” A question that doesn't need an answer. He squeezes harder before shoving her away toward the passenger door where her skull smacks the window. Peggy cries out in pain, cradling her throbbing head in her hands and shriveling into her lap. She closes her eyes and the rate of her breathing increases drastically. The only thoughts she has are about her inhaler and its whereabouts.