Lazy Lizzie

Twenty-One

Leo had fallen asleep, happy to have her in his arms, while Lizzie feared she'd spend the entire night awake. The second -- and third -- round of their wedding night sex had left him spent, proving Lizzie's warning not to cater to her had been well-intentioned. She was glad he insisted, though, stopping him only when his head tried to go below her waist.

"I don't want that," she'd said in a voice she couldn't keep steady. He came back up to kiss her, not asking anything.

"Good, cause I'm kinda looking forward to sleeping," he joked as his arms went around her, turning her back to him.

She always knew when she wouldn't be able to sleep. Sometimes she'd blame that last cup of coffee. Sometimes she was just too tired. But she always knew, at the beginning of the night.

It was like a veil coming over her, just that instead of making everything dark, it kept showing the same scenes, over and over again. Brighter and louder. Pizzie was the protagonist in most of them, making a fool of herself anytime she had the chance.

Sometimes the memories hadn't even happened yet, but Lizzie already had scenarios in which she'd fail even more. More shame, this time not even real. In her head, the fights went like the truth, because she feared testing it.

When she was convinced Leo was asleep, she got out of the bed, realizing she would not be able to sleep in his arms, their bodies touching unnecessarily. With the purpose of sex, sure, why not? But she did not want to get used to sleeping with another man next to her. It took her two years to finally sleep through the night after Dale got himself locked up.

There was no point in getting attached. She'd just go to the vending machine to get some gum or something. She put on a pink dress, then a denim jacket that she'd bought at the gas station over it.

She passed the depressingly empty vending machine, before admitting to herself she needed more time to think. Or not think. A walk, she decided, one hour max.

Dale got out of a car, but she felt no fear, numb again. Under the neons, he looked even more haggard.

She waited for him to approach her. It was four in the morning, the parking lot full of empty cars, not another person anywhere.

"Finally, I get you alone," he said, but his voice was begging, not threatening.

"How did you find me?"

Dale showed her his phone screen, a map with a pin on it.

"You put a tracker on the trailer?" Lizzie knew exactly what to look for. She was there when Dale received the package, 300 trackers, "best deal of his life". She just didn't think he'd care enough about that trailer.

"Liz, why you leave me now when I'm down?" Dale surprised her. Not for a second had she considered that he came for her. "Not you too!"

The actual reason was still unknown to her. But not for long.

"Lizzie, I'm in... I'm in trouble!" Dale said, misreading her hesitation as a sign she cared about his plight. "I did something," he knew better than to try and touch her.

"What did you do now?"

Encouraged, Dale pulled out all the stops, "I got desperate, thinking I was gonna lose that money. I..."

It was bad, Dale kept sweating. Like that time when he accidentally blew up four fragmentation grenades, only surviving because he darted out of the hole in milliseconds.

"I took a stack of bills from the bag."

Lizzie was unimpressed, so Dale tried to explain, "I was angry, it was my money! I worked hard to get it!"

Dale and Trey printed out one dollar bills which they put into circulation over the years, for dark days. Hard work indeed, as the process of them returning things they bought to get their money back was a web of customer support people hating every $15 form they had to fill.

"And you're still alive?" Lizzie felt like someone should have stopped Dale, years ago.

"They didn't count it then. But they did, after. They are coming for me!" Dale's whining escalated, but Lizzie had no idea how she could help him.

"So your plan is to run away with us?"

"Lizzie, I know I did you wrong," Dale shot a look around, at the motel room doors, all surrounding the lot. "I just need this one little thing, and I'll leave you alone. You moved on, I get it," the waterworks were coming. "I'm happy for you, I know I didn't treat you right --"

"What do you want?"

"Johnny Ramiro is out to get me," Dale's relief to be finally open was in his voice. "Ursu has a way with them. Last time they were trigger happy, and somehow he talked them down..."

Lizzie rolled her eyes, but Dale rushed through his pitch. "I... I just need him to talk to Ramiro for me, tell him I'll bring double. Anything!"

"Please!" he cried. "They're going to kill me!"

"Dale," Lizzie stopped his self-pity parade. "He saw me."

His cigarette switched sides, but Dale still didn't understand. Although he was trying, his life depended on it.

"Saw the scars," Lizzie watched his face, still blank. "There's nothing I can say to him that will make him help you."

It was her calm that convinced Dale, finally looking worried.

"And if I ask him for you? It's worse," Lizzie said, confident, realizing how much she believed every word she said.

"No, Dale," she saw him deflate. "Your best shot is to beg him yourself and to be as apologetic as you can. To me," Lizzie clarified. "Make it honest, so he buys your regrets."

And then she could see the exact moment where Dale understood how her scars would look to someone else. His eyes narrowed, and he had to look away, "Come on, Lizzie, you know it wasn't like that!"

It was weird how he always tried to prove his innocence by presenting everything like a big misunderstanding. But Lizzie had a more awful thought.

That night, under the MTL 305 sign, its neon O and E rendered mute by lack of care, she took under consideration that it might be the first time Dale fully comprehended how much he'd hurt her. She let Dale do everything he wanted so often that eventually he'd stopped waiting for permission. She wasn't even sure she wouldn't have given it to him.

"I never meant to hurt you," he came back to her, eyes worried. Maybe she was his last hope.

The thing about him was that any person he talked to at a given time was his last resort. He needed them to be, to be more convincing. And almost always, it was only a matter of convenience. Why take a $50 cab home when he knew he could call Trey? And, sure, the new dad would have to drive for an hour, then back to his place, but what were friends for?

"Nevermind," Dale changed his mind. He knew a closed door when he saw it. "Enjoy your new life!"

Seeing him give up and walk for his car, Lizzie asked, "What are you gonna do?"

He didn't even turn around.

"I'll be fine, babe. I'm gonna handle this. And if not, you're gonna read about me everywhere."

It was what scared Lizzie. That he'll finally put all those materials he'd been hoarding for years into one big last stance.