The Cypress Trap

Chapter 8

Rayanne opened her eyes at first light. She was aware that she had dreamed again. She was cowering in the corner of a mental institution, her arms wrapped tightly in a straight jacket. She was fighting to free herself. There was light above, from a single window, where a white bird was fluttering. It struck the glass. Rayanne shook the vague images from her mind and sat up in bed. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and looked around the motel room. She was alone.

After a long, hot shower, she found a yellow, long sleeved, button down shirt in her and slipped it on. Her dirty pink sweat shirt lay on top the clothes and she really just wanted to get home and wash everything and put this whole trip behind her. Dressed, she stepped outside carrying her bags and walked through the motel parking lot.

Main Street stretched out before her, and she saw her husband’s black Chevy pulled into the Texaco. Owen was there, probably talking to the mechanic about a new tire. She didn’t feel like talking to him. Walking across the street with her bags slung over her shoulder, she entered the corner diner. The red headed waitress behind the counter greeted her. “Mountain Dew and an iced tea, no ice.”

“Bring me a menu,” Rayanne said as she found a booth and set her bags down.  The place was buzzing with locals in for early morning coffee. The town sheriff was sitting in a booth across from her, and Rayanne remembered him from yesterday directing traffic along the Interstate. Their eyes met. 

Dressed in the tan trousers and short-sleeved, button-down shirt of the Willow Sheriff’s Department, he looked well in his fifties. Tufts of swept back white hair protruded beneath the sides of his cowboy hat. Still, he was clearly in shape and was a man who commanded respect by his very appearance. Rayanne smiled at him and he tipped his hat. 

As the waitress moved from behind the counter bringing her a menu, Owen entered the diner. The door chimed as he walked inside. He sat down in the booth and stared at Rayanne from across the table. 

She focused on the menu. Her dark hair was tangled and she kept toying with it, twisting the ends and combing the knots out with her slender fingers. The waitress placed two glasses on the table. One with Mountain Dew, the other with iced tea, no ice. Rayanne nodded at her, motioning the woman to give them a minute. The waitress smiled, acknowledging her, then turned and left. Owen picked up his glass and took a sip as Rayanne’s face remained hidden behind the menu. After a moment, he set down his glass and cleared his throat. 

“I’m sorry about the blow up back there at the truck,” he said quietly. “And I’m sorry about last night too. You know I didn’t mean it.”

Rayanne put down the menu. “Owen, you have serious anger management issues.”

“I know.” He stared at his Mountain Dew. “Sometimes I just feel all this tension building up and I feel like I’m going to explode.”

Rayanne blinked at him. “Maybe you should see my therapist.”

“I don’t want to see your therapist.”

“It might do you good to talk about things.” She hesitated, sipping her tea. It wasn’t what she really wanted, but then nothing about this trip had gone the way she wanted. Since that was the case, she decided to go for it. “I think it affected your job. That’s why they let you go, because you get so angry.”

“What happened is that my life went to crap six months ago. I lost my job. You lost the—“

“Don’t.” She cut him off.

He gulped a breath, then said. “All I’m sayin’ is we’re still trying to sort things out.” He paused, looked down at the table, then mumbled. “Hell, to be honest I’m surprised you haven’t left me yet.”