Resurrecting Phoenix Read online

  A look of pity crosses his face briefly. I turn my back and rip the cord from the wall and start putting my toaster away. I grab another bottle of water before storming past him and drop onto the couch.

  “I’ll help you.” His voice is low and soft.

  “Why?” I scoff. “What can you do?” I know I sound bitter.

  “I like helping people,” he answers. “I can just be here for you, so you’re not alone. I’ll listen to you rant and vent, or we can do stuff to help take your mind off of . . . things.”

  I narrow my eyes at him.

  “Nothing like that,” he announces. “I just mean, you know, hang out. You’re still alive, Phoenix. Even if you don’t want to be, you are, and you have to live.”

  “Go home, Evan,” I say, turning away from him. “I want to be alone.”

  I hear his steps move towards the door before hearing it creak open.

  “That’s the thing. I don’t think you do want to be alone.”

  As I turn around, he closes the door behind him, and I’m left alone. Like I wanted. Like I thought I wanted.

  I’M WORKING IN the office alone this morning, and so far, not one person has come in today. Not really too surprising. I have two more hours before I get off, so I go back and forth between playing on the computer and reading.

  When the bell above the door rings, I drop my feet from my desk quickly and look up. Evan comes strolling in with a small grin on his face. If I said I wasn’t slightly embarrassed about him finding me drunk at home the other night, I would be lying.

  “Hey, Phoenix.”

  “Evan. What brings you here?” I ask, busying myself with papers on my desk.

  “Uh. Carol told me to come by here for pamphlets and information on things around town, and maybe some info on places nearby. Just newbie stuff,” he says, shrugging his shoulders and putting his hands in his back pockets.

  “Well, okay,” I say, getting up and moving to the rack of booklets we have.

  “So, this is where you work.” He doesn’t form it as a question. He just looks around and inspects the small space.

  “Yeah. Glamourous, huh?”

  I pick out several things on towns and cities nearby, tourist attractions, restaurants, best places to go fishing, and other things of that nature, handing them over to him.

  “Thanks,” he replies, briefly looking at everything. “So, I kind of have a favor to ask of you.”

  I cross my arms over my chest and look at him. “What kind of favor?”

  “Well, I’m needing to do some shopping for curtains and some other household things, and was wondering if you’d come along and help me pick something out. My sister left town already, but if she comes back and sees that I’ve picked out black everything, she’s gonna throw a fit. Will you help me out?”

  He has an adorable, pleading look on his face. My lips quirk up on the side in a slight smile before I clamp them tightly together.

  “If you know not to choose black, then pick any other color.”

  “Yeah, but women have better taste in decorating houses. Help a guy out?”

  “I don’t think you really need my help decorating your house,” I say, still being stubborn.

  “I’ll need some help hanging the curtains once I get them, and I have no friends.”

  He gives me a pout and I can’t help but laugh.

  “Fine. I’ll go with you, but I’m not promising being much help.”

  A smile lights up his face. “Thanks. When do you get off?”

  “Well, I’ve been here all day and not one person has come in, so I suppose I can go ahead and leave. My boss does the same thing, so I doubt he’ll even care.”

  “Well, okay. I take it you know where to go?” he asks.

  I laugh. “Yeah, I know where to go.”

  “See? I picked the right shopping partner.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m the only person you know. Well, Carol, too. You didn’t ask her?”

  He turns his head in my direction. “Didn’t want to lead her on too much,” he says with a wink.

  That wink and that smirk did something to me that I’m not sure I like. A small, tiny little flutter in my stomach took place.

  I shake it off and gather my things, shutting everything down. When we exit the building, Evan turns to me expectantly.

  “I don’t know if we’re walking or driving.”

  I shake my head. “We’ll have to drive a little ways. Wanna follow me?”

  “Sure. You can ride with me if you want and I can drop you off back here before you go home.”

  I contemplate it momentarily, but that little flutter feeling reminds me that it probably isn’t a good idea.

  “That’s okay. Just follow me.”

  He nods and gets in his car. When I throw my purse on the passenger seat, I flip down my mirror and check my makeup and smooth my hair down. My pink lips look dry, so I throw on some gloss over the faded lipstick, and add some extra mascara to my eyelashes.

  When I realize what I’m doing, I huff and wipe the gloss from lips. I don’t need to impress anybody.

  I start the car and make the ten minute drive to a local store that has everything you could ever need. It’s also one of the few places here that’s open twenty-four hours.

  Once I park, I get out and adjust my black slacks, and look down at my teal, sleeveless blouse, hoping it doesn’t look too wrinkled. Evan pulls up a minute later into a space opposite me.

  “Ready?” he asks, walking up to me.

  “Yep.”

  When we get inside, Evan grabs a cart and I lead him to the household items.

  “Okay, I need curtains and bathroom stuff. Maybe some bedroom stuff, too.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “I didn’t know we were shopping for your whole house.”

  He barks out a laugh. “We’re not. I didn’t mention the office, the laundry room, or the kitchen. Oh wait, I might need something for the kitchen,” he says with another laugh.

  I crack a grin before turning around and looking down an aisle.

  “It’s okay to smile, Phoenix,” he says softly.

  I ignore him.

  “What do you want to look at first?” I ask.

  “Let’s go with curtains.”

  When we get into the curtain aisle, I wait as he browses through them. After a while, he stands back and just stares at them.

  “What’s wrong? You don’t like any?”

  “I don’t know. What do you like?”

  “I take it you aren’t into sheer,” I ask, pulling a gold, sheer curtain out.

  “Not for curtains, no,” he answers with a grin.

  “What color is your furniture?”

  My couches are brown and cream-colored. My rug is more cream with brown and some green. I think.”

  I laugh slightly as I shake my head. “Okay, so how about a brown color? Or cream color? Do you want full curtains or valances?”

  “Um. I don’t know,” he replies, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck.

  “How big are your windows?”

  “Oh! That I know, because I measured.”

  He pulls out his phone and finds the measurements. With that information, I browse through some that I think might work and give him a choice between three. He ends up making a decision, going with valances for his living room and full curtains for his bedroom.

  “Where to next?” I ask.

  “My bedroom,” he answers, and when I look at him, he laughs. “I meant, things for my bedroom.” He lifts his brows in amusement.

  “Right. Of course.”

  As we’re walking to the comforter section, he rests his arms on the cart handle, his body slightly bent, and my eyes are drawn to his biceps and the material of his shirt that’s stretched around them.

  “Right here, right?” he asks, bringing me out of my trance.

  “Huh?” I ask, moving my gaze to his eyes.

  He’s already looking at me and gives me a smirk. “The comfor
ters. I think we’re in the right spot.”

  I turn to my right and notice we’re about to pass them. “Oh, yeah.”

  “Okay, so I have a queen-size bed and I need new everything.”

  “Well, they have plenty of comforter sets, but you may pay a pretty penny for it.”

  He shrugs. “Gotta have it.”

  “What’s your bedroom color scheme?” I ask.

  He laughs and gives me a funny look. “Phoenix, I don’t have a color scheme. I have a plain bed and no paint on the walls.”

  A small smile touches my lips. “Oh. Well, you can pick your color scheme now.”

  I begin looking at the pictures on the large plastic bags, trying to find some that aren’t too girly.

  “What about this?” Evan asks, pulling one from the shelf.

  I look at it and laugh. “Um. Well, it’s for a full-size bed, and it’s pretty plain,” I say, scrunching up my face. “If your sister doesn’t want you to choose black, I’m sure she wouldn’t want you to choose a dark brown either.”

  He turns and looks at it. “Crap.”

  I keep looking and find one that might work. “What about this?” I hand it to him to inspect.

  It’s a light gray, plaid set with white tones that’s accented with buttons. It’s manly, but nice.

  “This works,” he replies throwing it into the cart.

  “You’re easy to please,” I say with a short laugh.

  “Most men are.”

  We finish up shopping, and I find myself finally relaxing and letting myself smile or laugh without trying to hide it or stop it quickly after. Evan’s funny in a dry humor sort of way, but it works for him. I find myself wanting to laugh more because of the seriousness of his tone when being funny.

  It’s kind of nice having someone to talk to. Most everybody else doesn’t even try anymore, but I can’t blame them. Evan doesn’t know me, he didn’t know Gordon, he doesn’t know the nature of his death, or the state I was left in for a while following it. Maybe that’s why he’s so comfortable talking to me.

  As we’re walking back to the cars, Evan stops and looks at me.

  “Thanks for coming with me today. You’re okay company,” he says with a nudge to my arm.

  “Gee, thanks,” I reply with a mock eye roll.

  He laughs. “No, really. Thanks. I really do appreciate it.”

  “Did you need me to help you with the curtains tonight?” I ask, and feel weird about asking it.

  Studying me for a minute, he says, “Let’s do it tomorrow. Is that okay?”

  I nod, surprisingly slightly disappointed. “I’ll be off work at five tomorrow,” I respond.

  “Sounds good. It’ll give us something to do in the evening. I start classes tomorrow and will be home around four-thirty.”

  “Okay. Have a good night,” I say, getting into my car.

  “You too. Be safe,” he says, giving me a look I can’t quite decipher.

  Evan follows me home, and when I pull into my driveway, he honks and continues down to his house. I smile as I get out and make my way to the front door.

  When I get inside, I kick off my shoes, drop my purse, and make my way to the kitchen. My stomach rumbles, letting me know I’ve gone too long without eating. I pop a frozen pizza in the oven before going upstairs to change.

  As I’m coming down the stairs in my white tank top and lime green shorts, I wrap my long locks into a sloppy bun on the top of my head. When I reach the foot of the stairs, a loud knock at the front door startles me.

  I open it slowly and see Evan on my doorstep.

  He takes in my appearance, and I’m suddenly aware of my lack of clothing . . . and bra. I try to stay partially hidden behind the door.

  “What’s up?” I ask.

  “I just realized I kept you out for like two hours after being at work and didn’t offer to buy you some food. I’m an asshole. I’m sorry.”

  I let out a small laugh and shake my head. “It’s okay. I just put a pizza in the oven. I’ll live, don’t worry.”

  “Frozen pizza?” he questions.

  “Hey, don’t judge my food choices. It’s fast and easy.”

  “Well, okay. As long as you’re eating.”

  “I am.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, giving me a grin and lifting his hand in a small wave before turning away.

  “Tomorrow,” I reply.

  Tonight I hope I’m able to fall asleep without needing a drink, but sadly, my thoughts of Gordon not being in bed with me, mixed with my strange feelings regarding Evan have me tossing and turning. I drink only one glass of vodka and cranberry, and take that as a victory.

  THE FOLLOWING DAY at work goes by slow. Rebecca works with me, but she doesn’t say much. She tends to stay on her phone with her boyfriend most of the day. We had a couple people come in, but that didn’t take up much time, because they didn’t book vacations. I find myself watching the clock and it seems like each time I look at it, only a couple minutes have gone by.

  My anxiousness to see Evan has me confused. I chalk it up to just finally having a friend. Someone to talk to. A reason to be out of my house. However, I know it might be more than that. Do I find him attractive? Yes. I’m just not sure if I should. Not only does it make me feel like shit and bring Gordon to the forefront of my mind, but who’s to say he even finds me attractive.

  My brown hair is pretty plain, my green eyes look lifeless, and while both my lips are full, my top one is slightly more plump, and it’s always bothered me. I feel like I’m too skinny, my body reflects the lack of food—healthy food at that—that doesn’t make it into my body. Instead, my focus has been the alcohol that enters my body.

  I used to be fit, toned, tanned, and had a constant glow. Not anymore.

  I shouldn’t be worried about who finds me attractive or who I find attractive anyway. It can’t move into anything else. I couldn’t handle the guilt, and people would just judge me even more than they already do.

  My nerves and emotions get the best of me and I take a swig from the bottle of vodka I keep in my desk. Rebecca doesn’t pay any attention to me, so I get away with it. Before I know it, it’s time to get off.

  I leave the building without speaking to Rebecca, she’s on the phone anyway. I pop a piece of gum in my mouth and get into my car and drive home. I know I shouldn’t drive, but considering how used to alcohol my body is, the amount I drank in the office isn’t affecting me. I get it’s still wrong, but I have nobody to pick me up, we don’t have cabs here, and I need to get home. It’s not close enough to walk or I would.

  If Gordon was alive, he’d have my ass for drinking and driving. Always the cop. Always the protector. My protector. And now my angel.

  Tears burn my eyes and I realize that my emotions have me in a worse state than the alcohol. I turn into the driveway and quickly go inside before I burst into tears out in the open . . . again.

  I grab a bottle of vodka from the kitchen, and because it’s half empty, I pour some cranberry juice to fill it up, and take it with me upstairs. I drink it moderately as I get ready. The more I drink, I figure the less likely I am to continue crying over my dead husband. They say time heals everything, but I think that’s a crock of shit. When’s this time thing supposed to make me feel better? It doesn’t, but enough alcohol can make me forget for a small amount of time, or at least that’s what I tell myself.

  Deciding on some skinny jeans and a dark green V-neck, I get dressed quickly, and then brush my teeth to get rid of the alcohol smell. I brush my hair into a thick ponytail that falls to the top of my shoulders, and find some flip flops to slip on before going downstairs.

  Needing some fresh air, I step onto my porch and see Evan making his way to my house. He stops when he sees me and grins.

  “Come on!” he calls, gesturing with his hand.

  I smile and begin meeting him halfway. My body feels warm because of the alcohol, and my mind is slightly fuzzy, but I don’t think he’ll be
able to tell.

  “Hey,” he says when I finally get to him.

  “Hey.”

  We walk towards his house in silence. When we get to the door, he turns and studies me.

  “You okay?”

  I bring my gaze to his face and find I have to widen my eyes, trying to see him clearer. Maybe I had more to drink than I thought.

  “Yeah, fine.”

  He doesn’t seem to buy it, but he doesn’t say anything. Evan leads me into his home via the garage which opens up into his kitchen. I’m hit with the aroma of food cooking.

  “I hope you don’t mind eating something that’s not frozen.”

  “It wasn’t frozen when I ate it,” I retort.

  He chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m making chicken alfredo. Do you like that?”

  “Yeah, sure,” I answer, looking around his place.

  There’s still a few boxes here and there, but it’s a nice house. Not much decorating has been done, but I’m not surprised. I take a seat on a stool at the bar in his kitchen.

  “I have some soda and water.”

  “I’m okay for now.”

  “How was your day?” he asks while stirring something on the stove.

  “It was okay,” I say with a shrug.

  The look he gives me tells me he doesn’t believe me, but once again, he doesn’t push for more. Why does it seem like he knows I had a bad day?

  “How’d you sleep with your new sheets?” I ask, changing the subject.

  “It was like being wrapped in a cloud,” he replies with a grin. “I assume that’s comfortable.”

  He doesn’t look at me, which gives me ample time to watch him as he cooks. I’ve never seen a man cook before. Gordon never cooked, but his job kept him away around dinner time. Evan looks domestically sexy in his jeans and long-sleeved brown button up shirt. The sleeves are pushed up almost to his elbows, and I glance down to see he’s wearing brown Timberland boots to match.