Dawn of Eve, MJ Howson [lightweight ebook reader TXT] 📗

This is a safe space. Speaking of which, you need a safe word.” Jacob looked at the nightstand with the odd tacky pineapple-themed lamp. “Pineapple.”

“What?” Sean’s voice quivered with trepidation.

“That’s your safety word. If things get–”

“Stop, Jacob. Stop!”

“C’mon, Sean.” Jacob inched closer to Sean until only his duffel bag separated the two of them. “I’m good at what I do.”

The only light in the room came from the lamp on the nightstand. Sean moved to the top of the bed, putting some distance between him and Jacob and the duffel bag. In a raspy voice, Sean said, “I . . . I don’t do hookups, Jacob. And I don’t sleep with friends.”

“Neither do I.” Jacob leaned back on his calves and folded his arms across his chest. “I’m confused. I . . . I thought you liked me.”

“What?” Sean’s fear faded to confusion.

“I’m not blind, Sean. I’ve connected the dots. All those times you asked me to hang out. You have my SAM profile saved. I see how you look at me.”

Sean’s eyes nervously darted as he looked Jacob up and down. He started to say something but stopped himself before lowering his head and looking away.

“This doesn’t have to be a one-time thing, Sean.” Jacob waited until Sean finally looked him in the eye. “Some of the best relationships start as friendships, don’t they?”

“I . . . I guess.” Sean wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his chin on his trembling knees. He looked at his X-Box console and said, “I don’t know. I . . . I’ve never been in a relationship.”

“Really? A sweet guy like you.” Jacob pushed his duffel bag aside as he edged his way across the bed to be beside Sean. “If this is too much, then I understand. I just thought we were having a moment. It’s okay if you aren’t interested.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“When you said I deserved better, I just thought . . . .” Jacob sighed and lowered his head. He slowly moved to the side of the bed, stood up, and faced the doorway. In a hushed, measured tone, he said, “Obviously, I was wrong. Again.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s okay, Sean. I made a bad call.” Jacob closed his eyes and dreamed of the life he desired. He willed a single tear to breach the edge of his eyelid and spill down his cheek. He turned to Sean and said, “I seem to be doing a lot of that lately.”

“Look, Jacob, this is just–”

“I meant what I said about helping you move stuff to your uncle’s place. I’m clearing my weekend for you. If all you want is friendship, I’m good with that.” Jacob pointed at the picture of Sean and his uncle. “You’re a good nephew. He’s . . . lucky to have you.” Jacob grabbed the duffel bag and said, “I’ll see you in the morning.” Jacob spun around, lowered his head, and slowly headed to the door.

“Wait,” Sean said, his voice filled with desperation.

Jacob’s crooked smile spread across his face, but he didn’t turn around. “Yes?”

“Would . . . would you really want to be more than just friends?”

Forty One

Transformation

The smell of coffee, cinnamon, and vanilla filled Dawn’s kitchen. She’d made half a pot a few hours ago, and the carafe was just about empty. Dawn peppered her mug with some ground cinnamon before adding a bit of cream. She inhaled the comforting scent and gently placed the warm cup to her cheek before heading back into the dining room.

The late morning hour filled her place with abundant indirect light. Eve’s tattered ruby-red velvet dress and remains were laid out on a black towel spread across the white marble dining table. The weathered diary sat nearby. The dress, covered in dirt, had several missing rhinestones. Dawn had spent the morning mapping out every piece of porcelain like a jigsaw puzzle. The only sound in her apartment came from the rush of the wind outside.

The largest intact chunk of Eve was the upper right front of the doll’s skull. Dawn had found the bow upstairs and had poorly tied it to Eve’s hair. The plastic joints that linked Eve’s articulating limbs together rested in a separate pile beside one of her white leather shoes. Dawn carefully lifted the head and spun it in her hand, the doll’s eye clicking and clacking as she rotated it up and down. Other than Eve’s fully intact left hand, the rest of the pieces were no larger than a square inch.

“Damn you, Jacob.” Dawn’s voice sounded thin and empty. She picked up a bottle of glue and looked at Eve’s partial head. “Look what he’s done to you.” Dawn twisted the top of the glue bottle open. “I have to try, Eve. My . . . my sweet dear Eve. My Evelyn. There must be a way to save you.”

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” the voice assistant asked.

“Cancel!” Dawn tossed the bottle aside. She burst into tears and cried out, “Cancel! Cancel! Cancel!”

Dawn rushed to the living room and collapsed on the couch. She couldn’t stop crying. These past months had been a tangled web of happiness with Eve, haunted memories of her mother, stress over her relationship with Jacob, and nightmares about her miscarriage. The therapy sessions with Dr. Cole had never brought her peace. She had no patience for arguing with her smart home system. Dawn remained on the couch for a few minutes as she struggled to regain her composure.

Tears dampened the burgundy chenille pillow resting beneath Dawn’s face. She suddenly felt embarrassed by her argument with the smart system. Dawn sat up and gently wiped her tears away. She glanced up at the nearest overhead speaker and frowned.

“Evelyn, how can I change your name?” Dawn asked.

“What name would you like me to respond to?” the assistant asked.

“Is it really that easy?”

“I’m sorry, please repeat the name.”

Dawn chuckled and shook her head, amazed that after all this time wondering how to