Knight In Black Leather by Gail Dayton (ebook reader ink .txt) 📕

"I'm fine. Go back to sleep." It wasn't the ache in his bones that had him staring into the dark. There was a limit to how long he could lie to himself.

"I wasn't asleep. Are you sure you don't want a pain pill? What about an aspirin?"

"I don't need anything Marilyn. I'm just fine." Eli bunched the pillow under his head and peered through the darkness at her. He could just see the lighter oval of her face on the pillow next to him. "Why aren't you asleep? I thought you were tired."

"I was. I am." She sighed, tucking her hand under her cheek in a gesture that made him ache all the more. "But the minute I got into bed, my mind started whirling with a zillion and a half things. Are you sure you feel all right? How are your bones?"

"They ache, but it's nothing I can't handle. I've been worse. I don't like to take pills I don't have to."

"Me neither. I wish I could do something for you. What can I do?"

He didn't dare ask for what he really wanted. "Talk to me," he said instead. "Distract me from my aches and pains. Tell me a few of those zillion and one things inside your head. Let me get to know Marilyn Ballard."

"You already know everything worth knowing. I'm not a very interesting person. Besides, it's your turn. Tell me about Eli Court."

His gut twisted into a whole series of knots. She didn't want to know. Not all of it. Not the truth. "Nothing to tell."

"Of course there is. You didn't just spring into existence full grown. You had to have parents at some point in time. Tell me about them."

He heard her move, turned his head to see her echoing his position, flat on her back with only her head turned as she watched him. He could probably tell her some of the truth.

"Yeah, I had parents. Sophie and Carl. Mom was eighteen when I was born. Dad was older, a lot older. He was one of her high school teachers. They waited till she graduated to even date, but he got fired anyway. He got a new job in Scranton. That's where I was born."

"Do they still live in Scranton?"

"Mom does." He thought she still did, anyway. He didn't like talking about her, about what happened. Didn't even like to think about it. He'd never told anyone what had happened.

He'd tried once, but the words had piled up like cars in a freeway wreck, refusing to come out. They felt stiff now, reluctant, but not impossible. Because it was Marilyn listening?

Her hand bridged the gap between them, sliding through the sheets, though she wasn't even looking at him. Eli laced his fingers through hers and held on tight.

"My dad died when I was ten," he said. "He was almost fifty when I was born and almost sixty when he had his heart attack. Mom wasn't even thirty yet. She was lost without him." He'd been lost too, without his father's warm, solid, smiling presence.

Carl Court had been the anchor of their lives, the one who held everything together and looked after them all. He'd drawn Eli into the male confederacy of Taking Care of Sophie. She was fragile and dependent, the kind of woman who needed someone to lean on. When her support was taken away, she leaned on Eli.

He didn't mind it. Looking after Mom made him feel closer to his dad. Back in those dark days when the world suddenly stopped making sense, Eli could almost see his father's wink, hear him say "Your mother needs us men," whenever he would do something for her, like take out the trash without being asked, or cook supper for them, or breakfast, or lunch. He'd done most of the cooking, after Dad.

Marilyn squeezed his hand, bringing him back to the present. "You must have missed him terribly, a little boy without his father."

"I did okay. Mom needed me." He didn't want to talk about this stuff anymore. "What about your dad? Is he still around? Or is it just your Mom?"

"He died when Julie--my daughter, remember?--was a baby. We were all grown, even Joey. Not like you. It must have been so hard, being just ten. But you and your mom had each other, right? Just the two of you? No brothers or sisters?"

"No. Just me and Mom. She had a hard time after Dad died." How did they get back on this subject? He looked away, up at the ceiling again.

"How's she doing now? I mean, it's been--what?--fifteen years? I bet she's hell-on-wheels."

Eli shrugged. "I wouldn't know."

"Why not?"

"I haven't seen her lately." He could sense Marilyn's confusion, but felt no urge to clear it away. And yet he couldn't seem to shut up. "She was fine last time I saw her."

"When was that?"

"When I was thirteen." He looked at her without turning his head, not wanting her to know he watched.

She stared at him. She didn't look shocked, but he knew she was. Her fingers tightened around his and he clutched them back. "Since you were-- What happened, Eli? When you were thirteen?"

"She got married again when I was twelve." He kept his voice flat and unemotional, remembering that time from the distance of who he was now. "Stan and I didn't get along. We fought constantly. Twenty-four/seven. It was a few months after my birthday, early spring. I don't remember what I did, but he was mad about something. We had this big fight, worst fight ever. And he kicked me out. Told me to get my stuff and get out. So I did. I've never been back."

"He what?" Marilyn sat straight up in the bed, outrage bristling all over her. "You were just thirteen years old. What was he thinking? What was your mother thinking? Didn't she stop him? Didn't she say anything?"

Nothing had ever felt better than Marilyn's outrage. Eli lay there, holding her hand