He wasn’t quite sure where it happened. In what instance that he began to fall, or display a release to worship the ground in his bourbon brained glory. Where in all the surrender from gravity that he entwined himself into Ava Crowder, or more correctly, was being kept in uplifted posterity by her. As if cascading off an infinite cliff and being able to reside in death’s mysteries he shifted a large part of his holdings onto her. Strands of hair streaking across the sharp edges of nose bridge and peaked lips gave his senses an abridged version of an orchard tour. Smell of chemical peaches, wildflower laundry detergent, something herbal; possibly fresh cut cigarettes. All with a hint of sweated gunmetal acting as the thread sewn intricately through the tapestry. It was in this guilty indulgence that he caught Ava’s eyes, her distaste, his reflection therein, a correlated connection between them writing volumes without speaking. Averting his gaze, bringing his attentions back to a more pious place of remembering where exactly the floor existed in physical reality, he moved in stride.Gum sole streaking in contrast to the muffled shift of slipper on hardwood the sudden existence of shelter had Boyd crane to asses his surroundings. Guiding motions keeping him from wandering off the path between foyer and living room were fallowed with no contention as the rooms shattered and rearranged themselves. Familiar furnishings thrown off global axis by the confusion and destruction of major brain sections. Left posted before the section of sofa Boyd remained standing in place as a wilted reed whilst Ava busied herself with collecting goods to accommodate him. Even in the bleaker break of a sullen night with a man arriving in disreputable shreds of decency the role of hostess was played with a thankless grace. Items to be consumed; painkillers and water arriving before him with an issued command. One that Boyd had no interest in resisting at this time.
Knees bending, bodily arch fallowing in suit he found himself moving into a seated position on the couch, a play with a splay of tightly wrapped legs sprouting from the sink in cushioning. Statue frozen by toxic intrusion, Boyd sat upright attempting to clear the cloud foaming begin his eyes. Bile flipping around in the reservoirs of stomach and esophagus threatening to break his hold, ruin his crusade, one of which he wasn’t completely aware of it’s intentions. At a hiccup of heat burning at the back of throat Boyd reached out for the water, drowning the vessel of it’s contents in one tip of its lip to his. Quick enough to avoid the demise of having the same water jump out of the glass onto his shirt and lap at the assault of sheeting thrown at his torso. Covered in the folds of starched linens Boyd expression of stunned stupor must have been held long enough for Ava to realize she may be working with a creature all together different than the one she was accustomed to seeing in Boyd.
Unearthing the clasped glass from the offered warmth it was placed with a careful precision back onto the coffee table, effort made to protect the integrity of the wood before returning to the cover of blankets. Pulling apart the neatly folded pleats to extend out the sails Ava’s voice went almost unheard in the activity. Static tear through the night electrifying the dark in the eruption of a thousand charges that clung to his clothes, passing along to his hair, everything rising in current as he finally acknowledged her. Her posed question so simple yet so dangerously concise.
Unable to drum up a response, even an easily formed lie Boyd instead continued to work at the molded mound of material in his hands, head hung in a heavy binding of avoidance. “No Ava, no last words. Not tonight.” Read as if on a disappearing ribbon wrapping and slithering across Ava’s robes he found himself lingering on her sight. The strong outlines of her standing in the middle of the living room contra-indicated by the precise soft lines that made up her bits and pieces. A generous silhouette that aroused a lick of lips pierced with the indentation of damage. Cut lines crusted over quickly becoming the only indication of his own dreadful physical state. A reminder of such that had him reel back in his distasteful fascinations in favor a more chaste and controlled man. One who had walked on the other side of the Holy Books bindings in search of higher power. One who no longer needed the passages to protect or absolve the actions of the just.
“I’ll be gone by mornin’. I swear..”
Wolf-like eyes were over staying their welcome. Whether Boyd realized it or not he was staring awful long. Ava’s facial ridges curved and narrowed in response to his inappropriate gander. Small hands gripped hems of body warmed cotton slit, tightening the robe around her frame in a casual, subtle curl of her fingers. Esthetic adjustments should have been made before she responded to his knock, or even erstwhile between that trice and now, but it was behindhand by this measure. Azure hues drifted to angles, accompanying cheeks flushing mild and pink in shyness. The duration of bashfulness brought on by sienna regard flittered by hastily and simpleton’s answer to her question sliced curtly through softened veneer. He had nothing to say to her? The females posture straightened. Ceruleans returned to their counterpart’s features and shined intensely against dim illumination rendered by pictures pulsating on the television screen behind her.
He was chewing on her last good nerve.
Flickering over Boyd’s dejected aspects, lips slightly parted. Silent at first, Ava found herself appalled not only by his behavior this evening, but his ungrateful rejoinder. Nodding without a word, she would fight an internal battle. Keep quiet and stroll away or reprimand him? It was an easy choice. He didn’t reckon to thank her for taking him in. Even in such an obnubilate state, the outlaw couldn’t recite two, simple words to let her know her hospitality would not go unappreciated? Upper tier curled, snarling slenderly with incredulity. She should have abandoned him out on the porch to sleep the slumber of misbehaved wild dogs on the cold, graveled ground.
“Oh yeah?” The young woman finally mustered, “that right?—you ain’t got nothin’ to say to me, Boyd Crowder?” Pearly whites drilled lower lip, clenching and releasing. “Well, I surely got somethin’ t’say to you.” Lengthy limbs fell from her chest and hands scrambled to tighten and tie waist ribbon in a secure bow whilst gathering ammunition. Sanguine liquid stewing in venae and climbing nerves encouraged Ava to just keep on yapping. Gripping curvy, thin waist, brief lecturing ensued. “After everythin’ you an’ your family put me through, you realize you’re lucky I took you in, right?” Ava was questioning his integrity. However, despite the bitter taste the Crowder’s left in her mouth she often times wondered if she would’ve really been any better off without them, no matter the righteous sense of entitlement they all seemed to carry.
“I’m sick an’ tired of y’all waltzin’ in here thinkin’ y’all can step all over me.” For days after Bo’s release, Ava was forced to take refuge elsewhere. His men took over her home and harassed her whenever she tried to enter. Boyd had nothing to do with that, but he could be like his daddy in more ways than Ava wanted to come to terms with. He was capable of all the rudeness and lude behavior the other Crowder’s were, and much, much more. He slipped unwarranted, lustful remarks at Ava in the past, held her hostage, and he had apologized, but her momma always told her a man don’t change overnight. Ava noted there was a different way about him recently. She just couldn’t quite put her finger on it and wasn’t even sure she wanted to find out. “What were you thinkin’? I got a big heart, so I ain’t capable of sayin’ no to anybody?” She was offended to say the least and it was obvious in the way each word dripped angrily from her lips. “If it weren’t for you bein’ the only family I have left, you would not be here. The least you could have done is say thank you, but you’re welcome anyhow, Boyd.”
Hauling in a deep breath, lungs exhaled in weak attempt to relieve tightly wound frustration. Now she was the one who needed a couple of aspirin, but she’d do herself one better. “I’m goin’ to bed, you need anythin’, I expect you to find it yourself.” He was acquainted enough with her home to know every crack and crawl space. Not before insouciantly seizing the half empty bottle of Jack Daniels did galosh heels turn, scuffing daintily as the younger Crowder girl excused herself from the heat of the dense aired living room. Retiring to her bedroom, she quietly the door closed behind her. Settling whiskey container onto night stand, fingers dug into garment pocket and plucked forth single Marlboro cigarette. Placing it between her lips, she opened wooden drawer and swapped pack for zippo lighter, igniting cherry end of perfect factory rolled rod.
Pulling smooth elongated drag, harmful chemicals swirled through lungs and nicotine seeped gradually into her system. Plume surpassed tiers gaped in slight and the calming effects of clever stimulant assisted in relaxing her. She knew she had much to mull over respecting Boyd. Not only his staying here, but if he was truly someone she wanted frequenting her home when he found himself in a bind. No should have been her initial answer, but what she’d spouted off at him held truth. Although the bloodlines running through their veins were not genetically the same, he was her kin. Momma said, “you’re gonna do things for me that you hate, Ava. That’s just what it means to be family, so get used to it.” The words and soothing sound of the older woman’s voice were crystal clear in reflection. Although context was in light of carrying out childhood chores, it spoke no greater volume to her than in that moment.
Burning embers dispersed over glass receptacle and partially expended cigarette twisted, snuffing out charred ashes. Her head was pounding, proverbial scale tipping in and out of balance, it was head versus heart. If associated with Boyd, she could easily find herself drowning in deep waters, not only with the law but her conscience. The outlaw lying in the room below was capable of murder, amongst other things. If she chose to do nothing about his predicament, Ava wasn’t certain she could live with herself knowing she could have put forth efforts to better his life in the simplest of ways. Grasping bottleneck she poured amber liquid into patiently waiting bedside glass and quickly swilled down its contents.
Worries be gone.
Moist tongue rolled over rye glossed lips as she collapsed onto mattress. “Ugh,” she groaned while making small efforts to slip honey suckle limbs beneath plush comforter. Resting on her side, arm lazily extended outward and pads of fingers twisted electrical knot, extinguishing the light contributing to her headache. She sought out comfortable positioning, petite frame tossing and turning few times before finally roosting on her stomach. Closing tired eyes, final huff respired prior to spiraling into an undisturbed slumber.
She would deal with him come morning.
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