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Chapter 3
When the doorbell rang in the peaceful Saturday afternoon Dexter only rolled over in his bed, making funny groans and burying his face deep into his pillow. His mother, on the other hand, aptly rose from her spot on the couch, placed her book on the end table beside her, and rushed to the door. She was astonished to find a cute little girl wearing pink ribbons, a pink, black, and white plaid miniskirt, a dress shirt, all completed with a matching striped tie on her doorstep.
"Is Dexter home?" Darcie asked with her usual sweet smile.
Amused, Dexter's mother stepped back, holding the door wide open. "He's actually asleep, but you could stay until he wakes up if you would like. You're Darcie, I assume?"
Darcie obliged, nodding. "Yep, but most people just call me Dark."
Dexter's mother led Darcie into the kitchen. "Dexter has talked so much about you. It's nice to finally meet you. Sit down, dear. Have you had lunch yet?"
Storing her newly found information in the back on her mind, Darcie did as she was told, shaking her head. "No, I haven't, but I had a large breakfast, so I'm full still."
"Would you like something to drink, at least?" Dexter's mother opened the refrigerator. "We have water, soda, and iced tea."
"Just water's fine."
Dexter's mother retrieved a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water from the dispenser on the refrigerator, placing it on the counter in front of Darcie. She sighed and pulled a chair from the table, sitting down. "So, was it you my son was out with so late last night?"
Darcie watched as Dexter's mother took a swig of the red wine she had not noticed was in her hostess's hand. "Yeah..." Darcie looked down, slightly embarrassed, remembering the events of the night before.
Dexter's mother laughed. "I hope you two... made good decisions. Sixteen is far too young to have children."
Darcie was flustered at the thought. "Of course not, Mrs. Rue. You have nothing to be worried about. I wholeheartedly agree with you."
"Good." Dexter's mother took another gulp of her alcoholic beverage, leaning back.
After several minutes of awkward silence and sipping on her water, Darcie finally spoke. "Would it be alright if I wwoke him up?"
Dexter's mother smiled. ""Of course, go right ahead. Just be careful; he can be quite cranky when woken up."
Darcie nodded. "I will. Can you point me to his room?"
"Back where you came in at, up the stairs, all the way at the end of the hall."
Darcie stood, thanking her hostess and started for the stairs. She opened Dexter's door as quietly as she could. She was relieved when she found Dexter's room clear of any dirty clothes typical of a teen's room, but had to hop over pencils, crumpled paper, and cords and avoid bumping over various paints and a couple pedestals with half-finished artwork upon them in order to make it to Dexter's twin-sized bed.
Darcie just stood over the sleeping boy for a minute, combing his scuffled hair with her fingers. Then she made a sudden jump onto the bed, landing on Dexter's back. She kissed his head, as his face was still hidden in the pillow. "Wake up, sleepy head!"
Dexter, dazed and confused, moaned and lifted up his head to look around. Darcie kissed him as soon as his lips were visible. He could barely open his eyes, but the glimpse of Darcie's wide smile was all he needed to identify her. "What are you doing here?"
Darcie petted Dexter's head. "I have nothing to do today, so I wanted to see if you were interested in hanging out."
Dexter, still out of it, pulled himself out from under the covers just enough that he could sit up, his bare chest showing. "What did you have in mind?"
Darcie sat next to him. "Hm... I don't actually know," she giggled.
Dexter looked down. "Well, first I need a shirt."
Darcie got up. "Okay, I'll be in the kitchen."
"Okay," Dexter said as he rose. He watched as Darcie exited his room, closing the door behind herself.
He arrived downstairs several minutes later, clean clothes on his body, the fresh sting of mint in his mouth, and his hair wet. Darcie and Dexter's mother sat across from each other at the table, pausing their conversation when they noticed the newcomer. Though he had heard nothing, he was sure their guilty smiles meant that the morning gossip was about him.
With a sip of her wine, Dexter's mother greeted her son. "Hi honey, how did you sleep?"
Dexter grimaced at the drink in his parent's hand. "Fine, mom. How about you?" Dexter's inquiry was less out of politeness than it was of concern; he was fully aware of how much of a wreck his mother was without her husband. She hadn't drank more than a small glass of alcohol on special occasions for as long as he had lived. His mother had been living a near perfect life for so long she was unable to cope with negative emotions. Dexter knew he could only try his best for her, but something told him it wouldn't be enough. He worried that the drinking would effect her teaching career and impair her driving. He needed to do something to keep his family together until they found his father, but what?
"Well, actually." His mother smiled reassuringly at him, but the dark bags under her eyes gave away her lies.
Dexter could only look at the woman he called his mother. What could he say? Should he bring her out on her lies? Or should he let his mother be so that she could come to terms with reality on her own?
Darcie could feel the tension in the silent air. Oh, how she hated it. Situations like that, they reminded her of why she didn't see her family much anymore. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
Without warning, Dexter's mother sprang up. "Well, it's already past noon. You two hungry?"
"Actually, I was hoping to get something with Dex downtown..." Darcie answered meekly. I need to get out of here, she thought to herself.
Dexter nodded enthusiastically, also wanting to escape the social situation. "That sounds good to me. Is it okay with you, Mom?"
"Of course." Dexter's mother sat down again, slouching. "I'll be here."
Darcie and Dexter both rose and made their way to the door.
Before he left Dexter turned around and said, watching his tone, "Mom, if you need me, call, okay?"
"Okay dear," she called in reply.
"Nice meeting you, Mrs. Rue," Darcie said as the door closed behind her. As she started down the block with Dexter, she sighed. "Is your mom always like that?"
"Like what?" Dexter asked.
"Well, the drinking and the, well, totally being out of it."
Dexter's eyes downcasted, watching his shoes come in and out of his sights. "No... she isn't."
"What's up with her then?" Darcie chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.
Dexter kicked a pebble on the sidewalk. "My dad. He disappeared a few days ago..."
"Oh..." Darcie's voice depleted to a whisper. "Is that why the last few days..."
"Yeah..." Another kick; the pebble went farther this time.
"Do you know where he might've went?"
Dexter shook his head. "No, he just left in the middle of the night. Didn't even take his car. We checked everywhere, but..."
"No luck?"
Dexter sighed. "None."
"I'm sorry..." Darcie fought with the urge to embrace the person next to her.
Dexter finally turned his head to look at Darcie. "Nothing for you to be sorry for."
Darcie peeked back, watching tears well up in Dexter's eyes, shining in the sun. His jaw clenched. She found her hand slipping around his. When he realized what was happening he only squeezed it, just light enough not to hurt Darcie, but hard enough to help ease his emotions. The two walked hand in hand as Dexter gathered his thoughts.
"He kept our family together in a way," Dexter said to himself as much as to Darcie, "He made sure there were constants in our lives. Small things like always keeping his promises and planning family things in advance... once you get used to something it's hard to go without it. I think that's why my mom is being the way she is; she literally has no clue what to do with herself. Teaching, cooking, and cleaning were all she has done the last sixteen years by herself. Everything else had Dad involved in some way. Even I feel lost a little without him..."
Darcie squeezed Dexter's hand back. "Is there any reason he would want to leave?"
"That's the thing. As a family, life was near perfect for us. We never fought, we talked, they tried to understand me... He had a good wife and a good job. Not perfect, but good. It was like living in a dream."
"I hope he comes back soon. But, until then-" Darcie stopped walking, turning in front of Dexter. She gave into her desires, wrapping her arms around him, then whispered in his ear, "I'll be here for you. Feel free to talk to me about anything, okay?”
Dexter hugged back. "I will."
Soon they were walking again.
Downtown was as busy as ever, bustling with hoards pedestrians all making their way down the streets. The two chose a small diner to eat at, which Darcie claimed in advance to have good food. The munching from Dexter's mouth and giggling of Darcie was maintained throughout lunch.
Dexter was then dragged into a movie theater and guilted into paying for two tickets to see a comedy. The two laughed hysterically the entire time, enough to make Dexter's stomach ache. Of course, he wasn't too apt to laughing at first, but between Darcie messing with him and the quality jokes and gags made in the movie he cracked.
Next came window shopping. Yet again Darcie took the lead, going from store to store. She even made Dexter try on cloths for himself, but he was so removed from his natural habitat that he barely had the capacity to mind it.
But reality returned into the atmosphere as Darcie led Dexter past an electronics store. The featured product in the window was a giant television, tuned to the local newscast. Images of a massacred body showed upon the screen. Dexter was drawn to the gore like a moth to a lamp. He was unable to hear what was being said, but the description below was all he needed.
"The art murderers hit close to home"
The human in the photo had no skin on his body. His arms and legs had switched places, cut off and sewn back on. The intestines were scattered over the body, and the human's head had been severed, its skull embedded with a shining clear crystal, and placed inside where the guts formally had been.
"Hey Dex, what'chu looking at?" Darcie asked when her date stopped walking.
The screen zoomed farther in to the picture.
"Dark... That's my dad." Dexter's voice was void of emotion. He was trying to wrap his mind around it all; his father was never coming home. He had been made into a beautiful piece of art.
Darcie's voice squeaked in disbelief. “What? Are you sure?”
Dexter nodded slowly. “Yeah, the ring... It's his wedding ring... I recognize the engravings...”
Darcie put her arm around him. “I - I don't know what to say.”
“It's okay,” Dexter's lip quivered; it was becoming difficult to speak, “I don't know what to do, Dark.”
Darcie, with a sudden urge of responsibility, kissed Dexter's cheek. "Let's get you home, okay?"
Dexter felt a tear roll down his cheek. "No... I - I can't go home like this."
"Okay," Darice wiped the drop from Dexter's face, "Here, we'll go to the club for a little and stay in my room until you are ready. Is that okay?"
Dexter nodded, coughing on his own saliva as he tried with all his willpower to not surrender himself to emotion.
The two gradually made their way to Neon Bass, Darcie trying her best to comfort Dexter, speaking words of encouragement to keep walking and unsure promises of a happy future. Dexter was ready to simply sit down and cry in the middle of the crowd. They reached the club and walked into the near empty building as they did the day before. When Dexter reached Darcie's bed he just climbed onto it and hid his face in a pillow, giving into the tears.
Darcie sat down next to him, petting his head as he was looking the opposite way. After nearly a half an hour, Dexter repressed his sobbing enough to be able to talk.
"What if I were to tell you I liked it?" He choked out. He laid so he wouldn't have to see her reaction.
"Liked what?" Darcie asked, confused.
"The body, Dark... How my father looked. How would you think of me?"
Darcie thought to herself, realizing that she couldn't quite answer. "I don't know - do you miss him?"
Dexter swallowed hard. "I do."
"Is his death the reason you are crying right now?"
“It is.” Dexter felt his jaw tighten. "P-please stop this. Just tell me... please..."
Darcie took a deep breath. "I would think of you as someone with unique tastes. Art is something that everyone perceives differently, but that doesn't mean you don't care about the fact that someone died; it doesn't mean you don't have a heart."
The air was weighted down by silence for several moments.
"It's just that, I scare myself sometimes. I am afraid that one day-" Dexter turned his head to face Darcie. However, he never did meet her eyes. "Forget it. Not tonight." He lifted his head just enough to place it in her lap. "Thanks, Dark..."
Darcie weaved her fingers into his hair, clearing it from his face. "You don't need to thank me. I love you."
Dexter found himself less tense in Darcie's care. "I love you too." He buried himself in her warm belly, afraid that he was blushing.
Even as the sound of voices grew outside the door the two kept their positions. But when the bass began to shake the floor, Dexter finally spoke.
"I think I'm ready to go home now."
Darcie nodded, proud of Dexter that he was going to face his fears by himself instead of needing someone to pressure him. "Okay."
After fighting through the ravers attempting to exit the club, the two finally began their trek back to the suburbs.
As the music faded behind them, Dexter sighed. "I wish I knew what to tell my mom..."
Darcie squeezed his hand in hers. "I can't help you there."
"The problem is, I don't want to tell her. I'm afraid of how she will react." Dexter glanced over at the sunset. If he didn't have so much on his mind, he would have stared at the beautiful orange glow reflecting off the river until he went blind.
"Then don't. The police will check the DNA eventually and tell her. It doesn't have to be you."
"You're right - but do you really think I can hide it?"
"I don't know... That's up to you. But I bet if you really try you could. For your mom, so that reality will hit harder when she is told." Darcie was trying her best to justify making life easier for Dexter.
"Yeah; for her." Dexter repeated those words to himself hundreds of times and, as the walk went on, actually began to believe it.
When the two arrived at Dexter's house they were greeted by Dexter's mother as well as the aroma of pot roast. Darice was implored to stay for dinner, and soon the three of them sat down to eat.
Dexter's mother, still sporting her wine glass, began the meal's conversation. "So, did you two have a good time?"
Darcie glanced at Dexter, who she could tell was not quite ready for questioning, as he just looked at his mother like a deer in headlights. She decided that it would be best that she did the talking. "Yeah, we did."
"What did you two do?" Dexter's mother said in a careless tone, just making small talk as she ate.
"Oh, just to the movies and a little shopping."
"Ah, sounds nice. Dexter's father and I used to do things like that a long time ago. Amazing how things change. I think I'll ask him to go out with me once he gets back."
Dexter nearly choked, speaking for the first time. "Whe-when he comes back... from where, mom?" He had a guess at where this was going but - he didn't think that his mother had gone that far.
"His business trip, of course."
"Mom, what business trip?"
"Oh, I don't know. He must have forgotten to tell use he was going and went-"
"Mom..."
"-without telling us early in the morning so that he could-"
"Mom."
"-catch his flight. He probably carpooled, too. And he accidentally forgot his wallet-"
"Mom!"
Darcie jumped back in her seat at Dexter's shout screeching out his voice box and cutting through the air.
His mother, on the other hand, was not even phased. "Yes dear?"
Dexter felt the built up emotion from the days before exploding like a volcano from his mouth. "You have to stop this! Dad isn't on any trip! He disappeared. Gone. Why, I don't know, but that isn't the issue. He's dead, Mom. I saw his picture on the news. Stop living in a dream! Your husband is very very dead, and all you can do is lie to yourself and everyone around you to cover it up! This is reality, Mom!" Before he realized what he was doing his chair had already fallen to the floor as his hands hit the table.
Mrs. Rue dropped her fork onto the table, which bounced to the floor. "No. No no no no no no no. No! He can't be! He was here just a few days ago. He was with us! People don't get killed for no reason!" The expression she gave her dinner was as if it was her husband's severed head.
Dexter attempted to calm his heart as he picked up his chair. "Mom... he wasn't killed because of something he did... he was art-murdered."
"Art-Murdered? You mean those disgusting, barbaric pictures you look up on the internet? Yes, I know about them, Dexter! You... How could- We said that it was just a phase, that it caused no harm... that you were a good boy. How could you!" Her bloodshot eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.
Darcie stood, slamming her palms on the table. "He would never do anything like that! Right, Dexter, right?" Her eyes pleased at him for reassurance.
Dexter only sat there, looking at what that night had become. That day had been too much for Dexter. Too much happened. Too much to keep track of. He wanted to just hide for the night, away from everyone. He wanted to be alone, as he had always been.
But he wasn't alone anymore.
In the last few days he had gained a friend. However, he had also lost a father, and maybe with him a mother. The simplicity he had known had been shattered into a million pieces.
Dexter's mother rose, mumbling she would be in the other room, leaving Dexter and Darcie at the table, Darcie still standing and Dexter staring at his food.
Realizing what she had just intervened in, Darice sighed and sat down. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't be, I'm the one who said it." Dexter's voice what steel.
Darcie tried to meet Dexter's eyes. "Do you think you will be okay?"
He took no notice. "Yeah, I'll live..."
"Kay..." Darcie glanced at her cellphone. "I'm playing at the club tonight. I have to leave now... want to come?"
Dexter shook his head. "No thanks. I need to think..."
Darcie nodded. "I understand. The club may be a good place to forget about things and enjoy yourself, but it isn't the best thinking place." She stood up and walked over to Dexter, hugging him. "I'm sorry for leaving you like this. I'll only be a text away."
Dexter used the table to help him up. "I think I'm just going to go to bed... I'm too tired to think." He accompanied his girlfriend to the door.
When they got to the front hall Darcie hugged Dexter tightly. "But still, don't hesitate to text me if you need to talk."
The two held a long, passionate kiss.
Dexter took a last whiff of her sweet scent. "I won't."
Darcie pulled back, looking into Dexter's eyes. "I love you, Dexter."
"I love you too, Darcie."
Suddenly, Darcie store herself from of Dexter. She didn't want to say it. She ran into the cover of the darkness, down the street. It was one of the few things that made her truly sad:
Not being able to help someone who was in a position that resembled her past.
To chapter 4 -->
... I mean... it sucks that Dex's dad had to be torn apart for that to happen but.... yeah...
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