The ride to Toledo felt like opening a window and allowing fresh air to penetrate a stuffy room. The sun was hovering overhead on a cloudless canvass. Trees shaded the road and bursts of light flickered in between. Air whipped my hair until I found a tie in my back pocket and arranged the mess behind my head. Unruly strands that kept poking at my eyes were finally restrained and once the problem was settled, the trip was much more pleasant.

Sharp and I enjoyed the same type of music. Since he installed custom sound systems in automobiles, the music, although not overbearing in volume, was perfect in surround and tonal separation.

The movement of the car seemed to blend with the choice of music. The landscape passed as if we were watching a music video that was carefully orchestrated. A few times I found myself singing along with Sharp. It was something we had always enjoyed doing and our voices complimented each other. In fact, at one time we had written a ballad, a sweet love song that had won first prize at a local bar, Howies.

Remembering this, I shifted my gaze to Sharp and I could sense behind his dark sunglasses that he was recalling the same memory. A slight grin pursed his lips as we continued to sing.

Conversation was lacking, but that was acceptable. Sharp was the type of person where his company never imposed stress. It made me wonder why I ran away from him when I did. Running was a pattern with me, especially when a situation was good.

In truth, Sharp was never that annoying. Maybe my reasoning was the realization that he was the only love I had ever experienced. Maybe I needed to be certain there wasn't someone better out there.

Then I met Patrick. Where everything about Sharp was light, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a lanky frame, Patrick was in contrast. His shoulders were broad like that of a quarterback. Patrick worked construction which kept his muscles bulging and his skin tone in a deep tan.

His dream of building a home somehow became my dream as well. I was never certain exactly how he convinced me to marry him. Only that he wouldn't have anything to do with my physically unless I committed myself to him and him alone. I think at that point Sarah began hanging around Sharp and I decided it was best move on.

Sharp and I bought chili dogs from a train caboose converted to a roadside food stand. We carried our lunch to a row of picnic tables and ate in a relaxed atmosphere surrounded by tall spruce trees.

"This is nice." Sharp managed, as I grinned at him.

"I've missed you." He said shaking his head, realizing it was a mistake to say anything further.

There was a sudden wall between us. A wall from the past, a wall named Patrick Wilson who was my husband of three years.

I nodded feeling the tears well up. I shifted my gaze to the long stream of water trickling from a damaged garden hose positioned to restore a patch of seeded lawn.

"Christ Jessie. You were the one for me, darn it! The one I was destined to be with. I'll never understand for as long as I live why and the heck you left."

"I don't know Sharp, I was too young."

"Not too young to marry that idiot Wilson."

"Sharp, please."

"He has a reputation for being a hothead. I worried about you for the longest time, ya know?" Sharp paused, his eyes reflecting a sadness bordering on grief.

"Patrick would never hurt me."

"Is that right?" Sharp said. I could feel his scrutiny as I turned my face to gaze at the chrome glistening on his Camaro.

"It is." I whispered, lying through my teeth.

I believed Sharp knew better than to pursue the issue.

"I'd heard some stuff around town about Mr. Wilson. For the life of me I could never understand why you'd leave me and run straight to him. Unless of course you were goin' for someone just like your own daddy."

"Just leave that in the past okay? I didn't escape to your company for the third degree. I need a friend right now. A friend that will not analyze my every move."

"Okay." Sharp sighed. "I'm sorry. It was just the past sort of jolted me as we were driving along back there. With us singing and everything, it was all so nice.....it all came flooding back and I felt resentment towards you."

"What do you want me to say Sharp? I felt the nostalgia too. I did. I can't change what happened, I mean, if I could go back- maybe I'd rethink ever leaving you to begin with. It's not possible though, okay. Like it or not things are not the same between us. I'm married to Patrick, for better or for worse."

"It's the worse part that's been causing me to worry Jessie."

"No need to worry about me, I'm a grown woman."

Sharp crumbled up the paper from his food and threw it into a can several feet away.

"What about the fire Jessie?"

"Oh for Pete's sake." I said standing in a huff.

"It's an honest question Jess." Sharp said, trailing closely behind.

"I don't care to talk about it."

"No?" Sharp said with an edge to his tone, his eyes welled up as if he were about to cry or something.

"Someone told me that your house burning to the ground was no act of nature. It was implied that someone may have had a hand in torching the place. What happened Jessie? I have a right to know."

I swung around and eyed Sharp with contempt. "Let the whole thing drop please."

"No. I won't. If you're being abused Jessie you need to get out of that relationship. I hate to think of someone hurting you like that.....like how your dad used to slap you around all the time."

"That was different. My dad was a drinker. Patrick doesn't touch the stuff."

"No?"

"No, never." I spat.

Sharp held my car door as I slid inside. A moment later we were back on the road heading towards Toledo.

"So, what sets him off then?"

"I don't know what you mean." I said swinging my gaze out the side window, praying that Sharp would just forget the entire subject.

Things fell silent in the car as I cranked up the volume on the stereo. My mind trailed back to the first time Patrick shoved me, the first instant he lost control of his temper and used me as a punching bag.

The house was just a dugout basement with a frame of walls constructed on wood above. Patrick and I had been working well up to the wedding, past the wedding and into the first three months on evenings and weekends. I was employed part time as a receptionist at Ravensview Paints. Patrick was burning the candle at both ends, working at his construction jobs during the day and on the house well into the night. We were both worn out, both on edge from fatigue and yet the house sprouted a roof, finished walls and flooring regardless.

The argument started over nothing really. I had used his graphite hammer to remove nails from a strip of trim. When Patrick went to find his hammer, it was no where to be seen. The hour was late, around midnight. The entire time he was searching, Patrick had been slamming things around cussing under his breath.

"I wish you'd just leave my tools alone Jessie." He finally shouted at me.

"I put it back, I know I did!" I replied standing my ground.

I should have known the fury building by the way his eyes appeared wild and yet vacant at the same time. I should have dropped what I was doing and helped him look for the hammer. I didn't though. I refused to fall into the same pattern as with my own parents and somehow, by not helping him search, everything did.

I was determined to clean up the front room. I was hunched forward using a dustpan to remove sawdust from the newly laid hardwood. Then it happened. Patrick stormed into the room and began ranting like a lunatic.

He pulled the dustpan from my hand and flung it across to the wall. A rain of debris fell from its path like the exhaust trail on an airliner. After a sudden nudge, I found myself tumbling head first into the drywall.

I swung around to face him, my heart breaking from the realization that he was not a protector like I had built him up to be. The truth was, he was an abuser, a man with that horrible trait polluting his blood. A man that I was now tied to legally, emotionally and physically.

He balled his fist and slammed it into my left butt cheek. The impact forced my back to seize up in pain. There was no mistaking the evil of his intent.

I began to cry and he sprinted from the room, embarrassed, ashamed. Several minutes later he returned with his graphite hammer in hand.

"I um... I left it on the back of the S10. I must have carried it with me when I went out for more trim. I'm um... sorry to have blamed you Jess."

That was the extent of it, the first time that is. A quick shove, a quick punch, then an awkward apology.

Patrick went out of his way to be accommodating to me for the next couple of weeks. Taking me to dinner, showering me with hand picked flowers, actually paying attention to my little stories about work and um...

We both avoided the issue of him loosing control of his temper like he did. I began to convince myself that it never really happened, that the back problem had occurred from working unused muscles as we constructed the house.

"Jessie." Sharp said, clicking off the stereo.

I eyed him with a curious gaze.

"I'm sorry. It's none of my business, your personal life... If you ever want to talk, I'm here for you. I should never have forced the issue. Forgive my stupidity, okay?"

"It's all right Sharp. I know where you're coming from. I love ya for it, honestly I do. You've always been there for me. Always......"

"I always will be too! I made you promises and I intend to be a man of my word."

"Thanks Sharp! That's probably why I felt comfortable coming to your door last night."

"Promise me something Jessie, if you ever find yourself in a predicament like with your old man, you'll call me, okay? Can you promise?"

"Yeah, Sharp, I'll call you. You'll be the first on my list."

Clarence Sharp grinned wide. "I love you too Jessie Pal." I began to laugh at him for calling me Jessie Pal. That's what he called me the first time I met him in kindergarten. "Jessie Pal," he had said darting from the cloak room with his arms extended. There was something endearing about the boy even then. The boy with the mesmerizing blue eyes and a dimpled chin.

Upon our return to his shop, I handed him tools as he installed a premium sound system into a BMW. Although the finished stereo was expensive, the sound from the unit in Sharp's Camaro was still of better quality.

The client stopped in at six p.m. and seemed elated at the finished product, so elated, he handed Sharp a hundred dollar tip.

"It's been a good day Jessie." Sharp said, on our drive back to his home.

"Yes it has." I agreed.

"Let's take a drive somewhere for dinner tonight, somewhere fancy."

"Naw. I'd better hang low for a while, I'd hate Preacher Sigley and Bette to hunt me down."

"Yeah. It'd be funny to see you posing as a church lady. Wearing those cat shaped glasses and sporting an old lady hair style."

"Sharp!" I said as we both laughed.

"I'll drop you back home, then run out for some groceries, okay?"

"I'd love a shower since I didn't have the opportunity this morning."

"Great." Sharp said in an agreeable tone.

A few minutes after Sharp pulled away, I heard the front door burst open. I had just removed my clothing and my toes had hit the spray of water.

"Jessie!" Patrick screamed.

My heart pounded with adrenaline. I had been found, like it or not, he was there to steal me back.

Without a chance to clothe myself, Patrick entered the bathroom, his face contorted furious. "You look all too comfortable in Sharp's house like this!" He accused.

"It's not at all like it appears." I snapped.

"No?"

"I needed a place to stay... I knew I couldn't come home since you were hell bent to keep me with Preacher Sigley."

"They were just trying to help you sort out the mess of the fire Jessie!"

"They weren't helping me, just driving me up the wall."

"Get dressed, you're coming with me!"

"Like heck I am!"

"For Christ's sake Jess. If I have to carry you out of here, I will. This is no place for you to escape to. You had a relationship with that man for Pete's Sake. You're lucky I don't kill him for taking advantage of you."

"He didn't take advantage. Get a grip Patrick!"

"Either you come with me now peacefully or I'll wait around here and clear this up with Sharp."

"I'll come, just leave him out of this."

"Your loyalty to Sharp makes me sick." Patrick said through a clenched jaw.

"I've told you a million times, we ended it with a friendship."

"Bologna. I've seen the way you've gawked at him when he's come around. I'm not a fool Jessie."

"Let's just go." I said throwing my clothes on haphazard and turning off the stream of water.

Patrick tugged at my hair in a rough manner as I stooped to lace my shoestrings.

"Come on we haven't got all day." He snapped. I stood and followed with my shoes untied.

Patrick peeled away leaving a black line of his tire print on the cement driveway. I was embarrassed by his disrespect for Sharp. Clarence was an innocent within the entanglement of my life. As we furthered ourselves from that side of town, I felt relief that Sharp escaped my visit unharmed by Patrick. I needed to stay away from him. I loved Sharp and intended not to drag him down with me.

Patrick remained silent as we headed out of town back in the direction of the Sigley's.

"Oh come on Patrick, at least take me home."

"You know I won't do that until we can be sure things are repaired between us and that everything with you is all right."

"Give me a break! I'm not holding any grudges, nor should you."

Patrick gazed at me with contempt then grunted.

Things remained silent as we made our way back, forty five minutes passed until we pulled into the Sigley's driveway.

"I can't believe you trekked off on that bike of yours all the way to Sharp's. If I wasn't so angry, I'd be proud of your stamina. No more running off. Listen to the preacher, he's there to help you through this mess."

"Just take me home Patrick, that's all I ask."

"I won't do that unless we reach some sort of understanding."

"Whatever you want, just don't leave me here." I said in desperation.

Patrick tilted his head in contemplation.

"Anything I want." He said under his breath.

I gazed at him knowing full well what he would ask.

"No, I'm not quitting my part time job at Ravensview Paints."

"You know how I feel about you working with those women. They put ideas into your head."

"You're being silly Patrick, we need the money. After my leave of absence is up, I'm going back."

"Unless you reconsider, I've got nothing more to say to you."

"Be reasonable Patrick, please."

The truck sped off as Bette hurried from the house. Her eyes were wide with surprise at my return.

"You can't imagine how worried Sig and I were about you. Never run off again! We thought you crashed somehow with that bike of yours."

I shrugged my shoulders then followed her into the house.

"Just in time for evening prayer." The preacher announced from the dining room. I shrugged my shoulders avoiding even a hint at politeness as I headed for the stairway, taking two at a time. If I was forced to stay that was one thing, but no one said anything about me being nice.

After a quick shower, I snuggled into bed. Everywhere I gazed there were statues gazing at me. The preacher was a non-denominational Christian, a Catholic convert. Most of his Catholic paraphernalia was kept in the spare guest room. Unlike in other religions, realistic statues with realistic faces were the norm. Mary was in several places and it seemed no matter which direction I moved, her eyes were upon me, watching, staring, judging.

I hurried to the drawer and pulled out several pairs of socks. I then took my time covering each and every face. For some reason I wanted solitude and with so many faces staring, I did not feel at all comfortable.

As I was about to nestle into bed, a slight tap became audible from the other side of the doorway.

"Jessie, are you dressed?" Sharp asked from the hallway.

"Yes." I said surprised that he had come after me.

He entered the room and was about to close the door when Bette coughed her disapproval from the other side.

Sharp gazed at me and his expression hinted that he was disillusioned.

"I just wanted to be certain that you were okay Jess."

"I'm right as rain Sharp, right as rain."

"Okay, you've seen that she's unharmed, now would you please go?" Bette snapped entering the room.

Sharp pivoted around and his gaze reflected displeasure at her being there.

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" Sharp inquired.

"No, he didn't. He wasn't too thrilled about me staying at your house, but he didn't hurt me."

"He'd better not." Sharp said with an abruptness to his tone.

Preacher Sigley then stormed into the room uninvited. "Please Mr. Sharp, you've seen what you came here to see, now I'm asking you to go otherwise I'm going to phone the police."

Sharp turned to the preacher then nodded.

"Jessie and I go way back. I feel an obligation to her of sorts, I've only got her best interest at heart."

"She's not your concern sir, you no longer have any strings attached... She's the concern of her husband Patrick now. You're not doing their marriage any justice chasing after her this way."

Sharp fought off a chuckle. "I'm not chasing after Jessie, for Pete's sake, she's a good friend is all."

"I know all about your history together. Patrick warned me you might show up here. I'm telling you to go. Don't force me to involve the authorities in this."

Sharp nodded as he hurried to the bed. He extended his hand and grasped mine with sweetness.

"You take it easy now Jessie." Sharp said as he released his grip then hurried through the doorway.

I could hear a muffled conversation between Sharp and the preacher. Bette perched herself on the bed next to me and began a lecture on the sanctity of marriage which drowned away all words from the floor below.

"...and furthermore, if you ever expect to be in a loving relationship you must learn to nurture your partners trust. Trust is a major part of a loving relationship. Running over to Mr. Sharp's house and spending the night with him......it was a horrible thing to do to your husband. Did you realize how overwrought with worry he was? We were out all night searching for you."

I had remained silent too long. I finally loosened up my lips and let her have it.

"I slept in the spare room alone! I needed to get away from you fanatics. You people are crazy. Do you bless the toilet paper too?" I said with venom.

Bette shifted her weight and hurried to the door slamming it behind. It was then I heard a key twist the lock from the outer door and I realized I was now a prisoner.

I hurried to the door and began to pound.

"Hey, let me out of here."

I could hear whispering in the hallway, but no words discernible.

"Hey!"

"Just pipe down and go to sleep Jessie. We'll unlock the door in the morning. We need a decent night's rest without the worry of you running off again."

"I'm not going anywhere for cryin' out loud."

"No, you're not because your locked in there." Sig responded with an attitude.

From the crack below the door I watched as their feet disappeared in the direction of their bedroom. A moment later, the lights dissolved from the hallway.

I repositioned myself in the bed and clicked off the light. In total darkness I caught a whiff of Sharp's cologne. It was a fragrance that was pleasant and yet masculine. Feeling a remnant of him, my friend from so long ago, I was able to drift off. Somewhere between the night and morn my senses became overwrought with a thick layer of blanket. This blanket was suffocating in a sense, stealing away all oxygen. Was it Patrick trying to smother me in my sleep? No, this blanket was a thick vapor of smoke, this blanket was my troubles, this blanket was the house on fire.