Quiet times

Run or Stay

Bell didn’t drink the coffee.

It sat between her and Tony, steaming and then going cold.

Like her.

"Bell?" Tony said again.

He was watching her the way you watch a stray dog.

Like if you moved too fast she’d bolt.

"Yeah," she said. "I’m okay."

It was a lie and they both knew it.

But he didn’t call her on it.

He just pushed the second cup closer.

"I got you a refill. Black. No sugar.

Like you like it."

She stared at the cup.

How did he know she didn’t take sugar?

She’d never told him.

She’d just watched him watch her for three weeks.

"Thank you," she whispered.

They sat there for ten minutes and didn’t talk.

The cafe filled up around them.

Laptops opening. Milk steaming.

A baby crying by the window.

Normal life happening and Bell was sitting in it with a phone in her pocket that felt like a bomb.

Finally Tony said, "You can tell me to mind my business."

He said it with a small smile, like he was giving her permission.

"But you ran last night.

And you look like you haven’t slept.

So. What happened?"

Bell looked at the door.

At the window.

At the street outside where any car could be his.

"Nothing," she said.

"Bad dream."

Tony nodded.

He didn’t believe her.

But he nodded.

"Okay. Bad dreams are the worst.

Want to walk after your shift?

Clear your head?"

She should say no.

Ghosts don’t do walks.

Ghosts don’t do people who notice when they don’t sleep.

"Okay," she said.

His face did that thing again.

Relief.

Like she’d just agreed to something bigger than a walk.

Her shift ended at nine.

She wiped tables on autopilot.

Kept checking the door.

Kept checking her phone.

No new texts.

That was worse.

Tony waited outside.

Leaning against the brick wall with his hands in his pockets.

When he saw her he stood up straight.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey."

They walked.

No destination.

Just down Fourth, then left on Elm.

The city was starting to wake up.

Delivery trucks. People with dog leashes.

For twenty minutes neither of them spoke.

It should have been awkward.

It wasn’t.

"You don’t have to tell me," Tony said finally.

"If something’s wrong.

But I’m here.

If you want to."

Bell kicked a pebble.

Watched it skitter.

"I used to live in a small town," she said.

It was the most she’d said to him about before.

"I figured," Tony said.

"You have that small town quiet."

She almost smiled.

"The kind where everyone knows everyone’s business."

"Sounds awful."

"It was."

Another block.

"Did something happen?" Tony asked.

Gentle.

"There?"

Bell stopped walking.

Looked at him.

She wanted to tell him.

About Eli.

About the aunt.

About the text.

About the man who was probably watching her right now.

But the words stuck.

Because once she said them out loud,

they became real to someone else.

And then she couldn’t take them back.

"Not now," she said.

Tony didn’t push.

"Not now," he agreed.

"But maybe later?

When you’re ready?"

She nodded.

They kept walking.

Ended up at a park.

Sat on a bench.

Tony pulled two donuts from his jacket pocket.

Wrapped in a napkin.

"Peace offering," he said.

"From the place with the cinnamon rolls."

Bell took one.

It was still warm.

They ate in silence.

And for twenty minutes Bell forgot about the text.

Forgot about the other T.

Forgot about being a ghost.

It was the most dangerous she’d felt in five years.

---

That night she didn’t sleep again.

She sat by the window with her notebook open.

Wrote and crossed out the same line ten times.

`I think he’s here.`

`He found me.`

`I should leave tonight.`

Her duffel bag was already under the bed.

$200 in the lining.

The black notebook.

One change of clothes.

The same bag she’d left town with at 17.

At 3am her phone lit up.

Unknown number.

`You look tired.

Saw you at the park.

Cute donuts.

We really should talk, Bell.`

Her blood went to ice.

He was watching her.

He knew where she lived.

He knew about Tony.

She threw the phone across the room.

It hit the wall and the screen cracked.

She didn’t cry.

She hadn’t cried in years.

She packed.

---

Morning.

She called in sick to the cafe.

First time in two years.

Marla was annoyed but didn’t argue.

She called in sick to the cleaning job too.

She had until noon.

Bus tickets.

Anywhere.

Chicago.

Detroit.

Somewhere he wasn’t.

She was zipping the bag when there was a knock on the door.

Three knocks.

Soft.

Her heart stopped.

"Bell?"

Tony’s voice.

Muffled through the door.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

"Bell, I know you’re in there.

Marla said you called in sick.

I brought coffee."

Another knock.

"Please. Just two minutes.

I’m worried."

She should stay quiet.

He’d go away.

But what if he didn’t?

What if the other T saw him here?

She opened the door.

Just a c***k.

Chain still on.

Tony was there.

Two coffees.

Dark circles under his eyes.

Like he hadn’t slept either.

"Bell," he said.

Relief again.

"Can I come in?"

"No."

He looked at the chain.

At her face.

At the duffel bag on the floor behind her.

Understanding crossed his face.

Slow.

Then fast.

"Oh," he said.

"Oh. You’re leaving."

Bell didn’t answer.

"Because of me?" he asked.

"Did I do something?"

"No," she said quickly.

Too quickly.

"It’s not you."

"Then what is it?"

She looked down the hall.

Empty.

Looked out the window.

Empty.

"I can’t," she whispered.

"I can’t tell you."

Tony set the coffees down on the floor.

Didn’t push the door.

"Okay," he said.

"But can I say something first?"

Bell nodded.

"I don’t know what happened to you," he said.

"And I’m not going to pretend I do.

But I know what it looks like when someone’s scared.

And Bell, you’re scared."

She swallowed.

"I’m not asking you to stay for me," he said.

"I’m asking you to stay for you.

Because running didn’t fix it last time.

Right?"

The words hit her like a slap.

Because they were true.

"How do you know?" she whispered.

"Because I’ve been running too," Tony said.

"Different reasons.

But same thing.

And it doesn’t work."

Silence.

The dryer downstairs thumped.

"What do you want from me?" Bell asked.

Tony thought about it.

"I want to help," he said.

"If someone’s hurting you.

If someone’s threatening you.

Let me help."

Bell shook her head.

"He’s dangerous."

"Then let me be dangerous too," Tony said.

And he meant it.

Bell stared at him.

This boy from high school.

Who remembered her coffee.

Who waited.

Who showed up at her door with coffee when she was trying to disappear.

"Why?" she asked.

"Why do you care?"

Tony smiled, but it was sad.

"Because you laughed at my bad bus story.

Because you like quiet mornings.

Because when you look at me you don’t look through me.

And I’ve been looking for that for a long time."

Bell closed her eyes.

Running was safe.

Running she knew how to do.

Staying was terrifying.

Staying meant trusting.

Staying meant maybe getting hurt again.

But running meant never having this.

Never having someone bring her coffee.

Never having someone say her name like it mattered.

She opened her eyes.

Reached up.

Undid the chain.

Opened the door.

Tony didn’t move in.

He just stood there.

Waiting.

"Okay," Bell said.

"Okay. I’ll stay.

For now."

Tony exhaled.

Like he’d been holding his breath.

"Okay," he said.

"For now."

He picked up the coffee.

Handed her one.

"So," he said.

"What do we do first?"

Bell looked at the duffel bag.

Then at Tony.

Then at the door.

"We figure out who he is," she said.

"And we don’t let him find me again."

Tony nodded.

"Deal."

They drank the coffee.

Cold now.

But she drank it anyway.

---

That afternoon they went to the police station.

Bell didn’t give details.

Just: "Someone’s been contacting me.

I’m scared."

They took a report.

Said they’d look into the number.

Said to call if anything else happened.

It wasn’t much.

But it was something.

On the way home Tony asked, "Can I stay with you tonight?"

Not like that.

"On the couch.

Just until we know more."

Bell hesitated.

Then nodded.

That night she slept four hours.

First time in days.

Because he was on the couch.

Because he was there.

In the morning there was another text.

Unknown number.

`I see you have a friend now.

That’s good.

He can watch you for me.

- T`

Bell showed it to Tony.

His jaw tightened.

"We’re not running," he said.

"We’re fighting."

Bell nodded.

For the first time in five years,

she didn’t reach for her bag.

She reached for his hand instead.

It was shaking.

But she held on.