Revealing Annie - Freya Barker Page 0,4
her mother got herself locked up for aggravated assault.”
“Don’t spoil my fun,” she mumbles, before letting me go.
Tony clasps my hand in his.
“Nice place you’ve got here. Great location.”
“It’s not bad,” I agree.
The house is a rather standard three-bedroom, two-bath, with an open concept main floor. What makes it stand out is the large corner lot and the view of the Animas River both from my front and back yards. It’s built on the inside of a bend in the river. A lot of what I see is green, and although it’s not the mountains, the view isn’t shabby and I’m within easy distance to work and downtown.
“It’s just a little big for you. It needs something, maybe a dog?”
Blue, like a dog with a bone herself, grins as she heads down the steps, her husband shaking his head as he follows her.
I stay on the front steps with my hands in my pockets, watching them put Esme in the back seat. Tony is the last to open his door and lifts a hand in a wave I return.
“I’ll be in touch,” he calls out before getting behind the wheel.
I turn to go back inside, trying not to be too hopeful at his words.
Annie
I keep my life simple and my circle small.
I interact with the people at the store, like talking with the folks at the shelter, but I rarely—if ever—socialize outside of those two places. It’s not that I never go out, I go to the yoga studio three times a week and run the trails around the college on the other days, but I lead a predominantly solitary life.
My house is a rental trailer at the River View, a one-bedroom, but with a surprisingly large living space. I’m lucky it has a small carport that fits my Toyota Matrix perfectly. Off the bedroom I have a sliding door going out on a tiny deck, it just fits two chairs and a small side table, overlooking the river.
A far cry from what I’m used to but it’s comfortable and I’ve been able to put my stamp on it. I like spending time there, reading a book on my little deck, or hanging out on my comfy old couch, watching something on TV.
Twice I’ve shared a meal with Edward Shelby, my elderly neighbor. He’s a cantankerous old man, who doesn’t have much good to say about anyone, but he adores his rotund little pug, Blossom. Some days his arthritis gets too bad for him to walk her, so I do. In return he keeps an eye on me. Not that I asked for it, but he told me in no uncertain terms a woman alone needs looking after.
Mostly his idea of protection is to sit by his front window, monitoring all the comings and goings, which is why I wave at him when I pull up to my trailer. All I see is the curtain moving, Edward never bothers waving back.
I grab my groceries from the passenger seat and unlock my front door, walking straight into the small kitchen where I dump them on the counter. I’m just shifting things around in my fridge to make room, when my phone dings with a message.
Erin: You around?
I’m not on the computer or my phone a lot these days, except to connect with my friend, Erin, via Messenger. I met her years ago in an online support group and we hit it off. She’s the only real friend I have, the only person who knows everything there is to know about me. Well, just about everything. We only had opportunity to meet in person once, when I was in Texas for an interview. Erin lives in San Antonio with her husband, Conor, and their daughter.
I quickly stuff the perishables in the fridge and, leaving the rest for later, I grab my phone and plop down on the couch. It takes just a minute to sign into Messenger and call her up on video chat.
“Hey there, stranger,” she says with a smile. “How’s Durango?”
“Quiet.”
“That’s what you wanted, right? A little peace and quiet?”
It’s true, even though Erin doesn’t know all the details. Peace and quiet is what I was looking for and so far, so good.
“You bet,” I tell her with a smile. “Although life got a little more interesting the other day.”
“Oh?” she says; her eyebrows rise.
“Remember I told you about Blue? The EMT who volunteers at the shelter and just adopted a baby?”
“Yeah, I remember. Didn’t you tell me the baby’s