The Dinner Invitation

*Physical violence and sexual violence

She thrust the shovel into the grass and dug deep. Her body hurt, but it beat the dull, achy pain of knowing who he had been all along. The pain never stopped. It plagued her. Tortured her. Fallon stood straight up, beads of sweat ran down her toned shoulders, a slick of sweat coated her neck. She wiped the stinging sweat from her face with her thin white t-shirt, now stained brown and green. The digging had started after midnight. She'd spent the better part of the day on this and the best part of her youth on him. The depth was almost right. She could finally plant her garden and then slip into a hot bath.

Fallon often held her thoughts in so tightly, she suffocated them. When it came to reliving the night, her purity was tainted by blackness, the night she'd become a bloody, bruised bag of a woman, she failed at erasing the memory of him from her mind. This was the only way. It was deserved after all, her thoughts fueling her as she plunged the squared shovel head into the damp earth. She had tossed the dirt next to the opening of the six-foot long and three-foot wide hole. She'd been at it for a few hours now. Almost there, she thought. The sound of the shovel head penetrating the ground, over and over, hypnotized her.

Breathing heavy, Fallon climbed out of the hole. She pulled her green, rubber-covered gloves off, dropped them and the shovel on the ground to her right. She plopped down on her sun-beaten, wooden bench. Planting pots of zinnia, daisies, and allium were scattered between her and the dark hole. In a daze, she contemplated her life choices. The only choice she regretted was letting Finn Connelly get his hooks into her. When she realized he was never really a man at all, it was too late.

Before she got started again, she'd have a glass of sweet tea.

On Friday evening, Finn and Fallon walked out of the movie theater. As they stood in front of the box office, under the marquee, cicadas chirped. Their pitchy drone filled Fallon's ears as she gazed at Finn.

"What a good movie!"

"Mhmm," she murmured.

"It was so much better than the chick flick you chose last week. That movie sucked!" He heckled lightly.

"Well, I'm not surprised you feel that way," she spoke softly, "Considering it was full of explosions, death… dismemberment." She scrunched up her face.

"What are you saying?" Finn gave her the raised eyebrow.

"I'm saying that we definitely have a difference of opinion when it comes to movies."

"Oh. Yeah. Well, I hate to tell you babe, you always bone movie choices."

"What?" She laughed. "What are you saying right now?"

"Well, to put it in words you understand – I'm picking the movies from here on out." Finn flashed her a smile and nudged her arm with his.

Fallon smiled up at Finn and then shook her head softly. "You're a funny guy."

The night was warm, but a cool breeze cut through the summer air and grazed Fallon's uncovered back. Fallon hadn't experienced a moment like this before. The night was perfect.

"Nice night." Finn flashed his charisma. He led her down the sidewalk to the car.

"Yeah, it is. It's beautiful." She smiled at him.

"I should have told you something earlier."

"What's that?"

"You look hot tonight."

"Thank you, Finn." She pulled the thin, blue shawl around her bare shoulders, covering her tank top. He put his hand on her shoulder. She felt a flutter in her stomach. As the sound of their feet echoed against the Main Street buildings, Fallon wondered what the rest of the night would look like. Finn's car was a hundred feet, parked along the bricked sidewalk. She was not in a hurry to make it there.

Finn squeezed Fallon's hand. "Are you up for some dinner?"

"Sure!" Fallon's face flushed. Yikes! Too much, Fallon. Too much.

"Good." He smiled. "I'm taking you to The Oyster Bar."

"Really? That's so expensive."

"You're worth it."

Her heart beat faster. Impressive. She could see a future with Finn. They'd only been dating a short time, but she really liked him. When they got to the car, she ran her fingers down the side of the black Mercedes. He opened the door for Fallon and she slipped in. "Thank you." She beamed. He rounded the front of the car, keys in one hand and the other in his beige, linen pants. Full of himself and not afraid to show it.

As he drove down the 101, Fallon gazed at the bright stars, listening to the mixture of the ocean waves and radio, and let her guard completely down. The Oyster Bar sat just off the shore between Rockaway and Bay City, Oregon. Dimmed hanging lights on the eaves of the wrap around porch made it easy to see the twinkle of Rockaway in the distance. It was that particular view of the shoreline she had always hoped she'd see from exactly where she was in that very moment.

They were shown to the table out on the patio. "Oceanside service," the pleasant man said.

"Thanks," Finn said abruptly.

There was a chill coming in from the ocean. Fallon felt it but told herself she'd never been warmer. She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders.

From what she'd seen, Finn was not refined. Rich, yes, but not refined. The Oyster Bar was the only sophisticated restaurant within fifty miles of Rockaway. Fallon could never afford it on her own, and it hadn't been the kind of place Finn had taken her before tonight. Their drinks came first.

"So, you're having the steak?"

Finn gulped half his beer before answering, "Yep. You?"

"Um, prawn fettucine."

"Isn't that a lot of carbs for a later dinner?"

"What?" What the f—. I sipped my wine.

"Okay. Here's your fettucine," the pleasant server said as he placed Fallon's plate in front of her. He placed Finn's next, less pleasantly. The entrees came just in time to save the evening. They sat serenely in the euphoria of dinner. The ambiance was fragile. In the silence, Fallon was content.

"I've got a surprise for you," he announced after shoving a piece of steak in his mouth, the words tumbling over the meat.

"Oh?"

Finn nodded and swallowed sharply. "You're going to love it." He shoved a piece of potato in his mouth. Then, took a swig of beer.

Fallon fidgeted with the napkin in her lap. "What's the surprise?"

"It's a surprise, babe. I have something to give you first." He pulled out a small jewelry box from his shirt pocket and placed it in front of her on the table.

She took her last bite of prawn, watching him closely. She sipped her wine while staring at the black box that sat loudly on the table. Oh my god. Oh my god

"Open it." He urged, pointing his steak knife at the box and then at Fallon. Then, back to his steak and potatoes.

She opened the box. "Earrings!" She exhaled. "They're beautiful. Thanks, Finn. You didn't have to do this."

"Put them in, babe." He hailed the server.

Fallon pulled her compact and put the diamond earrings in. She proudly showed them to him. "How do they look?"

"They fit you well. Dessert?" He smiled back at Fallon as his fingers were snapping for service. She wasn't surprised when the server was annoyed with him. "Can we have a dessert menu?"

"Right away, Sir."

Finn missed the nasty side eye, but she didn't. "I'll have the strawberry sponge cake."

"And for you, Sir?"

"I'll have the molten lava cake."

"Yum," she said after a few bites of her dessert. "This is really good. Light."

Finn was halfway through his. "This shit is good. Mmhmm."

"Thank you for a wonderful night, Finn. This dinner was the best experience I've ever had. I never would have been able to eat at this place or have a five-star meal." She was grateful for the date, but a little put off by his dinner habits. Still, he was tall, dark haired, and good looking. What was a little vociferous eating?

After they left The Oyster Bar, Finn took Fallon on a scenic drive. He caressed her hand as he sped down the highway. She let the car seat cradle her and waited for the upcoming surprise.

Finn pulled into the parking lot of the Ocean Sands Inn.

"What are we doing here?"

"Well, I thought it was time. We've been going out for a few weeks. I think it's finally time we did it."

"Oh. Wow." The night felt like a cheap suit. "Um, I'm not sure I'm ready for that, Finn."

"Babe, I've been patient with you. Very patient. A guy's got needs. I need you to show me how much you appreciate me."

"I'm sorry. I'm just not ready."

His anger flared. "Haven't I been patient with you?"

Fallon wasn't sure what he expected her to say. "Wait. What? I don't know what that means. I didn't know there was a timetable on when we should be intimate."

"Haven't I shown you a good time tonight?"

"Yes, Finn." She sighed and hoped this newly experienced storm would pass.

"Don't you like the earrings?" He gripped the steering wheel, showing the whites of his knuckles. "They were expensive. I tried to treat you right tonight."

"Yes, but—"

"But what, Fallon? I've been good to you. It's time that you do something good for me." He put his right hand on the back of her neck.

"Finn, I'm not ready. Not for this." She began to panic. Fallon could feel the grip on the back of her neck get tighter.

He scoffed, "Not ready? What's it going to take for you to get ready?"

"Finn, I think you're being ridiculous. It's only been a month." She tried to unclasp his hand.

"I say it's been long enough. A whole month, Fallon, is not nothing." He snarled through clenched teeth. "I don't need you downplaying how I feel." His grip clenched down on the back of her neck, and the more she tried to move away, the more he squeezed.

"Finn, you're hurting me. I know you're disap—"

"Oh, I'm hurting you, am I?" His rage building.

"Yes, please stop."

"Yes, please stop," he mimicked.

"Finn, you're better than this. Stop."

"I deserve better than this, Fallon," he said as he slammed her head into the dashboard. "I don't need you to tell me who I am," he growled. "And you don't get to keep saying no."

He slammed her head against the dashboard again, this time harder. She thought she might pass out and that scared her more than the threat of dying.

Finn started the car, whipped the Mercedes out of the parking lot and headed up 101 Highway. She realized she didn't know him as well as she'd thought, but he'd never been violent with her. She felt confused and devastated. She couldn't believe the boy she had a crush on would act this viciously. One thing she knew, she had to keep her mouth shut if she wanted to get home.

"I can't believe you're being such a bitch, Fallon!" His anger spiked again. He pounded the steering wheel.

"I'm sorry, Fi—" He slapped her.

The car swerved a bit. "You're going to make me wreck, you bitch! You just need to shut the fuck up. I don't know why I wasted my time on you." He slapped her again.

"Please stop, Finn. Please!"

"Awww," he mocked Fallon. "Why do you girls make us have to beg? Huh, bitch? Why! His slaps turned into punches.

Fallon protected her face and head until he stopped the car at one of the highway lookout points. She held a glimmer of hope when the car stopped that he'd seen how out of control the night had gotten, how out of control he'd gotten. She prayed silently that he'd apologize and take her home. She just wanted to go home.

He put the car in park and turned to her. "To think of all the time and money I've wasted on you." His voice was steady, almost calm.

"You're such an asshole," she whispered under her breath.

"What was that Fallon?" His voice got quieter, almost soothing.

In the calm of his voice, it crossed her mind that he might kill her. So, it was better to go down fighting if that's what was going to happen. She cocked her fist back and let it go. She began wailing on him and didn't stop until he let out a laugh. "Take me home, Finn. Now! And, if you think about touching me again—"

His eerie laugh cut her off; it was as if it had been bottled up, a sound so guttural that she immediately regretted standing up to him. Another punch landed on her already bruised and welted face. He paused before saying, "Oh that's it bitch! I am going to fucking kill you! Then, I'm going to take what I paid for. Oh, yeah, I'm going to take what's mine."

Two hours after it had all begun, he took her home. When her house came into view, he slowed the car to a roll. "I'm done with you." He pushed Fallon out of the car. "It wasn't worth all the trouble after all."

Her knee hit the pavement first and then she rolled. She tried to stand but couldn't. So, she crawled. Her shaky, bloody hands grabbed patches of grass and pulled her body across the front lawn. When she reached her yard, she collapsed. Finn pulled the car door shut and sped off, leaving me lying on the wet grass. Her head was throbbing, but nothing hurt worse than her heart.

As she got to the door, she reached her bloody hand to the handrail. Fallon hoisted herself up and managed to get herself in the house. Her face was swollen and bruised, splattered with the evil that had taken to rearranging her perceptions.

Months later, Fallon's bodily injuries had healed, but as much as she wanted to be rid of that night, to be rid of the fear of Finn Connelly, she couldn't shake him. Everywhere she turned, she saw his face, the rage he displayed that night. Loud noises made her jump. Men who looked at her too long made her shake. She was sure he wouldn't come for her because he got what he wanted, but she wasn't sure how she was going to get back to the young woman she was before that night. She'd spoken with a support group, but it did nothing to help, at least not fast enough for her liking. There was only one thing she could do. One thing she thought might put an end to the torture – serve him a cold dish.

In the few months following, Fallon had taken cooking classes. She thought it would take her mind off what happened, give her something else to focus on. While cooking didn't accomplish a forgetful mind, it did give her a base with which to fight back. At least that's what she told herself. Fall was always a great season for stews and teas.

Fallon dialed Finn's number.

"Hello."

"Hi Finn. It's Fallon."

"What's up, Fallon."

"I've been thinking about the last time we were together. I've been missing you. I was hoping we could talk."

"I'm not sure we have much to talk about."

"I understand. But, Finn, you might have been right. I wasn't treating the way you deserved." Fallon swallowed hard as her stomach threatened to unleash its contents on the floor.

"Go on," his voice was as full of himself months later as he was that night.

"Well, I was thinking you could come over and we could share a meal. I'll cook."

"I think I can find some time. If you exhibit better behavior this time around. Do you think you can do that, Fallon?"

"Oh, most definitely, Finn. I'll be my best if you come to dinner. Promise." The determination crept up in her. "How about this weekend?"

"Friday," his voice demanding.

"Perfect. See you then." Fallon's hand began to shake. She quickly hung up the phone.

In the days to follow the invitation, Fallon received her order of monkshood just in time for their Friday date. Her plan was to make steak stew for dinner and serve him a beer. She'd tell him they should eat in the back yard, underneath the lights she'd put up. "It will be romantic. A do over for the night at the restaurant." Fallon knew he couldn't resist steak in any form, and he definitely wouldn't reject the beer. The poison wouldn't be in the food. The amount of stew he would eat, along with the beer, would just make him slow, disarm him. The poison would be in the tea she'd offer him after dinner. She'd say that it was good for digestion, to help with "later." Only, after he drank the whole cup, the plant toxin would cause rapid tingling and numbness. He'd have a heart attack. Fallon would leave him to sit in the chair as she dug the hole for him. Sheer hatred would give her the strength to roll him out of the chair and into the hole. By late afternoon, after a cup of sweet tea, she'd plant all those zinnias, daisies, and allium in the spot he'd decompose. The blooms would show her just how strong she was and what she could do when she put her mind to finding her confidence again. She didn't need to kill him, but boy did it feel good to be rid of the fear of Finn Connelly. Once and for all.