The way the brunette screamed when Dzinski spurned her attempt at seduction, you’d think she’d walked into a bloodbath. Her tirade would’ve made sailor blush. He took it all across his back, a gentle smirk on his lips as he continued to wash the dishes and set them in the wooden rack next to the sink.
Her screaming went from an ear-piercing soprano down to a guttural alto. Dzinski was surprised at her range. He wiped a plate and tried to imagine what she might sound like standing in a spotlight with an orchestra in the pit below her.
“You better turn around or so help me god,” she said, most of the vitriol spent.
“Is that all of it?” Dzinski said.
Her eyes narrowed to slits. The corner of her lips turned down and her jaw dropped in anticipation of another fit. Dzinski lit a cigarette and leaned back against the counter, crossed his arms over his chest and waited.
The brunette deflated like a punctured tire.
Her head sagged, suddenly too heavy for her small shoulders. She took a few steps backward until she bumped into the wall, and then slid against it until she sat on the floor. Dzinski finished his cigarette, watching the smoke travel through the slats of sunlight coming in the window behind him. He ran the cold water, doused the cherry and tossed it in the can under the sink.
The girl’s head was between her knees and her arms wrapped tight around her. She was mumbling something. Then sobbing. Then bawling.
Dzinski leaned against the counter and let her work it all out. He thought about how much she’d probably have to ball up and push down to live the way she’d been doing. Some people can do it easy, and some can bite off, chew and swallow part of themselves to learn to do it. He figured this girl here was the latter.
After a few minutes, he lit another cigarette. She said something. He walked across the kitchen and hunkered down a little ways away from her.
“I didn’t catch that,” Dzinski said.
“Can I get one of those please,” the brunette said, rubbing wet, red eyes with back of her hand.
Dzinski lit one and passed it to her. She took it with trembling fingers. They sat on the kitchen floor and smoked for a bit.
“Sorry about all that,” she said. “I guess it just built up, it wasn’t really about you anyway.”
Dzinski pulled a napkin from the table, handed it to her and nodded.
“I know kid,” he said. “I know.”