Page 24 of My Violent Valentine

“Okay.”

We wash each other in the shower, careful to make sure we get all the blood off. Brian washes my hair, and I wash his. And finally, when we don’t look like we just murdered a bunch of people, we get out, dry off, and get dressed in fresh clothes.

I watch as he puts on gloves and proceeds to put the destroyed bloody clothes in a large black garbage bag. Then he pulls the bloodied wallpaper off the wall and checks the rest of the room for evidence. He strips the bed and puts that in garbage bags as well. When he’s sure he’s got it all, he puts the bags in the trunk. He strips the plastic out of the interior of the car, rolls it up, and adds it to the rest for disposal, and then we get in the car to go eat. Just two people on a late night Valentine’s day date.

“Oh, wait…” I say.

He turns to me, a question in his gaze.

“I forgot to give you your present.”

He smirks. “I already got it.”

“No, I mean the thing I got you before we left.”

I go back into our room and take the wrapped package out of my bags and bring it out to him. I felt a little silly wrapping it with pink and red heart wrapping paper, until I got his gift and card. Now I wish I’d gotten him something more sentimental.

“It’s not as romantic as yours,” I say as he tears into the paper.

He pulls the black jacket from the box and presses the leather up to his face and inhales deeply.

“Dead cow. I approve.” He says.

“Yours was kind of beaten up. I thought you could use a new one.”

“I love it,” he says, putting the new coat on over his T-shirt.

12

BRIAN

I hadn’t actually seen the diner a few miles back, I’d seen the sign for the diner a few miles back. And as it turns out, those are two completely different things.

Once we got off the highway it was another three miles before Laney’s Diner appeared before us like an oasis in the desert with a lit-up neon blue sign.

A neon pink arrow points down at the diner—as though we could ever miss the one building in a vast wasteland of nothing as far as the eye can see. A flickering sign beneath the first sign reads, “Home of Laney’s famous blueberry pancake stack.”

There are only a few cars and a couple of semi-trucks in the cracking and buckling parking lot. It needs to be filled in and blacktopped. I park at the side of the building and go around to get Mina’s door. I do a quick weapons check and notice Mina doing the same. It’s been instinct for me for a long time now. These patterns of behavior are still new to her, yet it’s beginning to become her second nature as well.

I’m so proud.

I take a moment to become aware of my surroundings. There isn’t much to see. It’s all just flat desert with the occasional cactus popping up out of the ground. Even in February, it’s hot here in the day, but at night it’s far cooler than I expected. Mina’s not wearing her jacket so I take mine off and drape it over her shoulders.

“Admit it, you just bought this so you could wear it.”

She smiles at me and pulls the leather tight against her.

How a diner this far out in deserted bumfuck stays afloat is anybody’s guess. But it was the only food stop for miles and miles on that patch of highway, and the sign from the main road makes it seem like it’s much closer than it is. I guess Laney is betting once you’ve started down the road to the diner, you’re committed so you may as well see it through and get something to eat while you’re out here.

The diner itself is floor-to-ceiling glass windows all the way around except for the back where the kitchen is. It feels like we’re about to eat at a car dealership. The roof is all weird jutting angles, making me think this place may not just be mimicking a 1950’s aesthetic, but may actually have been standing here this long.

The door chimes when I open it for Mina.

“We’re on a date on Valentine’s day,” she says.

“It is not a date,” I grumble.

She punches me in the arm and winks. “You know it’s a date, Brian. And just in time, too.” She points up at the clock over the counter that, if correct, tells us it’s 11:47. Only thirteen minutes until this disgustingly sweet love holiday is over.

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