Routine
Your moral compass isn’t broken, Dex. It just works better when you have a North Star to guide you.
Routine was important for Dex’s way of living. Routine helped him keep on the straight and narrow path. It was important nothing disrupt his routine or else things could turn upside down for him. Every morning he woke up at six o’clock on the dot. He brewed a fresh cup of coffee. He made his bed. He got ready for work. He tidied up the dishes. Doing these things gave him a sense of control. Doing these things made him feel normal.
Pretending to be normal didn’t come easy to Dex. Pretending to feel remorse after he’s pulled the trigger on someone didn’t come easy to him. Pretending to care about someone’s feelings was foreign. His heart has felt like a frozen block of ice for almost his entire life.
Until her.
Doing things for her—nice things—did come easy. Not for the sake of being nice, but for the reaction that it emitted from her each time. Whether it was bringing her coffee every day before work or sending her a goodnight text, he enjoyed the emotion it evoked in her. He enjoyed doing it because he knew she enjoyed it.
Slowly, and then all at once, she was becoming part of his routine. Eventually, his entire routine.
There was a purpose now behind the mundane things he did every day. He made his bed so it looked nice for her. He tidied up the dishes so nothing was dirty when she came over. He got ready for work with ease because she was also getting ready for work. In a way, Dex felt connected to her knowing they were both at their day jobs at the same time. The only thing that got hard for him was trying to focus on anything else in his life. His thoughts were consumed by her. Everything he did, she was always at the front of his mind. Guiding him to get through each day he didn’t get to see her.
Well… at least each day he didn’t get to be with her.
He still saw her.
Every day.
Even if she didn’t know it.
When five o’clock finally struck, Dex whipped out his phone and immediately sent her a text:
DEX: I hope you had a great day. I can’t wait to see you on Friday.
She’s never been with a guy who gave her this much attention. As she slid her trench coat on at the office, she was delighted to see her phone light up with Dex’s name.
“Who’s got you smiling like that lately?!” Emma, her co-worker, teased her. Emma had reddish hair and a bright smile. She couldn’t help but blush being called out by her.
“This guy I've been seeing,” she answered quietly. “He’s an FBI agent.”
“Good Lord, __,” Emma placed a hand on her chest. “You’re messing with an FBI agent?! That’s hot.”
“He is hot,” she bit her lip and stared at Dex’s text, anxious to reply. Never has a guy ever texted her as much as Dex has. Never has a guy ever paid so much attention to her. And it’s only been two weeks of seeing him. “And if you’re implying what I think you’re implying—no. We haven’t messed around like that. Yet.”
“And there’s the keyword,” Emma laughed. “Well, when are you seeing him next?”
“Friday,” she said, “he’s taking me out to dinner again.”
“I can’t wait to hear all about it on Monday.”
When Emma clocked out and left, she immediately opened her phone again and saw another text from Dex.
DEX: Get home safely. It’s cold out here.
Dex parked his car right around her building and waited at the end of the block to watch her come home. He looked around the streets of people and sighed. No sign of her yet. His phone buzzed in his pocket. Of course, it was her.
I can’t wait to see you either. About to be home now. Did you make it home okay?
Dex smiled. She cares.
DEX: Yes, I did. :)
Dex looks up from behind his steering wheel and fiddles with his binoculars. He watches as the rush hour crowd crosses the street, people going their separate ways. Some went into the corner bodega, others crossed the street or entered cabs. After a few minutes of people-watching, Dex finally catches a glimpse of her walking down the street.
She was so mesmerizing to look at. So effortlessly beautiful. How did it come so easy to her to smile at strangers? Dex watches her through his binoculars and smiles to himself. He watches as she dodges a crowd and enters her apartment building. He waits again until he sees her apartment light up. When it does, he leans forward for a better angle.
“Welcome home,” Dex whispers to himself. He imagines being in her living room, waiting for her. Maybe with a fresh plate of dinner. What would he make her for dinner? Penne vodka? Roasted chicken? Anything she wanted.
She throws her bag on her chair and leans over her countertop, scrolling through her phone. After a few minutes, she puts her phone down and runs her fingers through her hair. Dex could almost feel her now. He sighs in content as he watches her prepare dinner for herself. Something she takes out of the fridge and heats up in the microwave.
When she goes to her bedroom, Dex waits patiently for her to come out. He’s not at an angle where he can see her room—he doesn’t want to be. It didn’t feel right to see her intimate like that. While she’s out of view, Dex closes his eyes and rests his head on the car seat.
He understands that what he’s doing may not seem normal to most people. But Dex wasn’t like most people. When he’s alone, everything feels cold around him. Everything he touches turns to gray. He doesn’t feel like he can radiate warmth from inside. The only way he can bring life back into things is to surround himself with people who can do that. And even then, it was hard to find people like that.
Watching her makes him feel that warmth. It makes him feel closer to understanding something like it. It gives him hope that maybe one day he can even have a fraction of it.
She doesn’t come out after a while. And when she does, she turns off the lights in her apartment and retreats to her bedroom. Dex sighs in content. He pulls out his phone.
DEX: About to hit the hay. Goodnight. :)
He starts up his car. His phone buzzes.
Me too. Goodnight, Dex :)
“Goodnight,” he whispers out loud.
***
Dex stared at himself in his bathroom mirror for a long time. He was in a suit jacket and white button-down with no tie. Friday finally came, and doubt was filling his mind again. He could never let himself be completely happy, even if nothing had gone wrong. What if this ended up being their last date? What if he somehow scares her off and she leaves him? He knows he would find it really hard to let go.
His phone buzzes. It’s her.
Ready when you are :)
After picking her up and making it to the restaurant, a different one from the last date, Dex sat across from her and watched her over his menu. She looked at the menu calmly and she looked as angelic as ever. He didn’t want to be at this restaurant, surrounded by all these people. He just wanted to be with her. He looked at her more to drown out the noise of the restaurant. She was wearing an off-the-shoulder navy blue top and black jeans. Her hair was curled at the ends, but her hair was pushed behind her shoulders. He could never tire of looking at her—watching her.
She closes her menu. It startles Dex. Preparing for the worst, Dex feels his heart plummet in his chest. He feels his anxiety course through his veins. He braces himself for her rejection. And then—
“Do you want to ditch this place and get ice cream instead?”
Dex flinches at the question.
“Uh—what?”
“I’m serious.”
“You’re serious?” His mouth is half open as he looks at her in disbelief.
“Yes,” she laughed, resting her chin on her knuckle. “I don’t like this menu. I feel overwhelmed. And I've been craving chocolate ice cream since eight this morning.”
Dex raised his brows in amusement and surprise, unable to hide his smile. “I mean, if that’s what you want—then yeah. Let’s go.”
Dex left cash on the table for what drinks they already ordered and she apologized to the waiter. She met Dex at the door and shrugged her coat on. Dex put his arm around her shoulders.
“Do you know where to go?” Dex asks, letting her lead the way down the block.
“Yes,” she nodded. “Just a few blocks up.”
He unwraps his arm around her shoulders and instead finds her hand to hold. She intertwines her fingers with his and squeezes his hand. He suddenly feels that weight he felt before being lifted off his chest. He mirrored her spontaneous nature and couldn’t stop smiling all the way to the ice cream shop.
When they arrived at the shop, Dex looked at the giant LED ice cream sign in the window. Luckily, there wasn’t a long line. There weren’t a lot of people. He sighed in relief.
The bells jingled at the door, and a young girl at the counter greeted them.
While Dex looked around the shop, scanning for threats, her eyes were glued to the menu.
“I definitely want chocolate, but what toppings? Cookie dough? Fudge? Definitely fudge,” she thought aloud. “What are you getting, Dex?”
“Oh, I think just vanilla,” Dex shrugged.
“Just vanilla?!” She asked incredulously. Dex laughed at her reaction. “No cherry? Sprinkles?”
“I don’t know. Should I?” Dex asked. If she wanted him to get toppings, he would.
“Absolutely.”
She orders their ice cream for them and Dex sits at a table, wiping it first with a napkin and making sure it’s clean. For him. Mostly, for her.
He feels that warmth radiating off her when she sits down next to him at the table. She moved the chair so she could be closer to him. Dex adjusted himself in his seat so he faced her. She handed him his cup of vanilla, with sprinkles and whipped cream. She had her own cup of chocolate with oreo crumbs and fudge.
“Cheers,” she tapped her cup with his. Dex smiled. And then it dawned on him like a gray cloud over his head. Like it always has.
“What is it?” She asked, a spoonful of chocolate in her mouth. “Do you not like the toppings?”
Dex blinks hard at the cup as the memories fill his mind instantly. Painful memories. Well, the memories itself wasn’t painful. It was the reminder of this cup of ice cream that brought him back to a time when he didn’t know what painful memories yet were.
“I just…” Dex trails off, furrowing his eyebrows. “I haven’t had ice cream since before I was sent to an orphanage. Yeah,” he remembers now, and he meets her eyes, “that was the last time I had ice cream.”
She sits for a moment, taking in what he just said—he’s said an awful lot in just a few sentences. He’s revealed an awful lot that she didn’t know before. Dex is an orphan. His parents aren’t here. He hadn’t tasted ice cream since he was a kid; it was practically a taste of his childhood. She’s not a doctor, but she knows how to handle people when they reveal something so deeply personal. She’ll listen. And she’ll turn it into something positive.
“Well,” she says softly, “it’s been too damn long since you’ve tasted something so sweet.”
Dex looks at her when she says this. He smiles. But he disagrees with her. Because he remembers kissing her just last week. He takes a small spoonful of the ice cream and lets the creamy goodness soak in his tastebuds. He sighs in relief.
“How does it taste?” She asks.
“Good,” he nods. “Really good.”
His heart breaks at the same time. But looking at her mends it back together.
“Do you want to try mine?” She asks with a small smile. She scoops some for him and feeds it flirtatiously to Dex. Dex groans.
“Aw, come on. Yours is way better,” Dex shakes his head.
“Let’s switch,” she urges, handing him her ice cream. “Seriously. I want yours.”
Dex looks at her in amusement and trades cups with her. She couldn’t be any more perfect. Caring. Kind.
“How are you so naturally… kind?” Dex finds himself asking between bites.
“I’m really not,” she says sheepishly, “you’d be surprised. Most of the time, I really hate people.”
Dex laughs and shakes his head in disbelief. “I don’t believe you. You? Come on.”
“It’s true. People are fake—they’re selfish and judgmental. It’s just easier to choose peace and kindness than to fight back.”
“Is it?” Dex questions.
“It’s easier to sit with your choices in the end. You feel better knowing you chose peace. At least, I do.”
He wants to say he does too, but he can’t. Because it’s not true.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says.
“Is it tough as an FBI agent? It must be hard to choose peace in a setting like that. Retaining bad guys and whatnot.”
“It’s hard,” Dex nods, echoing what he’s learned to say years ago. “It’s really hard. Tensions are always high. You have to have a hard exterior. It’s a lot to be like that all the time.”
“You don’t have to be like that with me,” she says.
“I know,” Dex affirms. “That’s why I like spending time with you. I don’t have to be a certain way.”
She smiles and takes a bite of vanilla ice cream.
“I am so glad I added toppings to this.”
***
On a rare winter night that it’s not freezing outside, Dex and she opted to walk back to her apartment. Hand in hand, Dex holds her tight and close. She rests her head on his shoulder, and that makes him feel important.
“I had a good time tonight, Dex. You’re nice to me.”
Dex smiles. “You’re nice to me.”
“You can’t copy what I say,” she laughs.
“It’s true,” Dex slows down his pace, knowing they’re approaching her apartment soon. He doesn’t want this night to end.
She stops him from walking and faces him. She places her hand on his cheek and caresses his cheekbone under the dim light of the street. He takes the initiative and wraps his arms around her waist, bringing her closer to him. He brushes the hair out of her face and looks deeply into her eyes. He pauses, carefully watching her like a beautiful piece of art that’s only meant to be looked at, not touched. Or at least not touched by someone like him—someone unworthy of being allowed to be this close to her. If she knew about his childhood, what would she think? Would she think him a monster?
Would she understand him?
Would she leave?
His confusion must be etched on his face.
“What is it?” She whispers.
Dex shakes his head in response.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he says in a regretful tone. She squints her eyes, cocks her head.
“It’s only our second date,” she laughs lightly but quiets down when she sees the serious look on his face. It’s all in his hazel brown eyes, that he means what he says. She doesn’t know a lot about him other than that he was an orphan. That he was in the army; he had a therapist. He must have done some things he’s not proud of—but she can’t see herself ever thinking differently of him. Not when he’s been sweet to her.
He looks away from her like he’s trying to figure out something in his head. She noticed he often had that puzzled look on his face.
“Dex,” she calls his name before leaning in and kissing him. The kiss is slow…tantalizing. If she were a black hole, he’d surely be sucked in. Whatever worries he had in his head seemed to be gone by the look on his face. His hardened features became soft. There wasn’t a darkness in his eyes anymore—even though she would gladly get lost in it if he let her.
“I get lost in my head a lot,” Dex struggles to say. “I need someone—I need an anchor when that happens.”
“Is it your job?” She assumes he means about his line of work. She can’t imagine it being the easiest job in the world. Being surrounded by so much violence and danger.
“Sometimes,” Dex says, “but other things too.”
“Like what?”
Dex swallows—and looks away again. He wants to open up to her so badly, but he doesn’t want to scare her off. Not when he’s got her exactly where he wants her.
“You don’t have to tell me about it now,” she continues. “Another night.”
“Another night,” he repeats. He leans down and kisses her again, pressing his lips on hers for a long time.
Soon, they reach the door to her apartment building. Dex already feels that familiar weight fall on his chest, the moment he knows he’ll be alone again. Away from her, away from the reality he wants.
He won’t know what to do with himself when he’s home again.
“I had another great night with you, Dex,” she says, pulling away from his hand but letting her fingers linger.
“Me too,” he sighs in disappointment. A tone she doesn’t pick up on.
“You know, if you ever need to talk, you can always call me,” she offers. “I know what it feels like to be alone.”
Dex was hopeful to hear her words but wasn’t sure if she was ready for his kind of loneliness. He sincerely hoped that when he did open up to her, she wouldn’t see him differently.
“That’s good to know,” he tells her. “Goodnight, __.”
“Night, Dex,” she said with a smile. “I’ll be waiting for your call.”
When she entered her building, Dex waited outside for a few more minutes until he saw she reached her apartment. She’s safe. He contemplated staying, watching from afar. But truthfully, he was exhausted. It took a lot for him to do what he did tonight—almost open up to her. For once, he felt satisfied with the interaction he had with her, down to the way he kissed her. He was happy she offered to call her anytime he needed it. He’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t need it now. He always needed it. His mind was always racing.
And it always got louder the closer he got to his apartment. The closer he got to being alone. His hands twitched as he waited for the elevator to reach his floor. When it did, it was like his feet turned into cement blocks as he walked to his door, to enter his quiet and cold apartment. Away from the world, away from her. Doubt filled his mind again, as it always did. Worried that this ounce of happiness he’d been given would be taken from him as quickly as it arrived.
He hangs his coat in his closet. He pushes the rack of clothes to reveal the safe tucked in the back. Opening it, he grabs the first tape he can find and plays it on his cassette.
He falls back in his bed, staring at the ceiling. It stares back at him.