Bound by Love

by Stephie Walls

  “Seriously? Why? I never would have thought you were that type of girl.”

  “You keep saying that. You seem to have a lot of preconceived notions about me.” I can’t hide the hurt in my voice. He does seem to think things about me that aren’t true, and as much as I want him to know and accept me for who I am, he doesn’t seem to be able to get passed who he has made me out to be in his mind.

  I go on the defensive. “You think I’m some snobby, little, rich girl who has had everything handed to me; although, I’ve never given you reason to believe that. You didn’t believe I could possibly like country music, which is just odd in and of itself. And now, you’re surprised that a twenty-year-old girl in college would smoke pot. I’m not an addict. I just prefer it to drinking, which no one should find odd at all, even though that’s just as illegal for me as drugs are.”

  I’ve gone from hurt to irritated. I’ve only known this guy a few weeks, and really not that long based on how many times I’ve actually interacted with him. I hate for people to judge others without knowing them. I prefer to be surprised by people as they let me get to know them, loving the unexpected little things that come. I wonder if his attraction to me is because he seems to think I’m out of his league, making this more of a hunt with me as his prey.

  He doesn’t let me go, but looks down at me. I see concern in his eyes, not judgment. “Just promise me you’ll be careful. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. I can’t tell you that I like it, because I don’t. I don’t do drugs. I don’t want to be around them, but I like you, and I want to get to know you.” Leaning his forehead on mine, I feel a connection with him, one I can’t explain and don’t understand. Just as quickly as it started, he has dismissed it. “Are you ready to go?” I just nod.

  The little league game was really cute. It’s dark outside and unusually cool. Gray waved at his friend, Matt, when we got there, but we never did stop to talk to him. He was busy with the kids; then after the game, with the parents of the kids. I love the fact that this is the type of friend Gray has. I subscribe to the theory that men who are actively involved in the lives of kids are just good guys.

  Gray told me that Matt actually works at the DC on first shift, but he doesn’t have any kids. He started coaching because his nephew played on the team, but that was a couple years ago. His nephew aged out of little league, but he kept coaching because he loves it. My heart did a little swoon at this news. I wonder if all of his friends are like this. Usually, people run in crowds with others who are similar to them. If Gray is anything like Matt, I’m in deeper trouble than I thought. I’ve only spent a few hours with him, but can’t imagine being anywhere else. A niggling fear enters my thoughts; I haven’t been with anyone, either physically or emotionally, since Will, and I had zero desire to do so before meeting Gray.

  He jokes around with me as we watch the game. I had no idea he was so playful. I’m not a playful kind of person; I’m very serious, reserved, type-A to the letter, and high-strung. He is the exact opposite; nothing seems to bother him. He doesn’t get worked up; he’s just laid back and easy going. I think he could bring a smile to the face of the most depressed person. He’s cheering for kids he doesn’t even know. His love of football is obvious, as he drags me up and down the field. Gray is making all these crazy noises as he cheers for Matt’s team. Then one of the little guys scores and he lets out this loud “Heeee heee,” almost like he is laughing, but it is drawn out. I watch as he skips down the sideline. I’m grinning from ear to ear.

  Matt’s team wins, but I’m oblivious to the final score. Gray is jumping up and down yelling for the team, when suddenly, he scoops me up. Swinging me around, he plants a big wet smack on my lips. If he gets this excited about a little league game, I wonder how he reacts to adult life.

  He waves again to Matt, and we go back to his truck. It’s almost ten o’clock. I didn’t realize how tired I am. If I hadn’t smoked a freaking bowl before he got to my house, I might be able to keep my eyes open. The side effects of that stuff are twofold. Yes, it calms my nerves, but a couple of hours later I’m ready to crash. As if he read my mind, he says, “I know it’s early, but I have to be at work at seven in the morning, and I had a really late night last night.”

  “No worries. I’m pretty tired. I should turn in, too,” I utter, stifling a yawn.

  He takes me back to my apartment and walks me to the front door. He kisses me quickly on the cheek, letting go of the hand he has been holding. “I had a good time tonight, Annie. Thanks for going with me.”

  “Me too.” I’m about to ask him if he wants to come in when he says, “I’ll call you later.”

  “Bye, Gray. Be careful driving home.” He winks at me; then he’s gone.

  What just happened? I know I have a tendency to read way too much into things , over analyze the hell out of every detail, but something seems off. He was fine until we got to my parking lot; then he suddenly became distant. I brush it off, too tired to think about it. I head inside and go straight to bed.

  I didn’t hear from Gray for over a week. I didn’t call him. I didn’t see him at the DC either. I’m there every day now that I’m fully into this contract, working on setting up my team to proceed with the job after I pull out. He doesn’t work Monday through Wednesday, but I’m surprised when I don’t see him Thursday or Friday.

  I try not to worry too much about it, but it’s a battle I’m slowly losing. I can’t stop thinking about him or what I might have done at the football game that has caused his sudden lack of interest. The only thing I can figure out is the pot. He smelled it in my apartment. He asked me about it. I didn’t lie. It’s something I do. I hadn’t even told him about the coke or the occasional use of ecstasy. I wouldn’t ever do it with him around based on what he said that night about how much he dislikes it. He doesn’t realize that I have never been around him when I wasn’t on something – usually coke.

  I refuse to contact him. I’m not that girl. I do not chase men. I also don’t ask Lynn about him. I leave the DC on Friday having accomplished a lot, but feeling totally defeated. I don’t know how it’s possible to miss someone after such a short period of time, but I do.

  On Saturday morning, I pack a bag to go spend the weekend with a friend in Columbia. We’re going to go to Five Points tonight to listen to some local band that he swears is the next Dave Matthew’s. I laugh, but agree to go. I always have fun with Jeff and figure it will take my mind off Gray. Jeff’s a great guy I met my freshman year at orientation. I had planned to attend the Columbia campus, but couldn’t make it work with Waltons, so I stayed in Greenville and commute to Spartanburg. Oddly enough, in the one weekend that I was at orientation in Columbia, I met some great people that I’m still friends with. Jeff is one of them. He has somewhat of a crush on me, but knows I’m not interested. He flirts, which makes me feel good. He’s protective, which makes me feel safe in a city that is unfamiliar to me. And he loves me like a friend should. He’s never crossed the line of friendship, but I know if I gave him even the slightest inclination that I was interested, he’d be all over it.

  Later that night, we’re downtown listening to a band that is actually pretty good, although I don’t remember the name of it – too much weed in a short amount of time. I’m feeling really good, dancing outside under the stars, listening to the bluesy funk coming from the stage.

  Jeff is laughing at me. “You know, I’ve never see you really let your hair down and relax, Annie. It’s a good look for you.” Ignoring him, I keep dancing, oblivious to all that’s going on around me and all the people that are in the streets. I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. Instantly, I stop dancing when I see the caller ID, Gray Dearsley. I just slip it back in my pocket. “Annie, who was that on the phone? You look like someone just smacked you.” Jeff’s concern is endearing, but I’m so not going into this with him.

  “No one worth talking about,” I say and try to fake a smile. Sensing something’s awry, he comes up, wraps his arms aro
und me, and gives me a quick hug. Taking my hands, he tries to get me to Shag with him. I throw my head back and laugh. Only Jeff would try to Shag to this kind of music in the streets of downtown Columbia.

  “Shagging is the dance of the South, Annie. You can do it to any music, and any Southern gentleman worth his heritage will make it look cool while he does it.” Jeff twirls me around. I don’t shag, but he pretends like I do. I feel my phone vibrate several more times, but I ignore it. I’m here to have fun, and Jeff is doing a great job of entertaining me. It seems like we dance for hours. He’s pretty drunk by the time we leave. I drive us back to his apartment and help him up the stairs. Just pointing toward the guest room for me, he promptly goes to his room.

  I change into my pajamas before climbing into his super comfy guest bed. Leaning over, I grab my cell out of my jeans to see who has called while we were out. Gray called one other time and sent several texts.

  Gray: Hey Annie! I no it’s late. Gimme a call when u get this.

  Gray: I went by your apt when I got off but u weren’t home. Call me.

  Gray: I’m going 2 bed but I’ll leave my phone on if u get this. Call me. I need 2 talk 2 u

  I debate responding tonight. It’s late, I’m tired, and honestly, the guy hasn’t called in over a week. I don’t want to seem overly anxious. I hate games that people play. Deciding not to play them, I send him a text back.

  Me: Out of town this weekend. B back at the DC Monday a.m.

  I set my phone on the nightstand, thinking he won’t respond tonight since he said he was going to bed. I doubt a chirp of a text message will wake him up. Snuggling into the down comforter, as I lay back into the pillow, my phone vibrates.

  Gray: Can u come back earlier? I need 2 talk 2 u.

  Me: I’m visiting a friend n Columbia. Leavin here Mon & goin straight 2 work.

  Gray: I know u don’t owe me n e thing but I wudnt ask if it wasn’t important. I need 2 talk 2 u b4 u go back 2 the DC.

  Me: Ok, Gray. I’ll come back L8 2morrow pm. I’ll text u when I leave here.

  Gray: Thanks Annie. I’ve missed u.

  I don’t bother responding to that. I’ve missed him too, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to tell him that after he hasn’t called for over a week. I can’t believe I agreed to change my plans for him, but if there’s something wrong at the DC I’d rather know before I walk into it blindly on Monday morning.

  Jeff and I have brunch the next day, and then he takes me shopping. He’s not the guy who bitches about going with women. I don’t think he actually LIKES shopping, but I think he likes seeing me happy; therefore, making him happy. I really wish I could see him as more than a friend, but it’s just not there. I tell him briefly about Gray while we are wandering around. He looks skeptical about this whole going home early thing, but in true Jeff form, he says he understands and to call him if I need anything. I hug him, assuring him I will. I’m back in my car heading back to Greenville, not knowing where the day went. When I get on I-26, I send Gray a text.

  Me: Im headn back. Do u want 2 come 2 my place?

  Gray: Y don’t u come 2 Topher’s?

  Me: Don’t know where he lives?

  Gray: Take 85N, exit 56, rt at top, 1st rt, 1st left. U’ll c my truck on the rt

  Me: Ges I’ll c u n an hour or so

  I’m expecting some sort of response, but I get nothing, so I set my phone back down on the seat and turn the music up. I light a bowl I packed before I left Jeff’s apartment, and relax into the seat. I light a cigarette when I’m done and just enjoy the ride. (Yes, I smoke too, but never around anyone who doesn’t smoke and never in public; that’s just rude.) I follow Gray’s directions to Topher’s house, suddenly thinking how odd it is that he didn’t say come to my house, but said come to Topher’s. I realize they live together, but it’s odd that he would refer to it as belonging to Topher. Geez, here I go again. I can’t shut my brain down when it wanders off into places it never should.

  I see Gray’s truck and pull in beside him. He was obviously waiting for me as he comes barreling out of the house as soon as I put the car in neutral. He is walking toward me, so I just watch him, thinking he’s going to come to my side of the car. Instead, he walks to the passenger side and slides in. He looks like shit. It doesn’t look like he’s slept in days; he looks sad, or is that scared? His normally bright blue eyes are almost gray and dull, like there’s no life in them, with deep bags lining his bottom lashes. He looks like he has been crying. Shifting in my seat, I turn to him. “Gray?” He doesn’t say anything. I reach out, putting my hand on his arm. He looks me straight in the eyes and pierces my soul. “What’s wrong, Gray?” I just want to wrap my arms around him and tell him that whatever it is can’t be that bad, but what the hell do I know. I haven’t talked to him in over a week and really know virtually nothing about him.

  “Annie, I need to tell you something. I haven’t called you in a week, trying to figure out the best way to go about this, but there’s no easy way. I should have told you before we ever spent any time together, but once we had, I wanted to spend every free moment I had with you. Then, I didn’t have the balls to tell you because I know you are going to walk away.” He’s being genuine; the sadness in his eyes makes my stomach turn. “I haven’t slept in days, drank way too much, but just can’t come up with any other solution. I owe you the truth,” he states, as he looks down, unable to make eye contact any longer.

  “Gray, whatever it is can’t be that bad? I’m mean, what happened? Did you get fired?” He shakes his head, but offers no information, so I figure I’m going to keep guessing.

  “What, do you have kids?” Again, shakes his head and offers nothing. “Have some crazy STD?” Again, no. “Geez, Gray, you gotta help me out here. I mean the only other thing you could possibly tell me is that you’re married.” I say laughing. His eyes meet mine and I’m waiting for his head to shake, for him to deny it, but he just looks at me, and my laughter dies. I feel the color drain from my face. Instantly, I’m nauseous.

  “You’re kidding me, right? You’re not really serious?” My mind is spinning out of control.

  “I’m sorry, Annie. We’re separated, but yes, I’m married,” he finally says in a whisper.

  I don’t know how to process this. I mean, I’m twenty years old. I don’t know people who are married or separated for the love of God. I just sit in silence, staring out the window, unwilling to make eye contact with him. I have kissed another woman’s husband, granted I didn’t know he was taken, but I feel dirty.

  “How long?” I ask.

  He’s confused by the question. “How long what?”

  “How long have you been separated?”

  “A little over six months. I’ve been crashing at Topher’s trying to figure out what to do from here and get back on my feet.”

  “What’s her name?” I know these are dumb questions, but for some reason I need to make this woman very real in my mind to fully comprehend what he is saying to me.

  “Abby,” he says with zero emotion in his voice. “We’ve been married a couple years, but never should have gotten married to begin with.”

  “Then why did you?”

  “I don’t know. We dated all through high school. When she graduated from college, it was just kind of expected that we would take the next step. I thought at the time I was making a mistake, but convinced myself that it was the cold feet all men get before popping the question and walking down the aisle. But the feeling never went away, not even after we got married. I tried to make it work, but when she started wanting to buy a house, talking about babies, I knew if I was going to leave, it had to be before we put down roots.” There’s a long silence in the car while he allows me to process what he’s just admitted. He’s looking at me like he’s expecting a response, but I don’t have one. Part of me wants to cry, and part of me wants to pop him in the mouth.

  “I need to go, Gray.” It’s what he was expecting. He looks hurt, but resigned to accept my
response. I can’t think about him being hurt right now. I’m hurt. I don’t know when or how I expected him to tell me this information, but somehow he should have worked it into the conversation.

  “Annie, I know you’re mad. I don’t blame you. I didn’t want you to find out from anyone but me. I really do care about you. I want the chance to get to know you, but if you don’t want to see me, I get it. I won’t contact you unless I hear from you, and I won’t make any commotion for you at the DC.” He reaches for the handle of the door and pushes it open. I’m staring straight ahead of me. I can’t look at him, or I’ll lose my shit. I don’t cry in front of men. He leans back over, kisses me on the cheek, and then says, “I hope you’ll call me.” With that, he gets out of the car. I put my car in reverse – completely numb.

  I spend the next few days mulling over what he told me. I cry a lot, but I’m not really sure why. I feel this link to this guy, but really know very little about him, which he has just proven to me. At first, I felt like he had slapped me in the face, but then I started thinking about the few times I had spent with him and how much I loved being around him. I love his quirky playfulness, his smile, his warm eyes that could melt ice, and the way he has to bend down to reach my lips to kiss me because he’s so much taller than I am. I find him endearing, sexy, and dangerous all at the same time.

  Luckily, I haven’t had to see him this week, but tomorrow is Thursday. I need to say something to him, even if it is just that I can’t see him anymore. I have looked at this from every point of view I could think of. I’m disappointed that he wasn’t up front with me, but can’t really blame him. I wouldn’t have spent any time with him had I known. I’m kind of ticked that Lynn didn’t tell me, and I’m sure she knows. I also know that it took a lot for him to come clean – I could tell by the agonizing look on his face. Maybe he had just made a mistake when he was young. Should he be punished for the rest of his life for it? Do I want to be with someone that couldn’t make his marriage work? Doesn’t that mean he will never make one work? Does this really have anything to do with me since he didn’t leave her for me? It gives me a little peace knowing he had been gone for several months before I ever even started making appearances at the DC. This back and forth has gone on for days, and I am no closer to a decision.