Unable to deal with the thoughts of her in the house and the expression on her face when I woke up, I packed up a few things and headed out for a long hike. Being alone was best for everyone, especially me. I guess some things don’t change. I was a screwup as a kid, getting myself in trouble repeatedly, and here I am again. Screwing up in the most epic of ways.
Forever. Not a word I allowed myself to believe in while I was serving my time. It didn’t feel attainable. Something for others and nothing I deserved. Then I took a dare that changed my life. With a few clicks of a mouse I put myself out into the world and the universe tossed me a Hail Mary and an opportunity to change my life for the better. And like everything else in my past, I blew it.
“Why don’t you take a break, Drew? You’ve been going at it for hours without so much as a drink of water. I don’t need you getting heat stroke.”
Pausing with the wrench in my hand, I turn my head to my dad. He’s standing opposite me, arms folded across his chest. It’s the most like the old version of my dad he’s looked since I arrived. With a single brow raised, I know he means business and I stand, setting the tool to the side. I’ve been in this position for too long, and my back is tight. I stretch it and do as instructed, turning toward the break room for a bottle of water.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you?” he asks from the doorway.
“Hoping not to.”
Sighing, he sits down at the table, pushing the chair across from him out for me to take. Doing as instructed, I sit and take a long swig from the bottle of water.
“I screwed up with Ally.” He doesn’t say anything so I keep speaking. Telling him about the dare, the website, and how we chatted for weeks before we both ended up back in Pickerton Grove. He listens without judgment, laughing at some of the stories and then when I get to her reaction the other morning he lets out a long whistle.
“Can you really blame her? She’s probably embarrassed.”
“I know. I screwed up. I wanted to tell her, tried to multiple times that night. I swear I did.”
“As true as that may be, you’ve got a rough road ahead of you. Tell me, is this about your friend being angry or—?”
“I love her.”
He stands and walks across the table and stands next to me. I look at him and he smiles and lets out a chuckle. With his hand on my shoulder, he squeezes and says, “The gossip mill is going to love this.”
Groaning, I sit alone in the room as he walks out in a full belly laugh. Not cool. The rest of the day goes by quickly, my mind a little clearer after sharing what happened with my dad. He didn’t bring it up again, and for that I’m grateful.
When I get home, I throw a frozen pizza in the oven and clean up while it bakes. Polishing off the whole pizza while I watch sports highlights, I admit to checking my phone repeatedly for a message from Ally. I contemplate e-mailing her but that may send her over the edge and the last thing I want to do is cause her more pain. When the highlights turn to the upcoming basketball season, I flip the channel and come across Sweet Home Alabama. Settling in, I wonder if Ally is watching too. I take the opportunity to snap a picture of the movie and text it to her.
Me:
To my surprise a few minutes later a response comes through. It’s a shot of the current scene of the movie. She’s watching too. Smiling, I take the response as an opening and send her another text.
Me: There’s so much I need to say. Let me know when you’re ready.
Ally: Tomorrow at our fishing spot? After you get done at work.
I want to tell her to forget about work that I’d rather be with her. Instead, I respond that I’ll see her then and continue watching the movie.
This is the longest fucking day of my life. Well, that’s not true. The day of sentencing was by far the longest and worst day, but this is a close second. So much rides on my conversation with Ally tonight. I hardly slept last night, planning what I would say. Of course I’ll lead with “I’m sorry” and say it as many times as necessary to get back in her good graces. I’m prepared to lay it all out on the line. To tell her the entire story of my life before I whispered to her on that damn site and before we ended back here in Pickerton Grove.
Knowing that Ally is forgiving and kind gives me hope that things will work out. I was serious when I said I loved her. I do. More than I deserve. I can only hope she feels the same, or at least that she doesn’t hate me. I’m not sure I would survive her hating me. The thought of that happening fills my gut with dread. Worry.
My last job of the day is driving a luxury sedan to check the alignment. With the air conditioning cranked and the tunes blaring, I take the opportunity to drive through town. Since I’ve been back, I’ve not come down to Main Street very often outside of stopping in the market for a few things. Keeping a low profile seemed like the best course of action to avoid explaining my whereabouts over the years. Sure, I could lie or dodge the truth a little but, contrary to the lie by omission with Ally, I’m not a dishonest person.
To my surprise, when word made its way around town that the new guy at the garage was in fact Gary Nelson’s son, or former step-son, the talk was limited to a low hum. Sure, there were people who brought their cars by just to get a glimpse of me and see how I turned out. The concern seemed to be more about my time spent with Ally since she’s been back more than anything. Each time someone asked me if I was going to take her on a proper date instead of rolling around on the grass or going fishing, I would simply reply with “Working on that” and hightail it out of the conversation.
Stopping at the main intersection of town, I watch the folks walking down the street. Some are dressed for work, possibly ending their day with a little shopping while others are more casual, holding their child’s hand and eating ice cream cones. Two kids stop at the crosswalk in front of me, and I smile as the boy and girl push one another and laugh all the way across the street. They remind me of Ally and me when we were that age. I wonder if they’ll grow up to cross the line between friendship and more. Fall in love with their best friend.
When I was their age, I wouldn’t have thought it possible and yet here I sit. My world flipped on its axis and my heart opened for the possibility of more. All of that is because of Ally Honeycutt. I can only hope I haven’t screwed it up completely.
By the time I return to the garage, Gary has closed up the shop and the owner of the car is waiting with him in the office. Parking, I hop out and hand the keys off, confirming everything is good to go, and head to the breakroom. I changed out of my work clothes before I took the car for a spin so I only need to grab my keys and lunch box before I leave.
Just as I’m sliding behind the wheel of the truck Gary shouts from the doorway, “Good luck, kid. Be honest and it’ll all work out.”
Offering a smile, I climb in the cab and turn the ignition, hoping he’s right.
Chapter 27
Ally
It feels like an entire swarm of angry bees has taken up residence in my stomach. Most people compare nerves to butterfly flutters. While that may be true for the good kind of nerves, the dreaded nerves are bees. Swarming and angry. Making me feel like I’m going to lose my lunch just thinking of seeing Drew.
Granny tried to offer me booze before I left, “A little liquid courage,” she said. I declined and now I have regrets.
The last few days have been stressful, and I’ve spent a lot of time thinking. I was beyond hurt and angry when I saw Drew’s tattoo. When I realized he and D were the same person. I re-read all of our e-mails, looking for clues that I would know it was him. There were none. That’s because I knew a boy named Andy and had never met the man he became. Now that I have, I don’t know how I feel.
I want to hate him. I want to be able to walk away from him and this town and go back home to my life. I want to delete his e-mails and pretend I never met D. I want to erase the laughs and fun I’ve had with Drew since I’ve been home. Then the memory of his mouth on mine a
nd the soft caresses of his hands on my skin conjure up different emotions. Want. Need. Love.
Somewhere along the way from my jerk of a cat clicking on a website to making love, I fell headfirst and without a net in love with my best friend. Except, I don’t know if the way I feel is enough. His deception cuts deep. Trust is of the utmost importance to me. Without that, is there even a foundation? Can we build something with meaning if I’m constantly worried he’s keeping things from me?
I’m struggling to connect the version of the boy I once knew to the man he is today. Outside of my romantic feelings for him, we have a friendship. Something we fell back into easily, a new version through D and his e-mails. Goodness this sounds like a really bad television movie or a teen-angst drama. Probably more like the drama. I did ugly cry for days.
Last night when I received his text with the picture of my favorite movie playing, I looked up at my own television and the tears started again. There are too many parallels between that movie and our story to ignore. Unlike the movie, I’m not sure we’ll have our own happily ever after. While I believe living my life with a heart of forgiveness and kindness, some things can’t be excused.
When I woke up this morning, my eyes were puffy and red-rimmed and felt like sandpaper. I managed to drag my ass out of bed and settle in on my dad’s hammock in the backyard with cucumber slices on my eyelids. I spent the time contemplating what I would say. How I would respond to every scenario I conjured up. By the time the coolness of the cucumbers was gone I was nowhere near prepared to see Drew.
Emotionally exhausted, I allowed myself a nap. An attempt to reset my mind before I got ready to face this conversation and hopefully find some resolution.
Granny packed a basket of snacks and drinks, insisting I take it with me. While I tried to leave it behind, not wanting Drew to get the wrong idea, I’m grateful for something to do with my hands as I lay out the blanket and sit on it. My feet dangle off the edge of the dock when I hear a door shut in the distance. The bees are back and I take a deep breath, hoping they settle and I can make it through this.
I don’t move as he approaches. Sitting with my hands twisting in my lap, I stare out across the water. He sits down next to me. We remain quiet, only the sounds of nature filling the awkwardness. Minutes tick by and then he speaks.
“I’ll probably never stop saying this but, I’m sorry. So sorry, Ally.”
Unable to form a sentence, I take in a slow breath, willing my body to not produce a single tear. Stay strong and listen. Hear his words and then leave. That’s the plan.
“I should probably start at the beginning. After we moved away, I was destroyed. My mom had ripped me away from the only father I’d known and the only home I wanted to have. You, Ally. You were my home. My soft place to land when life was shitty. I begged her to let me call you. To send you a birthday card. She refused. Time went by and we had moved around so much I was trying to just make it in one new school after another that eventually I stopped asking. But I swear to you I never forgot. Some of my best memories are with you.”
He pauses, shifting in his seat. I’m not sure if he’s uncomfortable because of the conversation or the hard wood. For me, it’s a little of both. Clearing his throat, he continues, “When we finally settled my junior year of high school, I started to rebel. Running with assholes who were more interested in getting high and cutting school than getting an education. I managed to graduate, but it wasn’t easy. College was a pipe dream, so I set out to find a job that paid well.”
“My plan was to save up enough money to buy a car and move out. Live on my own without my mom dictating where I lived or when I had to move. The problem is, I was a dumb kid with a bit of an attitude. As much as I wanted to work and make money, I also saw no reason not to spend it on beer and partying. By the time I was twenty, I was still at home with my mom and working three part-time jobs. Then I ran into a kid from high school. He hooked me up with a job at a big golf club and resort. The real money making position was working as a caddy but I don’t know shit about the game so that was out. Instead, they hired me to work with the grounds crew before discovering I was a decent mechanic.”
“You did like working with your dad when we were kids,” I say without looking at him.
“I did. Still do, in fact. Long story short, I had access to the golf course because I worked with the grounds and maintenance crews. You know what’s fun to do when you’re a dumb kid? Breaking into your place of employment with your so-called friends to party and impress girls. I pushed it one too many times and the cops came; I tried to make a run for it on a golf cart.”
That catches my attention and I turn my head to look at him. He’s looking off wistfully, a grin on his face. I try and fail to hold in my giggles.
“You tried to make a run for it in a golf cart? That must have been the lowest speed chase ever.”
“Kind of ridiculous, huh? I didn’t put too much thought into but my instinct was to run. So I did. Then the cart ran out of juice, the cops caught up to me and I was arrested. The list of my violations was long and since I had a few minor infractions as a minor the cards were stacked against me. My court-appointed lawyer tried to work a deal, to enter a plea and get me minimal jail time but the rookie prosecutor was looking to make a name for himself. He refused a plea and pursued every charge imaginable. That’s how I ended up in prison.”
I start to speak but he continues with his story. “How pathetic is that? I spent three years in prison because I was trying so hard to impress people who once I was sentenced, I never heard from again. A single decision for absolutely the wrong reasons, and I will forever mark the ‘yes’ box on any application that asks if I’ve served time.”
“That’s awful. Seems like such a kid thing to do. I can’t believe they sent you away for that long.”
He doesn’t say anything and continues to stare ahead. We sit in silence again for a while. Needing to do something, I reach into the basket Granny packed and pull out two bottles of water, handing one to him. I take a long sip from the cold water and return the cap while waiting for him to continue.
“I learned a lot when I was away. About myself and about who I want to be. Prison changes a person in many different ways. I like to think in my case it was for the better. At least I did until you sent me that message.”
“Did you know it was me?” I ask, my voice quiet.
“Yeah. I blew the picture up and there was no denying it was you. I’d know your eyes anywhere. Plus you have that scar.” He lifts his hand like he’s going to touch my eyebrow but then drops his hand to his lap.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
Sighing, he stands and begins pacing. I shift to turn, watching him move back and forth, his hands laced behind his neck, obviously in distress. This all sucks so bad. Why couldn’t he just have been honest?
“I don’t know. We started e-mailing, and I liked getting to know you as an adult, I didn’t want to ruin it. Truth be told, I never thought we’d actually meet again. I assumed that, eventually, we’d just stop talking.”
Scoffing, I turn back to face the water. Just stop talking? Like it would be so easy. Now I’m just annoyed.
“That came out wrong,” he says, taking his seat again next to me. I roll my eyes and he reaches for my hand. I don’t pull away but I also don’t unfist it either. “Ally, I didn’t know what to do. I’m a fucking criminal, and you are everything that is good in this world. I was selfish, but I wanted you in my life as long as possible, knowing eventually you’d move on. You’d find someone else to fill your time and a pen pal wouldn’t be high on your list of priorities.”
His words hit me in the heart. He thinks so little of himself. Using the word “criminal” like it defines who he is not just a small part of his story. That makes me sad for him. For who he is deep down, for the boy who made a mistake and now pays the price.
“I had no idea the universe would throw us into each other’s paths the way it did. Seeing you
here, in this town, it was overwhelming and everything I didn’t know I needed. Spending time with you like we have, getting to know you, has been everything to me. You have to know that. The other night. It meant something to me.”
His mention of the other night is all it takes for the tears to appear. I don’t want to cry in front of him. I don’t want him to see how hurt I am. How much I needed his words but more importantly how I long for his arms around me. To comfort me and take all of this hurt away. Only, he can’t. He’s the creator of my suffering, I don’t see how he can be my savior.
“Fuck, baby please don’t cry.” His hand cups my cheek and turns my face toward him. His own eyes are glossy, full of emotion.
“You hurt me, Drew. I was . . .”
“I fell, Ally. I know it’s fast and I shouldn’t tell you this. I should let you walk away from me, hate me and never speak to me again but I can’t. I fell for you and want you to know that while I regret everything I’ve done to hurt you, I will never regret loving you. I’m sorry for every tear you’ve shed this week.”
His declaration hits me in the gut. Bees fighting butterflies. His words are messy and beautiful. Every feeling and emotion he has is evident in the way he searches my eyes. Searching for confirmation or acknowledgment. Exactly what I can’t give him right now.
“Thank you for telling me your story. I’ll be leaving in a few days. Granny was released to drive and Miss Beverly is going to check in on her.”
His hand drops along with his gaze. Looking down, he nods his head and then stands. “I understand. You have my number and, well, my e-mail. I hope you’ll use them when you’re ready. I meant what I said, Ally Cat. I love you.”
Without another word, he walks away, leaving me alone on the dock. I sit until the sun sets and only the moon lights the water below my feet. All cried out, I rise and pack up to go home. It’s time for me to get back to my life and put both Drew and D behind me.
It Was Always You Page 14