by AnonYMous
We didn’t linger at the all-night station. As soon as Stevie and Jamie came out with four coffees, we were on our way toward home in silence—silence so thick and deep you could wade into it waist high.
By the time Stevie pulled into my driveway I’d called myself every name in the book for ever agreeing to go out with this guy.
To my utmost amazement, Shaun climbed out of the truck and offered me a hand to get down, just the same as he did every other night. This time, I ignored his hand.
He began to walk beside me.
I said, “Don’t bother.”
“Got to,” he answered. “Got something to say.”
I didn’t want to hear it. I stomped my way to my front porch.
When we reached my doorway, he touched my arm. “I’m sorry for being an ass, Court. Stevie told me you were involved with someone, but since you’ve been going out with me, I thought maybe things changed.”
“Nothing changed,” I whispered. “Ronnie’s just been busy is all.” Right then my feelings were so mixed up, I just wanted to go hide somewhere and cry.
“Well, as a friend, will you write to me?”
“I. . . .”
“Please, Court. I really need you to while I’m over there.”
The thought of him going over there into hell had been tearing me up for days. Just friends, I reminded myself. I can do this for a friend. “I’m not much good at writing letters, but I’ll try.”
“That’s all I’m asking.” He brushed my cheek with the tips of his fingers, and then he turned and ran down the steps to the truck.
I stood there and watched as they pulled out and drove two doors down to Jamie’s house. I laid my palm against my cheek, where the sensation of his touch lingered. Then, filled with an intense sadness and deep confusion, I went inside.
All those feelings haunted me for a week after he left. Then Ronnie came strutting back into my life, and my world returned to normal.
Katie’s smelled like overripe coffee intermingled with an old, musty building. I was there, on yet another snowy day in January, downing my brew, and staring out the window. A mother with two small children circled through the rental shelves, and three young teens played the arcade games. The teens were obnoxious. I half listened to their senseless banter, and shook my head.
Then I heard a hellacious roar, and Ronnie’s rust-bucket of a truck came to a skidding stop in front of the windows. I reminded myself of how he hurt me, but the minute he swaggered inside, with his denim jacket open to the elements and his curly, brown hair tousled from the wind, my breath caught—and I knew I’d forgive him. After all, I told myself yet again, he has a mean, alcoholic father, and a mother who left him at the age of five. He never had anyone to love him. It was up to me not only to love him, but to help him grow up.
He strutted over to me like a rooster claiming its hen. “I suppose now that Mercer is off to war, you’ll have time for me.”
Guilt twisted through me, but anger wasn’t far behind. I lifted my chin. “Me? You were the one fooling around with someone else.”
Ronnie pulled out a chair, turned it around, and straddled it. “Got your wires crossed, Court. I ain’t been with anybody but you.”
I knew he was lying, but with a sigh, I let it go. “Shaun’s just a friend. I was bored so he took me around while he was here.”
Ronnie snorted. He reeked of alcohol. “Never heard of a guy and a girl bein’ friends.”
“Now you have.” I glared at him, but inside I was so afraid he’d walk out and never come back.
He made a grunting noise, then said, “Come on, let’s blow this joint.”
Breath I didn’t know I was holding sizzled out of me. I practically fell over myself getting into my coat and running out the door. I climbed in the driver’s side of his truck, and scooted across the bench seat to the middle, snuggling as tight against him as I could, yet still giving him room to drive.
We traveled east of town. With as much snow as we had on the ground, there was no way his truck would make it down the two-tracks we preferred, so we drove down a narrow road that dead-ended a quarter-mile after the last house.
It was almost twilight. Ronnie shifted into park and lit a smoke. “Toss me a beer.”
He always kept his stash on the passenger side floor. I pulled two out of the case and opened them. Ronnie guzzled down a good portion of his before I got mine to my lips. I’m not all that fond of beer. I’m not all that fond of alcohol period, but there was no way I’d admit that to Ronnie. I drank mine down and opened up another. By that time, Ronnie was on his fourth one.
And getting horny.
As the sky darkened and snow drifted soundlessly to the ground, we made love. It didn’t matter that he got a little rough. Not when he admitted he was jealous of Shaun. But no matter how many times I told myself it was wonderful to be in Ronnie’s arms again, something was missing.
It took me a mighty long time to figure out what it was. Winter passed and spring came. Snow covered in filth eventually turned to mud, and the first onslaught of black flies and ticks arrived. Spring is my least favorite season. Eventually though, the ugliness was replaced by the first bloom of Trilliums along the roadways and the green sprouting of trees.
Ronnie and I returned to the rut that served as our relationship. When he came, I felt valued. When he stayed away, I was miserable. The only real difference was that by then he was always in a bad mood, and nothing I did satisfied him.
Sometimes, I’d think of Shaun. I’d remember his wide smile, and the way his chest rumbled when he laughed. I’d remember the happy glimmer in his bluish-gray eyes, and the sadness in those same eyes the night before he left for Afghanistan.
I received letters from him often, and I answered each one. His letters were filled with bits and pieces of his daily life, and lacked what he must really have been going through. I looked forward to each one, but I felt guilty.
I was afraid to tell Ronnie. Not because I feared him physically, but as I always did, I feared he’d leave me. I knew he would never understand the friendship between me and another man.
Spring turned to summer. I was working everyday but Sunday. Ronnie quit two more jobs, and was spending almost every night with me. I wondered where he got money for his booze, but I wasn’t about to pry. If he was into something illegal, I did not want to know.
I did worry about his moodiness, though. I even tried to talk to him about my dad, about how his anti-depressants helped him. Ronnie just looked at me like I was nuts and opened another beer.
Life at home was the best I could remember. My dad had been on new medication for several months. He was working steady; he was happy. Mom had been given a supervising job with a raise at the nursing home. She’s always been a positive person, and she’s always stood by her man. I intended to do the same—to stand by Ronnie and help him all I could.
I’ve had two close friends all through school, Jamie and Miranda. Jamie graduated, but Miranda quit, got married, and moved away. Now Jamie was seeing Stevie all the time. Stevie was pissed at Ronnie, but Ronnie was all I had—him and my long-distance letter writer.
It was on a Wednesday in late July. We had a week of roaring temperatures and high humidity. Sweaty and tired, I walked home from work.
As I rounded the corner I noticed a brand new SUV in the drive. Surprised, I started walking faster. I remembered Dad took the day off for an appointment, but I was still curious because we so seldom had company.
I went in the front door. The scent of Dad’s cherry tobacco washed over me. I glanced into the living room just off the entry. Dad sat in his favorite overstuffed chair, cradling his pipe in his big hand—and talking animatedly to Shaun Mercer!
My heart did a strange belly flip. Shaun looked so at home . . . and so handsome. Joy sizzled through me. He was back safe and sound. But on the heels of gladness came a confused mess of feelings I had no hope of sorting out.
I knew he’d be back soon. I knew he wanted
to see me. What I didn’t figure out was what I would say to him.
“I thought you’d call first.” The words just tumbled out.
“I.…” As he stood up, his beautiful, blue-gray eyes clouded over. “I wanted to surprise you.”
“Well, you did that.” My voice was anything but welcoming. I heard a grunt from my father and I swiveled my gaze to find him staring at me with a disapproving frown puckering his brow.
I pulled my shoulders straight in defiance and turned back to Shaun. He stood in front of the ratty recliner he’d been sitting in. His hands were clenched tightly at his sides.
An overpowering need to throw my arms around him raced through me. Oh, God, he’s safe. Nothing else should have been important, but I knew I could not see him anymore, and the thought of telling him so was tearing me up inside. I stood there and wondered if all the confusion inside me was written on my face.
“Shaun was tellin’ me ’bout the situation over there.” Dad was impressed with him; I could hear it in his voice. That made me feel worse. “Why don’t you kids go on now and get reacquainted?”
Dad’s verbal nudge made me aware of just how awful I must look with my T-shirt soaked in perspiration and my hair clinging damply to my head. There was no way I was letting anyone close enough for an all-too-important discussion. “Give me a few, okay? I need to change.”
Shaun nodded. There was a bleakness in his gaze that stirred a pain in my chest. Without giving myself time to think about it, I ran upstairs.
After a quick shower and change, I was back in the living room. Shaun was sitting down again, but got up as soon as he saw me.
“Let’s go out on the deck. It’s cooler out there,” I suggested. I was calm now—calm and determined. Without waiting for an answer, I walked into the dining room and out the screen door that leads to the tree-shaded deck.
Instead of sitting on one of the several cheap, plastic chairs arranged around a matching table, I went to the railing and looked off toward old Mrs. Cho’s tiny house.
“What’s wrong, Courtney?” The heat from his body crowded my side, and his scent, peppermint and musk, washed through me. I’d pushed the memories of both those things back into my subconscious, but now, having him close was pulling me in all different directions. Not wanting him to know how he was affecting me, I inched slowly away.
He barked a laugh that wasn’t a laugh at all. “God, was I stupid. I thought you’d be glad to see me.”
I swallowed, dislodging the tears that suddenly threatened. “I am glad you came back, Shaun. It’s just that I can’t see you anymore.”
“Jeez, and I thought we were friends.”
His sarcasm cut deep. I turned toward him, taking the opportunity to step back, put more space between us. “We are. At least, we were. I looked forward to your letters, Shaun, and saying good-bye is hard.”
“Then why do it?” His voice was like gravel, his features filled with a pain I couldn’t stand seeing.
“Because of Ronnie,” I whispered. “I’ve loved him forever. He wouldn’t understand we’re just friends.”
“Friends. What a crock.” He turned away, staring off into the distance. When he brought his gaze back, he searched my face in that searing way that made me feel he could see right to my soul. “Okay. As a friend, let me ask you this. Do you really want to tie yourself to a loser like Ronnie Fitzpatrick?”
He couldn’t have said anything that would have made me madder. The pain and guilt crushing me dissolved in an instant. “And you think you’re better than Ronnie?”
“At least I plan to make a future for myself.”
“You’d better leave.”
“No, Court, I’m not leaving till we have this out.”
“There’s nothing to have out. You know Ronnie’s background. Can’t you see he needs me?”
Shaun’s jawline turned as rigid as cement. “He needs something, all right. But I don’t think you’re it.”
“Where do you get off being so damn judgmental? Everybody condemns Ronnie. They just don’t know him like I do.”
“There’s no getting through to you, is there?” He shook his head. “Hell, I give up.” He descended the shallow steps, then stalked across the narrow strip of lawn alongside our wood-framed house.
My whole body started trembling as I watched him go around the corner—out of sight, out of my life. Not a shred of anger remained. I hurt. Even Ronnie’s behavior never hurt me this bad. Yet I was nowhere near ready to admit my chosen path was the wrong one. To admit that Shaun was right about Ronnie.
To admit that what I felt for Shaun went way beyond friendship. I’ve never felt so depressed.
The scene with Shaun regurgitated in my mind until I thought I’d go crazy. I dragged myself to work and back home. Each evening, out of pure habit and stubbornness, I went to Katie’s.
Then a few days later, Ronnie strutted in like he owned the place. “Come on,” he said, “let’s blow this joint.”
Just like his puppy dog, I followed.
He drove deep into the woods, down an old lumbering track. He downed a couple of beers on the way, and another one before he spoke again.
Thinking nothing of his brooding silence, I stared out the window at the thick foliage.
“Heard Mercer’s back in town.” He almost spit the words out, making the statement sound dirty somehow.
“Heard that, too,” I answered cautiously.
“You seen him?”
“No. Why would I?”
“You tell me.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“There damn well better not be.”
His attitude angered me. How could he play the jealous lover when I knew he cheated on me? I didn’t have proof of the fact, but I knew as certain as I drew breath that he slept with other women. I’d tell myself that after we were married, he’d change. I know now that was plain ignorance. In fact, I look back and wonder how I could have been so dense. I didn’t really love him; I loved who I wanted him to be. I loved the idea of fixing his life, of fixing him.
Once again, we fell into the same pattern.
Jamie and Stevie were renting an apartment together in Gladstone. She was working at a video store. She’d been there almost as long as I’d been at Skeeter’s. They were planning on getting married eventually. If it hadn’t been for Stevie filling me in when he made deliveries at the café, I wouldn’t have known what Jamie was doing. She came out to see her family from time to time, but she didn’t come see me.
In late August, Greg Washington came into Katie’s, walked over, and sat down at the table I was sitting at.
“Hey, Courtney, what’s happenin’?”
“Not much, as usual,” I managed through my surprise. Greg was in my grade at school, but I couldn’t recall a single time he’d spoken to me during all those years. He was one of the jocks, sturdily built and ruggedly handsome, with blond hair and blue eyes.
“Yeah, this place needs shakin’ up.”
Boredom, I thought. Guess it gets to us all. “Yeah,” I agreed. “It sure does.”
About then Ronnie’s truck thundered into its slot in front of the windows. A quiver of unease shivered through me. Instead of waiting for Ronnie to come in, I jumped up, said, “Gotta go,” and hustled out the door.
I climbed in the passenger side and wiggled over to my spot in the middle.
Ronnie didn’t say a word, and I breathed a little easier, believing he didn’t see Greg talking to me.
We drove west this time. Three miles out, blacktop turned to gravel, then eventually dwindled to a two-track. After winding around a few more miles, we dead-ended at the river.
The heat had been oppressive all day. I plucked my tank top away from my skin, shaking it to cool me off. “Let’s get out and walk down to the river,” I suggested.
“Nah, we’d have to lug the beer.”
“We could leave the damn beer in the truck.”
Ronnie looked as though a thunderclou
d rolled over his face. “What did you say?”
“Nothin’,” I muttered.
“Like hell! Don’t smart off.”
I turned away from him and scooted over as far as I could get to the door.
He grabbed my upper arm and yanked on it.
“That hurts!” Tears filled my eyes.
“Don’t turn away from me.”
I blinked away the tears before I returned my gaze to his. Complying with his wishes shattered my pride, but in doing so, he let go of me.
“What the hell’s wrong with you, woman?”
I rubbed the sore spot on my arm. “You’re acting crazy, that’s what’s wrong.”
“Me? You’re the one who’s crazy. All of a sudden you start talkin’ to other guys and thinkin’ you’re hot.”
So he did see Greg sitting with me. At first Ronnie’s jealousy used to make me feel special, like he really cared about me, but now it was getting old. “He wasn’t anybody, Ronnie. I’m just tired of doing the same old thing over and over. Why can’t we do something as simple as get out of the damn truck?”
“You’re turning into a real bitch.” He tossed his lit cigarette butt at me. It hit my bare leg and rolled onto the floor. It barely had time to burn into my flesh, but inside my soul, it cut deep.
Automatically, I leaned over, retrieved the cigarette, and put it out in the ashtray. “So I’m a bitch,” I said softly. Then I pulled on the door handle and slid to the ground.
“Get back in here!”
Somewhere in my muddled brain I realized his order was not because he wanted me, but because he wanted to control me. I started walking back the way we came in.
I heard the truck back out and rev up. Then Ronnie pulled alongside of me and shouted out the window, “Get in, Court!”
I shook my head and kept walking.
“You’re too damn much trouble.”
“Then go screw someone else.”
“I will. Damn right, I will.” He stomped on the gas and left me there in the dust.
I was alone. The feeling washed over me. He’ll be back, I thought. Then I realized that I hoped he wouldn’t.
It would be a mighty long walk back to town, but did it matter? I stumbled along for a while. Then I stopped and took stock of my surroundings. We came out this way many times. I remembered a cottage a mile or so up the track. It was much nicer than the deer camps strung throughout the forest, and I noticed vehicles there several times. The little, red car looked just like the one often parked outside Carter’s, our town’s combination gas station and grocery store.