Landslide

by Jenn Cooksey

  “What’s your problem…you’re not banging her, are you?”

  Trying to keep cool, I simply took my smoke from my mouth, exhaled, and said, “You did not just ask me that.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t think you were,” he muttered while the frat boy stood there smirking at me before going back inside, “But seriously, look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t wanna pound that pussy.”

  He was coming dangerously close to pushing me to my breaking point. Still, I was making an effort to control my temper because he’s a friend and I knew he was drunk, and that if he hadn’t been, none of the crude shit coming out of his mouth would’ve ever been said aloud. So, feeling my nostrils flare, I just shook my head and took another drag.

  “Ryan, we’re friends. But even so, you need to get it through your drunk-ass head that you’re not getting even a teeny sliver of her ass so quit fucking trying to cut a whole slice.”

  “Oh, I see how it is…little mouse is afraid to play while the cat’s away,” he said, puffing up like a goddamned peacock and getting far too close to me for his own good, “Or are you just scared of a little competition, soldier boy? ‘Cause I bet before you can even get close to her holiest of holies, I’ll have already fucked her so hard that she’s on a first name basis with God.”

  I body slammed him against the wall so fast and hard, I didn’t even know what was happening. “Listen up, you fuck. You don’t know the first thing about the Hell I’ve lived through or the lengths I’ll go, and believe me when I say you won’t survive throwing down with me in this.”

  Jerry tried his best to interject and stop us, but his efforts were in vain. A single blast from a siren had me momentarily turning my attention to the alley behind me, and Ryan took advantage of my distraction by pushing me off him and throwing the first punch. He went to swing again and rather than swinging back, I ducked, rushed him and turned, wedging my shoulder into his chest to lift him up and then throw him down onto the hood of the police car that had just swung into the alley while routinely patrolling the streets. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that if I really hurt Ryan, or anyone for that matter, I’d be in deep shit if charges were ever pressed because of the conditioning and training the military provided me, but that knowledge didn’t seem to carry much weight in the heat of the moment. So, I was just starting to rearrange Ryan’s intestines and was about to land a nasty blow to one of his kidneys when the cops pulled their guns on us and effectively broke up our fight before it got really and truly ugly.

  Luckily, the officers know both of us, and Jerry explained how the fight started in the first place, and turns out, I didn’t use excessive force so Ryan wasn’t badly injured and neither of us was legitimately arrested. We were handcuffed, though, put in the back of the cop car, and then thrown into two different cells at the station where we were told we would be sleeping it off for the remainder of the night. As I was being shoved into the backseat, I reminded Jerry what I’d asked of him in the bathroom, and then further asked him to not make a big deal about what had gone down when he went inside and told Erica why he would be the one taking her home.

  And she certainly wasn’t to be allowed to come bail me out. I’ve gotten into fights defending Erica before when we were in high school and stuff, so she wouldn’t have been terribly surprised about this one after she—knowingly or maybe unknowingly—let me know she’d had it with Ryan, but…being carted off to jail is a little different, and all I needed was for her to come racing down here to fork over however much dough—that I know she doesn’t have—just so that I could sober up at home, and then no doubt sob while screaming at me for being a fucking stupid asshole who gets drunk and then beats the snot out of one of his friends, who is fucking stupid too but also happens to be a loudmouth douche when he’s drunk. No thanks.

  I did my time like a man, woke up sore as fuck and with a hangover that would probably incapacitate a grizzly bear, and was handed three ibuprofen, my phone, and my car keys without further ado at about seven this morning. Stepping out into the chilled foggy morning and noticing the fresh blanket of snow on the streets, I pull my phone from my pocket to call someone and ask them to come down here and then take me to my truck. The echoing sound of silence broken only by the branches of trees nearby creaking under the weight of snow has me reconsidering. It’s only a couple miles to where my truck spent the night and I figure I can use the alone time to think. Besides, the serene solitude that comes with a breathtaking landscape of newly fallen snow before cars and foot traffic defile its innocence can’t be passed up, so I pull my jacket’s collar up as high as it’ll go and set out.

  Everything that Jerry had said last night swirls around me in the breeze amid the lightly grounded snowflakes that the wind has invited to dance. On a resigned sigh, I acknowledge to myself that he’s right; the longer I wait, the higher the likelihood that not only will someone mention something that I haven’t, but that Erica will be hurt by my omissions even more than knowing what I haven’t told her. Well, maybe not more, although she’ll definitely look at it as a refusal on my part to trust her, and I can’t have that. She does trust me, implicitly, and I owe it to her to be honest and earn that trust before I lose it altogether. The thing is, I am so terrified that once I man up, I’ll lose her forever in finally telling her about not just the skeleton Jerry is aware of, but the whole fucking cemetery that skeleton dwells in, which only by the grace of God have I managed to keep from Erica the last couple weeks.

  I squelch the urge to vomit in thinking about the whole thing when my phone pings with a lengthy text from my dad in lieu of a phone call…

  My dad: Was about to call and realized you’re probably still sleeping, but wanted to give you a heads up that we’re coming home early. We’ve sucked all the fun out of the sunshine state that we can and I think we’re on the verge of wearing our welcome out.

  I go to reply when another text comes in right away.

  My dad: Plus, weekday flights are cheaper than the ones on weekends. Just rescheduled our return trip and I’m saving $400+ by flying the redeye this Wednesday instead of the Sunday before Christmas. I’ll email you all the flight info. so you know where and when to pick us up. Love you.

  Reading it, I come to a standstill and close my eyes.

  Tick tock, my man…

  Around me the temperature seems to take a sudden dip and I look to the sky, realizing that I’d better pick up the pace in more than one way. Reaching my truck and having finally come to a decision, I wait a few minutes with the heater running full-blast, thawing myself out and trying to think of the best way to sit Erica down for a brutally honest conversation; one that will without any doubt whatsoever hurt one or both of us in some way. I don’t know where to do it or when exactly either. Today might not be my best bet if she’s already pissed at me for last night; although, I really should apologize for that as soon as possible. And who knows, maybe if I just go straight to her place and suck it up first thing, I’ll be able to find some kind of opening to apologize for not being 100% up front with her from jump. And from there, I can really only hope she can see everything from my side and find it in her heart to understand why I waited until now.

  I’ll have to come clean about how I feel too. I didn’t want to so soon or before she said something because I don’t want it to seem rushed or premature, but I knew once I decided to go all in again that I would have to tell her that I’m in love with her. Or rather, that I’ve been in love with her. For, like, ever practically. And I guess when I think about it like that, I’m not really rushing. Still, that’s no guarantee she’s had enough time to see us the way I do. I sigh and throw my truck into gear, muttering out loud, “This is so gonna suck beyond the telling of it.”

  I make one stop at the coffee shop for a half-dozen donuts and two coffees to go, and then the whole drive to Erica’s I obsess and freak myself out in not having even the faintest idea of how she’s going to take hearing any of the myriad things I’m going to lay on
her before the day has had a chance to hit double digits on the clock. Pulling up in front of her house though, an unfamiliar Volvo parked behind the Grenada in the driveway has my eyes narrowing and my stomach turning into a pit of slithering snakes.

  My fingers tighten and clench the steering wheel while I tap my forehead against it, desperately trying to breathe and drum up the courage to get out of the truck; to allow God or whomever to convince me that it’s not as bad as what I’m imagining it to be. Because what I’m thinking is that one of the frat boys somehow made an impression that was enough for him to finagle his way into convincing the woman who is my everything into being willing to share her bed and body with him last night. And you know, been there, done that. I even got the fucking t-shirt and dog tags as souvenirs.

  Still, I don’t actually know…

  I pull further ahead so I’m not directly in front of her house, and then down the rest of my coffee before slipping out of my truck. Closing the door without sound, my intent is to sneak around a little to see if I can give myself an idea of what I’m walking into here. Just as I take maybe five or six steps away from where I’m parked, the front door opens. It’s not Erica. It’s not one of the college guys or anyone from the party either though. I don’t recognize the man who confidently steps out Erica’s front door in his boxers, an Oregon Ducks sweatshirt that judging from the fit is probably Erica’s, and sable colored Ugg boots. Holding what looks like a book of matches in one hand, he rubs both hands together, cups them over his mouth and blows; he then repeats the process as he heads to the side of the porch. At the railing, he leans over a ways to look down the side of her house. He rights himself and comes back to the top of the porch steps, about to walk down them when he sees me.

  “Morning! A bit brisk out, isn’t it?” he calls to me with a smile and a wave. My only thought is that he must be assuming I’m a neighbor out for a stroll.

  I wave back and decide to go fishing. “Whitest winter we’ve had in years. Hit us early too. Everything okay? Seemed like you were looking for something…”

  “Yeah, I think the pilot light must’ve been blown out…it’s freezing cold in there,” he indicates Erica’s house with a jerk of his chin, “Was gonna see if I could find it and relight it.”

  “The furnace in that house is inside down in the basement and it’s electric…no pilot light to go out,” I tell him, “You check the thermostat?”

  He looks embarrassed when he rubs one of his cheeks. “Nope. Truth be told though, I don’t even know where the thermostat is. I just got here last night.”

  “Oh yeah? Erica was at a party last night. Hope you didn’t have to wait long for her to get home.”

  “Nah, hardly more than an hour, and turns out, my car was warmer than the house anyway,” he says and sort of chuckles, “So, you know Erica?”

  I consider my answer and then slowly nod. “Mmhm. I’m Cole.”

  “Nice to meet you, I’m Greg,” he pauses to extend his hand, and taking it, my blood turns to stinging ice when he continues, “Sure glad to know she’s starting to meet people now. Last week when she stayed at my place she didn’t mention meeting anyone and I was a little concerned for her being up here all by herself.”

  In one single fucking sentence, Greg manages to send a scalding message in that not only has Erica never mentioned me in the past, but that she didn’t say a peep about me last week either. And she slept at her fucking ex-boyfriend’s house not four days after she woke up at mine.

  “But, since I’m thinking of spending more time up here, I won’t be so concerned. It was just these last weeks…women need to be looked after and a woman like Erica shouldn’t be left alone for too long, if you know what I mean.”

  I have absolutely no idea what you mean, Greg. Are you insinuating that women can’t take care of themselves? Because that’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard. And what the fuck? Someone like Erica especially shouldn’t be left unattend—oooh. He’s talking about a woman who looks like Erica. Because she’s like chum for sharks.

  “Right. A man’s gotta be around to protect what’s his.”

  “Exactly. And I’ve got a lot riding on this investment of mine,” he says, tapping the underneath of his ring finger with his thumb.

  “Well, congratulations I guess and good luck with that, Greg, I gotta get going. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime,” I tell him, trying desperately to not choke and literally puke on my words.

  “I’ll look forward to it. And I’m sorry, what did you say your name was again?”

  “Cole,” I answer flatly, not needing another reminder that I’ve never meant enough to Erica to even warrant mentioning my goddamned name to someone she considered marrying, however briefly that was.

  “Right. Sorry. Have a good one, Cole, and happy holidays,” he waves as he turns to head back inside.

  “Yep,” I mutter and wave over my head already facing away from him, in a hurry to escape.

  My lungs struggle to expand with the deep breath I’m going for, my chest is tight, and getting in my truck, I tell myself the stinging behind my eyes is from the frigid wind. It’s not though. Like my hopes and dreams, the wind died down to nothing. And it did it long before I ever shook hands with the man who last night was welcomed into the home of where my heart dwells. My everything. A tear that feels like lava as it slips down my cheek has me starting the truck and clearing my throat, as well as trying for the life of me to calm down enough to drive away like a normal person instead of like the raging maniac that I’m trying to contain within me would. And it’s not that I’m even raging exactly. It’s more like I’m utterly defeated in every way imaginable and I’m screaming and crying inside about it.

  It’s what having your heart truly snapped in two feels like.

  38

  “Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)”

  —Erica—

  “Erica? Is that you?”

  My name being called just as I’m getting to my car in the grocery store parking lot has me spinning around to see who’s asking. However, I’m already on edge, I’m standing on a patch of ice and it’s snowing in addition, so of course I slip and almost fall on my butt. I grab the car door handle and catch myself, although I sacrifice my grip on one of my bags to save myself so it falls to the ground with a thud and tips over. I’m really hoping the eggs aren’t in that one…

  Ryan crouches down next to me and makes an effort to collect what’s been set free from the grocery sack. No broken eggs, however I almost feel like abandoning the Ritz crackers and package of Hershey bars and simply fleeing as fast as I can. After last night and this morning even more so, I don’t want to be within a two hundred-yard radius of Ryan.

  “Uh, thanks,” I tell him when he hands me the bag with all its contents in place again, “It’s really starting to snow and I’m not all that comfortable driv—”

  “Sure, I understand. I just…” he says, earnest sheepishness taking over his features, “I won’t keep you, I just needed to apologize. The things I said to Cole last night, like—”

  “Stop!” I cut him off, emphatically shoving my hand out in front of me palm outwards, “I don’t know what was said, and I don’t need or want to know.”

  What Ryan said was enough to provoke Cole and have him resort to becoming violent to shut Ryan up, and not that I know for sure whether he’s like this now after being in the military and everything, but even with knowing how he’s gone to bat for me in the past on multiple occasions, the old Cole was so laid back, it took something really heinous for him to get as worked up as I imagine he was last night, which makes what Ryan said something I definitely never need to hear with my own ears, I’m sure.

  Ryan nods. “Okay, well just know, I was completely and totally out of line last night, and I deserved the ass kicking Cole gave me.”

  I just peer through the lightly falling snow at him without saying anything, especially something to contradict him. Like, I don’t know if he expects something in
the way of forgiveness, but if so, we’ll be here a while because it’ll be a colder day in Hell than it is here today before I forgive him.

  “Look, Erica, I don’t expect you to tell me it’s all good now. I really don’t. And I’ve never told anyone since I moved up here, but I used to be in AA about five years ago or so. I put myself back in the program this morning after realizing that I really do have a problem, so now, I’m just trying to get a jump on working the steps.”

  Okay, now I almost feel like a bitch…

  “I’m sorry, Ryan, I didn’t realize. Of course I’m open to your apology and I accept it. I just won’t be able to honestly say I forgive you until I see with my own eyes that you mean it and make legitimate changes.”

  A relieved smile spreads across his face and he nods. “That’s considerably more than what I’d hoped for. Doubt Cole will be so gracious, but…gotta do what I gotta do. I’m just thinking we both might be better off if I give him a day or two before I put myself in his face again though, so, if you wouldn’t mind giving him a heads up the next time you talk to him, I’d appreciate it.”

  “I will.”

  “Thanks, and, sorry again. And drive safe,” Ryan tells me with another chagrined look, leaving me to get in my car and drive away in peace.

  Well, about as much peace as I can possibly have driving over to Cole’s in what city folk like me would call a blizzard. For all I know, though, this is probably just an average Sunday in December for locals.

  With the Grenada’s wipers working their poor rubber hearts out to keep snow off my windshield and not being all that successful at their task, I feel it better to be safe rather than sorry, so it takes me close to thirty minutes to travel the distance it normally takes me about ten. Despite the time it takes and the white knuckled driving, I arrive safe and sound and in one piece at Cole’s. Turning the car off and with a deeply relieved breath let out in a whoosh, I peel my fingers one by one from the steering wheel.