Whiskey and a Gun

by Jade Eby

  I kiss her forehead and then work my way to the bar. I'm tempted to order Tawny a pink mai-tai or frozen margarita, but my feet stop when I look at the spot we commandeered in the sand and see a shirtless man standing over her, sunlight bouncing off his skin.

  "What can I get you, señor?" The waiter’s lilting Spanish accent draws my attention.

  "Oh. Uh. Never mind," I stutter, and stalk toward my wife and the shirtless man. I reach them just as she's standing up and laughing at something he says.

  It must be so fucking funny. She doesn't laugh for just anyone.

  "What's going on here?" I ask.

  Tawny turns toward me and places her hand on my arm. "This is Rafael. He was playing Frisbee and my big head got in the way."

  Rafael's grin showcases a set of perfect, white teeth that contrast with his brown skin. "That’s not true. Johnson over there‒"he points to another shirtless guy on the beach,"‒doesn’t know how to properly throw a Frisbee."

  "Are you okay?" I ask Tawny, but I'm eyeing Shirtless Man. He's got an inch or two on me, and he looks like the kind of douchebag who hangs out on beaches, throwing Frisbees at women to get their attention.

  "It's okay, I'm fine. No worries." She hands the Frisbee back to the guy. "He was just asking if I wanted to play a few rounds with them."

  I step between him and my wife. "Really? You're going to ask a woman on her honeymoon if she wants to play Frisbee with two shirtless dickwads like you? Do you want your asses beat?"

  The guy steps back a bit and puts up his hands. "Dude, I didn't know, okay? Sorry."

  He runs off to join his buddy and as I yell after him, "Watch where you're throwing that thing next time."

  It's a good thing he doesn't stick around any longer; I've had the urge to hit something—or someone—since seeing my father at our wedding.

  "Whoa. What was that about?" Tawny says, pulling on my arm.

  I shake her off and sit in the beach chair.

  "That Frisbee must have hit you hard enough to make you forget you were just married," I spit.

  She flinches like I've slapped her. "I don't know what you're talking about."

  I grasp her arm and pull her to me, even though she's tensed and trying to step away. "Oh, please. It wasn't an accident the Frisbee hit you. They did it on purpose. And you were falling all over yourself for him. 'It's okay. No worries', " I mock her. "If you wanted someone like that, why'd you waste your time marrying me? For fun? Is that it?"

  Her lower lip quivers like she's fighting back tears, but then she bursts out in laughter. "Oh, Carter. Your jealousy is kind of turning me on right now. You know why I married you. If I'd wanted a guy like Fabio over there, I'd have married someone like him. Are you gonna ruin our entire honeymoon because of this?"

  I don't know what I expected her to do. Shiver in fear like my mother used to do?

  Maybe.

  This side of her—it's like a turn on and an irritant all wrapped together. I want to slap her and kiss her all at the same time. I don't know how she does it.

  I bring my mouth to her ear. "Don't talk to me like that. You know how much I hate it."

  She pulls her head away from me, though I still have an ironclad grasp on her arm. "I know you do. So don't make me do it."

  The tone of her voice chills me in a way I didn't expect. She knows what I'm capable of, and yet she doesn't back down. I'd only ever felt it in little moments here and there, but now, I know she thrives on it. She gets off on this back and forth line of losing control. I let the insane desire rise up through my midsection as her fingers run through my hair and she places a leg on either side of me and sits down on my lap. I dare to look at her and she brings my lips to hers. I open my mouth to apologize again, but she quiets me with her tongue. She pulls back and whispers, "Let's just forget about it."

  2004

  The moving truck misses our mailbox by an inch and I grimace at the thought of having to replace something before we’ve even moved in. The three college kids hustle out of the truck, commandeering the furniture out of the back at record speed. I guess that's what I get for cheap labor.

  "I don't think they want to be here," Tawny says, sidling up next to me on the front porch.

  "Well, if they break anything, someone's gonna pay."

  She leans over and plants a kiss on my cheek. "Don't be such a grump, Carter. I want to enjoy the first day in our new house without any drama, okay?"

  "Yes, dear," I mock her.

  She laughs and bounds down the stairs to see if the movers need any help. She's the picture of perfection in her white sundress, her hair knotted on top of her head. The Tawny I first met wouldn't have been caught dead in one of those “slinky, cheesy things,” but she changed her mind when I made her try one on at the mall. The way her curves filled the dress, I couldn't help the desire that spread through me. She must have noticed, because by the next month, her closet had three new dresses that totally weren't her. She doesn't wear any makeup, but she looks better without it. More real. She's happy right now. Not the fake happy she sometimes pretends to be for me.

  Dammit, she should be happy. I worked my ass off to get us this house—two years and thirty-two weeks of overtime. All my hard work was spent in one three-hour closing deal. If Tawny wasn't so goddamn happy right now, I'd almost be pissed.

  "Hey, where do you want us to put this?" one of the kids asks.

  I direct him through the hallway to the living room. The entire main level has an open floor plan, making it nearly impossible to tell where one room ends and another begins. Tawny went on and on about how modern it is. How accessible the rooms are. I could give two shits, really, but I like the way it all looks together, so maybe she has a point.

  The movers waste no time setting the couch down and racing out of the room to claim another piece of furniture. I examine the bare, white walls and the sand-and-white speckled carpet.

  "Honey? What are you staring at?" Tawny has her arms wrapped around two lamps.

  "Nothing," I say as I rush over and take one of the lamps from her hands. "Just feels so bare in here.” I add.

  She glances around the room and nods. "Not for long, though,” she says. “Once we have all our stuff in here and get situated, it will feel more like home."

  She's right: it’ll be like this for such a short period of time—and then Tawny will cover the walls with some kind of abstract art pieces and the carpet will get stained with crimson wine and various takeout dinners. This carpet wouldn't have lasted two weeks in my father's house before being marred with the muddy brown stains of someone's blood.

  I set the lamp down and kiss her forehead on the way out of the room. As I reach the front door, an older man and woman are walking up our front steps, dressed in their Sunday finest. They stop before reaching the porch. The woman breaks out into a broad smile when she sees me.

  "Hello there!" she says, her voice high-pitched and laced with enthusiasm.

  "Uh, hi," I say.

  She hands me a covered basket. "I'm Rose Williams, and this is my husband, Walter. We're so excited to have new neighbors. We just wanted to stop by and say hello."

  Tawny walks up behind me "Who're you talking to, Carter?" She glances at Rose and Walter and her face flushes. She flashes them a sheepish smile.

  "These are our neighbors, Rose and Walter. They brought us a housewarming gift." I hold up the basket full of various cheeses and a bottle of wine.

  Tawny steps down and extends her hand to Rose first. "That's so kind of you. I'm Tawny, and this is Carter."

  Rose's smile widens, but Walter gapes at Tawny like she's a piece of meat ready to be devoured.

  I put my arm around Tawny and smile so big my cheeks warn me to quit pretending. "We appreciate the gesture, especially since we haven't had a chance to go to the store yet. Our movers are still taking everything off the truck."

  Rose waves us off. "Oh, it was nothing. We'll let you two be so you can get situated. It's just so nice to see suc
h a young couple moving in. You two seem really lovely."

  "That's awfully sweet of you, Rose. Once we're settled in, we'd love to have you over for dinner." Tawny's slip into Stepford wife is both unsettling and sexy as hell. She can mold herself into anyone she wants to be at the drop of a hat. Me? I'm stuck with myself, unfortunately. I'm the same old Carter, no matter how hard I try to be someone else. It's just easier not to fight it.

  "That would be wonderful. Pleasure to meet you two."

  I smile and give them a little wave. "Nice to meet you as well."

  When the Williamses are out of earshot, Tawny and I exchange looks at the same time.

  "That's awfully sweet of you? Who are you and what did you do with my wife?"

  The corners of Tawny's lips curve into a seductive smile. "Just acting the part is all. I didn't realize we moved into a neighborhood trapped in the fifties."

  "I thought they were…lovely." I grin, trying to replicate Rose's sugared voice.

  Tawny rolls her eyes and walks toward the moving truck. "C'mon, my dear husband. Let's unpack the rest of our life."

  "Yes, dear.” I say, watching her long legs disappear into the hem of her dress as I follow her to the truck.

  #

  The windows are open, and the breeze rolls through the room in cycles. The sun set about forty minutes ago, and Tawny and I are sprawling on the couch in a Chinese take-out coma.

  "It's so…quiet. Don't you think?"

  I listen to the silence around us for a second. There are no raging brothers or fists going through walls. No whistling from the train tracks behind Tawny's trailer park. There's not even a crazy dog barking outside. "Everything here sounds quiet compared to what we're used to," I admit.

  As if on cue, a series of beeps rips through the stillness. I groan and start to get off the couch, but Tawny pulls me back. "Don't answer it. Let's just have a night away from the rest of the world."

  I shake her off of me and stand up. "Don't be ridiculous. What if it's my boss? You want him to regret giving me that promotion?"

  She scowls. "Of course not."

  The caller ID shows an unknown number, but I’m already here so I answer the phone anyway.

  "Hello?"

  Silence.

  "Hello?"

  "Carter? Is that you?"

  I cover the phone. “Tawny, it’s your mom.”

  "Carter, wait! I have a question…" I don’t want anything to do with that crazy bitch. With all the shit she’s brought us in the past year—stolen money, breaking into our apartment, showing up to my job site high as a kite—I’m ready to disconnect the phone line and get a new one.

  Tawny slides her hand beneath mine and grabs the phone. "Mom?"

  Shelly's voice squeaks every couple of syllables, and she sounds agitated. She's using again, and this is her official “save me" call that Tawny will undoubtedly fall for. Not tonight. Not after what I did to get us here. For all I care, her mother can rot in hell.

  Tawny creeps out of the kitchen and down the hall. I follow until I'm at the kitchen's threshold and can only vaguely hear what she's saying. It wouldn't matter if her mother called to say she won the lottery. Or finally managed to get clean by a miracle of God. What I want to do right now is rip the phone from Tawny's hand, and throw it against the wall, and watch it shatter into a million pieces.

  I settle for listening instead.

  "…I can't, Mom. I'm sorry."

  "…I told you three months ago it was the last time. I'm done with this shit. You've got to stop, Mom. You're gonna die."

  "…I'll talk to Carter, but he feels the same way I do. I don't think I can ask him to help you out any more than he already has."

  I storm out to the back porch. I don’t want to hear Tawny trying not to cry. Her piece-of-shit mother is just as bad as my good-for-nothing father. People always picking on the weaker versions of themselves to get what they want. Well, not anymore. Tawny needs to set things straight with her mom like I did with my father. We're not children anymore, and they don't own us.

  Ten minutes later, Tawny slides open the porch door and sits next to me. "How much of that did you eavesdrop on?"

  "Enough to know what she wants. And what she's not getting. I can tell by her voice that she's using again."

  Tawny hangs her head and her tears drop to the cement, bursting into minuscule puddles of shame. "I don't know what to do, Carter. She needs help. She's my mother. I can't let her–"

  "Jesus Christ. Listen to yourself!" I throw up my hands. "She's a grown-ass woman making her own mistakes. Where was she when you were sixteen and needed a mother?" I give her time to answer, though I know she won't. "That's right, she was in jail. What was she doing that time you cut your hand open trying to break into your own home because she locked you out? Oh, yeah. She was fucking some guy for coke. You need to let her go, Tawny. Let. Her. Go," I say, shaking her shoulders.

  The puddles at Tawny's feet have multiplied, and her back heaves in time with her weeping.

  "I know, I know. You're right, but she's still my mother, even if she's a shitty one. I can't just watch her throw her life away. I'm all she has now. Maybe if I'd helped her out sooner…she could have been a good mother."

  "Key words: could have been." I grab her chin and force her to look at me. "Listen to me. She's not getting a dime from us. I'm changing our number tomorrow. I don't want to hear from her ever again."

  Tawny's jaw drops and she looks at me, stunned. "You can't…you won't do that. We don't have to help her, but I'm not cutting her out of my life."

  "It's not a choice. I'm telling you what's going to happen, and that's that."

  She leaps up, her hands balled into fists. "You don't get to tell me who I can and can't talk to, dammit. Did I force you to cut off all communication with your shitty brothers or your awful fucking father? No. Because it's not really any of my damn business. We're keeping the number."

  The insatiable need to scream starts as a slow simmer in the pit of my stomach. It's a little spark that grows and grows the longer I look at Tawny. It twists and turns through my trachea until I'm ready to burst with every venomous word I can imagine, striking her to the bone.

  But then she's in my arms. Her lips are on mine. She's snaking her arms around my neck and running her fingers through my hair. "We'll talk about this later, okay? I don’t want to do this tonight. This is our night. Bad things always happen on our best nights, don't they?"

  I peel her off me. The simmer is sinking farther and farther down my stomach, but the fact that it's still there bothers me.

  "Promise me something?" Tawny asks. Black mascara stains her freckled cheeks.

  "What?"

  "We'll never be like our parents. We're not drug addicts or alcoholics. We don't beat each other. We are not them. Promise me: we'll never do these things to our kids."

  Her words float through my ears and neutralize the acid gurgling in the pit of stomach. She's so earnest. So trusting. So right. We're not the people we box ourselves into.

  "You…want to have kids after where we've come from? All the shit we've been through?” I ask.

  "Oh honey, of course I do," she says, but there's a twinge of hesitation that is impossible to ignore. She kisses me again and adds, "I want to have two beautiful babies that have your eyes and your chin and my nose. Because your nose is a little on the big side."

  I laugh, despite my uncertainty. "Well, maybe it's time to make those babies now."

  2006

  I hate hospitals. This is the third time in the last year and a half I've sat in a room like this, holding Tawny's hand as she sobs. I try to squeeze out a few tears for her, but the well is dry, like always.

  "It'll be okay. We can try again."

  She pulls her hand away. "I don’t want to try again."

  "You always say that, and then a couple months later, you're back to talking about it again. This time won't be any different."

  "This time is different. I'm done trying. I
can't do this. It hurts too much." Her voice is quiet and shaky, so unlike the way she usually speaks to me.

  "I don't know what to tell you." I don't say that I'm tired of trying too, or that the mountain of medical bills on our counter boils my blood. I keep my mouth clamped shut, forcing everything I want to say back down my throat.

  "You don't even want a baby, so I don't know why we've been trying, anyway," she says, her head turned to the opposite side so she can't see the frustration written all over my face.

  "We've been trying because you want one," I say. I don't want a fucking kid. The more I think about it, the more a wailing, helpless baby seems like a waste of time.

  She buries her face in her hands. "I did want a baby. But you clearly don't. So we're not trying again."

  I get out of my chair. "Jesus Christ, Tawny. Make up your goddamn mind. I need to get out of here for a little bit."

  #

  I sit with a cup of coffee in the hospital cafeteria. I count the number of times I've sat in places like this after Dad had to bring Mom to the hospital for something he did to her. Even though it was always busy, it was like we were alone in our own world. Billy and Ray would always run off somewhere, leaving Tommy and me to fend for ourselves. My dysfunctional fucking family. Look at us now. Mom's dead, Dad's still a drunk, Ray's in jail, and God knows where Billy is. And Tommy...he's the only one who got out of this life unscathed. Just cut the cord and left us all. I'd hate him if he weren't so goddamn smart.

  Tawny's probably wondering where I am, but I can't bring myself to face her right now. I might say or do something I'll regret. It seems to be happening more and more these days.

  I didn't get it when I was a kid, but I'm starting to understand the things my father did.

  You fall in love with someone thinking they'll change your life. And they do—for a while. Then you see their wandering eyes. They start wanting things you can't give them. They stop giving you what you need. Fucking bitches.

  I thought Tawny would be the exception. We'd get through anything together—but that's not what's happening. I can see it in her eyes. She's starting to resent me.