Desperate Chances

by A. Meredith Walters

  Why did I keep doing this? Reminding the both of us of who we used to be to each other?

  Because being back in Bakersville made everything different. We both felt it.

  She gave me a small smile but didn’t respond to my offer. It was probably for the best. It had been a moment of weakness. I had a lot of those around her.

  “You’re still driving that thing? It hasn’t blown up yet?” I asked her, indicating the ten-year-old Honda she had always driven.

  “Not all of us can afford brand new Jeeps.” She motioned to my vehicle, one of the few splurges I had allowed myself with the advance money from the label.

  “You need to get those tires changed. You’ll cause an accident,” I couldn’t help lecturing. I noted how bald they were. She shouldn’t be driving that thing. It was a death trap with bad weather in the forecast.

  I couldn’t stand the thought of something happening to her…

  “You should let me drive you home.”

  Gracie laughed, shaking her head. “You’ve always been such a worry wart, Mitch. I’m fine. But I promise to get my tires sorted ASAP,” she promised even though it didn’t make me feel better. “I appreciate you looking out for me. It’s nice,” she paused. “I’d forgotten how much.”

  Warmth flooded through me. My heart thudded painfully in my chest.

  I had to go. I couldn’t stand there with her when I was supposed to be somewhere else. With someone else…

  Sophie…

  “Yeah, well make sure you do. I’ll be giving you grief if you don’t,” I threatened with a smirk.

  “I’m counting on it,” she countered.

  “I’m sure you are.” My voice sounded husky.

  Were we flirting?

  What the hell?

  “Are you coming to our show next weekend? It’d be great to see you there,” I said suddenly. It was like word vomit. It came out of nowhere. With no warning. And it spewed all over the place.

  “I wouldn’t miss it,” she said, her fingers gripping her car door, her eyes burning into mine.

  Why was I having such a hard time breathing?

  Breathe, damn it! Before you pass out!

  “Oh. Okay. Well. Um. That’s good. I’ve—uh—I’ve got to go,” I said in a rush, getting into my car and slamming the door shut. She waved at me and I waved back, putting the car into reverse and getting the hell out of there.

  But I looked in the rearview mirror.

  I could see her standing there. Watching me leave.

  Fuck.

  “Let’s go,” Sophie said once I arrived to pick her up. She had run out the door as soon as I pulled into the driveway. I didn’t even have the chance to get out of the car.

  I had only been to her house twice before and never for long. I had never met her Dad, who also lived there. I never really pushed it because it hadn’t mattered. Sophie came and saw me on the road or when I was home. She worked around my schedule. What suited me. It was convenient.

  But as the two of us drove to Garrett’s, I found it strange that I didn’t really know a whole lot about the woman I had dated for a year.

  I knew basic fact. Bits and pieces.

  I knew that she worked at her dad’s garage, which is why she was able to get so much time off to see me. I knew that she had two older sisters who she didn’t really get along with. Her mom had left when she was in high school and that’s when she moved to Bakersville.

  I knew that she was a nice person. She was sweet and shy and unobtrusive. She went along for the ride without ever questioning where we were headed. She was simple. Easy.

  But I never saw her vulnerability. Her tears. I never looked into her eyes and saw the parts of her that she kept hidden from everyone else.

  We were shallow. Barely touching the surface.

  She had tried to help me heal my heart. But had it really worked?

  I wasn’t so sure.

  I didn’t think Sophie had ever really given me anything of substance that I could move on to.

  And I felt like shit for thinking that.

  “I’ve missed you. I haven’t really seen you since we’ve been back,” Sophie said once we arrived at Garrett’s. We walked up to the porch, close but not touching. I didn’t feel the need to reach out and take her hand. I was okay keeping my distance. There was something seriously wrong with that.

  “Yeah, it’s been a little nuts,” I excused. Lies. All lies. I could have seen her. But the truth was I hadn’t thought about it.

  Being back in Bakersville always messed with my head. But this time more so than ever before.

  And I had bought Gracie a fucking Baby Ruth and told her that I wanted her to come to the show.

  I was ridiculous.

  “Do you think I could stay over tonight? It’s been a while,” she murmured, pulling on my belt buckle, her eyes coy and meant to be seductive.

  “Uh, well, I’m pretty tired—” I started to say.

  Was I really giving her the “I’m tired” speech? Why don’t I just tell her I have to wash my hair?

  Sophie pouted, her hands sliding up the front of my shirt and connecting with bare skin. Her nails scrapped along my abdomen and I felt…nothing.

  Not a dick twinge. Not a belly flip. Nada. Nothin’.

  “I think you’ll feel better when I have my mouth wrapped around your—”

  “Get your ass in here! We’ve been waiting for almost a fucking hour!” Cole yelled, throwing open the door.

  Sophie let out an exasperated breath and pulled her hands out from under my shirt.

  “It’s Tits McGee! Wow, I was starting to think you were history,” Cole remarked and I should have gotten pissed at his disrespect towards my girlfriend.

  But I didn’t say anything. Sophie glared when I didn’t tell Cole to shut up and stomped into the house.

  “Why did you bring the wet mop, dude? I thought you’d be done with her by now,” Cole asked, not even trying to lower his voice.

  “Seriously, give me a break,” I said tiredly. Cole shrugged and went into the living room and I headed to the kitchen.

  Maysie was at the counter, Jordan standing behind her, his hands on her hips. He was whispering something in her ear and I could see that she was blushing.

  I wanted that. I wanted happiness…

  “Hey guys,” I said and they looked back at me.

  “Hey man, glad you’re here. Maysie’.” Jordan said, slapping my hand and then resumed kissing the back of his fiancée’s neck. I had to look away.

  I didn’t know where Sophie went.

  “They should be ready in a few minutes. Did I see Sophie come in with you?” Maysie asked, looking around for her.

  I glanced into the living room and saw Vivian and Cole cuddled up on the couch while he played a video game, but there was no Sophie. She must have gone up to my room instead of hanging out with everyone.

  “Yeah, I guess she went upstairs,” I said apologetically.

  “Oh, does she not want anything to eat?” Maysie asked, frowning.

  “I don’t know. I’ll go see,” I told her, annoyed that Sophie, once again, had separated herself from my friends.

  I headed up the stairs to my bedroom. I found Sophie watching TV on my bed.

  “What are you doing up here?” I asked irritated.

  “I want to spend some time with just you,” she commented. She patted the bed beside her, but I didn’t move.

  “Maysie’s making food. It would be nice if you came down and hung out for a while,” I said sharply.

  “Why? So I can feel like an outsider all night? No thank you,” she snapped, turning off the television.

  I rubbed at my temple. “You’re not an outsider, Sophie. We’ve been together for long enough now that you’re as much a part of the group as anyone.”

  Lies.

  And Sophie knew it.

  “Am I?” she demanded, her voice relaying her skepticism.

  She got to her feet and walked across the roo
m. She wrapped her arms around my waist and lifted up on her tiptoes so she could kiss me. Her lips were dry and warm. And when she parted them for my tongue I tasted the mint of her gum. But I wanted to taste strawberries.

  Why was I thinking about strawberries?

  Sophie tried to deepen the kiss, but I gently pulled away. “Come on. Let’s go downstairs.”

  I wish I could ignore the hurt in her eyes.

  Or the guilt I felt for putting it there.

  I was drunk.

  Actually, I had moved past drunk about three drunks ago.

  Whatever.

  “Fucking hell!” I threw the remote control on the floor and knocked back the rest of my beer.

  “You betcha! I’m the king and you know it!” Cole slurred, pumping his fist triumphantly. Asshole.

  Vivian was curled into his side, fast asleep. Jordan and Maysie had left two hours ago. And Sophie had gone up to my room in a snit when I told her I wanted to hang out for a while longer. She had spent the entire evening texting so I wasn’t in a rush to follow her up there.

  “Man, I’m horny, we need to go,” Cole announced, shaking Vivian awake.

  “What the hell?” she groaned, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

  “I want to go home and fuck,” Cole growled, kissing her roughly.

  “Uh, I’m still here,” I called out when he started to put his hand down Vivian’s pants.

  “Come on, Cole. Let’s go back to my place. Gracie’s asleep by now,” Vivian murmured against his mouth, pushing on his shoulders so she could get up.

  Vivian stumbled to her feet, not because she had been drinking, she was stone cold sober, but because Cole was still trying to unbutton her pants.

  “See ya later, Mitch,” she said, smacking her boyfriend’s hands away. “Stop it, Cole! Not until we get home!”

  Cole muttered something unintelligible as he wobbled on his feet. “I’m gonna eat some pussy tonight!” he sang at the top of his lungs and I threw the remote at him.

  “Shut up, man. I don’t need to hear about it.”

  Cole threw it back and gave me a sloppy smile. “You could go eat some pussy too. Don’t you have Tits up there in your bed?”

  Yeah, I didn’t think Tits, I mean Sophie’s, pussy was on the menu tonight.

  “Come on, baby,” Vivian cooed, supporting Cole as they walked to the front door. “Bye, Mitch!” she shouted.

  The door slammed behind them and I was left alone. Garrett was in Boston until Monday so it was just me and Soph in the house. That should have been the cue for rabid monkey sex on every available surface.

  If we were like normal couples we wouldn’t have been able to keep our hands off each other.

  But we weren’t a normal couple apparently.

  I tried to watch some TV, but I couldn’t get into anything. I was hoping for some Fresh Prince of Bel Air re-runs but I was out of luck. I thought about watching some porn so I could at least rub one out, but that sounded depressing.

  I drank another beer but that just made me feel like I was going to puke.

  I grabbed Garrett’s guitar and plugged it in. Maybe playing music would help me get rid of this restless energy.

  I strummed a few songs, but couldn’t find my groove.

  The notes all fell flat.

  So I sat, staring at the wall, thinking shit that I shouldn’t be thinking, trying to sober up.

  I thought about the band. I thought about what the hell I was going to do once that train derailed.

  I thought about the woman asleep in my bed that I really wished wasn’t there.

  And I thought about Gracie.

  Of course I thought about Gracie.

  Seeing her earlier today had been…nice.

  Almost casual.

  Something like normal.

  I had been angry with her for so long. My ego had taken a beating. My heart had been smashed.

  But I wasn’t feeling angry right now. I wasn’t feeling heartache or bitterness.

  I just wanted to hear her voice. Which was stupid.

  Don’t do it. Just don’t! Go for a walk. Or make an omelet. Do not, I repeat do not, drunk dial her!

  I picked up my phone.

  This is your last chance, man. Retreat! Retreat!

  I dialed her fucking number anyway.

  I’ll just blame it on the alcohol. It made it easy to make bad decisions and think about consequences later.

  “Hello?” Her voice was rough and heavy with sleep.

  “Hey,” I said softly. Was I slurring? I didn’t think so. I felt a lot more sober than I had an hour or so ago. But I was still just drunk enough not to care about how wrong this was.

  “Mitch?” I could hear the rustling of fabric and knew she was moving around in her bed. “What time is it?”

  “I don’t know. Two maybe?”

  “Why are you calling? Is something wrong?” Gracie sounded more alert.

  “No, nothing’s wrong. I just thought you could use some Chunky Monkey.” It was lame. Really lame. She’d see right through me.

  “Chunky Monkey?” Gracie sounded confused. “Hang on a sec, it sounds like Viv just got home.”

  More rustling of fabric and I imagined her in her bed and knew that she was only wearing panties and a tank top. It’s all she ever wore to sleep. My mouth went uncomfortably dry and I had to readjust myself in my boxers.

  “Damn, are you psychic?” she whispered a minute later. And then I could hear it. The familiar sounds of Cole and Vivian screwing each other’s brains out.

  I laughed. “They left here about fifteen minutes ago and Cole already had it whipped out. So I figured you were about to get an earful.”

  “This sounds like it’s going to be a gold medal performance. Here, have a listen.” She must have put the phone to the wall adjoining Vivian’s bedroom because all I could hear were Vivian’s hyena shrieks and Cole’s grunts.

  “Enough! Spare my ears!” I begged once she pulled the phone away.

  “Well, are you going to rescue me?” she asked lightly and my belly clenched.

  I remembered that Sophie was upstairs. In my bed.

  While I was talking to Gracie on the damn phone.

  When I didn’t answer, Gracie giggled stiffly. “No worries. You’ll just be forced to keep me company. If I have to suffer through the rough and wild sex show, so do you. It was a deal we made years ago, remember?”

  “I remember. But I think that promise was made under duress, if I recall,” I chuckled.

  Just last week I had told her that I needed my distance. That it was the only way I could co-exist with her in the same town.

  Maybe it was the alcohol that made the walls come down so easily.

  Maybe I was just sick of being mad at her for things that I couldn’t change.

  Because she had been my friend first.

  She had broken my heart much later.

  “Okay, I had withheld your Twizzlers. That was pretty harsh of me,” Gracie agreed. There was a crash on the other end of the phone. “Crap, I think they broke a window,” she whispered.

  “Are you kidding me?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. They’re still going at it. Sheesh, they’re stamina is enviable,” she said, sounding impressed.

  “It’s all that Viagra Cole takes,” I deadpanned.

  Gracie gasped. “No! Really? Vivian never said anything!”

  I busted out laughing. “I’m kidding. That’s all him, lucky bastard.”

  The laughter dwindled away into silence. Heavy, heavy silence.

  “So why aren’t you sleeping? You’re not that much of a night owl,” Gracie observed. I sighed and leaned back on the couch, covering my eyes with my arm. My head was starting to pound and I didn’t feel so hot now that the booze was working its way out of my system.

  “I’ve got a lot on my mind,” I told her.

  “Like what?”

  You.

  I thought it but I didn’t say it, thank god. I guess I st
ill had some sort of a filter.

  “Is it the band?” she asked and I found my way out. I could tell her something that was sort of true. Because yeah, that was on my mind too.

  “I think Generation Rejects are done. And I’m kind of glad,” I admitted quietly. Only to her. It was easy to give her my confidences. My secrets.

  “Why? You love music,” she said, sounding surprised.

  I dropped my arm to my side and stared up at the cracked tile in Garrett’s ceiling. Was it moving? I closed my eyes, feeling the room start to spin.

  “I do. I really do, G, but I miss playing just for me. Not for a label or so an album will sell. I can’t find the passion for it anymore and that scares me.” Why was I telling her this? We were way past that point in our relationship where I could give her my truths.

  But I wanted her to have them. I needed her to have them.

  They were tiny parts of me I could give her without crumpling.

  “Then you have to find your heart in it again,” she said softly. “You have to rediscover that place where you can enjoy playing. Where it’s only for you. And if that means taking a step back and doing something else in the meantime, then do it. You’re a smart guy. There’s more out there for you than just being Generation Rejects’ bassist.”

  I held onto her voice like a lifeline. Everything around me was wobbly. My heartbeat was too fast but she was keeping me still.

  “What if there isn’t? What if I’m washed up at twenty-five?”

  Gracie laughed. “Don’t be silly, Mitch.” God, I loved it when she said my name. “You need to stop being so pessimistic. I think it might be the beer talking.”

  “Hey! I’m not drunk!” I denied.

  “And I’m the Queen of England,” she stated drolly.

  “Well, howdy, your majesty,” I threw back at her.

  “Seriously Mitch, if this falls apart and the band is no more, you’ll find something else. You’ll land on your feet. I promise you.”

  She sounded so confident. So damn sure.

  Why couldn’t I feel that?

  “What am I going to do, Gracie?” I asked, my voice hushed as I gripped the phone so tightly against my ear, it made my hand ache. “What else am I even good at?”

  “You’ll figure it out,” she said.

  “And what if I can’t find it?” I sounded panicked. I couldn’t help it. I was ripping myself open for her to see.