Anyway, call me a shit, but I also had my cell number changed. If I’m going to do this—make a break, be on my own—I can’t be just a phone call away.
I’m feeling tired, so I’m going to bed. More to come.
July 26
I’VE SPENT THE last day and a half here in Salida. I haven’t been here since I was a kid. This place is gorgeous…breathtaking and green, and the air is cooler than it was in Pueblo and Cañon City. The drive through the river canyon—I think it was called the Bighorn Sheep Canyon—was breathtaking. The highway followed the Arkansas River the entire way from Cañon to Salida, and it was amazing. And the drive was peppered with lots of little towns as well as places to pull over and gaze. So I did. I took a lot of pictures with my phone, things I’m going to try to draw and paint once I find where I’m going to stop.
I’m starting to feel refreshed. Don’t ask me exactly what that means.
I bought some nicotine patches when I got here, and I haven’t smoked for a day. That’s good. I’m saving money, right? I’ve been a little edgy, but that’s okay. I guess the next thing I need to do is start eating better. Fuck…that’s what’s hard. I have no appetite whatsoever. It’s even worse than usual. I’m just not hungry, not at all. In fact, the thought of eating makes me want to throw up.
I guess that’s the morning sickness, right?
Well, aside from not having to deal with people, I’m feeling overwhelmed. It’s the whole prospect of becoming a mother. Jesus…I’m no more fit to be a mother than…well, than the young girl at Planned Parenthood. God, I hope she got better news than I did. And, speaking of, it was really weird how she kind of bonded with me. I think her boyfriend was stressing her out big time. Did she know I’d overheard their entire conversation?
I’m considering staying here in Salida. It’s far enough away that I’m not worried about running into people I know. And it really is fantastic. I just…don’t get a friendly feeling here. But will I anywhere? I wanted anonymity, for Christ’s sake. I don’t need to make fucking friends.
And then, when I lie down at night, I just think I should call Scott. His number’s programmed into my cell phone and it’s so tempting. But I know if I do, I’ll tell him everything. Everything. And that’s not fair to him, especially when I’ve decided to not let him do anything about it. I’m afraid he would wind up hating me.
He probably already does. But, no…we ended on good terms. Sad, but good.
No. I cannot go back. I can’t call.
I should call my parents, though, and let them know I’m okay. But it’s been nice not having to answer to anyone. No responsibilities, no worries.
Okay, so that’s funny. I have one worry, and it’s huge. Huge. And fixing to grow huger every day.
Part of me thinks I should have told Scott I love him. But most of me is glad I didn’t. That would have made it even harder to go…for both of us. Maybe I’ll send a postcard to him and my parents, just to let them know I’m all right. At least none of them have called me. That’s helped.
I need to decide if I’m going to stay here or go somewhere else. I can’t keep blowing money on hotel rooms, no matter how cheap they are. I need to find a residence before I use up all my money. Then I’d be fucked. So…it’s decision time. Time to grow up…at least a little.
July 31
I’M IN ANOTHER town, but this time I’m on the other side of the Continental Divide, the western slope of Colorado. I’m in a town called Gunnison, a beautiful place, and summer here feels divine. It feels like fall here to me. And the people are friendly. I’ve stayed here a few days, and I’m considering making it my next home.
Is it far enough?
In one respect, yes, it is. I know that if I were to run into someone here, this far from home, from all I’ve known, then it must be fate. But the odds here are low, and I’m not concerned about that.
Anyway, if I decide to stay, I need to find a place and a job. Yes, I plan to focus on my art every free moment I have, but I need real cash too. My reserves won’t last forever.
That’s one cool thing about Gunnison. It too has an Arts Center, and I’ve gathered, from the few people I’ve spoken with, that the arts community here is huge. People are into art, music, theatre…any way a person can express herself. I could get used to it here.
But there’s one thing that makes me think I should keep on driving. The natives tell me the winters are brutal. I’d need to have my car modified, for fuck’s sake. I’m not even kidding. I’d have to have some kind of heater installed in (or on) my engine block and I’d have to plug it in every night in the winter to ensure my car would start the next day. Seriously! I guess subzero temperatures in the winter are the norm. That’s fucking crazy. I don’t think I should carry a baby to term in such a harsh environment. I can’t believe young adults flock here to attend college when they could go to a warm sunny place.
Still…people-wise, it is warm. I could see myself getting comfortable here.
So it’s decision time.
Yesterday, I couldn’t stop thinking about Jim…about when he tried to rape me. I don’t know why, but there it was. So I tried to push it to the back of my mind, but here it comes—smack!—to the forefront. In spite of the pain, I think it was ultimately good for me. I let go of a lot of crap, I think, and I realized I need to quit fucking feeling sorry for myself. Sure, I should see my mistakes and misfortunes and deal with them, but I just need to get on with it. So…I’ve adopted a new philosophy, and that’s it. Deal with it and move on.
And Scott…well, I definitely can’t stop thinking about him. I can still see him, touch him, smell him, taste him. I really want to see him again. But I’ve got nine long months—at least—before that happens. And then, I know, it will be totally different. What I had with Scott will never be the same again. A baby will change that. Completely.
I’ve been wondering what I should name the baby. If it’s a boy—Scott Junior? Is that too fucking cliché? And then I realized I don’t even know his middle name. I know it starts with an A, but beyond that…nope. That’s pretty lame. Seriously—how can you claim to love someone and not even know something as simple and basic as their middle name?
And what about for a girl? Not a clue. There are lots of girls’ names I like, but I want to make sure it would be a good name for a girl…and still a good name when she’s a woman. Not like Casey—great for childhood and teenage years, but as an adult, I’m afraid no one takes me seriously. Maybe that has nothing to do with my name. I’ve written lists of possible names, both boys and girls, but I get stuck. I have so much time to decide. And part of me thinks I should let Scott have a say too.
Anyway, I think I’ve succeeded in kicking smoking. I still crave them, but I’m doing all right without them.
Well, I really need to decide. Stay here in Gunnison or keep driving? I think part of me is also afraid of settling in, because then all this will become…real.
August 1
I’VE DECIDED TO keep going west. Not too far, though, because I want to keep the mountains in view. I just am too freaked out at having to spend the winter surviving temperatures at thirty below and lower. Jesus.
I sat in the car yesterday afternoon just listening to Scott’s CD. I can’t stop thinking about him, and I don’t know that I want to. Every time I dream, he’s there. I close my eyes and see him. I’m finding it impossible to let him go.
August 3
I’M IN A larger town called Montrose. It reminds me a lot of Winchester. The size is pretty close, almost as big. Anyway, I’m at another motel trying to decide if I’m going to hunker down here or keep going.
I bought some postcards at a gas station here. I sent one to my parents and one to Scott. I know…how can I let him go and how can he let me go if I do shit like that? But I kept it simple:
Scott,
Can’t stop thinking about you. Miss you terribly.
Love, Casey
P.S. Tell David hi for me.
I like it here, but I don’t think I should stay. First of all, sending those postcards has now left a trail. If anyone wants to find me, they wouldn’t have to look too hard. I doubt anyone would come after me, but I don’t want to take the chance. I want to have the baby before anyone finds out where I am.
I was thinking about the last night I spent with mom and dad. I feel like we mended a lot of fences. And I’ve decided to accept my parents (especially mom) for who they are. They are human beings…fallible, just like I am. And I love them and hope they love me. So I’m letting go of my bitterness. I’m trying to grow up.
I know…I’m running and avoiding the inevitable. I keep putting it off, burying my head in the sand, pretending it will go away if I ignore it. But I’ve decided…I’m driving west to Grand Junction, a decent-sized city, and then I’m stopping. I’ll get a doctor and get my shit together. But for now…I just need a little more time.
I’m going to bed now. I’m tired. I know I should eat first, but I just don’t feel like it.
August 5
I STILL DON’T feel pregnant. I realize I’m not that far along, but still… I wonder when I’ll start feeling like it. Of course, never having been pregnant before, I don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like. The only thing that feels different is that I’m starting to get this…maternal feeling.
I’m thinking about calling my parents tonight to let them know I’m all right. I’m sure mom’s beside herself. Either that, or she’s forgotten all about it.
I’ve drawn some really great stuff. I decided to stay in Montrose for a day or so. A cashier at the grocery store told me about Ouray. It’s a town less than an hour away, south, deep in the mountains. Oh, my God. I’ve never been to Switzerland, but that’s what I imagine it to look like. The mountains are right fucking there…right in your face. It’s breathtaking. So…I took a shitload of pictures, but I did a lot of sketching too.
Yeah…along with my soul-searching, I’ve been creating a lot of art. A lot.
I know. I’m avoiding a lot of things. I know I am. Even with my art. But I think, behind the scenes in my subconscious, I’m working things out.
Artistically, I’m trying new things. I’ve always considered myself to be shitty at portraits, but every night, the last few nights, I’ve been working on a portrait of Scott. Just his head. It’s not a huge canvas, but it’s a challenge. What are his features that really stand out to me? What is it I see of him when I fall asleep at night? So…I’m painting him…I want to see what my subconscious thinks is most special.
And…I think I’ve finally gotten up the nerve to call mom and dad, so here goes.
* * *
Oh, shit. I called them. I’m kind of glad I did, because mom has been freaking out. I guess Barry’s been calling my parents constantly since I changed my number, and mom told him I was gone. The way mom talked, I guess he’s going to drive down there in the next couple of days.
Seriously?
So I’m not going to call for a while. And for once, I’m glad my parents live in the dark ages. No caller ID and I didn’t give them my phone number.
I really wanted to call Scott. I want to hear his voice. But it’s bad enough that I sent a postcard. As it is, I’m starting to feel really guilty and ashamed that I didn’t have the guts to tell him what’s going on in the first place.
I’m really starting to think, though, that I should just let it all go. You know, find a small town somewhere to live for good, raise my child, let Scott move on with his life and fall in love with someone a little more stable than I am. Just disappear. I don’t know. I’m so confused.
But I know for certain that Barry is not the man for me. I might have loved him once, but definitely not anymore. There’s only one man in my heart, and if I’m smart, I’ll let him go too.
August 6
STILL IN MONTROSE. I spent today sleeping late. I’m really tired. I guess I should eat, but I have no appetite. None. I bought some over-the-counter prenatal vitamins, and I’ve decided to take one a day faithfully. Eating, though…well, that’s another story.
I wonder how Scott is doing. I wonder what he’s doing…if he thinks about me as much as I do about him; if he thinks about our short time together as much as I do; if it meant as much to him or if he’s already moved on. I wonder if he hates me for leaving. It makes me sad to think about it.
But I know after these last few weeks that I can make it on my own. Money-wise, I’m doing okay, but my cash will be tapped out in a few weeks. I know mom and dad offered to lend me money, but I’m not going there if I can help it. Plus…winter will be here before I know it. I need to find a place to settle down, get a job. I also really need to get my ass to the doctor. I just need to decide on a permanent residence so I can get a doctor.
I’m really doing all right. I can live without a man. Sure, I love Scott, but I don’t need him. I can do this on my own.
I wonder how far along I am in my pregnancy and when I will start to show. Am I two months pregnant? Three? I really should have paid more attention in biology. Jesus. I should have paid more attention at the clinic. I really need to get to a doctor, but part of me doesn’t want to. He (or she) will tell me I haven’t been eating right, haven’t been taking care of myself. Yes, guilty. I need to go.
* * *
I just thought about the Arts Center gig…the tattoo show this fall. Fuck. I’d completely forgotten about it till just now. It would have been a great opportunity. About the only tattoo-like art I’d created, though, was my drawing of Scott. I might be willing to share it, but I wasn’t going back to Winchester just to put a piece of art in the show. Guess it was an opportunity that just wasn’t meant to be.
August 9
SO I FINALLY got my ass back on the road. I’m staying in a hotel in a place called Delta, another small town. I’m sure I visited here as a kid, but I don’t remember it.
I got here yesterday afternoon and went out to eat. Then I just drove outside of town a little and got out to look at the stars. Shit. They seem closer and brighter than I’ve ever seen them. I’m going to start taking walks at night. I actually saw the fucking Milky Way last night—big and vivid. Unbelievable. I never thought I could love the night sky like I do now.
It made me think of the night of our first date. Riding in his truck, night surrounding us. Yes, everything reminds me of Scott. Everything. I love that man. I keep seeing his mischievous smile, his tanned skin and lovely tattoos, his firm, smooth muscles, the light in his eyes. Every time I think I’m doing okay without him, I snap back to needing him more than ever. Missing him. Even painting isn’t distracting me anymore. And I can’t think about the baby without thinking about Scott.
I miss him too much.
August 10
ALL RIGHT. WHAT a fucking idiot. I called my parents last night. I’ll admit I miss human contact. I haven’t stayed around anywhere long enough to really get to know anyone, so…they’re all I have really.
Anyway, Karen was visiting my parents. Nothing was said about Barry. But I did get stuck talking with my sister who decided to take it upon herself to lecture me at length about how I should come back. She said I was being irrational and childish, selfish even. She asked how I could do this to our parents, etc., etc. Typical Karen—she wouldn’t even listen to my side.
Why do they care anyway? What difference does it make? I had to do this, even if they don’t understand.
But part of me thinks she’s right, so right.
August 11
I GOT A flat tire yesterday, so I’m still here in Delta. I took it to a tire shop for repair. Fortunately, I didn’t have to buy a new one. They said this one’s in good shape. I just drove over a nail.
I still have a burning desire to call Scott, but I don’t dare. I can’t believe I’ve been gone almost three weeks. It doesn’t seem that long on one hand, but then sometimes it feels like an eternity. I wonder how he’s doing.
He’s probably put me out of his mind alread
y.
Should I send another round of postcards? I’m thinking about it. They’re safer. They don’t talk back. Maybe I’ll send one to Barry too.
So…tomorrow maybe I’ll go to Grand Junction as originally planned. Then I think maybe I’ll just keep going west. Running. Right now, I don’t even remember why I left in the first place but it’s all I can think of.
August 13
I FINALLY GOT my ass to Grand Junction. It reminds me of Pueblo in a lot of ways. I can’t explain it. Having lived in Pueblo all my childhood…well, this place just has that feel. And I mean that in a good way. In some ways, it feels like home.
So can I stay here? I don’t know. I’m not sure yet, but I’m tempted.
I called dad earlier. Holy shit. He said Scott called him to ask if they’d heard anything from me. I guess, from what dad said, he told him pretty much everything he knew. Dad asked where I was and I told him. I couldn’t lie. That makes me think I should keep on fucking driving…just leave now.
But no. Not yet. I have a Colorado map and it ends a short way into Utah. I’d need to buy another map. I need to think about it. Will I leave the state? I don’t know yet.
I’ve decided I’m not going to call home anymore. If I feel the need, why don’t I just go back?
It’s tempting.
I did buy more postcards, though. On both to my parents and Scott, I just wrote, “I’m okay. Love, Casey.” That way, they know I’m all right and alive.
Then Kiss Me Page 19