“Just why did you run, Casey? I know you better than you think I do. What were you thinking? What were you doing?” I didn’t say a word, and the silence loomed heavily. “Have it your way.” He paused again. “You still whoring around with that guy there?”
I felt my anger flare. “I don’t need to listen to this, Barry. Call back when you think you can be civil. Better yet, don’t call back at all!” I slammed down the phone. Oh…that was satisfying. Couldn’t do that with a cell phone. I held back tears, not wanting to discuss Barry’s mean and intrusive words with my parents.
They didn’t say anything. Dad simply asked if everything was all right, to which I nodded. I forced down a piece of toast.
I decided to make it my mission to find Scott today. Good or bad, I had to know.
So I got dressed, paying as much attention to detail to my looks as I could. When I’d been in the emergency room in Grand Junction, the one thing I’d done right, the doctor said, was to take vitamins. I guess I could’ve been pale and anemic too—as it was, I’d been close. But, at least now, I had a little color in my cheeks, and the dark circles under my eyes were almost gone and easily covered up with makeup. I wore loose clothing so my weight loss wouldn’t show.
I drove by Scott’s place. David’s car was there, but Scott’s truck wasn’t. I wondered if something David had neglected to tell me was that maybe Scott didn’t live there anymore. I didn’t stop. I didn’t want to ask David. I knew he was mad at me still, but more than that, I didn’t want him to have to lie or stretch the truth when I asked again.
Then I drove to Bob’s. I breathed a sigh of relief while feeling a twinge of nervousness at the same time when I saw Scott’s black truck parked there. I took a deep breath, trying to steel myself, before I walked in. Ed was in the office, and I asked him if I could talk to Scott before they got busy. He had me wait in the lobby. Edgy, I told Ed I’d be outside in front of the restaurant in the parking lot. He went in the kitchen while I walked outside.
As my skin absorbed the warm August sun and I breathed in the fresh air, I felt glad I’d decided to wait outside. Besides enjoying the nice day, I hadn’t wanted to share whatever this turned out to be with everyone else there.
I gritted my teeth. If I’d still been smoking, I would have been sucking a cigarette down hard. I’d have to start chewing gum, something to keep my mouth busy and my nerves less anxious. As it was, I started pacing, hoping to relieve some of the anxiety building in my bones.
Holy fuck. Not knowing was the hardest part. A few minutes passed and I started thinking, The bastard’s not coming.
But then he did, and he looked like a group of palm trees spied across a desert. He looked just as beautiful as the first time I’d seen him. But the air around him felt like the first time I’d seen him too—closed off, private, quiet. I wanted nothing more than to run to him and collapse in his arms, tell him I loved him, but I was afraid. I knew that everything was different now. The only problem was, after talking to David, I was afraid it was a lot different.
“Hi, Casey. Good to see you.” He walked over to me and hugged me. I felt some relief until I realized the hug was sterile…platonic. What the hell had I expected? This wasn’t his doing. I’d put several weeks and hundreds of miles between us. We couldn’t just pick up like nothing had happened.
He didn’t hold me for long. “Scott…it’s really good to see you too. I need to talk to you, but I don’t think this is the right time or place.”
He nodded. “How about tomorrow sometime?”
Ouch…that hurt. Why not tonight? I was afraid to ask, but I didn’t want to know anyway. So I just nodded.
“Casey, how much weight have you lost?”
I raised my eyebrows. I hadn’t expected the question, although I suppose I should have. “I don’t know.” I paused. “But the doctor put me on a diet.”
“Then he’s a fucking quack. You’ve lost way too much.”
“No, no…he put me on a diet to gain weight.”
He let the words sink in. “Oh.” Then, after another uncomfortable pause, he asked, “Are you sick? Do you have cancer or something?”
No—brain damage. Love sickness. Stupidity. But a simple no was the appropriate—and only—answer. “Let’s just say I have to be more mindful about eating.” My stomach lurched at the thought of eating. “So…do you want to meet somewhere for breakfast or lunch?” I knew I didn’t want to talk at my parents’ house, and I sensed his hesitation to meet at all. Maybe a public neutral place would take off some of the pressure.
“Sure. We could go to that truck stop just east of town if you want.”
Urg. I’d never been there. Just the idea of eating at a truck stop made me think I’d never eat again. Considering it, though, I suspected I knew why Scott chose the place. It was unlikely anyone we knew would be there. That was my guess anyway. I’d never been there before and never would have chosen to eat there myself. But I wasn’t going to squabble over where. “What time?”
“Ten?”
“Okay.” Shit…my stomach felt like lumpy, spoiled milk. “See you then.”
He nodded, turned, and went back inside.
I’d never felt as empty as I did at that moment—even emptier than when the doctor informed me I’d never been pregnant. I felt cold and dead now. It was apparent that Scott didn’t and never had loved me. I took a deep breath. It was harsh, but it was better knowing now.
And now I was a thorn in his side for which he’d set an appointment to have removed—over breakfast, no less. I had to be strong. I shouldn’t have ever allowed myself to fall in love with him in the first place.
I couldn’t blame him. I’d done this to us. We might have had a chance to really grow into something if I hadn’t left. But I had to be strong. Whatever happened, I had me, Casey, and I was starting to see a lifelong dream realized. My art wasn’t just something I did for fun. That was more important than any man could ever be.
The entire afternoon, all I did was think about how I should approach our meeting. Maybe I should tell him everything, including the whole reason for why I left. I hadn’t been entirely honest with him, and that wasn’t good for a relationship. I knew that.
So I should tell him. But then what? I didn’t know.
The next morning, I got up way too early, unable to sleep. I decided to be productive and painted for about two hours before getting ready. I had so many pictures from my trip, ones that were begging for my sick twist, and painting was a way to distract myself. More than that, though, seeing my expression through art usually gave me confidence, and, if nothing else, I had to take confidence with me.
Part of me didn’t give a shit what I looked like for this meeting but I decided I had to try anyway. I put on jeans and a light gray baby doll tee—the only problem with that was the nicotine patch on my upper arm stood out like a sore thumb. That aside, the shirt was more flattering than most. It emphasized my petite frame without highlighting all the weight I’d lost.
I told my parents I’d be gone for a while. They asked what I’d be doing. My pride told them, “Meeting a friend for breakfast—be back later.”
“Don’t forget to eat, Casey.”
“I promise I won’t, mom.” I hoped I could follow through with that vow.
I arrived at the truck stop. I got there ten minutes early, as a matter of fact. I didn’t see Scott’s truck there, but I looked inside anyway. He wasn’t there yet, so I sat down at a booth by a window. A waitress brought me a menu. I told her I was expecting someone else, so I wouldn’t order yet, but I’d like some coffee. She brought back a mug of coffee that was too hot but smelled good, left a second menu, and said she’d be over when my party joined me. She was young and perky—not what I’d expect the stereotypical truck-stop waitress to look like. I estimated her age to be twenty-one or twenty-two. But here I was, worry about the fucking waitress instead of focusing on my own problems like I should have been. Of course, I didn’t want to. I was kind of
in limbo until Scott got there. Everything until then was just hanging in the balance…just where it had been since seeing him the day before.
I grabbed a small notebook out of my purse and started sketching the tables on the other side of the restaurant. I was basically doodling, doing something to keep my hands busy. I needed to keep my mind off my dread—if I didn’t, I’d be too nervous. At least by drawing, I was able to steady my hands.
If I were still smoking…I’d be half a pack in by now.
The waitress came by and refilled my coffee. I asked her what time it was, too lazy to dig my phone out of my purse. “Twenty after,” she replied, looking at the watch wrapped around her wrist.
“Thanks.” I was starting to suspect I’d been stood up.
Ten more minutes, I thought, and then I’m leaving. How pathetic I was. Obviously, this was Scott’s way of telling me we had no chance in hell.
But I continued sketching furiously, determined not to lose it. I felt dangerously close to tears. I swore that if I had to cry, I’d save it for the car. Not here.
And then he slid into the seat across from me. Same old Scott. Not quite as cold as yesterday.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Flat tire.” Yeah, and he still didn’t have my new cell number, so there was no way he could’ve called and told me. He held up the palms of his blackened hands as proof. On an emotional level, I felt better. I even felt a twinge of guilt for thinking what I had been a few minutes earlier.
“Why don’t you go ahead and wash up?”
He looked around for the restrooms. “Order me some coffee, would you?”
I nodded and watched him walk off. Jesus…he was still fucking hot. I’d probably never get to touch him again, though. At least, that’s what I was starting to suspect.
The waitress stopped by again, and I ordered coffee for him. She said she’d swing by in a few minutes to take our order.
Scott walked out, and I made sure I was distracted…sketching again when he did. “Whatcha doin’?” he asked.
“Nothin’.” I set the pencil down. He took a drink of his coffee and slid my notebook around, studying it.
“Nothin’…to you maybe. I don’t think you realize how talented you are.”
“Thanks…I think.”
He considered me. “You quit smoking?” He’d probably also noticed the patch on my upper arm.
“Yeah…a couple weeks now.”
He nodded. “Good for you, Case.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Well, I guess we’re avoiding the issues, huh?” He took a deep breath. “What did you want to talk about?”
Damn…he was cool and calm and collected. And here I sat, feeling like I was on the edge of a major emotional breakdown. I had to keep it together.
“I don’t even know where to start.” I let out a deep sigh. And then—perfect timing—the waitress came over to take our order.
“You can have breakfast or lunch if you want. We start serving lunch in a few minutes.”
I didn’t even want to eat, no matter what meal it was. Scott glanced at the menu and ordered a big breakfast. I wasn’t hungry so I just picked something I would maybe eat once it was in front of me. “I guess I’ll just take a BLT and French fries.” Maybe I could eat a few fries if I forced myself. The waitress smiled, collected our orders, and clipped to the kitchen.
Okay…at this point, I just need to lay all my cards on the table. “I guess…uh…things aren’t the same between us.”
He looked at me. “Look, Casey…a lot has happened since you left.”
One fucking month. A lot? But, yeah…I could tell just by the vibes I was getting. I averted my eyes, looking down at my bony knuckles on the table. “Yeah. I guess so.” I rubbed my forehead in frustration—and fear. Did I want to know the whole, horrible reality?
Apparently, he did. “Casey, tell me the truth. Why did you leave? Did I scare you?” I just looked at him, afraid to tell him. “Was it something as simple as still being in love with your ex or were you afraid of being in a committed relationship again?” I still didn’t say anything; he acted liked he had more to say…and he did. “You said you had to find yourself. Did you?”
Did I? Right now, I didn’t know…not a clue. I felt so empty, lonely, alone. Unwanted.
“Some. I…uh…I did learn a lot about myself.” I paused, feeling awkward. “Did you get my postcards?”
“Yeah, I did. You drove over half the fucking state, it seemed like. Even your ex came looking for you.”
“Barry?”
“Yeah. I guess he was pretty worried about you. At least, that’s what your parents said.” He looked at his hand that was wrapped around his coffee mug, and then he got to the point. “What was the reason, Casey? Why?” He lowered his voice and his eyes drilled into mine. “You don’t just up and leave a relationship that’s working for no good reason. I don’t believe your lame excuse.”
That one hurt. I needed to tell him. He was calling my bluff, and I was more transparent than I’d thought. Probably about as transparent as the lightly grease-stained window we were sitting by. Of course, just at that point, the waitress brought our orders and refilled our coffee, then asked if we needed anything else.
Yes. Privacy, please.
But I didn’t say that. Soon, she was on her way. Scott didn’t touch a thing, just continued to bore into my soul with his steely eyes.
I tried to speak but no words came out. The smell of the bacon assaulted my nostrils and made my stomach cartwheel. So I tried to start again, clearing my throat. I had to do it. My voice low, I said, “I thought I was pregnant.”
He looked like I’d slapped him. He just sat there, wind knocked out of him, looking at me, searching my eyes for truth. It pained me, but I looked back, seeing if he understood.
Yeah. He understood, all right. He turned his head to look out the window. The traffic was pretty steady out. I could hear other customers in the restaurant talking, laughing, enjoying their lives, the whirr of tires rolling by on the highway, everyone moving. But my life had stopped. For me, time was standing still.
What was Scott thinking?
“Pregnant.” I could barely hear him. His eyes moved back to me. “So you left to have an abortion?”
“No.” I was quick to stop that line of thinking. “Good God, I could’ve done that here if that had been an option.” I’d been afraid of this—here came my stupid-ass tears. “I left to have the baby.”
I could see that he was starting to get angry—a side of Scott I’d rarely seen. But he was controlling it well, considering all that I’d just hit him with. “Well, it’s pretty obvious you’re not pregnant now.” He was glowering. “What happened?”
I drew in a deep breath. “The doctor in Grand Junction told me I’d never been pregnant. All the tests I’d taken before were faulty. The doctor said I was malnutritioned, and that’s why I thought I was pregnant.”
He shook his head. “Casey, that doesn’t make any sense. Don’t you see that?”
“No…I guess it wouldn’t.” I bit my lip. God, I was craving a cigarette—hardcore. I pushed my plate aside. I just couldn’t even try. “The doctor said I wasn’t having periods because there wasn’t enough fat in my diet or stored in my body. He said that female Olympic runners and ballet dancers are like that. They’re super-lean and are lucky to have a few periods a year—they definitely don’t have them regularly. But I hadn’t had a period, and I’d tested positive twice—so I thought…I believed I was pregnant.”
He sat there for a while, soaking in all the information. Finally, he picked up his fork and ate a couple bites of eggs. Then he said, “So…let’s say you had been pregnant like you’d thought. Would the baby have been mine?” He was ice-cold and angry. He didn’t even look at me.
But that sentence…I was starting to feel angry too, but I kept my voice low. “What the hell do you think, Scott?”
He looked up at me, daggers in his eyes piercing my heart, but his voice stayed quiet. “Fuck
, Casey. If you couldn’t tell me you thought you were pregnant, what else couldn’t you tell me? What am I supposed to think?” I didn’t have an answer. I just shook my head, wishing I could retreat. I looked down and saw the plate by my arm. It looked so repulsive right now.
I sighed again, wiped my eyes. “Yes, Scott, it would have been yours.” I looked up at him. His eyes were just boring into mine. “You are the only man I’ve been with since Barry. The only man I’ve been with in at least a year…probably a year and a half.” He kept glaring, and I felt my anger flare again. “So, yeah…since I don’t have the gestational cycle of an elephant, you would have been the baby’s father.”
He leaned in closer. His words were quiet, intense, and direct when he asked, “Then why didn’t you tell me?”
At this point, it seemed like a really good question. Why hadn’t I? Well…I’d been afraid. I didn’t want to ruin his life. But I was starting to feel defensive, backed into a corner. “What if I had? What would you have done?”
He barely missed a beat, but I could see the gears turning. “I don’t know. You didn’t even give me the chance. Fuck, woman, first you tell me you can’t get pregnant, and then you tell me you think you were. You don’t make any sense.”
He was so frustrating. “Scott, I really believed I couldn’t. But the doctor in Grand Junction said I probably could. I don’t know anymore.”
He didn’t even pause. “You still didn’t answer my question.” Yeah…I knew that. I’d been avoiding it. “Why didn’t you tell me? Don’t you think I’d have wanted to know?” His voice became a little gentler, more tender, inquisitive…not so demanding. At that moment, I could tell that I’d hurt him badly. I should’ve just stabbed him—it wouldn’t have hurt him as much as my actions had.
And it didn’t seem as clear now—at the time, I’d thought it was the best, most logical thing to do. Now, looking back, it seemed like the stupidest, most childish thing I’d ever done, especially seeing it through Scott’s eyes. I would try to explain it as best as I could. “Scott,” I said so quietly I could barely hear myself, “I was afraid. Afraid of making you angry, thinking that I’d lied to you. Afraid of what my parents would think. I was so scared—” Here came the tears again. I was a goddamned baby. “I was confused. I didn’t know what to do.”
Then Kiss Me Page 21