Then Kiss Me

by Jade C. Jamison

  Fuck…I looked at my bottle. Even just sipping, I’d drunk a few inches off the top. That was stupid…and yet, I wanted to keep going. I took another sip anyway. “Jesus…sounds like a soap opera.”

  “Pretty much.”

  We sat in silence for a while, not talking, just drinking, listening to Korn playing in the background. True to our natures, we started moving into good-and-wasted territory. I felt tears starting to form in my eyes. “I’ve ruined it forever, haven’t I?”

  He shook his head. “Not necessarily, Casey. I don’t know. Give him time.” He took another drink. “You gave him a lot of shit to think about today. But I know he really liked you.” He lowered his voice, as though if the universe heard him, it would tell Scott what he’d revealed. “The month you were gone…he moped around constantly. He even called your parents a few times.” I was pretty trashed and tried scanning my brain. Had I known that? “He actually even—” David caught himself and stopped mid-sentence. He took another drink.

  Uh…no fucking way was I letting him just pretend he hadn’t been ready to spill something pretty goddamned important. “What?”

  David shook his head. He’d said too much. “Never mind.”

  But I was adamant…if he was withholding valuable information, I wanted it. I raised my eyebrows and leaned forward. “No. What?”

  He sighed. He gave up easily, and I knew that was the alcohol. He cleared his throat. “You’re not gonna like this, Case.” I shook my head. I didn’t give a shit. I wanted to know. “The day before you came back…Scott took Wendy on a date to try to get you out of his head.”

  What? Had I heard that right? Okay…a locomotive just slammed into my chest. David had been right. I hadn’t been ready for that piece of information. And yet, I had it. I had to deal with it. I tried to process it but it was rough. It wasn’t just a weird fact…my emotions wrapped around it, making it hard to handle. The tears came of their own volition, and I couldn’t have stopped them with a dam. I tried to say something, but it wouldn’t leave my throat. Finally, David said, “Nothing happened.”

  “How do you know?” Now he was just patronizing me. Oh…stupid little Casey gets her feelings hurt. But let’s sugarcoat it.

  I’d jumped the gun, though. “I was there. Gerald and I went with them…we saw some stupid romcom. And afterward we went out for ice cream.” I felt tears still streaming down my cheeks, but I was determined to get them under control. “Oh, stop it. He talked about you most of the time.” The tears did stop, even though the sobby emotions were still holding my ribs tight. “About how you’d done some sketch of him that was…uh…I don’t know if I’ll get the words right, but I think he said totally fucking incredible. He just wouldn’t shut up…and I’ll admit I encouraged it. I can’t stand Wendy, and I was pissed that she’d taken advantage of him at a vulnerable moment.” I must have looked stunned again. “She asked Scott out. He agreed if I could come along, and she was desperate, so she said yes. But he wouldn’t shut up. He kept gushing about what a great artist you were, how he really admired your talent. He started talking about some haunted flower painting you did.” I knew what painting David was talking about. “And he said you had converted your extra bedroom into an art area, and you had drawings all over the walls, paintings scattered all over the room.”

  My sad mood had completely lifted with this news. “He said all that?” My heart felt lighter.

  “Yeah. It was kinda funny.” He laughed. “Scott was totally oblivious, but Wendy was pissed.”

  I laughed for a long time then, a catharsis for all the anxiety, worry, upset, and pain I’d been feeling. After we both got control over ourselves again, I asked, “Do you really think I have a chance? I mean…have I completely fucked it all up or is there any chance he’ll forgive me…even after what I told him today?”

  David nodded, a look of worry crossing his face. “Yeah, you have a chance…but don’t tell Scott I told you that.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Even he doesn’t know it yet.” My confusion showed on my face. “Trust me, Case. He’s gotta work through these emotions. Then he’ll know what he wants.”

  I nodded too, letting out a slow breath of air. “Gotcha. I promise not to say anything. And I guess maybe I should keep my distance for a while?”

  “Probably not a bad idea.”

  I felt a thousand times better having talked to David. And my appetite returned, so he fetched some chips and pretzels and we ate a little and drank a little more and then started watching Fight Club until we both passed out, feeling pretty good.

  Then it grew dark, and I stirred when I heard a door slam. My eyes opened involuntarily, and the television seemed too bright. I saw David lying on the floor, and I was slumped in a chair. Then I saw Scott standing by the door. I kept blinking my tired, red eyes, trying to focus. I noticed he was still wearing his work clothes.

  “What are you doing here, Casey?”

  Fuck. Talk about awkward. It was way too soon. Why couldn’t he have just gone to his room without looking in the living room? Probably hard to miss with the TV on. “David and I were drinking. Sorry. I’ll leave.” I stood, stumbling a little, trying to get my bearings. I gritted my teeth, trying to collect myself. I was still pretty drunk. I didn’t know how I’d get home, but I couldn’t stay there. Even if I did have a chance with Scott, I couldn’t stay here right now. I’d walk or call my dad to get me. I took a deep breath and forced my eyes to focus.

  I started to walk (okay…teeter) past him, and he grabbed me by the shoulders. “Casey, you’re too drunk to drive. Besides, your car’s not even here. Go ahead and crash on the couch. It’s okay with me.”

  “No, I shouldn’t.”

  He looked at me, his eyes giving me a firm, stern look. “Sit.” I fell back into the chair. “You’re not going anywhere tonight.”

  He left the room, and I heard him in the kitchen. I rested my head back. It was spinning, and I felt nauseous. I felt myself starting to doze off again. That was probably for the best.

  A while later, I heard the doorbell ring, but my eyes remained firmly closed. I heard Scott scoot his chair away from the table in the kitchen and then heard his footsteps moving to the front door. My eyes were still shut.

  All I heard was, “Casey here?” I bolted up—that voice sounded like…Barry’s. I’d recognize his voice anywhere.

  “Yeah,” I heard Scott say. “Who are you?”

  “I’m her husband.” What? He stormed through the door, shoving Scott aside. It was dark in the living room except for the light from the television, but he’d spotted me anyway. “You filthy, drunken whore!” he said when he saw me. I couldn’t believe my eyes—in half a year, he hadn’t changed a bit. Same tall, wiry build, dark hair slicked back, expensive suit that fit like a glove. But I was wondering where the fuck his attitude was coming from. I couldn’t concentrate, though. None of this seemed real. He got closer to me. “My God, Casey. You look like a skeleton. Have you been doing drugs?” I guess I’d lost more weight than I thought.

  I stood and steeled myself, trying to will myself to sobriety. “Barry, you’re a fucking idiot. And I am not your wife. I’m your ex-wife.” I took him in. He was still good-looking but also just as slick.

  “Says you. You’re coming with me.”

  He snatched my purse up off the floor. Then he grabbed my arm and started dragging me to the door while I screamed, “No!”

  “Come on.” He thought he could still order me around. I dug my heels in, fighting him.

  Scott was still standing by the door. I think he was shocked that this stranger had just barged in. He found his voice, though. “I don’t think she wants to go with you.”

  Barry sneered as he got closer, in spite of my resistance. “You the guy she’s been boning?” He got to the doorway and stopped long enough to say, “You’re lucky I don’t kill you.” He held up his left hand to Scott’s face. He was still wearing his wedding ring. “That mean anything to you? If yo
u’re smart, you’ll stop fucking other guys’ wives.” He shoved his way past Scott, still dragging me by the wrist.

  “Barry, you asshole. Stop it. That hurts!”

  He growled. “Shut up, bitch. You’re coming with me, and you’re going to explain all this to your parents.”

  “All what?”

  “What a whore you are.”

  I could feel the muscles in my neck and jaw tighten. “You dick. You’ve been with women since we divorced. I know because I heard at least one over the phone. And, besides, I know you couldn’t go long without—”

  “Shut the fuck up, Casey.” He had dragged me out the door, down the sidewalk, and we were nearing his car, a black Lamborghini that I knew he loved more than he’d ever loved me, just because I knew how Barry was. He still hadn’t released his grip on my wrist. “Why are you even here?”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Scott start to walk out the door toward us.

  Barry’s voice was lower now. “Casey, you’ve had your freedom, but enough’s enough. It’s time to be the good little wife again.” He looked me in the eyes. “I need you.”

  No, he didn’t need me, no matter what he believed. “I don’t want to be your wife, Barry. That’s why I left.”

  He raised his voice again. “Well, we’re going to see the Justice of the Peace right now, and you will be my wife again.”

  “Why are you so desperate to have me back? We don’t love each other anymore.”

  The way we were shouting at each other, we were probably waking up the whole neighborhood. I wasn’t even sure what time it was. I heard a dog start to bark somewhere in the distance.

  “I don’t like to lose anything that belongs to me.” He opened the passenger door. “Get in.”

  Scott was now standing a couple of feet away from the car. His voice was firm when he said, “I don’t think she wants to go with you.”

  “I warned you.” Barry, quite a bit taller than Scott, stormed over to where Scott stood. Scott just stood there, chest out, daring Barry to do something. Barry faked a punch to Scott’s stomach and then laid a heavy chop on Scott’s jaw. I grimaced, hoping he hadn’t broken any bones. As Scott was falling over backwards, Barry kicked him so hard in the gut that Scott hit the back of his head on the sidewalk. I heard him groan and saw him grab his head as he started to sit up. I ran over and knelt beside him.

  “Don’t you dare touch him again, Barry.” I held Scott’s shoulders, looking at his face to see how badly Barry had hit him.

  He looked at me and said, “I’m okay. Don’t worry about it.” He swallowed. “What about you? Did he hurt you?”

  Jesus…Scott was fucked up. “No, I’m fine.” I didn’t know for sure if it would stay that way, but I didn’t want him to worry while I was off…getting married again?

  Barry leaned over and grabbed me again. “If you don’t come with me right now, I’ll beat the shit out of your little boyfriend.”

  I mouthed to Scott, “I’m so sorry.” Then, reluctantly, I got up and got in Barry’s over-the-top car while Scott tried to stand up, still holding his head.

  Chapter Eighteen

  BARRY DROVE DOWN the highway that went through Winchester and kept on driving, far out of town, heading toward Colorado Springs. Not to my parents’ house, not to the Justice of the Peace like he’d threatened. I started growing nervous. “Barry, where the hell are you going?”

  “Well, at first, I’d thought about taking you back to Denver with me, but I think we’ll go to Vegas instead.”

  “You’re fucking crazy.” I reached in my purse to find my cell phone.

  “Don’t smoke in here.”

  I looked over at him. “I quit, dumbass.”

  He gave me a confused look, as though I’d told him I’d become a lesbian since he’d last seen me. And, for one of few times since I’d known Barry, he was at a loss for words. “I’m going to call mom and dad.”

  “No. Fuck no. Give me your goddamned phone.”

  “No.” I took a deep breath. “Fine, I won’t call them.” I put the phone back in my purse. But now I knew I could push some of his buttons. I turned on the radio and searched for the local metal station and then turned the volume up.

  “Turn that shit off.”

  I glared at him, raising my voice to be heard over the commercial on the radio. “Try to stop me. Either let me out or let me listen to the radio. Choice is yours.” It only bothered him because the car was new. The speakers hadn’t been broken in…till now. I pierced him with an icy stare.

  He growled but didn’t say anything. A Corrosion of Conformity song started playing and I felt myself relax a little. I looked out the window and saw the black landscape whizzing by. I had no idea how fast Barry was driving, but I was certain it was well above the speed limit. I thought about saying something and then decided against it. I knew how Barry would react if I said a word—he’d just go faster. So I’d just try to get under his skin, make him realize I wasn’t worth his time anymore. I reached over and turned the volume up a little more. Besides, they were playing Papa Roach’s “Burn,” a song that deserved to be a little louder.

  He didn’t say a word, but I could tell I was irritating him. That was my plan. Feeling smug, I folded my arms and rested my head back on the headrest. I could feel myself becoming quite sober. Same old Barry—here I am and not a word to say to me.

  We were almost to Colorado Springs when Barry reached over and turned the radio down…but not off. Smart move. He asked, “So…how long have you been fucking that guy?”

  I reached over and—just a titch to assert my wishful dominance—turned up the radio again. “None of your business.” I inhaled. “Besides, I wasn’t over there seeing him anyway. I was visiting David, a good friend of mine.”

  Barry rolled down his window. “And do you get drunk all the time now too?”

  “I did today.” I looked out the side window again but couldn’t see much of anything. I turned back to face him. “How’d you find me over there anyway?”

  How he could maintain his hard expression for so long, I’d never know, but he was still like stone when he said, “I was in Winchester a couple weeks ago, so I’d kind of figured out where everything was. When I got to your parents’ house earlier today, they said they didn’t know where you were. They said maybe Bob’s Southern BBQ—yee-haw—or Main Street Art Gallery. So I went over to the BBQ place and spoke to the manager who told me he couldn’t say a word about what he did or didn’t know. But then I found another guy there who, for a couple of twenties, was happy to tell me you were having lunch with your friend David. That the friend you said you were drinking with?” I nodded. “And this other guy’s name is Scott.” I nodded again, unsure where he was going. And somebody at Bob’s sold me out…I had an inkling of whom it might have been. Forty bucks…couldn’t really blame him, scumbag or not, especially if Barry had him convinced I was still married.

  Barry continued. “I drove around looking for your car.”

  “Obsess much?”

  He rolled his eyes but kept looking ahead. “Your car’s kind of generic but the Korn decal on the back window gives you away. You were parked right off Main Street, so I thought maybe the art gallery, but I couldn’t find you anywhere. So I drove back to Bob’s and the guy I’d given cash to wasn’t there anymore. But I talked to a waitress who was willing to give me all kinds of info for free. I told her I was your husband and said I really needed to find you. She told me where David lived and gave me directions. She happened to mention that the guy you were fucking lived here too, and she also said you were sleeping with every guy in the place.”

  I started laughing. It had to be Wendy. She’d never forgiven me for Scott. “Come on, Barry. You know me better than that.”

  He reached over and punched the radio off. Hmmm…being a little rough with one of his beloved possessions. “Do I? I never thought I’d see you starving yourself to death either, but look at you. You’ve always been small, Casey, but yo
u look like you’re ninety-five pounds soaking wet.”

  Did he actually give a shit? I didn’t reply right away, letting his words sink in. He was right. I’d been pretty hard on my body. But I was trying to fix that. I just needed an appetite. He wasn’t helping that at all. “Barry, take me back to Winchester, please. We don’t belong together. You’re not helping anything.”

  Fuck. Me and my big mouth. He started driving even faster. “Shut up.”

  “Barry, why are you doing this?”

  His jaw was still tight. “Because you’re mine.”

  “I’m not yours.”

  “Nobody else’s.”

  “Barry, I’m not your possession. I never was. I was married to you. We got a divorce. It’s over.”

  “I said shut up.”

  This tactic wasn’t working. I saw the lights of Colorado Springs just minutes ahead, and then I knew he’d have to decide where he was taking his car—south on I-25 so he could hit Highway 50 and head to Vegas or north on the interstate to go back to Denver. That is, if he was in his right mind and really meant what he’d said earlier. “Look, Barry, what are you going to do when we get there?” I decided to be vague, not knowing what his plan really was.

  “We’re going to remarry.”

  I couldn’t believe the messes I got myself into…although I really hadn’t directly done this, had I? I needed to appeal to his rational side. “Do you love me?”

  He paused, silent, as he slowed the car now that we were near civilization. When he decided to answer, he said, “Shut up.”

  Was it working? “Don’t you think my parents will start looking for me? Will wonder where I am? They’ll figure out what happened. Scott will tell them.” I paused for emphasis. “This is kidnapping.”

  He pulled the car over to the side of the road. The engine was running, but he put the car in park. “Don’t you know when to shut the fuck up, Casey?”

  It wasn’t time to let up. “Do you still love me, Barry?”

  He looked through the windshield. He rubbed his fingers over his forehead, then ran his fingers through his dark, wavy hair. He kept his eyes forward when he said, “No.”