Not A Chance (Sweet Nothings)

by Carter Ashby

  "I love you so damn much. I don't know how you weaseled your way into my heart like this, but I can't stand the thought that you were hurt. It's making me fucking crazy!"

  Travis stepped forward and grabbed her arm. "You need to calm down."

  She jerked her arm away and shoved him with both hands against his chest. The jarring motion hurt his wounds and he suppressed a wince. "What was I supposed to do, Travis?" she asked, still shouting. "Just stand around and make myself sick with worry? Stand by your side no matter what dumbass thing you do? Am I supposed to make myself vulnerable to this kind of pain all the time?"

  "Yes," Travis said, raising his voice. "That's exactly what you do for someone you love. You have the courage to risk feeling pain. You were a fucking coward, Arden. I needed you and you weren't there. I woke up in that goddamn hospital looking for you and you weren't there. All because you didn't want to get hurt. You think I'm going to feel sorry for you? I don't, Arden. Because I would have been there for you. I love you, God help me, and I'd do anything for you."

  Her face contorted in pain and she turned away from him. He watched as her shoulders shook, little gasps and sniffles escaping now and then. The debate warred within him over whether to hold her or not. In the end, he stood his ground.

  She wiped her eyes harshly with her palms. She turned back to face him. He'd never seen her this broken down. Some sadistic part of him was glad. The rest of him just wanted to rescue her.

  "Travis," she said, her voice more controlled, but still shaky. "I know it was wrong. I know I should have been by your side. I made the wrong decision and I am so, so sorry."

  He stared at her and waited.

  She took in a shuddering breath. "Can't you forgive me, Travis?"

  He exhaled and smiled slightly. "Of course I forgive you. Life's too short to hold grudges, right?"

  She blinked and nodded. "Th...thank you. I've never been so sorry about anything in my life."

  Travis waited.

  "So...so do we have another chance? You and I?"

  Travis's whole body reacted. His palms tingled with the need to touch her. He wanted her. He could have her right now and everything would be back to the way it was. The only problem was, now there was a voice in his mind telling him that he needed to walk away from her. He didn't usually listen to that voice. Of course, ignoring the voice was probably the reason he'd lost his car and been stabbed by his brother. He decided that now it was time to start listening to reason.

  He shook his head. "I don't think so," he said softly.

  "Travis, please," she said. She covered the distance between them and pressed her hands to his chest. She slid them up to his shoulders and halfway down his arms and back. "Let's just start over. I can do so much better, I know I can. I love you. I can't believe I'm just now saying it because it feels so good. So right. I love you, Travis."

  He laughed bitterly and looked up at the ceiling to hide the tears pooling in his eyes. "I'm not willing to trust you right now. I can't be with you anymore. I'm sorry."

  She grabbed the front of his shirt. "I know, baby. I know how you feel. I know you think you're doing the right thing for yourself, to protect yourself. But I promise you I will never hurt you again. I swear."

  Travis pulled her hands off of him by the wrists and led her to the door. He opened the door and nodded towards the cold, wet night beyond.

  Her voice pitched higher in desperation. "You said if I love you nothing else matters! Don't you remember? You said love is the most important. Remember?"

  "I remember. Even the great Travis Lanier is wrong sometimes. I'm sorry, Arden. But I need you to go."

  She was breathing frantically, tears pouring down her face again. "Okay," she squeaked. "I'll go. You just need time to think, that's all. You think it through and I'll be waiting for you to call me. Okay? I'll wait as long as you need."

  Travis shook his head and gritted his teeth. "Please go," he said.

  "Okay," she said again. "I love you. I just need you to know that. You take all the time you need. Okay? I love you Travis." She said all of this as she backed out the door. She was still talking when he closed it and slumped back against it, sliding down to the floor. He let his head bang back against the door as he took several deep breaths. Finally he heard Arden's car drive away.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Emma sat across from Arden at a booth in Sweet Nothing's. Arden was grading papers with half of her attention. The other half was trying to talk Emma into moving out of her parents' house and into an apartment with her.

  "But I don't get why you would leave your parent's house when your bedroom by itself is better than any apartment in this town," Emma said.

  Arden shrugged and pushed her glasses up on her nose. She made some red marks on a paper. "We're big girls. We need to be on our own for a while. Even if it is just a few blocks from our parents."

  "Why? Why do we need to be on our own?"

  "Because we shouldn't go straight from our parent's home to a husband's. We should be on our own a while and finish growing up. Plus, Travis won't spend the night if I'm living with my parents."

  Emma sipped her coffee. "I think I'm plenty grown up, thank you. And I hate to be the one to remind you, but you haven't been dating Travis for three weeks now."

  Arden slapped her pencil down on the table and looked at Emma. "I know that. But all of that will change once I've proven to him that I'm committed. Besides, getting our own place is still the right thing to do. What do you think about those apartments over on Riverview Drive."

  "I think they're overpriced and the basements flood. You're forgetting, too, that I don't have an income."

  "So get a job."

  "I don't have time to get a job. I run the ladies quilting circle, the Daughter's of Virtue, the Youth Service Club, and I organize pretty much every potluck and group activity in that church. I volunteer at the nursing home three days a week and at the hospital the other two days. Not to mention the shut-ins who need meals and company and..."

  Arden held up her hands. "Okay. Okay. So don't get a job. You can still live with me. You can be, like, my stay-at-home wife and keep house and cook. It'll be great."

  Emma laughed at the image. "That's great. But the fact is, I'm perfectly comfortable living with my parents."

  "That's right," Arden interrupted. "You're comfortable. Too comfortable. You need to experience what it's like to be completely responsible for yourself with no one else looking out for you. Get a boyfriend. Go on dates that don't involve your parents. Walk around the house in your pajamas and bare feet instead of constantly dolled up looking like Donna Reed."

  "Hey! I like how I dress."

  "I do too," Arden said. "But why not relax once in a while? You don't have to always be perfect. Sometimes we can just go over to Bixy and go dancing. Or hang out with friends up at Rowdy's. You and me. No parents. What do you say?"

  Emma sat back and watched her friend. Arden wasn't acting hysterical anymore. That first week after Travis broke up with her she had called him every evening and stopped by his house several times to check on him and the baby. Travis had gone to Emma and asked her to help get Arden past this. So Emma had tried spending more time with her. She would cry over every little thing and though she didn't talk about Travis constantly, it was clear he was on her mind.

  But she'd since mellowed. Now she had on her stubborn face. She'd determined a path for her life and she was going to plow through no matter what. She behaved as though she was certain Travis would take her back eventually. Now this apartment thing.

  Of course, it wasn't a bad idea. The more Emma listened, the more she found the prospect exciting. It would be a level of freedom she'd never before experienced. Freedom. She hadn't known she was craving it. But freedom to do what? It wasn't like she had a curfew or anything.

  "I don't know," she said. "I'm not sure it's worth the trouble."

  "Oh, come on!" Arden said. "I know you have a great relationship with your p
arents. But they're still parents. They may keep quiet, but they're looking on you with eyes of judgment. Just think about it. Your own place. You can put whatever you want in the fridge. You can eat a whole package of Oreos at midnight without having to sneak around quietly. You can clean house or not clean house. Lay around in your pajamas at noon. All with no one judging you. It's going to be awesome."

  Emma leaned forward and swirled some cream into her coffee. "I guess it could be kind of fun," she said.

  "Yeah?" Arden said, surprised.

  Emma shrugged. "I guess. We could try it."

  "That's right. Nothing's forever. If we don't like it we move back home."

  Emma looked up and smiled. "Okay. Let's do it."

  "Really?"

  Emma nodded.

  "Great!" Arden started cramming papers into folders and shoving everything into her laptop bag.

  "Where are you going?" Emma asked.

  "It's only four. I think I can get us the apartment today. I'll call you." Arden hopped up and left.

  Emma stared after her.

  Travis lay on his bed tossing a football up in the air and catching it. Emily was asleep in the bassinet by his bed. He was listening to The Dance by Garth Brooks on repeat. He wasn't depressed. But it was a down day. He seemed to have as many down days as up days. On down days he stared at the baby as much as possible and reminded himself how much she needed him. It made him feel good to have that responsibility.

  He heard the front door open and close. Dustin came in and leaned in his doorway. "Travis, I have a question," he said.

  "What?" Travis asked, monotone, tossing the football up again.

  "Are you a sixteen year old girl?"

  "Nope," Travis said, catching the ball.

  "Then why don't you start acting like a man." He stomped over to the cd player and banged it with his fist. The track skipped to Friends in Low Places.

  Travis jumped up and changed it back. "You're gonna wake her up, dammit," he said. He glanced at Emily. She stirred slightly and made a face like she might cry. But then the song started up again and the expression faded. "She likes this song," Travis whispered.

  "Yeah. Whatever. If you're gonna go, then go."

  Travis had been waiting for Dustin to get home so he could go visit Duane. He had been putting it off and now it was time to talk to him before they transferred him to Jefferson City.

  Travis grabbed the keys to the pickup truck he'd been driving for a couple of weeks now. Dustin took his place on his bed and began tossing the football up and down. Travis smiled. "So that's what I look like."

  "Yep. Ain't pretty, is it?"

  Travis shook his head. "I guess we'd better either get our girls back or move on."

  Dustin didn't answer.

  "I'll be back in a while."

  Travis drove through town to the courthouse. He hopped out of the truck and walked inside, not pausing to think. He had no idea what he was going to say, if anything. He just knew he needed to see his brother before he lost his nerve.

  Travis knocked on the Sheriff's office door and went in without waiting for an answer.

  "Hey, Wade," he said.

  Wade looked up from his desk in surprise. "Travis. You come to see Duane?"

  Travis nodded. Wade stood and ushered him to a small room with a table and chairs. Travis sat and waited for Duane to be brought in. Wade led him in a few moments later. He was in cuffs, which Travis thought was unnecessary. But he didn't say anything. Duane's hair looked longer than he remembered. It was filthy, too. The kid was painfully thin. But most surprising of all, he no longer wore that stone-cold killer expression Travis had become so familiar with. He looked...miserable.

  He sat across from Travis and stared down at his hands on the table.

  Travis leaned back and watched him for a few moments. He still didn't know what to say. "I tried to get them to drop the charges," he said.

  Duane looked up at him. "What?" he asked.

  "Six years," Travis said. "It'll change you. If you need anything while you're in there, just let me know. I mean, money...whatever. And if you want me to visit once a month or whatever, just say so."

  "You've got to be the stupidest person on the face of the earth," Duane said.

  Travis narrowed his eyes at him. He was getting tired of being told he was stupid just because he exhibited a decent amount of compassion. "Fine. You don't want my help, I won't give it. I don't even know why I came." He started to stand. "I guess I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry for failing you like I did. I must have fucked up pretty bad to make my own brother want to kill me. So I'm sorry." He finished standing and started to leave.

  "Wait," Duane said.

  Travis turned and looked at him.

  Duane glanced up at him through his stringy hair and then back down at the table. "They're gonna put me in the same place with the old man."

  Travis folded his arms over his chest. Travis figured that would be a good thing. If he were going to prison, he'd want to be with the old man. The guy was a bastard, for sure, but he would look out for his family. He'd protect Duane. "Yeah?" Travis said. "It's good you'll have someone to watch your back."

  Duane glanced at him again. "I'm afraid I'll kill him, Travis."

  Travis went and sat back down across from Duane.

  "I hate him, Travis," Duane said. Tears filled his eyes, his face twisted with a flood of emotions. "It ain't ever been you I hated. It's him. If he was right here I'd wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze and watch the life fade out of his eyes. I swear to God, Travis, I hate him so much!" Duane's hands were squeezed into fists.

  Travis sat, tense, a faint feeling of fear in his stomach. He was thankful Duane was cuffed. "We all hate him, Duane," Travis said softly. "You kill him and guess what? You'll still hate him. Did I ever tell you about the big fight I had with him? The last fight?"

  Duane shook his head.

  "I was, I don't know, twenty or twenty one. A little younger than you. Just married Tonya. I can't even remember what it was I did to piss him off that day. Maybe I took the last beer out of his fridge...who the fuck knows. Anyway, I was at his house and he starts yelling at me telling me what a worthless, no-good bum I was. Tonya had had her first miscarriage and he was screaming about how it was my fault and I was being punished somehow. Then he got to going on and on about how it was my fault Mom had killed herself. So then I snapped and took a swing at him. And the old bastard landed flat on his back. I was so surprised...it had never occurred to me that I'd finally reached the point where I was stronger than him. I waited until he got to his feet and swung again. He got a couple of good licks in, but I finally beat him down. He was on his back and I just started wailing on him, landing punch after punch into his face. His arms were limp, he wasn't even fighting anymore. There was blood everywhere. It felt so fucking good punching the life out of him. At one point I realized that that's exactly what I was doing. I was killing him. And I didn't care. He deserved to die...he was a fucking monster."

  Duane nodded. He was staring down at the table but he seemed to be listening.

  "But I stopped. I stopped because even then, as fucked up as I was, I knew that there was a stronger force in my life...a greater desire. I wanted a good life...better than what he gave us. I wanted a wife and family. I wanted to be a good person. To be happy. You know happy, don't you? That one Christmas we took you to Grandma and Grandpa's for the weekend. That was happy, wasn't it?"

  Duane nodded, a faint smile brightening his face. "That was the best weekend of my life."

  "Yeah. Well. I wanted that kind of happy...all the time. And I knew if I went to prison for murdering the old man, I'd never have it. So I stopped hitting him and I walked away. I could have killed him. I really could have. But it wouldn't have made my life better."

  "My life ain't ever gonna be better," Duane said. "So what's the point."

  "You've got six years of prison sentence. If you behave, maybe you'll be out in four. Worst cas
e scenario, you're twenty-eight when you get out. That's a year younger than I was when I quit drinking. And I know you aren't particularly impressed with my life. But I'm happy most of the time. I got a good, solid business and a house and a little girl to take care of. You can have whatever you want when you get out. You can come back here and we'll help you get back on your feet. Or you can go somewhere else, if you need to. Whatever. But you deserve to be happy, Duane."

  Duane looked up then. His expression grew pained again and tears filled his eyes. "How can you say that?" he shouted. "After what I did to you, how can you sit there and say I deserve to be happy?"

  Travis sighed and slumped back in his chair. "Maybe it's just my way of showing you how to go about being happy. You can't get hung up on every little thing that people do to hurt you. You gotta let that shit go. Like I said, you can kill the old man, but the hate will still be there. The only way to get past it is to let it go."

  Duane was shaking his head, tears spilling down his cheeks. "I ain't good like you."

  "Good's a choice, little brother. And I hope you make the right choices while you're inside. Because I love you and I want you to be happy someday."

  Duane sniffed and wiped his sleeve across his face. He took a deep breath and nodded slowly. "I'll try," he said.

  Travis reached across the table and patted his hand. "If you need anything, just call. I'll come visit in a couple of weeks."

  Duane nodded again. Travis got up to leave.

  "I love you, too," Duane said.

  Travis turned and smiled at him. Then he left the courthouse feeling a little bit better about his life.

  The next week, it was time to move into the new apartment. Emma called Travis and asked if she could use his pickup to move some of her stuff. She didn't expect him to stay and help her load it up. But he did and she found she was grateful for the company. While Travis was going up and down stairs carrying box after box out of the house, Emma was sitting next to her crying mother on the couch, consoling her and assuring her that she wasn't a bad mother.