Different Roads

by Lori L. Clark

  The rest of the week crept by. Seth and I were together every free minute we had, but he wouldn’t let me in on the secret he’d alluded to for the weekend ahead. “Does it involve mud?” I teased him.

  “Mud? What? Why would you think a surprise I have for you involves mud?”

  I shrugged, “Thought maybe we were going to Cemetery Road Hill or something and you were going to let me drive your truck for a change.”

  “Oh hell no,” he shot me a wicked grin. “I just got that truck put back together.”

  I playfully punched him in the arm, “Hey! My driving isn’t that bad!”

  “Ouch,” he winced. “True. You are better at it than Andy.”

  “Fine. Don’t tell me,” I said, folding my arms across my chest.

  “Okay,” he leaned in to kiss me, but I turned my head so he had to settle for a quick kiss on my cheek. “I won’t.”

  “So unfair,” I groaned.

  “You’re going to love it, I promise,” he told me. “Trust me.”

  I think I already do, I said inside my head.

  Chapter 18

  Seth had me meet him at his house Saturday after he got off work; he said that way we’d be closer to our surprise destination. I still had no clue where he was taking me as I locked my car and walked toward his front door.

  Inside his pickup, he didn’t say anything as he merged into the flow of traffic headed east on I-70. He wore a boyish grin that etched deep dimples into his cheeks and made his gorgeous blue eyes sparkle and pop. I sneaked a sideways glance at him and couldn’t help but smile. “Are you planning to let me in on your surprise sometime soon?”

  He reached over and gave my thigh a squeeze, “Who’s your favorite music group?”

  I didn’t have to think twice before I answered, “Duh. Aces & Eights. But what does that…” I stopped talking as it finally hit me like a bucket of bricks of the head. “You got Aces & Eights tickets?”

  He lifted his shoulder in a one-armed shrug, “Maybe.”

  My mouth dropped open, “Shut. Up. Those tickets have been sold out for months. Don’t tease.”

  Unbeknownst to me, Seth is buddies with someone who knew some guy who’s related to someone who just happened to have two extra tickets to the biggest concert event our city had ever seen. Tonight’s Aces & Eights tickets went on sale months ago and were sold out within minutes. The only way to get tickets after that was to buy them from a scalper at a premium price.

  The closer we got to the arena, the more it became evident that he hadn’t been joking. He really was taking me to the concert. I didn’t even care which nosebleed section our seats were in. That’s what the giant screens were for. When he pulled into the reserved V.I.P. parking garage, my eyes went wide and I shot him a look, “Whoa, V.I.P. parking?”

  “Only the best for my girl,” he chuckled. Once out of the truck, I started to head toward the entrance gate which was already swarming with people. He tugged me gently back, “This way.”

  I followed along obediently as he led the way inside the special side entrance of the arena and down onto the floor. Best. Tickets. Ever. We sat third row, center and you couldn’t have wiped the smile off my face with a scrub brush.

  After the concert I snuggled next to him in the truck on our way back to his house. He kissed me on top of the head, “Want to know the second part of my surprise?” he asked softly.

  I smiled up at him, “There’s more?”

  “Guess whose roommate is out of town for the night?”

  My stomach turned inside out with excitement, and I grinned as I began to think about the indecent things I wanted to do with him, “How’d ya manage that?”

  “I went over to the east side and found a hooker to entertain him for the night,” he said. When he spotted the horrified look on my face, “I’m kidding. He went to some gaming convention in Kansas City.”

  When we pulled up in front of Seth’s house, the blood rushed out of my head as soon as I spotted the damage to my car, “What the hell?” I turned to him, “Did you see that on the side of my car?”

  He stopped the truck and we hopped out. Both sides of my car had been keyed. Deep nasty gouges the full length of my beautiful Charger. In disbelief, I shook my head. Seth’s jaw muscles popped as he clenched his teeth together. “I’m so sorry, Jaq.”

  “I wonder which one of your psychotic ex-girlfriends thought this would be a good way to spend her night?” I shook my head and stalked off toward the house. I was pissed, but it wasn’t his fault. I wasn’t about to let some crazy bitch’s idea of fun ruin what had up until that moment been one of my best night’s of my life.

  “We’ll figure out who did that to your car, Jaq,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around me.

  I nuzzled my nose into the spot where his neck met his shoulder and sighed, “I know. It’s not your fault that you had such poor taste in women before you met me.”

  He laughed, “You got that right.”

  I spent the night in his arms, marveling at how ironic things were. She’d fucked up the side of my car and I still came out the winner. Whoever she was.

  Chapter 19

  “Did you figure out what you want for your twentieth birthday yet?” Shelley asked. I waggled my eyebrows and nodded. She planted her hands on her hips and said, “Shut up. I mean something I can give you?”

  “Shell, you know how I feel about birthdays,” I warned. “Seriously. I don’t want to celebrate my birthday and you don’t have to get me anything. Okay?”

  She ignored my protests, “Fine. If you’re not going to tell me what you want, I’ll just get you something I like.”

  I blew out a noisy breath, “Whatever. But no party.” I narrowed my eyes into a steely glare to drive home the fact that I wasn’t kidding. I hated my birthday. I swear every year on my birthday something bad happened, starting on the year of my tenth birthday when my bulldog, Norma Jean, died.

  Then the year I turned eleven, my dad moved out of the house setting off the chain reaction that began as a separation and culminated with their divorce becoming final one year later on, you guessed it, my twelfth birthday. Those were just a few of the reasons I hated November seventh.

  “We’ll just have a small party. We can celebrate Seth’s birthday too,” Shelley mused.

  I gaped at her as though she had three heads, “What are you talking about? Seth’s birthday isn’t until July.”

  She giggled like a junior high cheerleader and whined, “I know, but I think it’s cute how your birthday is 11/7 and his is 7/11.”

  I rolled my eyes at the crazy Shellyism, “No party, Shell.”

  I knew whatever I told her went in one ear and flew right out the other. Throughout the week I overheard bits and pieces of her plans to dispel the ghosts of birthdays past.

  My twentieth birthday was on a Saturday this year, and every part of me wanted to believe things would be better this time around because I had Seth in my life. But I couldn’t shake the edgy feeling that something bad would happen. I didn’t know if it was just irrational fear due to my lousy luck with birthdays or if it was some sort of ominous warning.

  The night before my birthday, Seth was supposed to come over after he got off work. We were just going to have chili and watch movies with Shelley and Tim. He normally showed up around six, so when he hadn’t made it by six thirty, I started to worry that something bad had happened to him.

  “He’ll be here, Jaq.” Shelley smiled. “I’m sure everything’s fine.”

  I tried to relax but there was a knot growing in the pit of my stomach, threatening to squeeze the life force from my body. Where was he? Finally, about seven, I heard his truck pull up out front. I threw open the door and ran to him, “Where have you been? I was so worried about you!” I said. My voice was thick with emotion. I wrapped my arms around his neck in a hug. He stiffened in my arms and didn’t hug me in return. I drew back and stared up into his eyes, “Seth? What’s wrong?”

  He took off h
is baseball cap and ran a hand through his hair, “We need to talk.”

  I detected the smell of Wild Turkey on his breath and my heart sank. The troubled look on his face told me more than the words I was certain were coming ever could. It was never good news when the love of your life showed up late — especially since he was never late — and muttered through a fog of booze breath that we needed to talk.

  My knees folded up like an accordion and I dropped to the grass in our front yard, “Just tell me.”

  “Do you want to go inside?”

  I shook my head, “No. Just tell me right here.”

  He reached for my hands and I let him pull me to my feet before he said, “Jaq, I can’t be with you anymore.”

  I blinked back the tears I would not let him see me cry and I asked, “You’re breaking up with me?”

  He nodded slowly, “I’m sorry Jaq. It’s not you…”

  “Don’t you dare!” I shoved him hard away from me. “Don’t give me that pathetic it’s not you, it’s me line. Save it for someone else. I’m not buying it.” I spun away from him and stalked toward the house. He didn’t try to stop me.

  The tears held off until I collapsed into a heap just inside the kitchen door. Shelley came running, “What the hell happened?” I shook my head in a daze. She got down on the floor with me and hugged me to her, asking, “Where’s Seth?”

  Tears streamed down my face, “Gone. You see Shell?” I let out a whimper, “This is exactly why I hate my birthday. Seth just dumped me. No explanation. Poof. It’s not you, it’s me. I can’t be with you anymore. Blah, blah, blah.”

  “He doesn’t mean that, I’m sure,” she rocked me back and forth, trying to comfort me. “Everyone can see how crazy he is about you.”

  “I did the one thing I swore I would never do again,” I sniffed. “I opened up my heart and let someone inside. Every damn time I do that, it gets ripped right out of my chest.”

  “Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry,” Shelley whispered into my hair. “He’ll be back, he’d be a fool to give up the best thing he ever had.”

  To say I didn’t sleep very well that night would be the understatement of the century. I watched as the old alarm clock on my nightstand flipped through the numbers, minute-by-minute, hour-by-hour until I finally gave up and got dressed just before dawn.

  Looking into the mirror through swollen, red-rimmed eyes, I told myself, “Happy freaking birthday loser.” I splashed some water on my face and ran my fingers though my hair before pulling it back into a knot at the base of my neck.

  I got dressed and left the house to do what I always did when I suffered from a broken heart. I got in my car and drove. I didn’t have any idea where I was headed or what I’d do once I got there. I just knew I wanted to be as far away from everywhere and everyone as I could get.

  After driving for awhile, I spotted a familiar looking turn-off. It was the dirt road where Brad had been killed. The normally rutted, mud road was frozen solid from the cold snap we’d had the previous week. I kept the Charger aligned in the deep tracks which were carved into the narrow road and eased along until I came to the bridge. I stopped and switched off the ignition.

  I leaned my head back against the seat and stared off in a daze wondering what I was going to do with my life for the next twenty or so birthdays. Tears streamed down my face and my body was wracked with sobs which felt like they were coming up from my toes. I swiped at the tears with the sleeve of my hoodie and slowly got out of the car.

  The iron bridge still carried the paint and scars from where Brad’s truck had come to rest. When I spotted the small wooden cross that someone had placed at the foot of the bridge the tears began falling again. I traced my hand over the butterfly tattoo and stared up at the sky. “Brad, I miss you so much right now,” I cried. “I wish you were here buddy.”

  Chapter 20

  Out of all of the failed relationships in my life this one hit me the hardest. I tried to dig out from under the sense of utter hopelessness I felt. I was left feeling that I would never meet anyone I liked as much as Seth and that he was my one and only chance at a love everlasting.

  I knew that it would take one hell of a man to fill his shoes and that going forward I would compare every guy I met with him for a long, long time. My friends had their work cut out for them trying to help me put myself back together. Especially when I wasn’t even sure I wanted to be put back together.

  Like a robot, I went through the motions of life by forcing myself out of bed each morning. I had to put one foot in front of the other and getting through school was difficult, at best. It wasn’t just about taking life one day at a time; it was more of an hourly project. I knew everyone was worried about me. I could see it in the sideways glances they didn’t think I noticed and the way everyone walked on egg shells around me.

  Since there had been no real closure for me, it was impossible to let it go. I continually asked myself what the hell had happened. How could he go from being with me every free moment to never wanting to see me again? That was the first stage of my grief, denial. Then I moved into the second stage: anger.

  I decided that if I was supposed to move on with my life without him in it, then he needed to give me some answers. Unfortunately, that revelation came one Friday night while sitting around the kitchen table with Shelley, downing several shots of tequila and getting sloppy drunk.

  I was in no shape to stand, much less drive and Shelley was only marginally more sober than me. So when Tim arrived we coerced him to drive me over to Seth’s. He didn’t want to but after a few minutes of whispered negotiations between him and Shell, a deal was struck and he begrudgingly took me over there. Luckily, Seth wasn’t home. Of course not. It was Friday night. Paranoia set in and I became convinced that he was out with some other girl. It was probably better that he wasn’t home. I wanted answers, but demanding them with a tequila fogged brain was probably not such a hot idea.

  I’m pretty sure I skipped the bargaining stage of grief. The “if only” stage. I mean, I didn’t have a clue as to why he’d dumped me, so I had no cards left in my hand to bargain with. Maybe if I had an inkling of an idea, I would have been able to try to negotiate. Not that I didn’t have flaws, I just didn’t know which one of my flaws caused him to dump me.

  Depression. I hit the fourth stage of grief with a vengeance. I sank deeper into depression and feeling sorry for myself. When you are depressed and feel like something on the bottom of somebody’s shoe, your self-esteem is in the shitter. I was at an all-time low when Shelley convinced me to go to a bachelorette party with her one night. It was against my better judgment, but Shelley wasn’t about to take no for an answer.

  She told me it would be in my best interest to go willingly, “You can either get yourself cleaned up and put on something hot,” she told me matter-of-factly, “Or you can sit here in your footie pajamas with dirty hair, and when the time comes for us to leave, I’ll just have Tim carry your ass out to the car and you can come with me looking like this. How you go is up to you, but understand me. You. Are. Going.”

  I gave her a “you wouldn’t dare” glower. She smirked and shrugged her shoulders, indicating to me that she wasn’t kidding. I heaved a heavy sigh and said, “Fine, I’ll go.”

  After changing my clothes probably a hundred times, I finally found something to wear that both Shelley and I agreed on. I wanted to wear something plain and dark so I could just melt into a back corner somewhere unnoticed. She wanted me to wear my best come-fuck-me ensemble, because it was time for me to get back on that horse and ride. Her words, not mine.

  “Have you lost your mind?” I folded my arms in front of me and shot her an ugly stare.

  “What?” she said with mock innocence. “Guys go out and start hooking up right away after a breakup. It’s time for you to go out and lay the first thing that’s human looking and willing. You know what they always say?”

  “No, Shelley, what do they always say?” I asked shaking my head.

/>   “They always say that the best way to get over an old love is to get under a new one.”

  “Getting under a new one is so not in my plans for tonight,” I said. I stared down at the floor and muttered, “Or for any other night in the next thirty or forty years.”

  “Never say never,” she smiled and reached up into the kitchen cupboard to retrieve the bottle of tequila. “What do ya say we do one or three for the road?”

  “What? Did you call a taxi or something to drive us?” I narrowed my eyes at her. “Because if I do one or three shots of Cuervo, I’m not driving, and I damn well won’t get in the car with you if you do them.”

  “Limo,” she said passing me the bottle. “Stacy hired a limo to do the driving for us all tonight.”

  I raised my eyebrows at her, “A limo. Nice. What about male strippers?”

  “You got it. She reserved the back room at Pete’s,” Shelley tipped back her head, downed the shot and crinkled her face, “Gah that shit’s disgusting.”

  “I don’t think I’ll be able to handle all this excitement,” I mumbled just before slamming the tequila. “I mean, it’s not every night I get to share the party room at Pete’s with a bunch of sex-crazed women shouting for some defenseless dude to take it off. Can’t wait.”

  Chapter 21

  Shelley and I were the last stop for the limo before we parked in the back alley behind Pete’s. Pete’s isn’t a classy joint. In fact it’s really kind of a dive. But it’s inviting in a sort of smoky, these-are-my-people kind of way.

  While the girls sat dazed and mesmerized as the half-naked stripper worked his way around the crowded room straddling and grinding against them suggestively, I decided to sneak out before my turn came. Quietly opening the door between the backroom and the main bar, I was able to slip out unnoticed. No way did I want his g-stringed ass rubbing up against any part of me.