LOVER COME BACK_An Unbelievable But True Love Story

by Scott Hildreth

  Jess stared at me intently. After a few seconds, she squinted. “That wasn’t funny.”

  I looked at Chico, and then at her. “The story’s not over.”

  She smiled. “Oh.”

  I smiled at Chico, and then continued. “Chico reached for his beer, took a drink, and then swallowed hard again. ‘That wasn’t so bad’, he said. I looked at him and grinned. ‘Surprised you kept it down,’ I said. ‘Why’s that?’ he asked. ‘Because,’ I said. ‘I barfed that same fucker up about five times while you were in the bathroom.’ Ol’ Chico hopped off his barstool, and turned toward the bathroom, but he didn’t make it. He puked it up right on the floor, and then slipped and fell in the puke before he could get to the bathroom.”

  “Oh, my God,” Jess said. “That’s awful.”

  “It was worse than awful,” Chico said. “The bad thing was that shithead here really didn’t eat it. He just said he did. Found out later that it was a joke his Pops had told him, and he played it on me to see if it would work. We ended up getting kicked out of the bar.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “That’s awful.”

  “What was awful was that little fucker coming back up,” he said. “Shot out of there like a little oyster rocket.”

  “Okay,” Jess said with a laugh. “Enough about hemorrhoids and oysters. Let’s talk about something else.”

  “I’m single again,” Chico said. “We can talk about that.”

  Chico had just gone through a divorce and had been screwing a waitress from one of our hangouts. The problem with him was that when he was drinking, he would screw whoever was close enough to grab. My guess was that he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “She got pissed.”

  “About?”

  “She said I was a whore.”

  “I’ll be damned,” I said dryly.

  He looked at Jess. “Got any friends?”

  “My neighbor,” she said. “She likes bikers.”

  “She’d be perfect for you,” I said, laughing inside the entire time.

  “Get something set up. Introduce me to her,” he said.

  Jess grinned. “Okay.”

  “I like this chick,” Chico said.

  I reached for my coffee. “Makes two of us.”

  We sat and talked for hours. All the while, I mulled over the differences that would exist if Jess and I were in a sexual relationship. The risk, I decided, would be exposing myself to being hurt again.

  I realized Jess had done nothing to indicate she couldn’t be trusted. From a statistical standpoint, however, the odds were against her. It would just be a matter of time before she realized I was too old for her, too brash for her, or simply too set in my wicked ways.

  She would come to one of those realizations, though.

  It was as inevitable as the tide.

  Chapter Ten

  Two days had passed since we saw Chico at the donut shop. I’d been busy finishing a project with Teddy. Although Jess had asked to meet on both days, I simply didn’t have time to do so.

  On the evening of the second day, I agreed to go to dinner. For the first time since I met her, Jess was not her joyful self. Seeing her in such a somber mood troubled me. I desperately wanted to fix whatever was wrong and have her return to her normal state of being.

  “Are the kids okay?” I asked.

  She looked up from her bowl of noodles. “They’re fine.”

  “Are you busy at work?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve been pretty busy, yeah.”

  “You’re okay on money? You don’t need anything?”

  I wasn’t in a position to be giving anyone money, but I’d certainly give her my last cent if I needed to.

  “I’m doing good.”

  “You don’t look like it,” I said. “Something’s wrong.”

  She twisted her fork through the noodles while she stared blankly at the bowl of soup. After a moment, she looked up.

  “Are we in a relationship?”

  I gave a nod. “I’d say so, yes.”

  “An actual relationship?”

  I didn’t like where the conversation was going. In response, I did as I always did when I was asked a question I preferred not to answer. I answered it without necessarily answering it.

  “What we have is a relationship, yes.”

  She released her fork. As it slipped into the bowl, I realized exactly what was wrong.

  “We’ve been seeing each other for months. Months. You’ve introduced me to your friends. We’ve been hanging out together. We run here, we run there, and we goof around together. But, you haven’t made a pass at me. Do you think I’m pretty?”

  “You’re gorgeous,” I said. “Breathtakingly so.”

  She twisted a strand of hair with her finger. “Am I sexy?”

  “You are. Very much so, to be honest.”

  “Why haven’t you taken the next step? We haven’t even kissed.”

  My heart wanted me to lean over the table and kiss her. My mind wouldn’t allow it. The two struggled with one another for a moment, with my mind winning the argument. I often wished I wasn’t as strong-willed and stubborn as I was, but change wasn’t an option.

  I swallowed heavily, and then met her gaze. “I’m not ready to be in a relationship.”

  She released the strand of hair and gave me a look. “You’re not ready?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “When will you be?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, choking on the words as I spoke.

  The thought of losing her crushed me. The risk associated with being in a relationship with her was far too much for me to make a move in that direction. With our eyes locked on one another, I sat silently and wondered what a future without her would be like.

  “Let me think about it,” I said.

  “Think about this,” she said. “I don’t want to be friends with you. I like you far too much. I want to be in a relationship with you. I want more. I want to be your lover. If we can’t agree to give that a try, I need to end this. Before I get hurt.”

  And there it was. The “L” word.

  She needed a lover.

  I’d placed myself in some extremely awkward situations over the years. Barfights, gunfights, drug deals, knife fights, riots, beatdowns, stabbings…I’d seen it all. Through it all, I’d never been truly scared. Fear was an emotion I didn’t seem to be in touch with.

  Yet.

  I feared allowing myself to love Jess would produce nothing more than pain. I further feared walking away at that moment would cause pain that I wasn’t prepared to deal with. I’d placed myself in a position where I couldn’t win, and the outcome, either way, scared me to death.

  I’d hurt enough in my lifetime. Walking away from her at that moment would undoubtedly cause pain, but nothing compared to what I’d feel if I allowed myself to love her, and then lost her.

  My head spun.

  “Let me think about it,” I said.

  She pushed her chair away from the table. “I want to go home.”

  I gestured toward her soup. “You haven’t eaten a thing.”

  “I can’t eat,” she said. “I’m too upset.”

  Hurting her was the last thing I wanted to do. Nonetheless, my simple existence was causing her pain, and I could see it.

  “Alright.” I tossed fifty dollars on the table and stood. “Home it is, then.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Certain that I didn’t want to expose myself to the possibility of being hurt, but uncertain that I wanted to let Jess go, I chose to discuss matters with the only people I felt I could trust. The problem was that none of them shared my odd set of moral beliefs.

  Teddy’s eyes followed me as I paced the floor of the clubhouse. Bones and Chico stood at his sides.

  I paused and glanced at each of the men. “Well? Let’s hear it.”

  “Why don’t you just fuck her,” Bones said. “That’s wh
at she wants.”

  Chico chuckled and shook his head. “He can’t. He’s a fucking weirdo. He’s got to be in a relationship with her first.”

  “That’s not weird,” I said. “It’s respectful.”

  “It’s not respectful,” Chico said. “She’s a woman. Women want dick. You’ve got a dick. It’s simple mathematics. You’re good at math. Do the math. Give the poor girl some dick.”

  “To give her dick, I’ve got to be in a relationship. I can’t do that.”

  “Won’t,” Teddy said flatly.

  I looked at him. “Won’t what?”

  “Won’t be in a relationship. You can. But, you won’t. Don’t say can’t. You can.”

  “Since when are you an authority on relationships?” I asked.

  “I’m not an authority on anything,” he said. “But I know you well enough to know you can do anything you set your mind to. You could be in a relationship with her. You’re not willing to.”

  “I might be willing to. That’s why we’re talking. I’m trying to decide.”

  “Chico said she’s hotter’n fuck,” Bones said. “Decision’s easy, far as I’m concerned.”

  “Her being hotter’n fuck doesn’t make it okay for me to do something I wouldn’t normally do. I either need to commit to her or walk away.”

  His gaze fell to the floor. “Commit?” After a moment, he looked up. “I hate that word. Women say cunt is the ‘C’ word. I say the “C” word is commit. It’s impossible to commit to anyone.”

  “It’s not impossible,” I said. “But, there’s a risk involved.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Risk? What’s the risk?”

  “Getting hurt.”

  A laugh shot from his lungs. “You? The man who volunteered to go to the joint? You’re worried about getting hurt?”

  I was like an M&M. I had a hard outer shell, but I was soft and sweet in the inside. As difficult as it was to admit, I was extremely sensitive. When life caused me to deal with emotions, however, I shut down and refused to do so.

  The combination of having a delicate inner self and either being unwilling or incapable of dealing with my emotions caused me to be far more precautious than most men.

  “It’s not that I’m worried about it. I’m just not willing to take the chance.”

  “If you’re not willing, you’re not willing,” Chico said. “Let me know if you’re walking away, though. I’ll take over where you left off.”

  I spun around. “You’re not going to fucking touch her,” I growled. “Not now, not ever. Understood?”

  He shrugged.

  “Under-fucking-stood?” I barked.

  “I got it,” he said.

  I glared at him. “You better.”

  My heart wanted one thing, and my mind clearly wanted another. After months of seeing one another, the thought of losing her was unbearable. Exposing myself to another painful breakup, however, loomed over my desire to be with her like a black cloud.

  I needed to decide and relying on my MC brethren to assist me wasn’t in my best interest. The decision was mine to make, and mine only.

  My risks were as follows: if I committed to be in a relationship, it might work out, and it might not. If it didn’t, I’d lose Jess, and that loss would crush me. If I walked away now, the loss would be painful.

  But it wouldn’t be as painful as the loss if I allowed myself to love her.

  I glanced at each of the men.

  My decision was made.

  “I’ve got some shit to do,” I said. “I’m out of here.”

  “What are you going to do about Jess?” Chico asked.

  I stretched my leg over the rear fender of my chopper and lowered myself into the seat. “I’ve only got one love.” I patted my palm against the gas tank. “And, I’m getting ready to ride her out of here.”

  I flipped the ignition on, hit the start button, and gave each of the men a nod.

  Chapter Twelve

  I no more than pressed the doorbell, and Jess opened the door. She was dressed in a pair of oversized sweats and a loose-fitting tee shirt. Her hair, for the first time since we’d met, was an absolute disaster.

  She wasn’t smiling.

  In the background, I could hear her children playing.

  I craned my neck to get a view of them. In response, she pulled the door closed, leaving only her head poking through the opening.

  “Did you decide?” she asked.

  I swallowed heavily and gave a nod.

  “Well?”

  “I’m not in a position…” I swallowed heavily, again. “I can’t commit to be in a relationship with you.”

  She broke my gaze. Her lips pursed. After inhaling a long breath through her nose, she looked up.

  “Okay. Don’t text me, don’t call me, don’t come by. Respect me enough to grant me that, will you? You’re a remarkable man, Scott. You truly are. But, you’re a remarkable mess. Goodbye.”

  With those words, she shut the door.

  I hadn’t cried since the last time I’d disappointed my father enough to cause him to spank my ass. I was twelve at the time. Since that night, I hadn’t so much as shed a single tear.

  On the evening I left Jess, a tear may have escaped me. I’d later claim there was something in the air that night. I’d never know for sure. The summer night’s air dried whatever it was as I rode toward the eastern horizon.

  When the sun rose, I’d covered three hundred and fifty miles.

  My eyes were dry, and my heart was filled with a pain that was new to me.

  A pain so intense it was crippling.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The summer was over, and fall was in full swing. I’d walked away from my job with Teddy and was living off the funds I had set aside to purchase a home. I had no desire to work, to mingle with outsiders, or to ever go back to the donut shop where Jess and I met.

  Nights were spent on my motorcycle, and days were spent at home. Be it from not working, or as a result of missing Jessica’s company, I had fallen into a state of depression.

  My only escapes were music and riding my motorcycle, neither of which provided much comfort.

  Convinced I’d made the right decision, and that the pain I was feeling was confirmation that I had no business in a relationship, I swore off women completely.

  I sat in my parent’s living room, staring blankly at the television. I had no desire to watch it. I hadn’t had a television in five years and doubted I’d ever have another. My home was also void of any access to the internet. My phone was my only link to modern-day technology.

  “So, what’s going on?” my father asked.

  “Same old shit,” I responded. “Riding the bike and hoping winter never comes.”

  “How’s that pay?” he asked in a sarcastic tone.

  I shifted my eyes to meet his and rolled them dramatically.

  “Something you need to be aware of,” he said. “Sooner or later, you’re going to run out of money.”

  “I’ll be alright.”

  “You won’t be alright forever. Not to poke my nose where it doesn’t belong, but you need to pull your head out of your ass, Son.”

  I looked at him and raised my brows. “Excuse me?”

  “Your head,” he said. “It’s up your butt. When that happens, it’s too dark for you to see what’s going on around you. Pull it out so you can understand just what it is you’re doing. From my vantage point, you look like a damned idiot. I have the luxury of knowing that’s not the case. Pull your head out of your ass, Son.”

  I didn’t always agree with my father, but his observations were typically spot-on. I didn’t have to agree with him, but I needed to consider what he said.

  I shifted my eyes to the television. “I’ll have a look at it.”

  “If you get confused,” he said. “There’s another dead giveaway that you’re head’s in your sphincter.”

  “What’s that?” I asked, my tone deadpan.

  “I
t stinks,” he said, equally flat in expression.

  I chuckled. “Thanks for the hot tip.”

  “Anything I can do to expedite getting you back to normal.”

  I had no idea what normal was. It was different for everyone. I certainly wasn’t my usual self, I knew that much for sure. Knowing my father could see the changes in me was disappointing. I didn’t like disappointing my father. I hadn’t done so since I was a child. Even then, I doubted he was truly disappointed.

  Throughout my legal matters he supported me one hundred percent. Although my mother didn’t agree with me not accepting the offer of probation, my father did. Admitting to guilt was something he never would have done. There was no doubt I was my father’s son. I saw a lot of him in my decisions and actions throughout my legal battle.

  We had always been close. During my prison sentence our relationship changed. We became best friends. Every week, without fail, I received a letter from him. They were written on Sundays, the day we normally met.

  Often, he’d scribe two letters, as he was unable to get everything he had to say stuffed into one envelope.

  Through the course of the letter writing, he told me he was proud of me.

  I beamed with pride upon reading that letter.

  Fluent in Spanish, he taught me slang. He further educated me on Spanish customs, culture, and what was perceived as disrespectful. All of this was done through his letters. It was truly a step back in time for me to write a letter asking a question, and to wait two weeks for him to receive it, and then respond.

  His assistance allowed me to communicate with men who were either unwilling or incapable of communicating with me otherwise.

  Early in my incarceration, I met a man from the state of Chiapas, Mexico who simply went by the name Chiapas. He spoke no English whatsoever. With my father’s assistance, I learned to communicate with him. Soon, we became friends.

  I learned that he was going to be taken to the border and released after serving his prison sentence. He had every intention of returning to his home state, but it was several thousand miles away from the border. The journey, he explained, would be on foot.