by Ashlee Price
I nodded and thankfully climbed into the truck and headed home. Dad was out in the fields somewhere, so I left him a quick note and climbed into Clayton's cool, leather interior for our ride into town. I was feeling pretty good by that time and looking forward to some conversation and a nice meal. Clayton was one of our group, and although I knew him to be a little wild, he could be quite the gentleman when he wanted.
Clayton chose Equus, an elegant restaurant downtown with floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the skyline. He ordered me more of the same drinks I had at the wedding and I gulped them down. For some reason I had an extraordinary thirst. I assumed it was the heat causing some dehydration. He ordered prime rib for the both of us, although I would have far preferred a light salad. I didn't eat all of my dinner, and he noticed.
"Is everything okay? Is there something wrong with your meal?"
"No, no everything is fine, just dandy."
He smiled and ordered me another glass. I found I would rather drink than eat. Clayton seemed to be enjoying himself, and we spent a couple of companionable hours talking about our high school years. Neither of us was old enough to drink alcohol, but in certain restaurants, by certain people, those things could be overlooked. Clayton was just that sort of person. I noticed he was downing Scotch and sodas at a two to one ratio over my ice water. He seemed to be fully in control, so I didn't let it worry me, and as the evening wore on, I seemed to care less and less.
After dinner, he suggested we go for a ride in the country with the windows down. Kentucky's topography included networks of very narrow, blacktopped roads that ran from one horse farm to the next, often lined by slave walls. They were hilly and often bottlenecked with tight curves, so you had to be careful when approaching one, especially at night. The stars were bright in the cloudless sky, and the sound of frogs, mixed with cicadas, orchestrated the almost carnival ride beneath the moon. I laid my head back against the headrest, and for the first time since Michael had left, I felt very, very relaxed. Clayton was doing an excellent job of navigating the roads, so I had no concerns.
Anyone who knew me would say that I was a conservative person when it came to my lifestyle. I did not drink, smoke or indulge in any recreational drugs.
Therefore, it was a shock, to say the least, that I didn't remember falling asleep. Nor did I remember driving all night. I don't know if I was awake when we dragged the justice of the peace from his bed or when I entered my marriage bed. All I knew afterwards was that by the next day I was Mrs. Clayton Pierce.
Chapter 6 - Michael
Everyone knows that news travels quickly in a small town. Its only competition might possibly be the rate at which news travels within a group of friends, or those who used to be friends. My phone began ringing that day, and while I sent the calls to voicemail since I was in class, I knew something drastic was up. When I finally learned what it was, it knocked the wind from me.
Callie, my little lassie, had married my best friend.
There was no kind way to put such a thing, although I heard a dozen different versions from the so-called friends who called to let me know in case I hadn't heard. Of course they knew I'd heard. Clayton had made sure of it. I knew when I left him behind in the parking lot that evening that there would be hell to pay. Clayton was a particularly vindictive person who was capable of almost anything if he was drunk enough. Apparently, he had gotten drunk enough.
Callie was the one I couldn't figure out. It was so totally out of character for her, and at first I couldn't believe the repeated stories. None of them varied in detail, however, so after a certain point I was forced to believe it was true.
I called one of the other guys in our group, Buddy Lee Thompson. "Buddy, is it really true?" If anyone would know, it was Buddy. We'd been really tight throughout high school, and if anyone besides Clayton could be considered my best friend, it was Buddy.
"I'm afraid so, Michael," came his words, and I felt punched in the gut.
"I don't understand it, though. Clayton was pissed at me the last time I saw him."
"Yeah, I heard."
"I can sort of understand Clayton getting drunk and doing something stupid like this, but Callie? No way."
"From what I hear, it wasn't really her fault. They were both invited to that wedding, and Clayton took advantage of the fact that it was super hot and Callie wasn't feeling well. He told me she was thirsty and thinking she was drinking ice water with lime and lemon, but he was lacing it. She agreed to have dinner with him and he put something in her drinks there too. They went for a ride after dinner and she fell asleep. He drove south until they got to Tennessee. I guess you know that you can get married the same day there, and Clayton had enough money to buy off a justice of the peace and get it done. Callie didn't realize what had happened until the next morning."
"Were they in a motel?" I had to ask that question. Consummation was the only thing that made it legal.
"Afraid so, Michael. Clayton must've been awfully pissed at you to do something this big. Not that Callie isn't worth it. Shit, if I'd known the two of you had broken up, I would've asked her out myself, with your permission."
"I've really fucked up this time, Buddy Lee. She was mine all along, and I know she loves me. I took advantage of that and then, like a super asshole, I left. My dad filled my head with dreams of bigger and better things - they were all mine if I just followed his lead. Well, I did, and look where it got me. I'm crazy about her, Buddy. What the hell am I going to do?"
"I hate to say this, Michael, but I think you already had your chance. She belongs to Clayton now, whether you like it or not. Hell, she belongs to him whether she likes it or not. I don't know, man, to tell you the truth. I'll see if I can get any more about her from some of her girlfriends, but I'm guessing she's dealing with enough right now that she's not going to be talking. For sure, she won't talk to you. I know that Clayton told her that you were partying hardy there at school, including seeing all kinds of other women. That's what got her. You know Callie has a temper if you push her too far."
"Oh, don't I know that."
"Well, obviously Clayton knew that, too. He played her like a fiddle. Hell, I don't even know if he likes her. This was all about getting back at you, you know."
"I'm so pissed right now I feel like shoving school in their faces and coming home to get her."
"And what about, Clayton?"
"To hell with him. I'll kill him, and then she'll be a widow."
"Michael, get ahold of yourself. You're not going to throw all that away. That would only give Clayton the grand prize. He'd have your girl and he would have destroyed your life. Do me a favor and don't reward him like that."
"So what am I supposed to do? Just sit here and not say a word?" I wanted to put my fist through a wall, and Buddy was not helping me settle down.
"Not much you can do. It's up to Callie now. Look, like I said, I'll see what I can find out."
"If you see her, Buddy, tell her I'm still here if she needs me. Make sure she knows that, Buddy."
"Sure, I promise. Do what you're doing and all this mess will sort itself out. You know as well as I do that Callie deserves better than Clayton, and eventually she'll figure that out. Just give her some space and a chance to get her pride back. If there's anything you could do, it's buckle down and stay away from other women, at least if you want Callie, that is."
"Let me know." I tapped the disconnect and threw myself on the bed. I wanted to scream, I wanted to hit someone, but most of all I wanted to hold Callie and pretend it all never happened. I'd defy my dad, give back the scholarship and hand the football to the next guy. All that was worth nothing without her.
I felt sick to my stomach at the thought of Clayton putting hands on her and barely made it to the bathroom. I even missed practice that night, texting the coach that I was down with a bug. I couldn't think straight, I couldn't get my homework done, I couldn't do anything but lie on that bed and picture Clayton's arms wrapped around her wh
ile the look on her face was one of sheer terror.
Clayton could be rough. I'd seen him do it. His father had been a wife beater, and Clayton was an excellent student. I swore to myself right then that if he laid a hand on Callie, I'd do exactly what I said. I would kill him.
Chapter 7 - Callie
Dad just walked out the door when I told him. Clayton had dropped me off and was going home to tell his parents. I still had no idea how I'd ended up as I did, and now Dad was furious. I could understand why. I followed him outdoors.
"Leave me be, Callie. You've really done it to yourself this time. I can't help you anymore."
I felt my heart would break. There was no one more important in the world than my dad, and I'd let him down.
"Dad, I don't know what happened. We were at dinner and then we went for a ride. I must have fallen asleep, and when I came to, there I was with him in the bed next to me."
Dad spat on the ground. "It just don't happen that easy, girl. You're not telling me the whole truth."
"Dad, I am, I swear."
We sat in the barn, a stall apart, for a long while. We were survivors and I knew Dad's brain was processing the options open to us. He didn't say a word. I was on my own, just as he'd said.
"Dad, Clayton is coming back to get me soon. We're going into Louisville and find an apartment. He's got a job starting soon, and... well, that's really all I know at this point." He didn't answer me. "Dad, I love you. I don't know what happened, but maybe I just need to trust in God for a change."
Dad spat in the straw and said nothing. I got up and quietly left the barn, going to my room and packing as much as I could into the three suitcases we kept stored in the hall. I took the picture of Mom that hung on my bedroom wall. It was the only thing that gave me comfort.
Clayton came and we drove to Louisville in silence. I didn't ask how it had gone with his parents, and he didn't offer. Nor did he ask about Dad. I was angry and bewildered.
Clayton pulled over at the Jefferson County line and went into a liquor store. He came out with a brown bag that looked like it held three bottles. He set them on the floor in the back seat and got back into the car. Before long he was pulling into a Ramada Inn and going inside, coming out with two key cards. He handed me one and we parked. He carried the luggage into the room, handed me the room service menu, and left. He didn't come back in the first hour, so I ordered myself some dinner and watched old movies until I fell asleep.
The next morning the other side of the bed was still empty. I showered and dressed, ordered breakfast and waited. By noon, still no Clayton. Had he left me?
I spent the afternoon watching movies and sitting outside by the pool in the shade. Every so often I sat on the edge, dangling my feet in the cool water. It drew the heat out of me and made me feel better. I was getting sick more and more often now, and the strain of what all was going on was taking a toll on me. I felt helpless; helpless to explain, to understand and to know how to proceed.
Finally, about dinnertime, I decided to try to call Clayton. I had his number written down on a slip of paper in my wallet. I picked up the phone on the nightstand and dialed 9, then the number. It rang a few times, and just about the time I was going to hang up, it clicked and a woman answered.
"Hello?"
"Um, hello. I'm trying to reach Clayton?"
There was no response.
"Hello? I said, I'm trying to reach Clayton?"
"Who's this?"
"This? Why, I'm Callie Tucker... now Callie Pierce, I guess. I'm his wife."
"No, you're not."
"I'm sorry?"
"I said, you're not his wife."
"Who am I speaking to, please?"
"This is Clayton's mother."
I felt a huge weight of awkwardness descend over me. That's when I realized that he'd probably gone back to his folks' house to talk things over and they'd talked him into staying. He'd probably abandoned me.
"Mrs. Pierce, I know we haven't had a chance to talk, but I promise you, I don't know what happened. I can't even explain it. If you'd put Clayton on the phone, maybe I can get him to come over here and get me and we can meet you anywhere you like. I think you and I should talk, don't you?"
"Clayton can't come get you."
I could tell this wasn't going to be easy. "We can work it out, Mrs. Pierce."
There was a sob, and then I heard, "Clayton can't come get you because he's dead! Dead, do you hear? You drove him to get drunk last night, and he hit a tree head-on. My baby's gone, and it's all your fault!"
The line went dead and there I sat, holding the phone and my mouth slack with shock. I remembered Clayton stopping to buy that liquor and how he'd brought me to the motel and then left without a word. I hadn't known what to say then, and I didn't know what to say now.
There was only one thing I knew to do.
Chapter 8 - Michael
My cell was vibrating off the edge of the nightstand. I'd turned off the ringer so I could try to get some rest. I was a mess. I could still taste the acrid remnants of vomit, and the orange juice I found in the dorm fridge didn't help. The phone vibrated again, and I grabbed it, knowing it was yet another friend calling to "let me know."
"Hello!" I was angry, and it was obvious in my voice.
"Michael?"
I froze. "Callie?"
"Michael, I'm sorry to bother you, but I don't know who else to call. I'm in trouble, Michael. Will you come and get me?"
"Where are you? Where's Clayton?"
"Just come, please?" She gave me the address.
"On my way," I answered. "Stay right there, and don't answer the door for anyone until I get there.
My hands were shaking as I pulled on my socks and sneakers. I slid my wallet into the back pocket of my cargo shorts and tucked in my shirt. Keys in hand, I slammed my way out of the dorm and within minutes was pulling into the parking lot of the motel where Callie was staying. I found her room and knocked.
"Callie, it's me. Let me in."
"Michael? Oh, Michael?" I heard the chain slapping the door as she tried to slide it out of its channel. The door handle turned and then she was standing there, her hair a wild mass of platinum curls and tears streaming from her huge eyes. I couldn't help myself; I bent forward and picked her up, holding her hard against my chest.
I stood there, rocking her side to side; I was so happy to hold her again. It felt like it had just been minutes since I last held her. She was shaking from crying so hard. I put her down and stepped into the bathroom, grabbing a clean washcloth from the rack and wetting it with cold water.
I wiped her face with it and pulled her down to the bed to sit, facing me. "Shh... calm down now. I'm here, and nothing's going to happen to you. Here, wipe your face and tell me what's going on."
I waited a few minutes as she calmed herself, and then she threw herself against my chest. "Michael, it's all such a mess. I've missed you so much and I'm not ashamed to tell you. I loved you when you left, and I love you now."
I took her hands, and while I held them, I pushed her back. "Callie, you know deep down how I feel about you, but I can't say that to you. Not with you having married Clayton."
She just stared at me, tears streaming over her cheeks.
"Callie, I know what happened. Buddy told me."
She cocked her head. "Told you what? What did Buddy tell you?"
I scratched the back of my head, searching for the words. I had to tell her the whole truth; trust was critical at this point.
"Clayton came to see me last weekend. He got drunk, we got into it, and I left him standing in the parking lot. He was really pissed, and he gets mean. I guess he decided he would ruin things between you and me."
"What was there to ruin? You left me, Michael. You left for college and other girls and a new life that didn't include me."
"I know, I know... and I'm an ass. But let me finish. Clayton set it all up. He spiked your drinks at the wedding, and then I guess he took you to dinner an
d put something in your drinks there. Buddy said he took you for a ride and you fell asleep. Or unconscious, whatever. He paid the justice of the peace to marry you and took you to that motel. You know the rest. It wasn't your fault, Callie. He drugged you."
She continued to stare at me. I thought I would see some relief, some kind of anger... something other than tears and stares.
"Where is that son-of-a-bitch, anyway? I'm going to bash his head in."
Her face became blank and she said, "A tree already beat you to it, Michael. I just called his phone and his mother answered. Clayton got drunk and hit a tree last night. He's dead."
I couldn't move. All I could do was stare. Callie took a deep breath and said again, "I said, he's dead, Michael."
"I heard you! What the fuck!!! Jesus, for the love of God, how can this be happening? Oh my God! He was my best friend. I've known him almost all my life. He can't be dead! No, it's not true!"
Callie frowned. "I'm trying very hard to be sensitive here, but a few minutes ago you wanted to kill him and now he's the best friend you ever had? Do you hear yourself, Michael? He kidnapped me! Drugged me! Married me, for God's sake! Where do I fit in all this? He's now the hallowed one? We can't speak ill of the dead? Legally speaking, Michael, I'm his widow! Is this getting through to you?"
"He... is... dead, Callie. Is that enough justice for you?"
"What? Now it's my fault that he drank himself into a tree? Wait just a minute here. You came here when I called, all ready to defend my honor. You picked me up and held me, told me everything would be okay and that you'd see to it I was okay. Now I've somehow become the bad guy in all this? What the hell? Get out, Michael. Take your women and your football and your law career and your dead best friend and get out of here! I'll find another ride home, thank you."
I couldn't believe what she was saying. This wasn't the soft, loving girl I knew. She'd turned along the way, and I no longer recognized her.
But I did as she said. I stood up and walked out of the room and drove back to my dorm. The next morning, I got up and went to practice and then to class. I forgot about Clayton, his funeral, and everything else. I forgot about Callie.