by Claire Adams
"That doesn't change that he did it, Tiff. He devastated me when he dumped me. He made a decision for me, instead of talking to me about it first. He didn't even respect me enough to treat me like his decision was going to affect me, too," I said. Tiffany sighed, looking defeated.
"He asked me whether you were happy the first night that he got back. He wanted to know how you were. He said he still cared about you, despite what happened."
"And, I do, too," I admitted, "but that isn't enough to change what he decided to do. He still left, and I can't pretend it wasn't the worst thing he could have done to me."
"I'm sorry. I thought I was... It doesn't matter what I thought I was doing, it was still wrong."
"I get it. You're not the only one who's thought about the two of us getting back together," I said sadly.
"Then why don't you give it a shot?"
"Because it's more complicated than that. He left knowing what it would do to me, and he did it anyway. He hurt me on purpose – I don't know that I can let that go." She sighed again, coming forward to hug me.
"I understand. I won't get in the way," she said, letting me go.
"I know you were just trying to help. I just don't think this one can be fixed." She looked a little sad about it. I knew how she felt about the relationship her brother and I had had, but he had changed something when he did what he did. He let me know that we weren't in it together. He could make decisions about things that would affect us both, and he would rather get rid of me than talk to me about stuff.
That was the real problem. That was the thing that would have gotten in between us sooner or later, even if we had stayed together. I suddenly felt resentful. Not towards Tiff, but towards Roman for coming back. For what he said last night about it being a date and trying to defend himself when I called him out. I had been doing great; why did he have to come back and confuse the hell out of me now?
That old feeling came back. I wanted him gone again. You know what? No, he could stay, I wanted out.
She hung out for a while, and we ended up going out to eat. When I got back to the apartment, I went online and signed up for summer courses. If I could graduate early, I would; then I'd get out of here. I'd never even look back.
Chapter Eleven
Roman
I didn't know what Tiff had against this place; it was growing on me. I was out on the patio, having coffee. The yard wasn't big, but if I wanted to put, I don't know, a dog out there, I could. I wasn't going to. It was just good having this much space to play with if I wanted. Last time I'd lived in a place with a yard was when I was still at home. I was still getting used to not having anyone need me to do anything. I wasn't sure about all this free time, what to do with it.
I had hit the gym earlier, but I didn't have anything else lined up for today. This was something I hadn't been anticipating. I felt a little restless, hoping this wouldn't last. But on the other hand, I felt like I should do something with my time off before I got started with football again or worse, had to go back overseas.
If things were different, it would have been obvious who I would be spending my free time with – but they weren't. I went back inside and drained my cup before washing it out. What was Don doing these days, I thought suddenly.
It had been a long time...had to be close to two years now. What was the use in being back if I couldn't catch up with the people I had left behind? I thought. Honestly, though, besides Ron, he was the person I was closest to who wasn't in my family. He didn't always have advice – not the good kind – but he always listened and sometimes that was all you needed.
I headed out half an hour later. Don lived on his parents' ranch on the edge of town, less than a half hour drive, but it seemed a lot further than it was but that was because properties were bigger. There was more space between neighbors. Fewer cars, narrower roads, fewer people. The seclusion would probably drive me crazy. It was pretty impressive though; almost six acres of rolling prairie. There was a drive before I got to his parents’ farmhouse where I parked. I finally saw him in one of the fields, not far from the house.
He had his shirt off. He was standing behind the tractor, which sounded like it was running. He was lugging these big bales of hay onto the cart attached to the back of the tractor, and it looked like hard work. I didn't know how heavy the average hay bale was, but last I checked, Don didn't go to the gym, and this was why. He didn't have to. He glanced my way, rubbing his arm across his forehead, then looked again.
"Roman?" He ripped his gloves off his hands. "Rome? Is that you?" he asked, as I came up to him.
"Don't let me stop you," I said.
"Are you kidding? Get the fuck over here," he said, grinning. He hugged me, slapping my back. His hair had been long the last time I saw him, but it was buzzed short now, shorter than mine, and I was the one who had been in the military.
"When the hell did you get back?"
"Last weekend. Watch out,” I said, as the tractor started moving.
"Why the hell did it take you so long to tell me you were back?"
"I was busy. Looks like you were, too."
"Shit," he said, watching the tractor pull away from us. "Whatever, he'll be back. How have you been?"
"Can't complain. I didn't know you were still working here."
"Yeah, it's-"
"Don! Donovan!"
The tractor had stopped. Stomping towards us was Mr. Crewe, Don's dad. Don was pretty intimidating to look at, tall and built, but his dad was like a weathered, angrier, older version of him. The physical labor on the ranch had kept him strong and in shape, and he was taller than Don's 6'4. In all the years Don and I had been friends, since high school, he was almost never not screaming.
"Don, what the fuck are you doing? You're back here so you can load the hay. How the fuck do you think it's gonna get to the barn?" he demanded.
"I got it, Dad," Don replied. "You started moving before I was done." I shut up and let them go at it, something I used to do often. It was like it was the only way they knew how to relate to each other. It was just the two of them, had been since Don was fifteen, and I had known him for a year at the time. Don's dad was yelling at him about wasting the gas the tractor ran on when he finally noticed they weren't alone. He frowned deep, lines pulling down the sides of his mouth.
"Who are you?" he asked, but then squinted. "Roman?"
"It's good to see you again, Mr. Crewe," I said. He straightened up, putting his hands on his hips.
"What are you doing here? Don told me you went overseas. Army, right?" he asked, awkwardly formal.
"Got back not too long ago. I just wanted to catch up with Don. See how he's doing."
"You two do that," he said tightly. "Don, ten minutes. You have work to do," he barked at his son before walking away.
"Fuck," I said.
"You get used to it. This is him on level one."
"I just forgot how intense he could be. Guess I chose a shitty time to drop by."
"Naw, it's not your fault. You've been gone all this time, anyway. Seeing the world and shit," he said, grinning.
"It wasn't a vacation, Don," I laughed.
"You look like you managed to keep yourself safe. Unless you got a robot leg under those pants."
"Wouldn't you like to know," I joked. "Gotta buy me a drink first, man." He laughed.
"Seriously. Nothing happened over there?"
"Nothing permanent. But something might happen to you if you don't go back and help your dad."
"Yeah," he sighed. "Listen, how about we go out for drinks tonight. It's been way too long." I agreed. I was close with my family, but Don and I, after high school had ended and we weren't being forced to see each other every day, just did. He had been an athlete, too, and both of us had lost our moms, so we had had that in common but after all these years, our differences didn't matter that much anymore. I let him get back to his work, telling him to just text me when he could meet me.
The bar we went to ended up
being fuller that I expected, but then again, it had been a little while since I had been to a bar. It was a pretty popular spot in town, and even though it was a Monday night, there was a moderate crowd. We sat at a booth instead of sitting at the bar so we would be able to talk. We both got beers, Don flirting with the waitress, a cute sandy blonde who blushed every time she passed our booth.
"So, how have you been keeping yourself busy?" I asked him. He was looking past me, checking out our waitress as she walked away.
"Hm? Oh, you know," he said, trying to remember what I had asked him. I had almost forgot how he was always on the lookout for his newest bed warmer. He had a pretty solid yearlong tan, both from working outside and his mom, who had been Sioux Indian. That with his height, body, and the moves he had been practicing since I'd met him meant he was pretty successful with women. "Work. Helping my dad on the ranch. Working my way through this town, one graduating class at a time."
"I thought you'd be done by now," I said.
"Yeah, well, things didn't really work out that way."
"What happened to you playing?"
"I did for a while, but my pops didn't think it was worth it," he said, shrugging. Don had gotten into a Triple A baseball team a while back. He had wanted to work his way up to the pros. The last time we had seen each other, he had still been playing.
"He made you quit?"
"I got sick of his shit. He couldn't shut up about it being a waste of my time."
"But you loved playing. Why didn't you stick it out?"
"Not worth it," he said bitterly. "I was raised for this, you know? It was coming eventually; it was just a matter of when."
"But you don't want it, do you?"
"I'm good at it. I've been doing it my whole life already. Once my dad dies, I'll have to do it, anyway," he said shrugging.
"That sucks. You should still play if it's what you want to do." He shrugged again.
"It's not a big deal. I always knew this was my future. Besides, he sort of had a point."
"How?"
"Working your way up can take years. You basically waste your youth in the minors. It's not even a sure thing."
"He's using you for free labor," I said, drinking my beer. He laughed.
"I live on the land, and all I have to do to get to work is walk out my door," he said, satisfied. I couldn't believe that he was alright with that. There was no problem with that life, but it just didn't make sense to me that he had gotten onto the team, then thrown that away.
We wanted different things, I could respect that. I honestly didn't know what I'd do if I were in his shoes.
"Would you have quit if your dad didn't need you?" I asked.
"I don't know. Maybe. If I hadn't quit then, maybe I'd be doing it now. What about you?"
"What?"
"Your promising future in professional sports," he said, a little sarcastically. "You put down the football and picked up an assault rifle instead." I smirked.
"I didn't quit. I took a sabbatical."
"Too bad. You were good."
"Were? I still am," I said.
"I believe you. Too bad the army got you. You could have gone pro," he said. "Probably would, too. Drafted right out of college." I didn't know why he was talking like all this shit had passed me by already. I was young and uninjured, with practice I'd be able to maintain all my stats, maybe even improve them.
"I'm not retired yet," I said.
"You're gonna try go pro?"
"That was the plan this whole time. It hasn't changed."
"Good luck. If anyone deserves it, you do." I thanked him. "Bet whatever team you got on would just love that they got a vet."
"If I got through boot camp, pro training has nothing on me. I'm doing it, Don. You'll see," I said, believing my own conviction.
"And, you know what that means," he said, taking a swig of his beer.
"What?"
"Women," he announced, smirking. I grunted, taking a drink.
"I don't know, sounds like too much distraction," I said.
"Distraction? You'd say no to easy, free tail?"
"I'm not interested in that, Don."
"Why? You're single, what's the problem?"
"Do you remember Ron?" I asked.
"Ron," he paused, "Veronica? Your ex?" I nodded. I wished he wouldn't call her that, though. It was true, but I was hoping I could change that. "I thought it was over. You told me that broke it off with her. When was that? Last year?"
"We went out Saturday," I said.
"Are you serious? Why the hell would you do that?"
"My sister set us up. I didn't know it was going to be Ron; she didn't know it was going to be me."
"But it's over, right? You're not going back down that road?"
"It was a good road," I said, lightly.
"You can't go into the league with a girlfriend – that shit doesn’t work. With all the girls around, she'll be jealous as hell. Drive you crazy."
"Have you ever met a girl you would stop sleeping around for, Don?"
"Nope. And, I hope I never do. Did you take a couple knocks in the head over in Afghanistan? What happened to you? Don't tell me you're in love with that girl."
"I was when I left."
"Even if it seems like it, Rome, she isn’t the only one."
"I’m not trying to step on your toes," I joked.
"No need to worry about that, either. There's plenty to go around," he said.
We were different in a few ways, but this was the one thing I one hundred percent couldn't relate to. Even before Ron and I had gotten together, hanging out with a bunch of different girls really wasn't my thing. I didn't know how he did it. More was good for him, but I was more than happy with just one. When you find the right one, you don't need to keep looking, I thought.
I had found mine, but we were in a weird place right now. This place where it was like I had lost her, but I had her at the same time. We had breached that first barrier and talked to each other again after the time apart. It was obvious we had things to clear up between us, and I was counting on seeing her again so we could talk.
I didn't tell Don that because he didn't get it. He'd just encourage me that pussy was all the same, and if you fucked the girl from behind, you could pretend you were with anyone you wanted.
I left after one more beer; sandy blonde waitress wouldn't get off for another half hour, and Don decided to wait for her so they could leave together.
That shit was so foreign to me. I hadn't tried to pick a girl up since before Ron and I had gotten together. Even with her, I had had to flirt and get her to like me, but it had been sort of easy. We had been on the same campus every day, not this shit, picking up strangers in bars. If anything, good for him for not going home alone tonight. I knew I was. Maybe this next girl would be the one who locked him down, but I wasn't holding my breath.
I texted Tiffany when I got to my car. She got back to me right away. I went home first, but I was heading out immediately. I had a delivery to make. Meeting people when you were still at school was easy. You kind of had this pool of people that you saw all the time that you could take your pick from; it hadn't been hard shooting my shot with Ron.
Things were different now. I had to try. I knew what I wanted, but I understood her pushback. I had to let her come to me. I had to make it safe again.
Her new place wasn't that far from where her old one had been, same area in town, close to school. She lived two floors up in 3C. I put the box down and walked away. She was probably home. If I tried her door, she would probably open it up. It was tempting, but I had to take a step back and let her do what she needed to do. I walked out of her building and drove home. She'd see it tomorrow morning.
Chapter Twelve
Veronica
I put my purse over my shoulder, looking through it to make sure I had thrown the list of books I needed to get in there. The cheapest one on the list was a cool $200. I only had to purchase two, the others I could short l
oan from the library, but textbook costs were no joke. Education costs, in general, were no joke but hey, it was supposed to be an investment, right?
Right.
I had half a mind to buy the books, copy my reading material, then return then to the bookstore when I was done. I walked out the door of my apartment, still rifling through my purse. I stopped when my foot kicked something hard. I looked down, slipping my purse strap back up onto my shoulder. I frowned picking up the box in front of me, looking for a name or apartment number, something that would tell me it wasn't put in front of my door by accident.
There was nothing on it. It wasn't taped up or anything the way boxes came in the mail. I could just lift the lid and see whether there was anything inside it. I mean, it had been on my doorstep, chances were it was for me.
I lifted the lid outside my apartment, just in case. Inside was a single sheet of paper. I took it out, putting the box on the floor. Handwriting in blue ink covered one side of the sheet; a man's writing, if I had to guess – not messy, but not really fine calligraphy, either.
Ron, after all this time, you're still my favorite person to see on a Saturday night. There was something there, and I want to know that you felt it, too. Apologizing for what I did will never be enough. I'll be at our spot every day at noon, ready whenever you are.
It was mine. I knew it was the first word I read. I knew who had sent it, too, even though he hadn't signed his name. I took the box and note inside, leaving them on an end table before heading out again. I didn't want this right now. I was busy. Not only that, I had moved on.
A whole year later after he dumped me for a bullshit reason he could have avoided, and now he wanted to talk. I was pissed getting into my car. It wasn't fair.
Maybe I wasn't as over him as I’d thought that I was since all it had taken to plunge me back into my feelings was him showing up again, but honestly, I had been at least some of the way there. I had made some progress – had started seeing other guys, moved into a new place which he shouldn't have had the address to, gotten my shit together and moved on with my life. This was selfish. He wanted to show up again after a year and act like after what he did, he still had a right to my time.