“Yeah,” I answer, disgusted with myself. “I got Brittany to give it to her for her birthday.” I shake my head at the memory, and it’s the first time I can honestly say that I’m ashamed I acted like such a jackass.
“Man I remember her face lighting up like she’d just won the lottery.” I can’t help but cringe at the memory.
“Look. I don’t want to talk about the past. What we, I, did was fucked up.”
“Oh shit. Do you have a soft spot for her now?” he chuckles.
I shake my head at his ridiculousness. “Shut the fuck up. It has nothing to do with that. I’m not in high school anymore. I’m not that same person anymore.”
“Come on, man. I was only kidding. You’re right, you aren’t that same person and neither am I.”
“Whatever. I don’t want to talk about it. Actually, I’d like to forget any of it ever happened.” I don’t like reminiscing about high school. “The past is the past. But can I call you later cause I just got to the house and well you know,” I state as I pull into my parents’ long driveway.
“Yeah, you’re good man.”
“Oh and tell Chels I said hi.”
“Will do.”
Hanging up, I drop my phone in the cup holder. Besides football, there’s not one damn thing about me that is memorable. And if all I’m remembered for is bullying some poor girl, then I deserve all the bad that’s come my way. I deserve to rot in the hell I’ve created for myself.
“Thank God this week is over,” I groan as I scoot into the booth across from Tammy.
She laughs at me, and I can’t help but give her a pointed look. “Come on, it hasn’t been that bad,” she offers as she hands me a menu.
We’re at Damien’s. It’s a local steakhouse that we meet up at every Friday after work. This woman here is my rock. She knows me better than anyone else ever has. Her loyalty to me is something I will forever be grateful for. She loves me like a sister but isn’t afraid to tell me when I’m wrong either.
“You haven’t been looking over your shoulder for the past couple of days wondering when the other shoe is going to drop like I have,” I state while perusing the menu.
“Seriously? Are you back on this again?” she whines. I’m sure if I looked up I’d catch her rolling her eyes, too.
I shrug in response but offer no words. She knows what I’m going to say. Ever since I came back to town five years ago to help my dad bury my mom, things haven’t been too bad. Most everyone that I went to high school with has moved away and on with their lives, but there are the few stragglers that have stayed behind. One person in particular: Drew fucking Matthews. Brayden’s sidekick. Every now and then when I do see Drew, he turns his head and goes in the opposite direction. No words exchanged. No glares are thrown my way. Nothing. It’s as if I don’t exist to him, and I am completely fine with it.
“Look, you know I love you,” Tammy starts. I continue to scan the menu. I already know what I want to eat, it’s just more of a distraction because I know she’s about to say something that I really don’t want to hear. “But you need to let the past go.”
My eyes snap to hers as I set the menu down. “How can you say that?” I ask. “You have no idea what I went through with his jackass friends. How can a person stand there and watch another person be mistreated and not do anything about it? Who would be friends with people like that? Brayden, that’s who and, that makes him just as bad as the rest of them. Do you know some days were so bad there were times where I thought the only way to make it stop was to just end it all? Every single one of them made me feel insignificant, him included.”
“Oh really? I have no idea what you went through?” She glares at me from across the table. “I sat on the sidelines and picked up the pieces of my best friend. When you cried in the bathroom stalls, my shoulder was the one you leaned on. When your parents weren’t there, I was… No. One. Else.” Tammy points at herself. “Me.” Her voice is full of hurt. Immediately I know I’ve crossed the line.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” I offer an apology, my voice quiet and remorseful.
“No, you shouldn’t have,” she agrees. “But I still love you, and that’s why I’m going to say what I have to say, regardless if you want to hear it or not. You and Brayden are not the same people anymore.”
“I may not be, but how do you know he’s not?”
“Because if he was still the same prick from high school, tell me why when I told him he was interviewing with you, he didn’t tuck tail and run back to where he came from.”
“Yeah well, I think when you’re broke you’ll swallow your pride for just about anything…”
“Hello, ladies. Welcome to Damien’s. What can I get for you?” Our waiter interrupts us so we place the topic on hold while we order.
As the waiter disappears, Tammy leans forward and asks curiously. “How did the interview go?”
My lips lift in a smirk. “I didn’t really interview him, to be honest.”
“What?”
“Let’s be real here, this is Brayden Stephens we’re talking about. He was the quarterback for the San Francisco 49ers. I’m pretty sure he knows what he’s talking about. Not to mention, I’m sure when Doug heard he was back in town, he jumped all over the opportunity to have him work with us. Regardless of how I would have felt, he would’ve gotten the job either way. My disapproval would have fallen on deaf ears.”
The waiter returns to our table with our drinks. While I sip my dirty martini, I sigh and lean back against the booth. “At first he was a little smug, and then he seemed to have an attitude…”
“And you still gave him the job?” Tammy asks, cutting me off.
I shrug. “Again it wouldn’t have mattered. When he was talking about his NFL career, I could tell it was a sore spot for him. I didn’t give him the job out of sympathy if that’s what you’re thinking.” I take another sip of my drink. “I don’t know. There is something about him, though.”
“You like him don’t you?” Tammy asks with a twinkle in her eye, and I can’t help but laugh.
“No. It’s nothing like that. I don’t even know him. I mean don’t get me wrong, he’s pretty to look at. Even now more so than when we were kids, but there’s something deeper to him. He doesn’t seem as shallow.”
Out of everything I went through in high school, and as much as I want to believe Brayden was the mastermind behind everything, I just can’t. After meeting him yesterday, he seemed different than the person I remember. Yes, he’s still cocky and arrogant, but during the interview he seemed to be more vulnerable. That’s definitely a side of him I’d never seen before.
“Yeah, well, we’ll see.”
I nod in agreement. “That we will.”
The waiter returns with our food, and my mouth salivates as the smell of herbs and spices permeates my senses. I’m barely able to reply my thanks as he says enjoy. As I go to cut my first piece of steak, I ask, “Speaking of Brayden, did he come by and drop off his new employee paperwork?”
Tammy nods as she swallows down her own food. “He did. And the testing site faxed over his results and the background check came back as well. He’s clean.”
I take a sip of my martini to help wash down my food. “Good. Now enough about work and what’s going on with me. How are things going with Ray?”
Ray is Tammy’s boyfriend. Well, actually that word doesn’t seem fitting. They’ve been together since our second year of college. Why they still haven’t gotten married is beyond me. Ray is an accountant for a large firm in Atlanta, about an hour outside of Reidsville. He takes care of Tammy and loves her endlessly, and it helps that he’s a genuine, good man.
“Oh, I didn’t tell you?” Tammy asks excitedly.
My face scrunched in confusion as I stare back at her wide smile and sparkling eyes. “No….”
“The board came to him the other day and told him that he was being considered for partner.” Pride for her boyfriend shines through her smile
as she says this.
“Oh my gosh. That’s amazing,” I say, my excitement reaching hers.
And it is. Ray worked his ass off in college and grad school to get to where he’s at now. Then when he was hired on at the firm he worked countless hours and landed some major accounts. In the beginning, it took a toll on his and Tammy’s relationship, but thankfully they pulled through it. Now they seem to be happier than they’ve ever have been.
“When will he find out if he’s been chosen?”
“I’m not sure.” She shrugs, finishing off the last of her food. As Tammy goes to finish off her wine, she pulls the glass away from her lips and adds, “But he deserves this and I couldn’t be happier for him.”
I smile at her and nod my agreement. “Yeah, he does. You both do. He might have been the one to do all the work, but you’ve been the one by his side from the beginning.” Just as I finish off the last of my own drink, the waiter returns laying our check on the table, I beat Tammy, grabbing the bill before she can. I hand the waiter my credit card and the check before he retreats.
“It’s my turn to pay,” she protests.
I roll my eyes at her comment. “Whatever. You can get it next Friday.”
“Yeah. You said that last week too,” she retorts playfully.
What am I supposed to say? I never had money growing up. Tammy wasn’t poor like I was. Don’t mistake her for being rich. Her parents are considered blue collar, but they’ve worked hard for everything they have. Eating out was a rarity for them, but when they did, I was always invited. As often as I wanted to pass up their offers I couldn’t refuse. It was the only times I ever received a decent meal. So when I can treat my best friend to a nice meal, I grab a hold of the opportunity.
The both of us go quiet for a moment as we look around the restaurant. The cream-colored walls pop against the gray trim. Deep red tapestries hang in front of the windows that are nestled in the front wall of the building. Pendant lights hang above the booths and bar. The lighting is dim and would come off as romantic except the atmosphere is alive with families, couples, and friends chattering amongst themselves. This is one of the newer establishments in town. A tell-tale sign that what was once a town of four thousand is flourishing and expanding.
“You know I never thought we would have come back here,” Tammy’s voice pulls me back to the here and now.
“Me neither,” I admit.
“Do you ever think about it still?”
“What?”
“L.A.? Your dream?”
“No. It’s exactly that. A dream. And we both know dreams don’t come true. At least mine don’t anyway. ” I shrug. As the waiter returns he hands back my credit card. While I scribble my signature he thanks us before walking away.
Tammy and I both get up to leave, and I can tell by her melancholy she’s not quite sure what to say or if she should say anything at all. I push the heavy, wooden door open, vacating the restaurant. Holding the door for Tammy, she looks at me and says softly, “Dreams don’t come true if you don’t chase after them.”
“Look. Don’t worry about it, okay? I’m happy. I have you and Ray. What more could a girl need?” I laugh as I pull her into a hug.
She pulls back and looks me square in the eyes. “Everyone needs something, Karmen. Even you. Whether you want to admit it to yourself or not.”
With those words, she leaves me standing there, speechless. For the first time in a long time, it dawns on me just how right she is. I may have her and Ray right now. But what happens when they do get married? When they have a family of their own? They’ll have each other, their children. And that leaves me where? A manager of a radio station, no one to share my life with, no family of my own. Now more than ever it’s become painfully real just how alone I am.
Bottles rattle and clink against one another as I reach blindly to shut off the damn alarm that continues to screech next to me. I toss back the comforter before swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees only to rest my head in my hands. Dizziness latches onto me and my head pounds out a vicious staccato. The pain causes me to groan out loud. Bile rises up in the back of my throat. Concentrating on the ceiling fan above, I focus on the cool air that hits my bare back, cooling my skin. With deep steady breaths in and out, the nausea finally begins to settle.
Fucking hangovers. You’d think I’d be used to them by now. Hell, I can down a bottle of Jack Daniels in one night with ease and still continue to drink. I haven’t felt this bad in a long time. Slowly, I peek over at the nightstand next to my king sized bed and there staring back at me is an almost empty bottle of tequila and what looks like a six-pack of beer. I know I’m an alcoholic. It’s not something I’m proud of, but like I said it’s my vice. Sometimes I need to feel numb. I need to suffocate the nightmares that won’t leave me be.
Karmen. It all leads back to her.
After seeing her yesterday, the urge to drink had never gripped a hold of me so tightly. Then coming home only for my dad to harp on me and throw insult after insult at me, well let’s just say it was a combination that led me to get royally fucked up.
“So did you get the job?” My father asked from the doorway of my room.
I nodded my response. I didn’t want to talk to him. A wicked laugh erupted from him, which had my attention snapping in his direction. “The big bad NFL star now works for a fucking radio station. What a fucking joke.” I didn’t bother to respond. My retorts never got me anywhere anyway.
He didn’t care that I was actually trying to do something productive with my life. He didn’t care that while I could no longer play football, I was still trying to hold onto a little piece of something I loved. I was on cloud nine. But no, all he cared about was tearing me down to make himself feel better. I was suffocating, and the only thing to help me breathe again was liquid courage.
Cautiously, I lift my head and stare ahead at the wall in front of me. I wait to see if the urge to purge my demons will come back.
On unsteady feet, I stand and although the threat of vomiting no longer attacks me, the pounding in my head increases. It’s my first day at the radio station, and I have no fucking clue how I’m going to get through it. The only thing on my mind right now is the need to get another drink in my system. I force my hands to clench into fists to keep from reaching out and polishing off the rest of the golden liquid that will no doubt help me get through being in the same building as Karmen.
I can do this. I don’t have to have a drink to be around her. I repeat this mantra over and over internally. I’ll just shower, get a cup of coffee and be on my way. Yeah fucking right! Easier said than done.
I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around my waist before looking into the fogged mirror. My eyes find my reflection, and I see exactly what I feel.
Nothing.
My eyes are bloodshot, red-rimmed, and puffy. My hair is a little longer than I typically like. I reach up and scrub my hand over the three-day stubble on my jaw. I should really shave.
With a sigh, I shake my head before going about shaving and getting ready for the day. March in this sweltering hole of a state is very fickle. Today, for example, is exceptionally warm while tomorrow can be nice and cool. But right now, I’m reminded of the hot summer days that without a doubt will come. Summer days I’m not ready for. Summers in Georgia suck. Plain and simple. It’s hotter than the burning pits of Hell, and the humidity chokes you to the point that you feel like you can’t breathe. I pull on a pair of tan cargo shorts, my green Chucks, and a green Drop Kick Murphy’s T-shirt. Combing my fingers through my hair, I reach for my white baseball cap before securing it over my head. Purposely, I avoid looking at my saving grace that sits next to my bed. I grab my keys and cell phone off the dresser before walking out of my room and shutting the door behind me.
I jog down the stairs of my parents’ lavish home. Dark mahogany wood makes up the floors, except for the bedrooms that are carpeted. The walls are all the same
sterile white, artwork hung in their correct places, or as my mother would say, ‘it’s aesthetically pleasing.' My parents like exquisite things. It’s expected when your father owns five high-end car dealerships. Maserati, Bentley, Porsche, and Rolls Royce are just some of what he sells. And I fucking hate him for it. None of my accomplishments have ever been good enough and they never will. No matter how hard I try, I will never be good enough for him.
My mom is the perfect trophy wife. My dad says jump and she says how high. Or at least that’s what she used to be like until she started drinking. Now that I think of it, pieces of shits and alcoholics run in the gene pool. Aren’t I lucky? Don’t get me wrong, I love my mom, or what she used to be before the booze. My father, on the other hand, can go straight to Hell. The older I got, the more hours he worked, and what better way to relieve his stress and pent up frustration than to take it out on his one and only son. He hasn’t changed, the only difference now is he uses his insults instead of his belt.
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