Once I was in the truck, I had to take several breaths. I never expected my kids to worry if I were dating and who I was dating. I’d been married so long the thought never crossed my mind how they would feel about the whole situation. They had never seen their mother or me with other people. Yet, I couldn’t spend the rest of my life alone because Charlie thought I was being unfaithful to her mother.
I drove to Bottoms Up, already a bundle of nerves by the time I parked at the pub. I found a dimly lit area of the parking lot, as usual, checking my surroundings before I left the vehicle. It was a habit that probably wouldn’t go away anytime soon. Although, I supposed, should I run into anyone I knew hanging out at the gay club, they would be in like situation as myself.
I burst through the doors of the bar, not sure what I thought I would find. Fool that I was, my disappointment in not seeing Beau meant I had expected him to be here waiting for me. Why would he anyway? I’d run out on him after he gave me such a mind-blowing blowjob that a week after, I was still jerking off to it. The next time I’d run into him, I’d all but acted like we were strangers. Why did I expect him to be waiting for a man who had shown him no regard whatsoever?
I approached the bar and signaled the chatty bartender. He was gabbing with a man who had a motorcycle helmet under one arm. He frowned when he saw me but said something to the motorcycle guy before approaching me.
“What do you want?” he asked, sounding even more hostile than the night Beau had taken me to his apartment.
“A bottle of Bud will do,” I told him, trying to work up the courage to ask him if Beau had been around. I didn’t know how to start that conversation though. Did he even remember us? His shitty behavior said he did, but it could also be because I had interrupted his chat with the man he was hankering to fuck tonight.
“There you go,” he snapped, slamming the beer down onto the counter. “Now drink, pay for your order then get the hell out of here.”
I frowned at him. “Hey man, I’m sure they taught you some customer service at bartender school or whatever.”
He had walked away, but at my words, approached me once more. He placed both hands onto the counter. “He came here every night watching the door,” he said, still glaring at me. “I can tell you, if I had a hot young thing like that waiting around for me, I wouldn’t just be showing up.”
“Excuse me?” I had a feeling I knew what he was talking about, but it was too good to be true. No way Beau had been here waiting for me.
“I said your boyfriend, although I’m really beginning to think he’s not truly your boyfriend,” he rambled off topic before veering back on course. “Anyway, as I was saying. He came here every night for the past several days. He would sit on that stool just like the first night you walked up in here and every time someone walks through the door, he would look up, with hope. Every night he left here, crushed.”
“Shit,” I muttered. Why had I stayed away? “When was the last time he was here?”
“Just last night,” the bartender answered. “I guess he must have gotten tired of waiting for you to show. You’re one night too late.”
My heart sank, and I had the urge to drop by his apartment. I didn’t see that happening though. If only I had a number for him. I took a swig of the beer and made quick work of it before ordering another. I was on the second, contemplating what to do now when someone sidled up to me. I thought it was Beau and turned to regard the man. Instead of Beau, I found myself staring at a man who was in his late twenties. He was a bit on the slender side with black hair and flirty eyes. The way he was flushed, it was obvious he had been dancing upstairs.
“Hey there,” he greeted me. “Want some company?”
“Not really.” I was being polite. I knew for a fact I didn’t want his company.
“Ouch.” He made a face. “I guess you’re waiting on someone.”
“Kinda. Yeah.”
He smiled at me. “There’s no reason we can’t have fun until he gets here.”
I observed the man, seriously checking him out because I wanted to know how I could be attracted to Beau so fast but had no attraction for the man who was standing before me. He was handsome enough. He was well-built enough. What was it about Beau that made me feel thoroughly rung then hanged outside in the sun to dry?
“Sorry, man.”
After I turned him down, he left, although he insisted I should call him if I changed my mind. I watched him move on to flirt with another man, and I sighed. This wasn’t just about me wanting to experience a relationship with a man. It was about Beau and what he and I had shared that night. Our contact had evolved into more than I’d hoped for, but now which I craved.
Beau didn’t show up and needless to say, I was disappointed but, I only had myself to blame. After waiting for three solid hours, I paid the bartender and left him a tip. On a whim, I asked him for a pen.
“What for?” he asked.
“I want to leave my number in case he comes back,” I told him.
He smirked in triumph. “I knew you weren’t his boyfriend.” He looked me up and down. “Not that there’s anything wrong with you. In fact, if he’s no longer interested, I can be.”
I scowled at him. “Stop hitting on me, man and do me a solid. I know you’ve no reason to do me a favor, but I just need this, okay?” No way was I going to explain to him how urgent getting in touch with Beau was.
He passed me a pen and a small notepad. “Write it there along with your name.”
I scribbled the information, and because I was feeling grateful, I handed him a hundred-dollar tip. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”
I left the bar with the intention to drive home but wound up at Beau’s apartment building instead. I sat in the parking lot, just staring at the building and trying to work up the courage to drop in on him. But, what if he had somebody else there?
After spending half an hour in front of the building, driving myself nuts remembering our one night together, I drove away. If only I hadn’t left that morning without letting him know. I had no right to drop in on him unannounced after that. I returned home glum and exhausted.
All I wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep for forty-eight hours. I wanted to forget about work, kids and life. Just to lose myself for a few days and think about me. I was caring for everyone else and trying to keep everyone sane when my seams were slowly unraveling. If I weren’t careful, one of these days, my guts would spill, and it wouldn’t be pretty. Not after the crap I had bottled up inside me all these years.
As usual, I checked on the kids as soon as I got in. Charlie was asleep in her bed this time. Her nightmares were getting better, thank God for that. I stood inside the doorway to her room and watched her sleep. I loved her so much. Her mother’s death had broken her because she had been so close to Barbara. She had been able to speak to her mother about stuff she wouldn’t have otherwise shared with me. Who would she be able confide in now?
Closing her bedroom door, I walked across the hall to Ollie’s room. I opened the door as quietly as I could since I didn’t want to disturb him. He would probably be mad if he discovered me checking up on him. I peered into his bedroom and frowned. The bed covers were peeled back, and he wasn’t in bed. I squinted, checking in the dark room to see if he had fallen asleep at his computer desk. He hadn’t. I flicked on the light and confirmed my suspicion. Ollie went out after I had forbidden it.
I wouldn’t have been able to sleep while one of my children was still not in, but I didn’t want to leave Charlie alone either to search for him. Calling Eric again to help search for Ollie was out of the question. He’d been a big help before but this time, I would handle things. They were my kids, and this was my family.
I tried calling Ollie’s phone several times, but it rang without answer.
To say I was worried was an understatement. He had shoplifted before and there was no telling what he was up to now. I went to the kitchen and made myself coffee. I’d need it to stay awake because I
wasn’t going to let him slip back into the house just like that. I took the cup of coffee with me to the living room and turned on the television, lowering the volume so I could barely hear. I wanted to hear every sound that was made in this house.
I must have fallen asleep because I woke up to the sound of something heavy hitting into the front door. I jerked to my feet, a little disoriented. The front door opened, banging into the wall. The sleep was chased away by the unfamiliar sounds and I hurried to the hall to investigate.
“Shit!” I could smell the alcohol on Ollie from a mile away. He was lying half inside the house, his legs still on the other side of the door. “God, Ollie, why are you doing this to yourself?”
He raised his head to look at me, frowning. “I-I’m fiiiine.”
I rushed forward to grab him under the pits and pull him inside the house. I shut the door and dropped to my knees on the floor beside him. “Ollie, are you okay?” I was too concerned to be mad at him. Had he only been drinking or were other things involved? I didn’t want to think about it, but I had to know. I raised his head. “Look at me, son. How much did you have to drink?”
He leaned heavily against me. “I-I don’t knooooow.” His words were badly slurred, and his eyes unfocused. He raised his hands trying to show me but frowned at his fingers. I had seen grown men drunk before and making a fool of themselves, but I failed to see the humor in the present situation. My heart ached to find my son like this.
“Did you have anything besides drinks?” I demanded. “Come on, Ollie. Tell me.”
He shook his head. “Nooo. Jusht theee beers.”
“Thank god.” I hugged him to me tight, some of my fear dissipating. If he was just drunk, a good night’s sleep should cure him. “Thank god.”
He struggled against my chest, frowning. “Why aaaare yoooou…” He trailed off, his eyes going wide. “You not yeeell at me?”
I frowned at him. “Because I’m so damn happy you’re okay.”
“But you should,” he concluded, pushing back. He collapsed against the wall and leaned over to clutch his stomach. “Going to be sick.”
“Let me get you to the bathroom.”
I reached for him again, but he pushed me away. For a drunk guy, his strength caught me off guard. “No. Jusht leave me alone. Leave me aloooone.”
“Ollie!” I snapped at him, but he was barely listening to me. He folded himself up on the floor, pulling his knees into his chest. “Let me help you to bed,” I told him. “I’m not going to leave you lying on the floor.”
He started crying, and I paused not knowing what to do. It began as sniffles then whimpers. Before I knew it, he was rocking on his side, and his knees still clutched tightly to his chest. He was sobbing, his face soaked with. He damn near broke my heart. His dam had finally broken. I’d thought this boy needed to cry for his mother, but I didn’t expect it to hurt so much watching him break down. This seventeen-year-old kid who always acted so tough.
I blinked back the tears. “Son, it’s going to be okay. I promise.”
He shook his head. “Nooo! It’s not. She’s dead. She’s dead. It’s aaall my fault.” He sobbed even harder, the sound turning to wails that punched me in the gut. “It’s my fault she’s gone. I’m sorry.”
I wished I could leave to avoid his crying. Everything inside me hurt, hearing his heart-wrenching wails. I pulled him against me instead. God knew he was no saint, and he had given me a few gray hairs over the past few months, but I loved thIS kid more than life itself. He struggled against me at first, still mumbling nonsense about him being responsible for his mother’s death. Nonsense I pushed away as drunken talk. I refused to let him go but sank to the floor on my ass with him clutched against my chest. My tears flowed silently down my face, getting his hair wet, but I reined in my emotions. This wasn’t about me but him, grieving at last for the mother who had left him too soon.
As the minutes ticked by, his sobs quietened into snores, and he fell asleep in my arms. I buried my face in his hair and finally allowed myself to cry. What the hell more could I do for these kids? Everything I tried failed. I tried not to think ill of my late wife but at times like this, how could I not? She had damaged them then left me behind to pick up the pieces.
“Dad, is he okay?”
I caught the sob in my throat and glanced up to find Charlie at the foot of the stairs. Her face was white, and she had her arms wrapped around her slender body. Jesus, I really needed to keep an eye on her and her eating. She was way too thin. I wondered how long she had been standing there, watching us.
“He’ll be fine,” I told her. “Go back to bed. I’ll bring him upstairs.”
She nodded. “I’ll straighten his bed for you.”
A lump formed in my throat, so the word didn’t come out when I tried to tell her thanks. As she led the way, I lifted Ollie in my arms to put him to bed. All it had taken was Charlie’s offer of help and I knew. I couldn’t give up. I would never give up on my kids. I didn’t care how long it took. I was determined to see us okay once again.
Chapter 9
Beau
“Good job, Charlie,” I praised the girl who must have done the most awkward performance I had ever seen on stage. No one else had shown up for the minor role she was playing, so I had to assign her the part. Now that I was seeing her on the stage, I worked hard to hide my grimace. She was so brave for even getting up there in the first place, and I refused to crush this young girl’s spirit. With a few more practice she would get better. In the meantime, I had to work on the other kids who were becoming frustrated by her lack of talent. Those were the words I’d heard the other kids whisper behind her back. I wasn’t yet convinced she lacked talent though. I’d have to see her give her best before I could make that judgment, and she was barely trying.
This evening she seemed more aloof than usual, and I wanted to offer her some comfort. Above everything, I wanted to ask her how her dad was. I still couldn’t believe I’d been to the bar every single day for one solid week after we had run into each other at the conferencing. I didn’t know why I expected him to be there. Maybe I was relying on the chemistry that we had experienced and trusted in it, that it would lead him to me.
Three weeks had passed since he’d taken me home and allowed me to pleasure him, and I still hungered for him. I knew better than to kid myself that it was just because I never had my turn. It was much more than that. I had the urge to call him, to find out if everything was going well at home and if he was happy. He frowned a lot, and I wanted to be responsible for his smiles. He had a beautiful smile which was locked up in such brokenness I still didn’t fully understand.
His daughter was just as broken. She was like a butterfly who had her wings clipped before she even learned how to fly. She was an oddity in the rest of the group which consisted mostly of vibrant kids, who goofed around and were eager to act on stage. She had guts to come here evening after evening, probably knowing how much she sucked. She must have heard the whispers around the rehearsal area. I had to ask some kids to quit it already, or they’d be thrown out of the play. Even when I was short on volunteers I was against meanness.
“Katie!” I called to the actress who was on stage with Charlie. She looked upset and about to blow up any minute now. “I’d like to speak to you, please.”
Katie exited the stage and approached me. I gestured for her to walk a little ahead of me as I brought us out of the hearing range of the other kids.
“Mr. Moreau, I don’t know how much more of this I can take!” Katie growled at me. “She is a horrible actress. She is no actress. Period. And having her on set is going to ruin everything.”
“Katie, I want you to exercise some patience with Charlie,” I told her. “We all know you’re the leading lady. Charlie has a small part so if you could help her to get through it, instead of snapping and pointing out all her mistakes, I am sure she’ll perform better. Can you try that?”
She shrugged. “Okay but I think she’s still go
ing to suck. She can’t act to save her life.”
Except I believed acting right now was something Charlie needed. She looked relieved when she dropped by in the evenings. As difficult as it was seeing her around, not only in class but after-hours, I wanted her to stick around. Even if seeing her reminded me of her father all the time. She resembled him, the shape of her face, her eyes, and the blond hair. The more I saw her, the more pronounced her features became to his.
“Alright everyone, let’s call it a wrap,” I announced, walking back to the group. “We still have a whole lot of work to do. We are not studying our lines which makes everything more difficult. We do want to pull off this play, don’t we?”
“Yes, sir.”
I frowned at them. “And also, those of you who haven’t brought in your permission letters yet from your parents for you to be a part of the production, you need to do so tomorrow, or you’re out.”
The kids grumbled on their way from the room. They didn’t think it was serious for them to bring in the permission letters, but I preferred to err on the side of caution. The last thing I wanted was for a parent to not know where their child was in the evenings. I had already called the parents of those who had brought in their permission letters signed. I hadn’t received any from Charlie either, so I hadn’t been able to contact Gordon. My heart skipped a beat at the idea of calling him and hearing his voice again. Would it be the same conversation as during the conference? Would he ignore what had happened between us?
“Mr. Moreau.”
I turned to find Charlie walking towards me, waving her permission slip at me. My heart sank. Now that she had brought it in, I had no excuse not to call Gordon.
“I’m sorry I kept forgetting it,” she explained. “Dad signed it last week, so it’s all my fault for not bringing it on time.”
“It’s fine,” I reassured her and reluctantly took the permission letter from her. I kept it folded and didn’t even look at it. I wanted to see the number in private, not when Charlie was looking up at me expectantly. I stared back at her, cocking my head to one side. She looked thinner than I remembered.
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