Full Throttle

by Chelsea Camaron

  “What do you mean nine years wasted, Kenna?” Maggie asks curiously. It dawns on me, Maggie knows I’m with Jake but I’ve never discussed how long we’ve been together.

  Alcohol coursing through me, “Nine years Jake and I have been together. Nine years I’ve waited for a proposal and wedding that he has made clear will never come.”

  “You and Jake? That long? He won’t marry you?” She questions.

  “In a nutshell. Never bothered me before, sure as hell does now.” I take one of the shots lined up before me.

  “Oh hell, that deserves a bottle not just a shot.” Maggie’s words seem to run together. She is moving a lot even though we are sitting on bar stools, or maybe it’s me.

  Dina quickly cuts us all off after some dancing and our shots. Thoroughly drunk, somehow the three of us still manage to stumble our way to the car in our heels, without falling. Dina is laughing all the way. Sober, as always, Dina finds our drunkenness more entertaining than any drink she could have. Given her past, I understand why Dina prefers to be our sober sister.

  Only a little way down the road, Sophia is begging Dina to pull the car over. The alcohol going down is always fun, coming up, not so much. It takes real drunken focus, if you can really have such a thing, to keep me from joining her roadside. My mantra for the ride home is ‘do not throw up, Kenna’. We didn’t even finish the shots we lined up, but the three of us are definitely three sheets to the wind. Maybe we should go out more often, build up a better tolerance, right now it shows how little we typically drink.

  On the way to Sophia’s, Dina makes a phone call. We pull up to Sophia’s house and instantly realize that call was to Harrison. Maggie is half hanging out of her passenger window like a dog on a car ride loving the wind.

  “Oh bbiigg bbbrrutthha, sooooooo ggoouudd to ssseee yoooouuuuu.” Maggie slurs as she drags out each word as if it’s her first time saying it.

  As he watches Sophia stumble out of the car he quickly scoops her up in his arms. He whispers something in her ear that instantly relaxes her into his hold. The embrace is full of genuine care. I wonder if there is something between these two.

  “Is Mags staying with me or going with you, D?” Harrison asks.

  “Oh no, I got her. You’ve got your hands full with that one, trust me. Jake is waiting for me to get Kenna home to him. Mags will just crash with Ryder and me. Good luck, bro.” Dina replies shaking her head at all of us.

  Jake is waiting at home for me. Ha! Jake waiting on me for something, as if. I’ve waited nine years on him to get nowhere. If I wasn’t so damn drunk, I would make him wait a hell of a lot longer.

  Jake

  Dina text me not too long ago, letting me know that they were on their way here from Sophia’s. Normally, I would be outside to waiting to escort Kenna in. I know she is a lightweight when it comes to alcohol. I’m so hurt and angry that I stubbornly stay inside.

  Maggie is screaming out of the car window, something I can’t quite decipher. She is obviously inebriated. Oh no, no, she is FUBAR (fucked up beyond all recognition). Tomorrow is definitely going to suck for her. I am glad Ryder is my neighbor and won’t be upset by her current noise level.

  Dina says, “Kenna, hold on a minute. Let me help you inside. Maggie, shut the hell up.” She is definitely getting annoyed with these two.

  The next thing I hear is a loud crashing thud. I rush out the door, to the front porch, to find Kenna face down on our steps. Dina’s running toward us as I am scooping my very drunk girlfriend up.

  “I’m so sorry Jake. I was trying to settle and quiet Mags.”

  “No, Dina, no need to be sorry. I should’ve been out here waiting. Thanks for bringing her home.”

  As we cross the threshold Kenna flips out.

  “Put me down asshole. I can walk.”

  “Okay you’re obviously an angry drunk tonight.” I say setting her on her feet.

  “This isn’t about me being drunk. This is about you wasting nine years of my life.” She sobs. “My love isn’t enough, never has been. You don’t love me enough. We’re doomed Jakey.”

  Her words cut deep. Drunk or not, I know this is how she really feels. The truth lies in her inebriated, uninhibited speech. She ascends the stairs, ever so ungracefully as I follow, in case she stumbles or falls. Her words ring through my ears, “you don’t love me enough.” I want to rip my heart out of my chest, I feel like I am burning from the inside out. She walks away to brush her teeth. As she changes into one of my t-shirts, I know, drunk or not, she needs to feel just how much I do love her.

  Sloppy

  Kenna

  Graceful under normal circumstances is not a word to describe me, drunk me is a hot mess. The room spins around me as recognition of my words to Jake consume me. I didn’t mean to let that slip. Calm, cool, collected Kenna was who I was supposed to stick to, not blubbering heart- broken mess Kenna Jean. I haven’t called him Jakey since high school. What the hell?!

  Before I make it to our bed, Jake is pulling me into him. The kiss consumes me. I’m all slobber and tongue, I’m drunk, and I don’t care. I want this man. I need this man, his love, his heart, his comfort, his connection. He is my all. There is nothing seductive or sexy in the way I begin pawing at Jakes clothes. They are preventing me of being skin on skin with him. He pulls away, leaving my mouth hanging open, as I’m still trying to kiss him.

  “Kenna, I don’t love you enough, huh?”

  Then he’s on me again, now with his shirt off and mine too somehow. He’s got me, now completely naked, against the wall before I can think. He lifts me wrapping my legs around him as he slams into me. Oh my goodness, mother of everything good in this world, this is hard, fast, good. Take me; let me die right here, because I am a happy freaking woman. The pace is relentless and my head is spinning from my buzz and the euphoria of my building orgasm. My entire body is liquid; I am at Jakes mercy. He drops his head licking, sucking, and nipping at that sweet spot in the curve of my neck sending me over the edge.

  “Not done yet, angel. Drunk or not, you will know just how much I love you.” He growls against my neck, in that oh so sweet spot, driving me wild from the vibrations of his voice.

  With that I am placed on our bed. If someone asked me my name right now, my answer would be ‘ooooohhhhhhh’. He is everywhere, all over me. He enters my core again sending more aftershocks through my body. He continues to slam into me at an insistent pace, I don’t know how he hasn’t gone over the edge, but I am certainly not complaining. When he begins caressing and kissing my breasts, I am lost in sensation. There is a gentle tug at my nipple before he comes down with his mouth sucking hard. Through the pain I am sent over the waterfall again. Damn, multiple orgasms are the shit. I was a pool of liquid before, now I am floating in an ocean of emotion.

  Jake seems focused, determined, like this is a mission. I can read the self- control on his beautiful face. He is trying to make his point to my body. The only thought I manage to form is, for so few words, he sure has communicated quite well with me. He slows, now every touch is deliberate and delicate as I am trembling uncontrollably. He nuzzles my neck and shoulder as I finally feel his warm seed spread through me.

  “I love you, Angel. Don’t ever think you are not enough or my love isn’t enough. All I am is for you, all I have is yours.” He whispers.

  I am unable to speak or stop the tears from rolling down my face. I just nod my head against him in agreement. He kisses my tears away as he pulls out of me. Turning us both on our sides, he holds me into him, my back to his front as I literally pass out.

  Jake

  Kenna is in my arms asleep. My intention was not to push either of us that hard, but I need her to feel the intensity of my love for her. Morning will come all too soon and I will have to face her with all of the insecurities she is obviously feeling.

  Holding her close, I find comfort in her warmth. This is the worst pain I’ve ever had. This entire situation with Kenna is killing me. I never knew I could h
urt this bad. I’m all tied in knots over the thought of losing her.

  It’s not enough for her anymore. Sober or drunk doesn’t matter, this is really how she feels. Everything is slipping away from me. I’ve been around guys overseas when they got news from home about their relationships ending. Some get angry and hit something, some are quiet, and some guys even let it go and cry. When you are deployed and your wife or girlfriend ends it, you are helpless. There is nothing you can do; it’s completely out of your control. If I could get over my hang up with marriage, neither of us would be feeling this hurt right now.

  Instead of sleeping, I hold Kenna close. How many more nights will I get to hold her? I let the thoughts and emotions consume me. Can I actually marry her? Before I am conscious of it, my pillow is wet with my tears. Never have I been so conflicted over my decision to avoid marriage. Everyone jokes that we are an old married couple, but I find comfort in the simple fact that we aren’t actually married. If you don’t actually have something, then you can’t lose it. By not getting married, we can never get divorced. I am preparing myself for what the morning will bring, knowing Kenna’s hangover will be the least of our pain.

  No Avoiding It Now

  Kenna

  When did the kitchen get so close to my bedroom? The noise from whatever Jake is doing downstairs is deafening. As I attempt to sit up, the piercing pain in my head quickly reminds me of drinking too much last night.

  Maybe Jake isn’t really being that loud. I lay in the bed forcing myself to replay my evening because every inch of my body is screaming in agony. My out of shape status is showing, as I feel like I have pulled every muscle in existence. Muscles I didn’t realize I have are making their presence known.

  Shit! It dawns on me. I got stupid, sloppy drunk last night. In my state, I totally threw Jake under the bus to my girlfriends. My mom has always told me, “Men have a fragile ego honey. Think before you speak, even when they aren’t around.” In all the years with my dad, she never spoke ill of him, even when she was blazing hot mad.

  This is my fault. I’m the one who went and changed all the rules. Jake has been clear and upfront from day one. The many things we women kid ourselves into believing. I’m the sneaky sales person that baited and switched. For years now, I’ve been laying it on thick. Jake you’re with me, that’s all I need. All the bullshit lines I‘ve fed him, year after year, time and again. Now I’m crying out that it’s not enough. Way to go Kenna Jean.

  Oh no, I didn’t! Oh shit! I did. In my drunken stupidity, I told Jake he didn’t love me enough. Oh my, my intention was not for it to come out like that. I can’t stop the tears that automatically begin falling. Knowing I hurt Jake’s feelings makes me physically ill.

  I emerge from our bathroom after puking so much I am left with the dry heaves. Making it only two steps into our bedroom before Jake is wrapping his arms around me in a comforting embrace.

  “Jake, I didn’t mean it last night.” I sob. “I know you love me.”

  “Shh. Shhh,” is all he says as he gently rubs my back while holding me close.

  Finally, I calm down and he pulls away. He walks by me and into the bathroom without a word. The silence is killing me. I sit on the bed. Is the crazy wall sex we had last night just supposed to be all the discussion we have about this? I mean, yes, that was some discussion, but it solves nothing. Is his silence because I hurt him that deeply?

  As I brood over these thoughts, I become angry. The more my emotions overtake me the more my head screams in agony. Hearing the shower turn on, I decide to go downstairs for some Motrin and caffeine.

  Jake

  Yes, I admit it. I am a chicken shit. The water turns cold, alerting me to the fact that I have stayed in the shower long enough to run the hot water out. My plan to avoid the topic of last night is failing fast. For once, I wish Kenna was too distracted by her hangover to worry over our situation.

  Walking into our room to find her so distraught, reality washes over me. As I stand here, drying off, I look at all of Kenna’s things on our bathroom countertop. I’ve never known what it’s like to be without her. Yes, during trainings and deployments we have been apart. Home, however, has always been with Kenna.

  Descending the stairs, tension is building up inside me at a rapid pace. Kenna is on the couch sitting in utter silence.

  “TV too much noise for your head?” I ask.

  “No, I’m just thinking.” She replies, avoiding eye contact.

  When a woman is thinking, it’s never a good thing. Now do I take the bait and ask what she’s thinking? Deep in my heart I know what she’s thinking.

  My body stills, I am unable to will myself to move. Silence consumes the room as I stand at the bottom of the stairs. Kenna is firmly planted on the couch and I am waiting for her to begin.

  “Jake, what are we doing?”

  “I don’t know. What do you want, Kenna?” I hang my head low, afraid of her next words.

  In a whisper she answers, “I want it all Jake. I deserve it all.”

  I sigh as I run my fingers through my hair. This is it. For nine years, I think I knew in the back of my mind that this day would come. What we have wouldn’t always be enough for her and now I have to face it.

  “Kenna, you know, I can’t.”

  “You could. You choose not to. Jake, there is a difference, don’t be that naïve.” The frustration and hurt is evident in her face.

  “The thought of marriage suffocates me. I’m sorry but you knew this about me.”

  She’s crying now. “Yes, Jake. Things change, people change. Wants and needs change. Why won’t you marry me?”

  “Really, Kenna, you of all people are going to ask me that. You fucking know why.” I yell.

  “I’m not your mom or your aunt. We can make it. Why won’t you believe in us?” She angrily replies.

  “You think I don’t believe in us? Seriously? We bought a damn house together. We share a bank account and have for years. Everything I have has your name on it. What the hell?” I run my fingers roughly through my hair, feeling the adrenaline building up as the anger consumes me bit by bit.

  “But you won’t give me your name?” This she says in a sharp tone.

  I’m boiling now. I shake my head. Kenna’s temper now flaring as she stands up.

  “You are a true piece of shit. I’ve loved you. I’ve waited for you, stood by you. And you won’t concede to my one wish. What have I ever asked of you Jake?” She’s now screaming at me over the top. I’m done, self-control left the building.

  “What have you asked of me? Kenna, we moved to Wilmington for you. I hate being close to my past. To know my bitch mother is less than twenty miles away drives me insane. You wanted to move to Charlotte, here we are. Out of high school, I wanted to go in the Army, active duty, not reservist. You made it clear; you never wanted to leave North Carolina. Instead of having that full time career, I chose to fucking follow you to college. And now you stand here all smug like you’re the only one to sacrifice for this relationship. You said you wouldn’t leave Carolina, and we haven’t left. I said from damn day one, I wouldn’t get married, what’s the difference?”

  Without thinking, I slam my fist into the sheetrock of our wall. I’ve never been so angry with Kenna and with myself. I blink; Kenna is now in my face.

  “Get. The. Fuck. Out. Now. Bastard.” She seethes through a clenched jaw

  Bastard, huh, yeah I am a bastard. I brush past her. Grabbing my wallet, phone, and bike keys in the kitchen; I make it to the garage without another word uttered between us. In the garage, I take a deep breath, half expecting her to stop me. She doesn’t come. I put on my helmet, crank my Harley Davidson and take off.

  That Pill They Call Pride

  Kenna

  He really left. Damn, I just let him leave. There was more than enough time to stop him in the garage. I should’ve gone to him. Two hours have passed. I don’t know where he is, what he’s thinking.

  Bastard….I actually called
him one. Never, in all the fights, over all this time, have I ever called him that. Once when we were in high school, I called his house. His aunt asked me what I wanted with a bastard child like him. When I asked him about it, he told me his mom, her husband’s, his whole family gave him that label. I sorely regret spouting such a disgusting word in the haste of argument. Way to go, way to prove I’m nothing like his mom. That one word just put me in a category with her that I will never be able to take back or get out of.

  Five hours have passed now. Still, Jake has not come home, called, or text. My emotions are all over the place. I’m angry that he left me, regardless of the fact that I told him to. I’m heartbroken to be fighting with him. I’m uncertain of where we go from here. At this point I’ve cried so much my eyes are swollen and burning.

  The right thing to do would be to call or text him. On one hand I want to reach out to him, on the other I want him to come back to me. That pill they call pride is one that’s hard to swallow. I’m currently choking on it.

  Saturday evening passes in a blur. I attempt, but fail, to eat dinner. Apparently I spent the night on the couch because I find myself waking up there late Sunday morning. A quick glance at my phone shows me that Jake is still on radio silence.

  Out of worry, I go online to check our accounts and credit cards. Noticing he stopped for gas I find relief that he is okay. There are no additional charges to any area hotels. In fact, there are no charges at all beyond the one tank of gas. So where did he sleep last night? Is he hungry? Has he eaten?

  Sunday quickly fades into Monday with no contact from Jake. I have checked my phone countless times. Each time the temptation to call him eats at me. I never manage to hit send on the call or text. Blindly, I go through my morning routine. Regardless of what goes on in my personal life, I have a job and responsibilities at work.