by Bijou Hunter
“Glad you could join us today. People talk in these parts. Some have even claimed you might be a bad influence on Donovan.”
“They wouldn’t be wrong.”
Sheriff Arnold Mooney does not find me funny. This fact proves endlessly entertaining to me.
“Donovan didn’t have an easy time growing up,” Arnold says.
“Everyone has a sob story these days. Well, not me. I had a comfortable childhood, but I swear everyone else is a whiner.”
Arnold narrows his eyes at me. I narrow them right back. I like this game a lot. Donovan is so quiet next to me that I nearly forget he’s there.
“You work a respectable job,” Arnold states.
“That’s what people say.”
“What else would they say?”
“Come on, Arnie, if I had something nefarious going on, would I share it with a couple of cops?”
“We take the law very seriously in Rockwell,” he says before adding, “Unlike in Tumbling Rock.”
“Some might say street justice still counts as justice.”
“Those people would be wrong.”
“Don’t you kinda have to say that? Without the law, you’d be out of a job.”
“You have a mouth on you.”
“Why does everyone keep telling me that as if I don’t listen to myself all day?”
“Is your father keeping his nose clean?” he challenges.
“I don’t know. We could call him right now and ask.”
“You have anything to say?” Arnold asks Donovan.
“No, she’s doing a bang-up job.”
I glance at Donovan whose expression is unreadable. He’s putting on a show for these people. I just wish I could see through it. Justice swears she can read Court like a book. He claims the same thing about her. With Donovan, I feel like he’s a book written in a foreign language with no available translation.
Sheriff Big Shot and the rest of the Mooney family can’t read Donovan either. They quickly become uneasy about his blank expression and decide to talk about soccer practice.
Donovan looks at me, and I see a hint of my guy in his dull gaze. He wants me to understand he’s still inside this hunk of nothing. I do understand, but I no longer know why he brought me to this family get-together.
Did he expect them to scare me off? Was I supposed to make a great stand for freedom and the American way? What was Donovan’s hope when planning this meeting of people who’d never like each other? Somehow, I doubt we’re here because he was too lazy and weak to tell them no to the invitation.
No, Donovan wants something out of today. He won’t tell me what, though. He probably isn’t even sure himself. I’d figured out that much about this man. He isn’t even an open book to the guy writing the story.
32 Snake Charmers
Donovan
On the day of Journey’s family barbecue, I wake up on time despite my late shift the night before. Soon, Kitty is fed, and the mail is inside. I’ve washed my single dish in the sink. I’m dressed and ready to go to the barbecue. I stand at the open door of my house and look out at my Jeep. At some point, Kitty joins me, and I realize I need to put him outside before I go.
The dog doesn’t want to leave the warm house for the cooling day. He stares up at me, and I relent to the begging in his big brown eyes. We sit on the couch while I wait for him to soften his stance about going out. I could leave him inside and hope he doesn’t shit everywhere. Of course, I’d chosen to give the dog my leftover pizza for breakfast. No, he won’t handle hours alone in the house.
There’s never a point where I decide to stay home and ditch the barbecue. I just never get up from the couch. The TV plays and Kitty snores next to me. I stare at the screen and listen to the dog and ignore my ringing phone.
Journey is calling. I don’t need to check to know she’s wondering where in the hell I am. Even with the worsening weather, she expects me to show. She’ll get the message soon enough that I’m not coming. Talking to her will likely only make matters worse.
Kicking off my shoes, I notice a light drizzle outside. I assure myself the barbecue would have been a bust. Journey is probably relieved to get out of it. Not that she’ll admit such a thing. The woman is more stubborn than a mule.
I feel muggy in the house, but I don’t get up to turn down the heater. No, if I get up from the couch, I’ll need to answer the phone and face Journey’s wrath.
After tugging off my shirt, I lean back on the couch and put my bare feet on the coffee table.
My life in this house is comfortable. When Journey is here, I’m on edge, but I never want her to leave. She seems to feel the same way about me. We’re good together but just as content apart. That might be healthy for a couple, but I sense it makes us odd.
Court and Justice spend every free fucking minute together. Glued at the hip might work for them, but I need space and quiet. I work a lot. Spending the day with Becca’s kids and Journey’s loud sisters isn’t my idea of relaxing.
I realize I never intended to go to the barbecue. I’d tried the family crap with the Mooneys. They’d been as rude as I expected. Journey blew it off, but I’d seen our future, and it wasn’t pretty.
The phone stops ringing after a half hour of me ignoring it. The ball is in Journey’s court now. She can rage at her place with her family supporting her every angry dig at my manhood. Or she can show up at my place and call me an asshole to my face.
Feeling particularly optimistic, I picture the Earlham women taking turns sticking pins in a Donovan voodoo doll. The more realistic side of me knows Journey won’t choose such a passive path. She’s likely already on her way here to force a reckoning.
33 Snake Charmers
Journey
A rainy mist hangs in the air by the time I arrive at Donovan’s brick ranch. I’m relieved for the bad weather since it’ll keep the nosey neighbors from watching me kick his ass. I’m so pissed that I nearly forget to put the car into park before opening the door.
Taking a deep breath, I get myself under control before finally stepping out of the SUV. Donovan’s Jeep sits in the driveway, mocking me. He isn’t off somewhere else, busy with work or having an emergency. No, he’s right fricking here and perfectly capable of having a meal with my family.
I bang at his door until I can’t feel my hand. Switching from my right fist to my left, I pound harder. I know he’s inside. Unless he’s fallen and can’t get up, he owes me an explanation, an apology, and a chance to kick his ass. Not necessarily in that order.
My hands throb by the time Donovan answers the door wearing only jeans. I study him to ensure he isn’t injured. Drunk, sure, but he’s otherwise as healthy as an ox.
“Don’t just stare at me,” I nearly scream before calming myself. “Where were you? Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
“I didn’t want to come over, and I figured you’d be pissed. I guess I was right.”
When I move to enter, Donovan closes the door enough to block my way.
“I can’t talk to you right now,” he says casually.
“I’d ask if you had another woman inside, but I know you’d be way more fricking scared of seeing me if that was the case.”
“I don’t want another woman, but I can’t talk to you right now.”
“Can’t?” I demand.
“Fine. I won’t.”
Before I can get out another word, Donovan shuts the fricking door and locks the bolt into place.
“Motherfricker!” I yell, kicking the door.
Like an idiot, I wait for him to change his mind. I don’t know how much times passes before my sanity and self-respect force me to walk away.
Storming to my SUV, I want nothing more than to drive home and enjoy my family’s coddling. I can imagine how much happier I’d be with them rather than forcing this issue with Donovan.
Except if I don’t force it now, where does that leave us? Are we over? Do I avoid him now? I can’t live in a state of uncertainty, so I wal
k past my SUV and to his 6-foot wood fence. The gate is locked, forcing me to climb the damn thing. With the rain, I struggle to get my footing. After a few false starts, I drop over the side and walk to the back door.
Inside the house, Donovan sits on the couch with Kitty. The dog hurries to the door when I open it.
“If you’re going to lock someone out, make sure to get every door,” I tell Donovan who doesn’t move.
“I didn’t figure you’d jump the fence. My mistake.”
I pet Kitty’s head and then maneuver him outside. “I don’t want him getting in between me screaming at you.”
“Have at it.”
“Don’t you care at all, you fricking frick?”
“You should probably full on cuss in these situations.”
“Don’t tell me what to do, idiot. After today, I hate you.”
“Then why are you here?”
Shocked by his indifference, I don’t know what to say or do. He isn’t supposed to be like this. Donovan is a good man, right? He said he loved me. It never occurred to me that he might be lying. Had I been played? Or had he just gotten bored? I’d heard about men doing that, but I never considered it happening with Donovan.
Thinking of him over here laughing at my stupidity, I want to tear off his fricking handsome face. I want to beat him until he’s a bloody mess. I want to rip apart his stupid, bland house and steal his sad-eyed dog. I want to destroy everything he cares about and leave him feeling as miserable as I do.
“Sonovabitch,” I growl, punching a hole in his beige wall. “I’m not paying for that.”
Donovan stands up and walks to me a little too quickly. Thinking he might attack me, I put up my fists up and prepare to give him a taste of what I gave the wall.
“Easy,” he nearly whispers. “Let me see your fist. Did you bust a knuckle?”
“Don’t touch me, queef sniffer.”
“I don’t know what a queef is, and you refuse to tell me.”
“Have you never heard of a fricking Google search, queef sniffer?”
“Let me get some ice for your hand.”
“I’m fine. Don’t touch me.”
“I’m not.”
“Well, don’t even think about it.”
“I can’t promise that. My mind is always on you,” he says, walking to the kitchen.
“You somehow forgot to show up to lunch with my family. You also somehow forgot to call me. Or to fricking answer the fucking motherfucking phone, you fucker.”
“Cussing makes this easier.”
“What in the hell is wrong with you?”
“I’m drunk off my ass. You should give it a try,” he says, offering me a beer bottle rather than ice. “Have a drink and keep drinking until you’re in a solid state of drunk.”
“I don’t want to be drunk, you asshole.”
“No, but it’ll help. When I started drinking, I thought I was a huge asshole. Now I figure I’m more like an average sized asshole. Booze takes the edge off the truth.”
“What truth?” I ask, setting the beer on the counter.
“I’m not cut out to be in a human relationship.”
“So only non-human relationships for you, idiot?”
“Do you know how I get through the family functions I go to? I put on my autopilot and coast through the entire encounters. They say shit, and I nod. The reason that works is because they don’t care if I’m paying attention. They’re happier if I sleepwalk through everything with them.”
“Boo hoo. Your family sucks, but you weren’t meeting with them. You were meeting with my family who doesn’t suck,” I say and then mutter, “Asshole fucker.”
“That’s the point, Journey. Your family will talk to me and want real responses. They’ll engage with me, and there’ll be no sleepwalking. I don’t know how to have those kinds of conversations. I never noticed before you, but I’m on autopilot every day with everyone. I can’t deal with anything else. Fuck, I even have trouble showing you how much I love you, and you’re you. I couldn’t deal with your family.”
“You’re so stupid,” I say, shaking my hand. “Get me ice, queef sniffer.”
I think about his words while he shuffles back into the kitchen. He returns with a towel filled with ice. Taking it from him, I’m afraid to look at Donovan. His gaze hypnotizes me until I believe whatever lies my ego tells me.
“Do you want out? Is that what this thing is about?” I ask.
“I want you, but I don’t know what to do now that I have you. I spent months thinking about the first part and never considered what would happen if I actually won you over.”
“If you didn’t want out, here are a few suggestions your stupid fricking queef loving brain never considered,” I say, sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall. “You could have told me how you fricking felt, and I’d have run interference for you at the barbecue. You could have told me and we could have canceled the barbecue. Or you could have not shown up and pissed me off, but fricking called to tell me why. Or even, I don’t know, answered the fricking phone when I called or answered when I knocked at your damn door. Instead, you blew me off, so I don’t believe you want to keep me. I think you want out, but you’re too big of a pussy to admit it.”
“Don’t cry,” he whispers, brushing a tear from my cheek.
“You’re breaking my heart. I’m chasing a man who keeps running. Whenever I catch you, I hear crap about how you want me. Then I turn my back, and you run off again. It’s pathetic.”
“I don’t want this,” he whispers in a slightly slurred voice. “I want you happy and with me. How do I make that happen? When I try to make it happen, I freeze up and stay where I’m safe. Kitty doesn’t judge me.”
“Sure, he does. He just can’t vocalize his disappointment.”
“You’re probably right,” he says, squatting down next to me and leaning against the wall. “I do love you, Journey. You’re not the pathetic one. I am, but it’s not because I don’t care. I just don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”
“That’s a cop out because if you wanted to know what the hell to do, you’d ask someone. It wouldn’t even need to be me. Court could give you guy advice. Even the fricking dog would help if you just asked. You didn’t though because you don’t want help.”
“Maybe it’d be easier to give up. I don’t know. I don’t want to lose you. I just don’t know how to keep you. I think I’ve got shit handled and then I panic. My life was comfortable before you. Boring, lonely, pointless, but it was also easy.”
I hold the ice on my right hand and think about leaving. We should end this crumbling romance. Neither of us knows what we’re doing. I feel him slipping away, and I keep pulling him closer. Why prolong the inevitable?
“Is love enough?” I ask, fighting tears.
“I don’t know. I hadn’t known how it’d be when I saw you. I hadn’t been expecting anything out of life and then I saw you and I wanted you. Now I have you, and I’m fucking things up.”
“Yes, you are.”
Donovan takes my bruised hand. “When I know I’ve disappointed you, I don’t want to look at you. I can’t see that look in your eyes. It makes me a damn coward, sure, but you’ve got the power to tear me up, so I avoid you. I thought I could shut you out. I should have known you wouldn’t go away without a fight.”
Exhaling, my rage fades. I’m left exhausted and uncertain. Kicking Donovan’s ass is no longer an option. I only want him to say something perfect like men sometimes say. I want him to help me forgive him and forget about today. I want lies, but Donovan won’t bullshit me. He’s too drunk not to be heartbreakingly honest.
“Tell me what you want me to do,” I finally say after crying a little and finding tears no substitute for facing the problem.
“I need you to put up with my shit until I figure out how to be the man you need. That’s not a decent, honorable answer. It’s not fair to ask you to wait even if I love you. The thing is I need you to stay, and the cowardly
truth is the only way you might give me another chance.”
Maybe the booze explains why his voice cracks when he says he loves me. Or maybe he’s a man begging for his life. Either way, I choose to believe he loves me, and we’ll somehow make our jagged edges fit together just right.
34 Snake Charmers
Donovan
Journey takes the beer I handed her earlier and downs it in one long gulp. She shudders at the taste before reaching over and opening the door so Kitty can get out of the drizzle.
The dog shakes wildly, sending drops everywhere. I watch him jump on the couch where he’ll stink up the fabric. My gaze returns to Journey to find she’s kicked off her shoes and is watching me.
“How’s your hand?” I ask, and we both know I’m asking about more than her bruised knuckles.
Journey doesn’t answer. Her green eyes exude fatigue and probably depression too. She leans over until her head rests in my lap and she’s facing up at me. I caress her damp hair and wonder if there’s some way back to where everything was new and shiny. Have I royally fucked what I’ve wanted since I first laid eyes on this glorious woman?
We remain together in this position until Kitty returns to shake his ass next to us. Journey smiles suddenly and turns to look at the dog. He sees her focused on him and licks her face. Laughing now, she sits up and wipes the slobber from her lips.
“He’s got this love thing down,” I say, patting the dog.
“Do you want me to leave?”
Startled by the suddenness of her question and change in mood, I don’t answer immediately. She thinks that’s my answer and rolls her eyes. I snatch her wrist and pin her against my chest.
“I can find you dry clothes, and you can stay the night.”
“Will you order pizza and eat whatever horrible toppings I pick?”
“I’ll do whatever you want.”
“My pitiful servant, huh? I might enjoy being worshiped,” she says, standing up. “Now get me a clean shirt. No oversized sweatpants, though.”