Never Let Go

by Anne Carol

“Uh, yeah.” I stiffened up.

  He was quiet for a moment, though I could hear him taking a deep breath.

  “Have you seen him?” I could sense the dread in his tone, and I knew this was going to be a difficult conversation.

  I cleared my throat. “He showed up at my house, uninvited.”

  “What did he do?” Now he was angry. Good plan not giving him any details.

  I told David to calm down, that everything was alright, and explained about Rick’s accusation that I cheated on him.

  “I thought he knew about me. Didn’t you tell him when you sacked him this summer?”

  “No, I mean, there were a lot of reasons I broke up with him. Meeting and falling in love with you was just one of them.”

  “Beth …” His voice quavered. I could tell he was disappointed in me, and I was fully prepared for a tongue lashing. But then his tone softened. “Are you okay?”

  “Sure, I’ll be fine. Are you okay?”

  He sighed. “No, I want to take you in arms and hold you right now. I hate not being able to protect you. I won’t sleep well until you’re home with me.”

  With that, I felt a stab in my chest. I missed him more than anything. I literally ached to touch him, and inevitably our phone call ended before I wanted it to, but neither of us had a fortune to pay for the long-distance charges. I had a hunch that every week about this time I’d spend a good few hours in a state of depression. Yes, this was my new routine.

  “You’re lucky you get to talk on the phone. Grandpa and I kept up our relationship by correspondence only.” Grandma Claire’s statement later that night gave me a lot of hope, as she and Grandpa Henry had been married over fifty years.

  The Johnson ladies were in my grandparents’ kitchen visiting while helping with dinner preparations. I was excited to tell Grandma about David, though she seemed to already know, via my blabbermouth sister. After shooting Rachel a dirty look, I at least got the pleasure of showing off my pictures.

  “Oh, he’s so handsome, Beth,” Grandma said, staring at the photo of us outside the infamous pub. “And I hear he’s a nice boy.”

  “Really? Did my parents say that?” I wondered.

  “Yes, sounds like they approve.” My heart leaped inside my chest at her remark. It was nice to know my parents spoke well of my long-distance boyfriend.

  Grandma put her mouth to my ear and whispered, “And your grandpa is so excited for you.”

  My face split into a wide grin. Of course Grandpa would get a kick out of my falling for a fellow Londoner. I only hoped he still felt that way when he found out David was pursuing a music career rather than starting college this fall. Having had a lifetime career in higher education, he was a stickler on going to college. Even Grandma Claire, who’d spent her entire adult life as a homemaker, held a degree in humanities.

  While I was droning on about the photos in my hand, Grandpa Henry hobbled into the kitchen with his cane and approached me. “How is my world-traveling granddaughter?”

  “Hi, Grandpa.” I hugged him. “Here, I have pictures.”

  He shuffled through the prints and asked in his distinguished English accent, “Is this the young chap you met abroad?”

  “Yep, that’s him,” I boasted.

  “Oh, nice-looking fellow. Where does he go to university?”

  Uh …

  “Well, he’s taking a year off to try his hand at a recording career. He’s in a rock band. He also works in a record shop.” I cringed as I waited for his reaction.

  “Hmm … music, eh?” Grandpa grunted, his brow furrowed.

  As I waited for the lecture, Grandma Claire suddenly called out, “Soup’s on! Everyone wash up and come to the table! You too, Henry, dear.” She glanced at him and he immediately halted the conversation to go to the sink.

  I breathed a sigh of relief and caught my grandma winking at me. I smiled in response and mouthed, “Thank you.”

  Dinner went better than I expected. My parents talked about our time in London and about the extended family members we visited. Thankfully nobody brought up the subject of my boyfriend, or specifically, his “alternative” career plans.

  While Grandma was in the kitchen rinsing the dishes, she called me in.

  “Honey, don’t worry about Grandpa. You know he only wants the best for you.” She spoke softly.

  “I know, I just want you all to approve of David. I love him.”

  “Ah, Beth. I can see that you do. If it’s meant to work out, it will. I always pray that you’ll make the right choices in life.”

  “Thanks, Grandma,” I said, giving her a side hug.

  I prayed a little myself over the next week as the first day of school approached. Receiving a handful of letters from David helped take my mind off my slight apprehension. I also went to the movies with Melissa and Susie, read a few books, organized my school supplies, sunbathed in the backyard, and watched a lot of re-run TV shows. Frankly, by the end of the week, I think my mom was ready to send me back to school.

  By Saturday night I was restless, so I decided to go to the party after all. Mom made a point of telling me that she and Dad would be staying in for the night—“just in case.” Really that just meant they’d be up waiting for me. Surprisingly it didn’t bother me; it gave me a sense of security.

  And to be honest, I was a nervous wreck. I hadn’t seen most of these kids since the end of school, and I wasn’t sure how people would act around me, knowing I’d dumped Rick. A part of me worried that he’d try to destroy my reputation, effectively ruining my social life.

  I cranked up the radio on the short drive to the swank riverfront home of Ryan Hansen, a fellow senior whose parents were often out of town. As David Lee Roth belted out “Dance the Night Away,” I geared myself up for a night of loosening up and forgetting about everything.

  Turning onto his street, I found that I needed to park several houses down since the area in front of his house was jumbled with cars. I hated arriving to these events alone, but it was worth it to be able to escape whenever I wanted. Taking a deep breath and pressing my hands down to smooth my skirt, I hesitantly walked toward the house that was booming with music and proceeded through the open door. Immediately I was inundated with friends and acquaintances asking me how my trip had gone, and one guy even shoved a drink in my hand.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  “Just a little sloe gin and 7UP. Try it, sweetie!” he said as he brushed past me.

  I hesitated, holding the cup away from me.

  “Come on, Beth. Live a little,” Susie urged as she approached me, holding a plastic cup of the same drink, though hers was now half empty.

  “Susie, hey!” I hugged her. “When did you get here? Where’s Melissa?”

  “I got here about twenty minutes ago. And I believe Missy’s over near the food table. She wants to make sure she has something in her tummy so she won’t get wasted.”

  “Oh, of course.” I quickly scanned the room and found her hovering over the chip bowl with the same beverage in her hand. In fact, I noticed that most of the girls were toting cups of sloe gin. I was beginning to think this was a conspiracy on the boys’ part to get all the females trashed.

  “So are you going to take a sip?” Susie questioned, eyeballing my full cup. “It’s really good.”

  Without answering, I raised the cup to my nose and sniffed it curiously. It had a sweet, fruity aroma, so I bravely took a swallow.

  My eyes bugged out; it was like carbonated fruit punch. “Wow, this is good!” I downed another large sip.

  Susie chuckled and replied, “Told you. Come on, let’s mingle.”

  Over the next hour and a half, while visiting with dozens of people, I polished off three more cups of the sloe-gin mixture. I admit it wasn’t one of my wisest moves, but those drinks just slid down my throat, plus they helped relax my nerves. Foolishly, I didn’t stop by the snack table as often as I should have since Rick was standing right in front. But he was the last person I
wanted to run into.

  While finishing up my fourth cocktail, I realized I needed to use the restroom. As I stood up, the room started spinning and I had to grab hold of one of my friends for balance. I panicked when I couldn’t focus my eyes to see straight.

  “Are you okay, Beth?” one of my friends asked.

  “Uh, which way is the bathroom?” I slurred, needing a quick escape.

  “That way.” She pointed to the left, and I stumbled along to where she was directing me, my legs feeling like Jell-O. I patted the wall to stabilize myself as I made my way to the small room off the hallway. Once I’d taken care of my needs, I leaned against the sink, trying to get my bearings. I was afraid to move for fear of crumbling to the ground and not being able to get up.

  “Holy crap,” I murmured to the idiot in the mirror. “I’m in big trouble.”

  I was drunk, there was no getting around it. Not dancing-on-the-table-naked drunk, but drunk enough that I knew I had to sober up and somehow get home before I could do anything stupid.

  But first I had to gather up the strength and balance to leave the bathroom. I slowly righted myself and reached for the door handle, just as an urgent pounding startled me.

  “Hey, I need to get in there. I’m gonna be sick!” came the sound of a high pitched female voice. Adrenaline kicked in, and I swiftly opened the door to let in a green-looking party-goer as I ducked out into the hallway. The quick movement gave me another head rush and I nearly collapsed to the floor. Taking a deep breath, I somehow managed to make it to the front room couch by supporting myself along the walls.

  I sank into the cushion and rested my head on the armrest, sighing louder than I intended. My vision was so fuzzy I couldn’t make out faces; plus the beat of the music and the low hum of voices made my head scream for silence. Soon a wave of nausea hit me. I felt like death.

  “Geez, Beth, do you want me to drive you home? You look awful,” a familiar male voice offered.

  I didn’t hesitate to nod yes.

  “Did you drive yourself?”

  Another nod.

  “Where’s your purse?” He sounded irritated.

  I shrugged my shoulders, and he walked away. I prayed he’d recognize my bag.

  Several moments passed before he returned. “Come on, I’ve got your purse and keys.”

  Thank God. But despite my relief, I couldn’t find the strength to move.

  “Ah, geez, do I need to carry you?”

  Without waiting for an answer, he lifted me into his arms, making me gasp as I grabbed onto him. Keeping my eyes shut, I concentrated on not getting sick, especially when he said, “You’d better not puke on me.”

  If I was in my right mind I would’ve been tempted to do just that, after everything he’d put me through. But now, as he was helping me out of a potential disaster, I was nothing but grateful to him. Of course, the sober Beth wouldn’t have let Rick anywhere near me, and now it was too late. He was hauling my limp body out to the car so he could drive me home.

  This was not ideal.

  He placed me gently onto the passenger seat, where I slumped against the window as soon as he shut the door. When he started the car, the blast of the radio made me jump, and he immediately switched it off before pulling out onto the road.

  “Are your parents home?” he asked as he carefully maneuvered my car down the quiet residential streets.

  Too ill to speak, I gave him a thumbs up.

  He grunted, “Great. They are going to love me.”

  I was pretty out of it, but I could feel his eyes on me most of the way home. Although I couldn’t see his expression, his mere presence made me uneasy, which made me anxious to get away from him. Drunk or not, I could sense this guy was not going to let me go easily.

  A few minutes later, he pulled my car into the driveway and shut off the engine. He hesitated, but I remained where I was, unable to move.

  “Ah, come on, Bethy,” he said, sounding flustered.

  “Just take me to the door, and then you can leave me,” I slurred. Being in the position to beg Rick for anything left a bad taste in my mouth, but I didn’t have a choice. “Please, I’ll fall over if I try to walk.”

  Without a word, he got out of the car and walked around to my side. After swinging the door open, he reached down and picked me up, using his hip to shut the door.

  The brightness of the porch light was so intense I threw my arm over my eyes and rested my aching head against Rick’s shoulder. He tugged me closer, and I was afraid he was going to kiss me, but instead he just whispered, “I’m so sorry for the other day, Beth.”

  I nearly gagged at his beer-soaked breath, and my queasiness grew worse. Pretending not to hear, I didn’t give him a response, though he seemed to be waiting for one. Then I felt him tense up and take a step forward. In the next second, I realized what startled him when I looked toward the front door. My dad was standing outside, watching us with arms crossed over his chest.

  “Why are you carrying my daughter? What’s wrong with her? Can’t she walk?”

  “She drank a little too much, Mr. Johnson.”

  “Have you been drinking? I smell beer, and I know that’s not from Beth.”

  “I’ve had a few, but I’m sober. I wouldn’t drive her home drunk, sir,” he answered in his classic kiss-up voice.

  “Why did you drive her at all? Weren’t her friends there?”

  “With all due respect, her friends were in no condition to drive, either,” he asserted. “Where do you want me to put her?”

  Dad sighed heavily. “Just take her to her room, I guess.” He held the screen door open for us.

  The coolness of the indoor air awakened my dulled senses, and my stomach turned when I smelled buttered popcorn. My dad must’ve popped some to snack on while he watched television. In fact, as Rick carried me through to the hallway, I could hear a laugh track in the background.

  “What’s going on? Mike?” Mom’s voice piped up.

  “I have it handled, Sharon,” Dad said, leading us down the hall.

  Soon, I picked up the familiar scent of body spray as we entered my room. Rick set me on the bed, where I curled up around my pillow. Barely awake, I managed to hear my dad give him an earful.

  “Listen, I want you to stay away from my daughter. You’ve done her enough harm. She’s been so happy these last few months and I don’t want you ruining it by confusing her. Do you hear me?” Dad spoke sternly. I knew that voice well, it was his “don’t mess with me” voice. I waited in anticipation for his response.

  “I understand, Mr. Johnson, but it’ll be hard to stay away from her when we go to the same school. I never meant to hurt her. I love her.” He sounded tense.

  “Well, she doesn’t love you anymore, so I think it’s time you moved on—starting now. Please leave.”

  Clearing his throat, Rick stammered, “Good night, sir. Bye, Beth.”

  Dad shut my door and I heard footsteps traveling away from my bedroom. Now that I was alone and realized what I let happen tonight, my stomach lurched and I ran for the bathroom.

  It was no big surprise when I woke up the next morning with a massive headache. After I lay there for a few minutes, I inched my way out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen.

  “Well, there you are. We leave for church in a half hour,” Dad said matter-of-factly. He and Mom were sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast. The smell of fried bacon made my stomach turn.

  I groaned and crumpled onto the counter dramatically, holding my head.

  “Not feeling so great?” Dad asked, peering at me over the rim of his coffee mug.

  “No.”

  “What do you remember about last night?” Mom said, joining the interrogation.

  “Rick had to drive me home?” I said, pouring myself some coffee and fetching a box of cereal.

  Dad grunted loudly. “And do you have any idea what went through my mind when I saw him carrying you to the door?”

  I stood there, frozen, holding
a box of Cheerios.

  He went on, “I thought you’d gotten into an accident, or that somebody had hurt you at the party.”

  My face started to heat up and the ache in my forehead intensified. I turned my eyes downward as I poured milk over my cereal. “I’m really sorry. I was stupid, I know. It won’t happen again, believe me. I don’t like feeling this way.”

  “And how did Rick get involved?” Mom asked.

  “I don’t know, I guess he saw me messed up and knew I needed to get out of there. I wasn’t going to argue with him. He wouldn’t have been my first choice to bring me home, but at least I got home safely.”

  “Barely. Dad said he reeked of beer. The whole situation was foolish, just foolish. How could you let yourself get that way? I thought you knew better than that.” Ouch.

  “I don’t know what to say except I’m sorry, and I learned my lesson. I’m definitely learning it now with this headache.” I gripped my forehead for emphasis.

  And (lucky me) my mom continued, “You know, I was up half the night, going over in my mind all the things that could’ve happened to you. I was a wreck. I’m pretty angry with you, Beth. We both are, and you will not get off easily on this one.”

  My stomach fell, wondering how they were going to punish me. “I know, but please don’t ground me from calling David. Please.”

  “We should, but it’s not David’s fault, he doesn’t need to be punished,” mom said, giving gave me a contemplative look. “I’m going to have to say … no going out after the football games on Friday nights for a month. After the games, you come straight home. If you want to invite a friend over, fine. Saturday nights we’d like you to stick to a small group of friends—certainly no parties. And if this happens again, we will take away your phone calls.”

  I bristled at the last statement. “You can be sure this won’t happen again. I would never risk my phone time with David.”

  “Good. Then we understand each other.” She rose from her seat, bringing her plate and mug to the sink. On her way out of the kitchen she turned around and asked, “By the way, what do you plan on telling David about last night?”