Quentin’s eyes focus on the entrance, and recognition flashes in his eyes. His back visibly stiffens, and he immediately slides his bar stool closer to mine.
“Not now, babe. Maybe in a little while,” he replies absently and places a firm grip on my upper thigh.
What. The. Fuck.
“Quen, what’s up, man?”
Two men approach us, and Quentin nods his head in acknowledgment. The dark-haired guy scans the room and pays little attention to us. The other one, who I silently nickname Mr. Redneck Romeo, shakes hands with Quentin while he creepily surveys me from head to toe. Something about this guy screams douche.
“What’s up, bra?” Quentin says in a strange, deep voice while rubbing my thigh possessively.
That’s not Quentin’s voice. He’s deepened it to sound like a ‘roided out juicehead. What the hell? The guy who I’ve been with all night would not molest me in public and use words like “bra.”
“So who’s this little hottie? Introduce me.”
“This is my date, Alex. Alex, this is my roommate, Buck.”
I regretfully offer my hand to Buck and try my best to keep my disgust in check. Anyone who can make my very promising date turn into this asshole in front of me is not someone I want to know.
“Very nice to meet you,” I say stiffly as I try to pry my hand out of his hot, sweaty grip.
“The pleasure is all mine, baby. I’m gonna find my own little hottie, so I’ll catch y’all later. Quentin, I won’t wait up tonight, dude,” he says with a knowing chuckle.
Quentin chuckles back, runs his eyes up my body, and then smirks at Buck. I’m not sure what’s changed in the last five minutes, but my night has taken a swift nosedive. My bad dating run is obviously still in full effect.
“Take me home. Now,” I say stiffly as I pick up my purse and remove his hand from my leg.
“I had a really good time tonight, Alex,” Quentin says with an apologetic smile.
“I wish I could say the same. I thought we were having a great time … and then your roommate showed up, and you turned into an asshole. What was that about, Quentin?”
He shuffles his feet nervously and shoves his hands in his pockets. It’s obvious he’s ashamed of himself, but I can’t figure out why he’d act that way.
“I’m sorry. That’s not me. That’s not who I am. Buck … he brings out the worst in me. Why don’t you invite me in, and we could, I don’t know, talk about it or something?”
His eyes are hopeful, and I just don’t get it. He has to know this is going nowhere.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m sorry, Quentin. Good night.” I turn to the front door, key in hand. He grabs my shoulder and turns me back to him.
“Wait, Alex, please. Just let me come in for a little while. I can’t go home yet. Please.” His eyes plead with me, and I can sense his desperation.
“I’m not letting you in, Quentin. What the hell is going on?” My eyes narrow in question.
“If I’m home when Buck gets home, I’ll never hear the end of it.” He tosses his hands up in frustration.
Why would Buck care what time Quentin made it home? Unless he wanted him to think … surely Quentin isn’t trying to imply…
I flush with anger at my sudden realization. “You little jerk! You’re trying to ‘Anthony Michael Hall’ me!”
“What? I don’t know what that is,” Quentin stammers as he backs away.
“Sixteen Candles, you dickhead! You want to show Buck my polka-dotted panties!”
“I have no interest in your panties, Alex. I swear.”
“But you do want to make it look like we’re having sex. Don’t even try to deny it! And why don’t you have any interest in my panties?” I cross my arms and narrow my eyes at him. I’m getting to the bottom of this. “Oh shit, are you trying to use me as your beard?”
“My beard? What the hell are you talking about? I’m not fucking gay!” His posture changes from retreating to menacing in an instant.
I place my hand on Quentin’s arm and squeeze gently, giving him a slight smile. “Look, I don’t care if you’re gay. What I care about is the fact that you have no problem having pretend-sex with me to impress Buck, the Redneck Romeo. How do you think that makes me feel? You need to leave Quentin. And maybe you should find friends who like you just the way you are.”
Quentin rolls his eyes. “Thanks, Alex, but I don’t need your afterschool special advice. You are so fucking clueless.”
“If you ever need a friend, Quentin, give me a call,” I whisper as I walk through the door and softly close it behind me.
“How was the hot date?” Holly sounds excited to dish, and I wish I had good news for her.
After all of these years, Holly and I are close as ever. Even when I lived in New York, I would give her the play by play of my dates. Unfortunately, my misadventure sounds like a bad sitcom, getting progressively worse with each passing day.
“He tried to ‘Anthony Michael Hall’ me,” I confess as I slip out of my dress.
“That asshole! I hope you delivered the swift kick to the balls that he deserved.”
“Actually, I feel kind of bad for him. I think he’s gay, and if I had to guess, his roommate is a raging homophobe. I only met him for a brief second, but he seemed like a huge ignoramus.”
“Only you would take up for this guy, Alex. What am I going to do with you?”
“You think you’re exasperated? I’m living this shit.” I take a deep breath and close my eyes. “The truly terrible thing is that if he hadn’t screwed it up, I would have found something wrong with him anyway. You know I always do. No man ever measures up to the memories. Will I ever stop thinking about him, Holly?”
“I don’t know, babe. It’s been years … why don’t you do a little looking? You never know what you might find, right?” She sounds hopeful, but I don’t miss the hint of sadness in her voice.
“I’ve written him hundreds of letters, Holly. Hundreds. I’m sure I crashed his inbox with emails, and I’ve never heard one single word in return.” I shut my eyes and sit on the edge of my bed, my shoulders slumped in defeat. “And then there’s always a chance that he … that I can’t…”
“You don’t know that, Alex.”
“No, but that could be reality. Can I deal with that truth?”
“Can you deal with the uncertainty? The not knowing? It always comes back to him. Every. Time. It been years, and you haven’t moved on from this. You need to do this for you, not for him. You have to face this head on, Alex. It’s time.”
It’s hard to imagine going down this path. I never heard from West after he left for the military, but I learned of his deployment to Iraq from his golf buddies at the club. When I returned home from New York, his friends were graduated and gone, and his old house had a FOR RENT sign in the yard. My broken heart wouldn’t allow me to search any further. Why should I comb the world looking for West when he couldn’t be bothered to return one of my emails?
“I’ll think about it, Holly. That’s the best I can do right now.”
“Good. I’m here for ya, babe. Anything you need.” Holly pauses for a moment before continuing, “Look, Ryan and I are having a barbeque next weekend. You should come. It would be good for you to catch up with some old friends.”
I know Holly means well, but going to Cedar Ridge is not the answer. I know I’ll end up under our oak tree if I head home in this frame of mind. Providence may only be two hours away, but it provides much needed distance between the past and me.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Holly. Tell Ryan I’ll visit y’all soon. I promise.”
“Seriously, Alex, he’s starting to get a complex. He thinks you don’t like him because you never come around. If you won’t come to us, we’ll have to make a trip to Providence soon.”
“I’d love that. I’m going to hold you to it. I’ll talk to you later.”
“See ya, chick,” I hear her singsong as I end the call.
It’s the
truth. I would love a visit from my best friend and her boyfriend. Holly spent years waiting for her high school crush, Tripp, to clean up his act. With no foreseeable end to his gigolo ways, she moved on and met Ryan. It was the best thing that could have happened. He treats her like the princess she so obviously is.
It’s time for me to look to the future, too. I know that. I look at Holly and Ryan, and I want that with someone. Is she right? Would knowing the truth finally set me free?
I open the drawer of my bedside table and grab my pen and journal. I don’t send him emails anymore, but I still write often. He’ll never see my words, but pouring over my thoughts has always been cathartic. I curl my legs underneath me, and fall into the pile of pillows that decorate my bed.
Dear West,
Well, I have another entry into the Bad Dates Hall of Fame. Seriously, it was worse than the refried beans incident, and that was pretty freaking bad. I’m about to start taping these bad boys. I could easily win a funniest video contest.
If I’m being honest, I don’t think it matters who shows up at my door anymore. It could be the perfect man, and he still wouldn’t measure up. He wouldn’t be you.
It’s been years since I’ve seen you, touched you, or heard your voice. I see pieces of you scattered throughout my day, and it still hurts as much as it did back then. When will I stop searching for you? How do I stop hoping for you? Six years is long enough. Why won’t my heart let you go?
Maybe Holly is right. Maybe I need to find you to finally close this door. Where should I look? Across the ocean? Down the road? Up to the sky? God, the mere thought of it cripples me. You can ignore me, you can discard me, you can hate me, but you cannot cease to exist. That’s just not an option.
If I find you, I hope you remember who we used to be. I hope you think of those mornings we lay under our tree, talking, laughing, and embracing the moments we were given. Remember the girl who gave you her heart, knowing you would break it.
Remember, and please be more careful this time.
Love always,
Alexandra
“Come Home” by One Republic
“HEY, MOMMA.” I prop the phone between my ear and shoulder as I reorganize the pencils and paintbrushes that litter my studio desk … again.
“Darling. It’s so wonderful to hear from you. I haven’t heard a word from you since you and your friend Sara came to visit weeks ago. You know your father worries.” I smile at the mention of my father. He’s the one who worries, not her. Yeah, right! I shake my head and chuckle to myself.
I brought my gallery-patron-turned-dear-friend, Sara, home with me a few weeks ago. Her ex-boyfriend and best friend got married that weekend, so we both thought it best to get the hell out of dodge. Sara’s had a tough road the last year or so, but she’s finally started putting herself out there again.
“I’m fine, Momma, I’ve just been busy with the gallery,” I explain as I muster up the nerve to say what I really called about. “Did you ever—have you had a chance to, you know, talk to Daddy about West? Has he looked into finding him?”
My words hang poignantly in the air as my mother releases a deep sigh. There are several Oakborne members who are high up in the military, and I know they could help locate West if they asked the right people. My mom wasn’t thrilled when I asked for her help, but she finally relented. I think deep down she knows it’s the only way for me to move on with my life.
“Alex, I mentioned it, but I don’t think it’s been a high priority for him. He’s been so busy with the club…”
“It would only be a few questions, Momma. Really, it won’t take a great deal of effort on his part. Maybe I should talk to him myself.”
“No, no I’ll talk to him.” I can sense her reluctance. “Alexandra, my sweet girl, I worry about your heart. Are you sure you’re prepared for the answer you might find?”
Deep down, I know she’s right. It’s entirely possible the truth could be more devastating than my worst fears, but at least I can deal with it and move forward. The smallest possibility of West is like a faint whisper I just can’t silence.
“I’m as prepared as I can be, Momma. I … I need this,” I whisper on a sigh and let silence fill in the empty space.
After time passes, I hear her inhale softly. “I love you, my darling. I’ll always try to protect you.”
“I love you, too, Momma. But I don’t need protection. I just need you to be there for me, whatever the outcome.”
“Always,” she says simply, and I believe her. There was a time years ago where I might’ve questioned that, but not anymore.
I believe she’ll always be there for me, but it’s her nature to try and protect her daughter from pain. Because of that, I know it’s time to take matters into my own hands.
I place my OUT TO LUNCH sign in the window and lock the front door of the gallery. With the sun warming my shoulders, and my paper sack in hand, I stroll down the street to New Horizons Outreach Center. It’s only three blocks away, so I have more than enough time to eat lunch, visit with friends, and have a quick meeting with the clinic director, Caroline.
Sara introduced me to New Horizons, and I’ve become involved with several of the clinic’s art initiatives. They handle a wide variety of things, ranging from counseling to STD testing, but I tend to work more closely with Caroline, who specializes in art therapy. I look forward to my art classes at the clinic. I’ve even started a Saturday morning class at the gallery for a few of the children who receive services from New Horizons.
The chimes hanging from the clinic’s door sing to announce my arrival, and I take a moment to appreciate all the original artwork in the lobby. It’s important to Caroline that clients feel an ownership of the clinic, and displaying their masterpieces goes a long way in achieving that goal.
“Anybody here?” I call out before I hear the laughter filtering in from the common area.
I peek my head around the corner to see Sara and Adam talking toward the back of the office. Sara is a labor and delivery nurse at the local hospital, and she recently started volunteering at New Horizons. She and Adam butted heads when she first started working, but it didn’t take either of them long to act on their mutual attraction. With his wavy dark hair and piercing blue eyes, there’s no denying Adam is sexy as hell.
They both look up and see me approaching, but not before I see them intimately talking and laughing. It’s still new, and I can feel the electricity that surrounds them. Adam holds a lock of Sara’s hair between his fingers, and she leans into him, absentmindedly twirling the edge of his T-shirt. Before I can check it, a pang of jealousy runs through me.
God, I want that…
“Hey Alex! What’s up?”
“I’m just taking a quick lunch break, and I was hoping to catch Caroline. Is she here?”
“What are we, chopped liver?” Adam tosses his hands up in mock disgust and shakes his head.
“Whatever! I’ll come visit and eat my lunch with y’all when I’m finished with Caroline,” I promise.
“Ya hear that, Sara? We get sloppy seconds.” Before the words are out of Adam’s mouth, Sara pelts him in the head with a pen as she laughs.
I knock softly on the office door, and it opens slightly from the force of my fist.
“Caroline? Do you have few minutes to talk?”
“Alex? Of course, come on in,” she says as she closes the files on her desk, preparing to give me her full attention.
Caroline is good that way. She makes time for all of the clinic volunteers, no matter how busy she is. She fills the role of second mom for most of us.
I smile lovingly at her haphazard appearance. Paintbrushes stick out of the thick bun of blonde hair, and her red cat-eye glasses sit crooked on her face. Dried paint speckles her hands and fingernails. I’ve grown accustomed to it. Caroline races from one project to the next, with little time for primping and grooming—not that she would do it even if she had the time.
“What can I do for you,
sweet girl?”
I pull the piece of paper out of my purse and lay it on her desk with trembling fingers. She picks up the sheet and rights her glasses.
“West Adler?” she questions with a furrowed brow and confused eyes.
“I know you are involved with several initiatives focusing on local veterans. I’m certain you have contacts that could help me.” I take a deep breath, unable to hide the importance of my request. “I need you to find him.”
“Find him?” Her eyes revert back to the paper I handed her. It contains his name, previous address, birthday, and other pieces of information that may help with the search. “Find this … West Adler?”
“Yes. He entered the military right before I moved to New York for college. I recently tried to locate him using the usual methods: social media, past address, family, old friends, you name it. Needless to say, I came up empty. Can you help me?”
I tap my foot impatiently and wring my hands as I wait for her answer. She’s in no hurry to respond, calmly watching me crawl out of my skin. I think she’s waiting for me to elaborate, but I’ve said all I want to say right now. She leans in closer to me and clasps her hands in front of her.
“I’m not going to insult your intelligence by asking you if you’re prepared for the answer I may find.”
“Thank you,” I interject quickly, hoping to curb any further questioning.
Caroline chuckles softly and shakes her head at me. “You’re welcome. I’ll see what I can do, Alex. But I need you to make me a promise in return.”
“Anything.”
“I can take a hint. I know you don’t want to talk to me. I hope you change your mind, though, and my door is always open if you do. But you need to talk to someone, okay? I’m not a big fan of letting things fester. Nothing good comes from it. Can you do that for me?”
I nod quickly and give her a tight smile.
“All right, sweet girl. Give me a little time, okay?”
“Thank you so much, Caroline. It really means a lot to me,” I say as I pull my purse onto my shoulder and turn to the doorway.
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