Davis

by INGRID HARRISON

  I shook myself out of my daydreaming, not wanting to think of our last coupling. It had been slow but the urgency and need was there too. I know we both fell in an exhausted sleep as the first fingers of light was lighting up the distant hills.

  Leaning my head against the planes small window, I let my eyes close.

  It wasn’t until much later the lady in the seat next to me was shaking me awake.

  “Honey, we landed,” she said smilingly. “You sleep very well on planes.”

  I smiled weakly at her, as I watched her stand up and start pulling her carryon luggage from the overhead bins.

  Within an hour, I was home, and I pushed away the feeling of loneliness that settled over me. I watered my plants, unpacked my luggage and began the process of sorting my clothes to take to the laundromat tomorrow and hanging up the newer items that Davis had purchased for me.

  I had a few more hours before I had to be at work, and I was glad I had something to do. I didn’t want to be alone, I thought sadly, and yet I lived in a town where I had no real friends. I forced back the tears that were threatening to fall.

  Taking my phone out of my purse, I texted Davis:

  ME: I made it home. Good luck tonight. S

  Plugging in my phone in the kitchen, I turned on the radio, needing some noise as I decided to dust, my need for movement overcoming my need for sleep. My apartment was so small, I was done in no time, and I couldn’t sit still.

  I would go crazy, if I didn’t do something, so I started moving all the furniture in the living room out a couple of feet. I was sweating and sticky when I was finished, but I didn’t stop. Taking some blue painters tape, I began taping off the baseboards, prepping for painting.

  I had only had time to tape off the living room before I had to stop. I would start painting tonight when I got home, I thought as I made my way to the bathroom, turning on the hot water in my shower.

  I checked my phone for a response to my text, but Davis hadn’t responded. For some reason, I felt a sense of loss suddenly. I knew he was busy with his concert, scheduled for tonight, and he would respond eventually, but my head wouldn’t stop taunting me. He has already moved on and forgotten you again.

  Shoving those thoughts aside, I looked around me. It was good to be at work again. I had missed Steve and Dalton, and Bailey too. For a Thursday night, the crowd was relatively busy, and I was thankful for that. It made the evening pass quickly, and before I knew it, I was back at home.

  I chose not to take a shower yet, but instead pulled out some paint trays and brushes, deciding to paint for a few hours before I tried to get some sleep. Throwing on an old t-shirt and a pair of shorts, I found my step stool, painting at the top first, using a small brush.

  I was just getting off the step stool to start at the bottom when my phone rang.

  When I picked up the phone, and saw Davis’s name, I smiled.

  “Hey you,” I said happily, cradling the phone against my ear.

  “Hey,” he said laughingly. “Whatcha doing?”

  “Well, I decided to start painting,” I said sitting on the edge of the couch.

  He snorted. “Woman, this is your chance to catch up on sleep. What are you thinking?” he chided me.

  I sighed. “I slept all the way home on the plane ride. Besides, I couldn’t relax,” I admitted.

  “How was the show tonight?” I asked.

  “Great!” He said enthusiastically. “The crowd was large and so engaged.”

  He proceeded to tell me about a fan that had broken past a barrier and made it up on stage. “But security was there in a flash, and ushered her off. She looked half drunk,” he chortled, “And could barely stand upright.”

  “Leo is having words with the event planner because how in the hell did a woman break through the barrier, especially in her inebriated stated.”

  I couldn’t help but smile, he sounded so happy.

  “So what are you doing right now?” I asked smiling into the phone.

  “Well, I just made it back to my room,” he said.

  I looked at the clock. 4:00am I felt my heart sink. The concert would have been over hours and hours ago. Where had he been?

  I didn’t respond, my throat felt closed, and I couldn’t breathe.

  “You still there Steph?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I bit out, the only word I could get past my stiff lips.

  “I miss you,” he said quietly.

  I couldn’t reply, just a mumbled, “Yeah.”

  “Are you OK?” he asked in confusion. “Steph?”

  Swallowing hard, I forced words out. “I’m OK.”

  Deciding to change the subject, I asked with forced brightness. “Aren’t you off to another town tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, so tomorrow we are taking the bus to Knoxville for a show tomorrow night and then I will be back at home in Nashville by Saturday night.” He stopped talking suddenly.

  “So you’re flying to Nashville Sunday, right?” his voice sounded strained.

  I wasn’t sure how to take the strain in his voice, so I said, “If you still want me to.”

  “Steph, why wouldn’t I?” he said in frustration.

  “Well, I….I know you’re busy,” I finished lamely.

  I hated trying to figure out what he was thinking and talking to him on the phone, I couldn’t see his expressions, so hearing strain in his voice was hard. I wasn’t sure how to interpret it.

  I suppose I was living in a state of fear. Fear he would realize he didn’t need me, or fear he would find someone else to replace me in his affections, and fear he would forget about me.

  “Damn it Steph,” he said angrily. “Don’t push me away. Not now,” he said with a rush of breath.

  He sighed, and then continued, “Leo is going to have a ticket waiting for you at the airport. Just go up to the front desk at Delta Airlines, OK?”

  “Yes, I will. I will be there on Sunday,” I said more strongly. It was only a few more days away, and I tried to push the feeling of melancholy that was threatening to suffocate me.

  “Good. Good,” he said quietly. “And get some sleep please,” he begged.

  I laughed softly. “I can sleep all day tomorrow. You’re the one that needs to get some sleep,” I reminded him.

  “I will sleep on the bus tomorrow,” he promised.

  He sighed, and then said, “I hate this.”

  I felt my stomach plummet. What did he hate? Worry furrowed my brow, and I pushed my hand against my stomach to stop the shakes that had started.

  “I want you here, not at the end of a phone,” he said dispiritedly.

  “I know,” I agreed in a whisper, because I felt the same. But I had to work, if I was going to pay my rent, and besides, wouldn’t he tire of me if I was with him all the time?

  “We need to talk seriously about us,” he said gravely. “I want you with me.”

  My heart sang at his words. “I promise we’ll talk about it when I get there on Sunday,” I vowed.

  We finally hung up, but my heart felt bruised. I didn’t like not knowing where he was for hours tonight, but I had no right to ask. It felt good that he seemed to miss me like I missed him, but only for a moment, and then sadness of not having him with me took over.

  Feeling suddenly exhausted, I cleaned up the paint supplies, and cleaned the brushes before taking a shower. It was after five am when I was finally in my bed, my eyes heavy with exhaustion, sleep claiming me.

  I woke up after noon, and decided to go to a clinic nearby. It was time to get myself on birth control, I decided. I had started my period this morning, so I knew our unprotected sex hadn’t resulted in pregnancy. But I knew it could happen again, and I think both Davis and I would like the added protection that birth control would give us.

  I was surprised how quick and easy it was an hour later with the doctor visit behind me, and I still had several hours left before I had to get ready for work, so I walked around the shops after stopping at a pharmacy to fill
my prescription.

  I found a baseball cap at one of the stores, and bought it on impulse for Davis. I knew he wore them a lot during our outings, trying to hide his identity. I also found a shirt that was unique in the color and cut. The color reminded me of the color of his eyes.

  It was cut in the lines of a t-shirt but made of this soft, slippery fabric that felt good on the hands. I noticed it had super tiny holes in the fabric, allowing air to pass through easily, allowing the wear to feel cooler. It also had a seam that ran up the wearer’s chest and up their back.

  Clutching my purchases, I stopped by a grocery store, buying a few items, hoping it would tempt me to eat. My appetite had been non-existent since I arrived home.

  Moments after arriving home, I received a call from my mom Amanda.

  “Hi Mom, how are you and Gil doing?” I asked as I set my purchases on the counter.

  “Well we are fine, but we just received a disturbing call from Davis,” she said and I could hear concern in her voice.

  “Is he OK?” I asked my brow furrowing.

  Her mom made a sound that was a cross between a sigh and grunt. “Well, you should know shouldn’t you, seeing as how you and he are now dating?”

  I could hear the question in her voice and a little bit of hurt there as well. Why had Davis told them that, I thought in frustration?

  We had never discussed our parents and what we would tell them, but I assumed we would keep this to ourselves. I mean, why let them know and then hurt them both later on when it was over?

  “Ah Mom, I’m sorry.” I said softly, hating that I didn’t tell her first.

  With a sigh, I continued on, “It was sudden, and I guess I haven’t come to terms with it yet.”

  “But Stephanie, you know how Davis is? Why would you get involved with him?” she questioned.

  How do I answer that? I didn’t feel like I could tell her my true feelings for him, but I wasn’t certain what choice I had. She knew me, better than anyone else. Sure, I kept my private life private, but up until four months ago, she had lived with me all my life. She knew I seldom dated and had never brought a boyfriend home.

  With a sigh, I responded, “I tried to deny my feelings for him Mom, I did. But for me, it’s only been him. I am so sorry you had to find out like this.” I was whispering near the end of my statement.

  “Oh Steph,” she said unhappily. “Why him?”

  I sunk down on the couch, feeling tears prickling. “I know, right?” I said.

  “Does he know you’re in love with him?” she asked me quietly.

  I didn’t bother denying it. “He does not. And I would prefer he not know,” I said slowly.

  “Stephanie, you cannot get involved with a man like Davis and think you are going to come out unscathed. I mean, he is a nice guy, but he clearly has no desire to settle down,” she started, her voice sounding confused and yet angry too.

  “I know Mom, I know.” The tears spilled down my face. I couldn’t stop them, and I couldn’t deny my Mom was right. I knew that, but I couldn’t deny him. I was prepared, well as prepared as I could be, for this thing between us to end, but hearing my Mom voice the same exact concerns I had. Well, it was too much. Hearing her talk about it, I felt like the biggest fool. But I wouldn’t change one moment of my time with him. How could I? I was never as happy as when I was with him.

  Sniffling, I tried to rein in my tears.

  “Oh sweetie, I’m sorry. Of course, you know this about Davis,” she said.

  “He makes me happier than I have ever felt in my entire life. But I know I am setting myself up to be hurt by him. I know!” I cried, wiping frantically at my eyes, willing the tears to stop.

  “Is this one of the reasons you moved away from us?” she asked softly.

  “Yes,” I said achingly after hesitating a few moments. I wanted to say more, but my throat felt constricted, and really, what more was there to say?

  “Well, I am going to tell Davis if he hurts you, he won’t be welcome in this house again!” my Mom started, anger in her voice.

  “Please don’t Mom. I am begging you,” I cried emotionally. “Whatever happens is between Davis and me and doesn’t involve you and Gil.” I stopped, taking a deep breath. “Please.”

  “Stephanie, I cannot stand by and see him hurt you,” she began.

  But I cut her off. “This was my decision to make. I know what the stakes are, and I chose to take them. So if you are going to be angry at someone, then be angry with me,” I said forcefully. “I won’t have you blame Davis, Mom.”

  CHAPTER 15-DAVIS

  I was frustrated. I wanted to pound my fist into something so bad, I was shaking.

  I tried taking deep breaths, but still the rage wouldn’t abate.

  Burying my head in my hands, I couldn’t stop the tears that began falling. The pain of my father’s words had hit me hard, and I was reeling from his words.

  I thought telling him about me and Steph, he would be happy for me, for us! But instead, his belief that I would only cause Steph pain had cut.

  My own family believed me incapable of love, I thought in agony.

  Is that what Steph believed too?

  No, I chanted in my head, not my Steph. She believed in me, didn’t she? She felt this thing between us just as strong as I did. She knew it wasn’t fleeting, didn’t she?

  Insecurities in myself and in Steph suddenly frightened me.

  Had our parents called her? Told her their belief?

  What if she listened to them? Allowed them to reinforce their belief that I was no good for her?

  Pain lanced me, and I howled. I looked around me, at the hotel room I currently lived in, until I moved on to another hotel, to another town.

  My life was empty without her. Nothing really mattered if I lost her, I thought.

  Maybe I should call her? Warn her they might be calling her?

  Damn it! Why did I tell my dad about Steph and me? Why didn’t I keep it to myself?

  Because you thought you had their love and support. You thought they loved you and believed in you and trusted you. Instead, I discovered their true feelings. They thought I could hurt someone as beautiful as Steph.

  And that was the part that hurt the most.

  I had to call Steph, I thought, pulling my phone from my pocket.

  It only rang once and she was on the phone, “Davis?”

  “Steph, how are you?” I asked, the sound of her voice sounding so good.

  “I…I just had a call from Mom,” she said, her words unsure and hesitant.

  I knew it. They had called her. The sound of her voice told me even if she hadn’t just admitted it to me.

  “Why did you tell them?” she asked me, her voice sounding hurt.

  “I thought they would be happy for us,” I said achingly. “I … You made me so happy, and when Dad called, well,” I stopped, feeling sick remembering the call.

  “Needless to say, Dad doesn’t feel I am good for you,” I said hoarsely.

  “Oh Davis, do you think I care what they think? Their words can’t hurt us. I only want you,” she said softly and my heart felt so full suddenly, I was overwhelmed with a feeling of rightness.

  “God Steph, I thought they would take you away from me,” I said in a guttural voice. “I thought I might have lost you.”

  “Never,” she said vehemently.

  To know that Steph was mine, her loyalty true. Well, I couldn’t help thinking how lucky I was.

  “God Steph, I am so thankful for you,” I said with emotion causing my voice to come out gruffly. She had made me so happy, until she made her next statement.

  “Just please don’t prove our parents right,” she whispered cautiously.

  “I wouldn’t ever hurt you, Steph. At least, not knowingly,” I started but then I really absorbed her words.

  “Do you not trust me Steph?” I asked her uneasily, afraid of what her answer was going to be.

  She didn’t answer for a long moment, and t
hen she laughed hoarsely. “It’s funny because I was asking myself this question a few days ago. Did I trust you?”

  She sighed suddenly. “I trust that you are there for me, if I am in need of help or assistance. I know I can call on you and you would help me.”

  I was waiting for more, because that wasn’t the trust I was referring to, and I think she knew it, but she didn’t say any more.

  “What about with your heart?” I asked huskily. “Can you trust me with your heart?”

  “At this moment, I have trusted you with my heart Davis. But I am concerned I…,” she broke off with a hiccup.

  “Jesus, Steph are you crying?” I asked her urgently.

  She didn’t say anything for a moment, and then she continued, “I am scared.”

  “Why, baby, why?” I questioned earnestly.

  She didn’t say anything for so long, I thought she might have hung up.

  “Never mind,” she said with a voice that sounded stronger.

  “Christ Steph, talk to me. Tell me what you’re feeling. Please,” I begged desperately. Why was she holding back from me?

  “I am scared for the future,” she said softly.

  That surprised me, it really did. I was looking forward to the future, seeing her, spending more time together, my career prospering and so I saw the future as being bright.

  “But the future looks awesome to me. Why doesn’t it for you?” I asked slowly.

  “I guess it’s our future, together,” she said so quietly, I almost didn’t hear her.

  How could two people see the future so differently, yet we were in the same relationship? What was I missing? I thought we cared for each other deeply? I knew I did. Was it her feelings for me that she was doubting?

  No, I thought fearfully. I wished I was with her, frustration in being apart from her overcoming me. I hated talking on the phone, unable to read her expressions or her body language.

  “Don’t you see a future with me?” I asked hesitantly.

  “I want to see a future with you,” she said.

  And what the hell did that mean? Either she did or she didn’t? With fear closing in, I asked, “Are you trying to tell me you aren’t feeling it with me?”