314 (Widowsfield Trilogy) Page 17

  “What’s wrong?” He was sympathetic as he reached out to comfort her.

  “I don’t know,” she said, honestly. “I really don’t.”

  “Come here, kid.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close. “I’ve got your back. If you want to hop on the bike, take off, and forget all this shit, I’ll be right there with you. Okay?”

  “No,” she nestled into his embrace. “I need this. I never knew it, but I really need to do this. I’ve got to erase that part of my life.”

  “I’ve got your back, babe. Whatever you decide to do, I’ve got your back.”

  She stepped out of his embrace, folded her arms, and looked at him. He stood on the sidewalk, watching her, as the moonlight reflected off his bald head. The snake tattoo that was now revealed on the right side of his head, partially shaded by emerging hair, was facing her. She’d never known the tattoo was there, until yesterday when she saw him with a shaved head for the first time.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Why what?”

  “Why do you have my back?”

  He looked as if the question was an affront. “Because I love you.”

  For some reason, she didn’t believe him. “I don’t understand why we keep doing this.”

  “Oh come on, Alma.” He sighed and started to pat the various pockets on his jacket in search of his cigarettes. “We’re not breaking up already, are we? We just patched things up.”

  “We did?” She laughed, although not out of humor. “I don’t remember that. Matter of fact, I seem to recall being pretty pissed at you when I found a rubber in your toilet.”

  He looked tired as he lit his cigarette. He didn’t bother responding and let the smoke drift lazily out of his open mouth.

  “You’ve got nothing to say about that?” She took another step away from him and crossed her arms.

  “What do you want me to say? I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  He was right, but that didn’t make her any less angry.

  “We’re meant for each other.” He took a drag and squinted at her as he did, then he let the smoke come out of his nose as he continued. “You know it as well as I do. We’re good together, and not worth a shit apart. Our problem is that we haven’t figured out how to fight yet. When we do,” he smiled as he mimicked an explosion, “it gets real bad real quick. We just need to figure out how to have civil disagreements instead of all-out battles.”

  “I don’t want to go through it all again,” said Alma. “You really hurt me last time.” She tightened her grip around herself and took another step away from him.

  “I know it.” He looked down at the ash at the end of his cigarette, avoiding her gaze. “Want to know a secret about the last time we broke up?”

  “What?” Her tone implied that she was already skeptical of what he was going to say.

  He took another drag, as if trying to stall his admission. “I started being nasty to get you to break up with me. I was trying to protect you.” He flicked ash onto the sidewalk.

  “Protect me from what?”

  “From me.”

  Alma shook her head in mild exasperation. “What does that even mean?”

  “You were falling back in with my crowd. Just like it always happens.” Paul looked up at the moon and seemed to study it for a moment while Alma stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. He changed the subject abruptly. “You know when I fell in love with you?”

  “The first time I let you get to second base?”

  They shared a chuckle, but then Paul turned serious again. “It was on our third date, back in high school.”

  “What?” She shook her head and laughed as if what he was saying couldn’t be true. “No one in high school is ever really in love. That’s just kid stuff.”

  “No, you’re wrong. I fell in love with you on our third date, and haven’t stopped loving you since.”

  “We broke up not long after that.” She didn’t know what to make of his admission. It didn’t make sense to her. “We didn’t start dating again until the next summer, when I was back from college.”

  He continued his story, unabated by her disbelief. He closed his eyes as he recounted the scene. “You were in a light purple dress, with a darker purple string tied up here.” He pointed to his clavicle as he went on. “Some of the strings in the dress sparkled, like they were made of tinsel or something.”

  “I remember that dress,” said Alma. “My grandmother bought it for me.”

  “I picked you up in my truck. Remember that shitty old thing?”

  She smiled as she took a step closer to him. “Do I? I had to steer as you pushed it after running out of gas on the highway.”

  He laughed at the memory. “Not my smoothest moment.”

  “To say the least.”

  “I remember seeing you come out of your grandma’s place, wearing that dress, and I almost couldn’t talk. I was just stunned. You had your hair up, and you never wore your hair up. You looked awesome.”

  “No more wearing my hair up now,” said Alma as she tousled her newly shorn locks.

  “You got into the truck and just, all of the sudden, leaned across the seat and pecked me on the cheek. It was a real quick kiss.”

  “I remember it,” said Alma. “I was so nervous. That was our first kiss, if you can call it that. I guess I was a bit of a prude back then.”

  He finally looked at her, and then bashfully back to his cigarette as he flicked it. “That’s when I fell in love with you.”

  “What?” Alma accidentally snorted as she laughed and then put her hands over her mouth in embarrassment. “Because I kissed you? Come on. You were a ladies man back then. You had all sorts of girls clamoring for you.”

  “It wasn’t because you kissed me,” he said. “It was because you were scared to. You got into the truck and slid across the seat to kiss me out of nowhere, and then went right back to your side and waited for me to drive off. It was obvious that you’d been planning the kiss for a long time.” He locked eyes with her and held his gaze. “I bet you were thinking about it for hours before I picked you up. Weren’t you?”

  She looked down as he stepped forward, closing the gap between them. “Yes. I was so nervous, you have no idea. I wasn’t the sort of girl that got asked out a lot, and you were such a popular guy. I couldn’t believe you were going to take me out again for a third time. I knew it was silly not to kiss after going on a couple dates, so I had to get it out of the way. It was such a lame kiss.”

  He took her hand and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “It was the best kiss of my whole life. I’ve loved you ever since.”

  “Even when we kept breaking up?”

  “Yep. Every time my phone rings, I hope it’s you.”

  “Then why did you turn into such an asshole last time?” she asked. “Why were you saying that you were trying to protect me?”

  “Honestly, I was ashamed of myself.”

  “For what?” she asked.

  “For being a nobody. And worse than that, I was dragging you down with me.”

  “That’s silly,” she said.

  “No it’s not. It’s the truth. I’ve got a lot of bad habits, and when we’re together I drag you down with me.” Alma was going to rebut him, but he spoke before she could. “When was the last time you did coke?”

  It was a brash question, and she was taken aback by it. “What?”

  “When was the last time? I bet I know,” he said. “I bet it was at my birthday party, right before we broke up last time. Am I right?”

  “Yes, but what does that have to do with…”

  “It has everything to do with it,” said Paul. “That’s my point. You’re a fucking good person, and not just like a normal good person either. You’re an honest-to-God, really good person, and every time we get together again I’m forced to watch you sink down to my level. Look, I’m not trying to be a melodramatic emo kid here. I’m being honest when I say that I drag you down, Alma. I always have
.”

  “Come on, Paul. Stop it.”

  “No wait, I’m trying to explain what I’ve been up to for the past few months.” He walked away from her and started to fidget with his lighter as he spoke. It was almost as if he had a speech prepared, and was trying to recall all of the details that he wanted to go over as they talked. She wondered how long he’d been planning this conversation. “You got your dream job, and I was putting it at risk. If your school drug tested you - Fuck, Alma. Your life would’ve been over, and all because of me.”

  “I’m an adult. The mistakes I made were my choice.”

  “And I decided to stop putting you in a situation where you were forced to make that kind of choice.” Paul put his lighter back in his pocket and then pulled out what looked like a plastic coin. He flipped the object around in his palm a few times before handing it to Alma.

  It was purple and depicted a triangle in the center of an engraved circle. Within the triangle was written ‘2 months’.

  “Is this what I think it is?” asked Alma.

  “I joined a few days after we broke up, but fell off a few times. I’ve been straight for two months now.”

  “AA?”

  “Sort of,” said Paul. “It’s a different program, but same idea. That’s how I met Jacker.”

  Alma glanced back at the door to Rachel and Stephen’s apartment where Jacker was waiting for them.

  “He’s not just a buddy,” said Paul. “He’s my sponsor.”

  “Paul, I don’t know what to say.” She stared at the coin and flipped it around in her hand several times. It felt like metal, but was lighter than she expected it to be.

  “I’ve been working real hard for this, Alma. I just want another chance with you. And all this shit, with Widowsfield and your dad,” he shrugged and nervously scratched at his beard. “The way this all happened now; it just feels like it was meant to be. You know? It feels like I’m being given one last shot to prove that I’m the right guy for you.”

  “I didn’t need you to do this,” said Alma as she held up the coin. “I didn’t know you had an addiction problem.”

  “Neither did I.” He took the coin, kissed it, and slipped it back in his pocket. “It wasn’t until my birthday, when I saw you snorting a line off my bathroom sink, that it hit me. That was my worst moment. I saw myself for what I was, and it wrecked me. I knew that if it weren’t for me, you’d never do drugs. Your job was too important to you, but you were risking it because of me. I thought about quitting, but then I thought…” he didn’t want to continue.

  “What?” asked Alma.

  “This hurts to admit, but I wanted the drugs more than I wanted you. That’s why I turned into such a prick, and that’s how I knew I had a problem, because nothing ever meant more to me than you – or at least that’s what I thought until that night. That’s when I knew I had to do something if I was ever going to earn you back.”

  “Paul,” said Alma as she took his hands in hers. “You never had to earn me back, all you had to do was ask.”

  “Well, then this is me asking.” He smiled down at her. “Alma Harper, will you take me back?”

  She grinned and closed her eyes, then let go of his hands and abruptly turned. “No, I don’t think so.” She took a long, exaggerated step away as she toyed with him. Then she turned and leapt back into his arms. “Of course I will, you big dummy.” She got on the tips of her new, expensive pumps and was about to kiss him, but then put her finger over his lips and pushed his head to the side. She pecked him on the cheek like she had on their third date, when he fell in love with her.

  He chuckled, and wrapped his arms around her. “Oh no, that doesn’t cut it anymore.” He kissed her and then started to spin, lifting her feet off the ground. He stopped, set her down, and then caught her before she tumbled over in her heels.

  Alma laughed as she clung to his arm. It had been a long time since she’d worn high heels and she was struggling to get used to them again. The cut on her right foot didn’t help either. “Now hurry up and get me home so I can get my stuff and then screw your brains out.”

  He scooped her up in his arms and walked toward his bike. “Hold on little lady. With a promise like that, you’d better believe I’m going to drive like a bat out of hell!”

  Alma let her head fall back as she laughed. She stared up at the stars as they twinkled in a cloudless night sky. She felt happy, and savored the moment.

  * * *

  Rachel had retreated to the bedroom to change into a pair of flannel pajamas. Alma and Paul had been gone longer than they expected, and Rachel was getting tired. She came back to find Stephen and Jacker playing a videogame.

  “Oh crap.” Rachel sounded disheartened as she plopped down next to her husband. “Looks like I lost you two for the night.”

  “Nah,” said Stephen, although he didn’t look away from the screen. “I just wanted to prove a point to our new friend here.”

  “And what point is that?” asked Rachel.

  “That I could kick his ass at Call of Duty.”

  “And how’s that turning out for you?” asked Jacker.

  “Don’t get cocky. There’s still plenty of time left.”

  Rachel put her hand on Stephen’s thigh, but he writhed away from her and moved up to sit on the edge of his seat. “I hate this damn game,” she said and crossed her arms.

  “Don’t worry,” said Jacker. “It’s about to be over.”

  Rachel heard dogs start to bark and Stephen leapt up and yelled, “Fuck off! Are you serious?”

  “What’s going on?” asked Rachel before she saw Stephen’s avatar get mauled by a dog.

  “Who let the dogs out?” asked Jacker as he set his controller down on the coffee table.

  “Oh wow,” said Rachel. “I didn’t even know this game had dogs in it. I’ve never seen you do anything like that.” She coyly leered up at her husband.

  He grimaced, but tried not to let Rachel’s goading annoy him. He pointed at Jacker and said, “That’s bullshit. You were camping.”

  “Call it what you will, my friend,” said Jacker. “I call it winning.”

  “I want a rematch.” Stephen pointed at Jacker’s controller on the table.

  “No!” Rachel swiped the game controller off the table and snatched the battery pack off the back of it. “Game over. I don’t want to sit here all night watching you two play video games.”

  “Then what do you want to do?” asked Stephen. His tone started off like a petulant teen, but then changed as he decided not to pick a fight with her.

  “I don’t know.” She pulled her feet up onto the couch, under her butt, as if nestling in for a long chat with a girlfriend. “Let’s just talk.”

  Jacker and Stephen both groaned simultaneously.

  “What?” asked Rachel, amused by their dour faces. “What’s wrong with talking? I’d like to get to know the guy that’s going to be driving us around for the next few days.”

  “I’m getting a beer,” said Stephen with a defeated groan. “Who else needs one?”

  Jacker raised his hand and then Rachel asked for one as well.

  “So, Jacker, how’d you get that name?”

  The big guy snickered and ran his hands through his shaggy, curly head of hair. “That’s a complicated story. The short version is that I’m a computer nerd. Have been ever since I was a kid.”

  “Did you grow up with Paul and Alma?”

  “No. I met Paul just this year, at the tattoo place near his apartment.”

  “What was it that made you two start hanging out?” Rachel’s questions came quicker than Jacker was prepared for.

  “I don’t know. He’s a nice guy. We just sort of started hanging out a lot.”

  “Okay,” said Rachel. “Do you ride a motorcycle like he does?”

  “No.”

  “Do you get a lot of tattoos?”

  “Jesus,” said Stephen from the kitchen. “Give the guy a break, Rachel.”

  “What?
” she asked as if defending herself. “I’m just trying to get to know him.”

  “No you’re not,” said Stephen as he brought Jacker a beer. “You’re going into reporter mode. Stop it.”

  “It’s okay,” said Jacker. “I’m sure it’s weird to have some stranger staying at your place right before hauling you through a couple states. I don’t mind answering a few questions.”

  “See.” Rachel was quick to stick her tongue out at her husband. “So, do you have a bunch of tattoos hidden under that shirt?”

  Jacker was wearing a long sleeve, black shirt with a band name that Rachel didn’t recognize. He pulled the sleeves up to reveal bare arms. “Nope. I never got a tattoo.”

  Rachel was surprised and furrowed her brow. “Then how did you meet Paul at a tattoo place?”

  “My friends hang out there,” said Jacker quickly.

  Rachel adjusted her position as Stephen sat down beside her. He handed her a bottle of beer and then the glass that she’d left on the kitchen table from earlier. She started to pour the beer, but then Stephen took it away from her claiming that she wasn’t doing it right. She ignored his tutorial on properly pouring the beer and continued talking with Jacker.

  “So what about Paul and Alma?”

  “What about them?” asked Jacker.

  “Alma told me how they’ve been an on-again-off-again couple ever since high school. What do you think of their relationship? Is it healthy?”

  “Good Lord,” said Stephen. “Did you really make us stop playing Call of Duty to talk about relationship crap?”

  “Yes.” Rachel slapped Stephen’s knee. “Now shut up and let us talk.”

  “Today was the first time I met Alma,” said Jacker.

  “Oh really?” asked Rachel.

  “Paul talks about her a lot, but they’ve been broken up ever since I’ve known him. He’s been working up the courage to ask her out again.”

  “No kidding? So he’s been pining for her all this time? That’s sweet.”

  “Sweet or super creepy,” said Stephen, which earned another slap on the knee from his wife.

  “It’s romantic, not that you’d know anything about that, asshole.”