Blue Colla Make Ya Holla (35 page)

‡

M
y day with
Carter had been one of the best I could remember. My night at work, however, sucked. I hadn’t been able to shake off the melancholy that had surrounded me since Carter walked me home, which translated to crappy tips at work. Happy Lisa, my usual alter ego, made good money; bummed out Lisa—not so much.

There was no way I could continue having bad nights at work. What I’d earned the night before wasn’t anywhere close to what I needed in order to stay on track. Every aspect of my life had been meticulously planned for years; I just never planned on meeting someone like Carter. He didn’t fit into my world, and I certainly didn’t fit in his. He could be a well-intentioned threat to everything I had worked for if I wasn’t careful, and he would end up getting hurt. There was no point in both of us being miserable.

There were only two choices; get over these crazy feelings I had for Carter and just be friends, or avoid him completely. I guess there was a third choice. I could tell Carter the truth and let the chips fall where they may, but I barely knew the man. There were very few guys in the world who would be okay with the truth, and to be honest, I would rather die an old maid than be with any of them. A nice guy, such as Carter, would be completely disgusted and rightfully so. I didn’t know exactly how he would react, and I couldn’t trust him not to use the information to completely ruin my life. Even if he just told one other person, it could have a devastating effect on my future.

No matter which of the three choices I made, I needed to refocus all of my energy on reaching my goal. With that thought, I realized I’d never gotten around to getting my mail the day before. Making sure to wear shoes, I grabbed my keys and headed down to see if today would be the day my life would move up the next rung on the ladder or would it send me down a chute farther back on my journey.

When I hit the ground floor, this time without running into anything, I once again wasn’t able to see my mailbox. Fortunately—or unfortunately, I couldn’t decide which yet—the only obstruction was a solid male body.

“Oh, hey there,” Carter said when he turned to see who had come up behind him. “You’re up already?” He looked happy to see me, which made my heart hurt a little bit. If he knew what I’d been doing less than twelve hours ago, he wouldn’t want to look at me at all.

“It’s almost noon. I only work part-time; most days I get home around three. You’re the one who’s up early.”

“I got about six hours, which is average for me. Sometimes, if I’m really tired, I’ll take a nap before work.” He fiddled with the single flyer in his hand.

During our discussion of sleeping patterns, he’d taken root in front of the mailboxes. I was getting impatient, so I finally just stepped around him, nearly pushing him out of my way in the process. At the last second, he got the hint and took a step to his right.

Very slowly, I slid the key into the lock and turned it counterclockwise. My hand froze for a second when I heard the faint click of the tumblers falling into place. Until that moment, I’d never considered the possibility there might not be good news waiting for me. Almost immediately, my pulse started thumping in my ears as my heart threatened to burst through my chest.

“Something wrong?” Even though Carter’s voice was muffled by the beat of the blood coursing through my veins, I was still startled by the break in the ambient silence.

“Just a little nervous.” Taking a deep breath, I tugged on the key to pull open the little door to reveal a nearly full box. I pulled out the two days’ worth of mail and began flipping through it.
Catalogue, magazine, coupons, credit card offer, bill, credit card offer, mail-in rebate check, bill…
When my eyes landed on the red logo printed on the upper left-hand corner of a business sized envelope, everything else in my hands fell to the floor.

“What’s that?” Carter asked, looking over my shoulder. When I didn’t answer right away, he bent down to pick up the mess I’d made.

A scan of the return address confirmed the envelope contained the decision I’d been expecting instead of a newsletter or solicitation.

“I applied to grad school; this letter is from the admissions office.” I wasn’t sure if he’d heard me because I could barely hear myself.

“Ah, so that’s why you seemed so antsy to check your mail yesterday.”

“Yeah, and with everything that happened, I totally forgot.”

“Shit, I’m sorry. I tend to have that effect on women,” he said with a laugh. “Are you going to open it?”

Was I ready for the decision? I’d only applied to one school; it was the only one in the area I could afford. If it was a rejection letter, it would be at least another year before I could apply again. If I didn’t get in, I’d have to keep up my demanding work schedule to save up enough to apply to other schools as well.

Hell, who was I kidding? If this school didn’t accept me, none of the more expensive ones would either. I’d probably have to move away from the Indianapolis metro area, which would be an additional expense I hadn’t budgeted for, to go to a school with low standards. I wasn’t sure if I could keep going the way I had been. It had to be good news—it just had to. There weren’t any other acceptable options.

“Maybe later. My nerves are shot just thinking about it right now.”

“I know that feeling all too well.” He shifted his weight a couple of times but didn’t make any move to leave. “So, I was getting ready to go grab lunch; do you want to join me?”

“I meant what I said last night. We can never be more than friends.” Apparently the sadist in me had made the decision to go the friendship route. Maybe I could try having a boyfriend after my life was straightened out, but for now, there was no point in hoping for more.

“Friends don’t eat lunch together?” The left corner of his mouth tipped up into a grin that almost made me forget everything else.

Almost was the key word. “I need to hear you say you don’t want to be more than friends.”

“I want to be your friend.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Close enough. What do you want for lunch?”

Realizing he wasn’t going to say the words I wanted to hear, I replied, “Pizza?”

“Sounds good. Is there a Pizza King nearby?” His eyes brightened. It appeared our favorite pizza place was another thing we had in common.

Taking the stack of mail from him, I added the letter in my hand to the top, and shoved it back into my box. “Yeah, there’s one on Main, just on the other side of the park.” I turned the key and pulled it from the lock. “It’s nice outside. Do you want to walk?”

Instead of answering, he took my hand and headed out the door. “How was work?” he asked as we crossed the street in front of our building.

“Same shit, different day.” I didn’t want to think about work, let alone talk about it. “You?”

“Same.”

“What are you plans for the day?” I asked in order to shift the conversation away from anything having to do with our jobs. He’d already gotten as much information about the subject as I would give.

“Unpacking and sorting. My goal is to get rid of about half of what I brought with me. I really should have done it before I moved. How about you?”

“Nothing, really. I might drive out to see my parents.” As much as I hated them, they were still my family. They would probably starve if it wasn’t for me. Not wanting to sound like a total bum, I added, “I finished my Bachelor’s degree back in December. I’m in a holding pattern until I find out what’s in that envelope.”

“What was your major?”

“Social Work.”

“Are you close with your parents?”

Fuck. He’d lulled me into a sense of security, which had made me forget to avoid talking about them at all costs. My parents were my second-to-last favorite topic of conversation, right behind my job. “Not really; I’m just afraid they’ll kill themselves if I don’t keep an eye on them.” I threw in a laugh in an attempt to make light of the words.

“That reckless?” There wasn’t a single drop of levity in his voice.

What was that old saying about the sins of the father? My parents’ lifestyle couldn’t derail my plans by itself; it could, however, make things a lot more difficult. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to tell him a little bit about it. I’d never had anyone to confide in before, and this might be a way for me to begin to get the measure of his trustworthiness.

“Let’s just say their chosen career path and extra-curricular activities aren’t very safe—or legal, for that matter.” I flinched as the words passed my lips. Even though I’d decided to broach the subject, I needed to be more careful about how much and how quickly I shared.

“You’re a good daughter.” He didn’t seem fazed by my confession in the least as we passed the jungle gym where a few kids played.

“If I was, I’d let them fall so they could hit rock-bottom.” Deciding I’d experimented enough for the time being, I turned the focus away from me. “How about your parents? Are you close?”

“I was pretty much raised by a team of nannies. Why they had to have so many nannies for one kid, I’ll never know. My parents only became interested in my life when I started high school to make sure I laid the foundation to follow in their footsteps. I got the degree they wanted and worked for them for a year.” His eyes drifted to the ground in front of him. “I found myself sitting behind a desk in a downtown high-rise, pushing paper eighty-plus hours a week.” He lifted his gaze to meet mine as we continued to make our way through the park. “One day, I woke up and realized I couldn’t handle it anymore. I told them I wanted to take a sabbatical to get additional training, which they were all for. Instead of taking the course they expected, I went out and got the training and certifications needed for my current job. They weren’t exactly happy with me when they found out, so they cut me out of their lives.

Maybe it was wrong not to feel bad for his misfortune, but his confession made me like him a little more. Based on the stuff I’d seen in his apartment, he had to have been extremely well off before. Knowing he was working for a living, by choice, instead of living on Mommy and Daddy’s dime made the societal distance between us feel a little less gaping. “At least they care, even if it is misguided. I wish someone—anyone—had expectations for me.”

He nodded and squeezed my hand. “True. They aren’t bad people at heart; their priorities are just a little fucked up. I hope we can mend the rift, but it’s going to take a while. I need to find a way to prove to them that I’m not wasting my life so they will take me seriously. I know I’m just working the freeways now, but it’s a foot in the door. I’m hoping to move up to bigger and better things.”

“Same here. I know my parents will never be sober enough to give me their approval, and honestly, it would be meaningless to me at this point, but someday, I’ll be more than what I am. I’ll be proud of myself, even if no one else is.”

Just like the night before at the diner, he held the door for me when we arrived at the restaurant. As we crossed the threshold, I took a moment to inhale the heavenly aroma filling the place. No matter how many times I came here, it never got old.

“How about we get it to go and take it back to your place? I can help you sort while we eat.” Maybe the distraction would help me remember to keep my emotional distance.

“You wouldn’t mind?” His face perked up, which told me he was desperate for help.

“I enjoy organizing; it clears my mind. Besides, there might be stuff you want to get rid of that I could use.”

“As long as you’re sure. I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you.”

“It was my idea. I’ll even let you pay for lunch if it will make you feel better.”

After telling him I wasn’t picky about toppings, he stepped up to the counter and ordered. When he returned, I pretended to be engrossed in a pamphlet about a rock and gem show that was coming to the fairgrounds in a few weeks. He seemed to pick up on my need for space and stood a few feet away while we waited.

Unfortunately, he must have decided I’d had enough space by the time we began the walk home. “Why don’t you date?” he asked a few minutes after we left the restaurant.

Even though I’d opened up to him about my parents, there was no way I could tell him all of the reasons I couldn’t be in a relationship–especially the part about my job. Most of my reasons were somehow tied to my job, so there wasn’t much else I could say. “Just not interested. I won’t have time for it if-and-when I go back to school, anyway.”

“I’m sure you’d change your mind if you met the right person.” He leaned over and bumped my shoulder with his arm.

“I don’t enjoy sex.” Goddamn word vomit. Learning how to control my brain to mouth filter around him was now high on my to-do list. It wasn’t a lie. I didn’t think I was frigid, since I could have fun by myself, but I’d never actively enjoyed it with a partner. I just hoped it was at least enough of a shock to get him to shut up about it.

“Maybe you just haven’t been with the right man.”

He was absolutely right, but I wouldn’t be confirming his assumption. “Are you implying
you
are the right man?”