Redeem Me (26 page)

I
hurl the phone against the wall without hanging it up.

“Lying sack of shit,” I growl as I open my closet door and start searching the floor. Under Stephanie’s eighty-seven pairs of shoes I find my black duffel bag and throw it on the bed. I grab some underwear, a handful of socks, and a few undershirts and shove them into the bag, my anger not dissipating.

“Where are you going?” Stephanie interrupts my internal rant with her annoying question asked in her annoying voice. “I said, where are you going?”

“I heard what you said,” I answer, turning all my anger toward her. She is, after all, the reason I’m in this mess. “I’m going home for a few days.”

“We’ll go with you,” she says as she watches me pack all of my toiletries in one swoop.

“No, you won’t.”

“Why not?” she asks, annoying again.

“Because I don’t want you to. I have some things to take care of.”

“It’s her, isn’t it? You’re going to see your precious Annie?” Stephanie spews her name as if it’s curdled in her stomach.

“It’s always been her. You knew when you climbed on top of my semiconscious body that it was her, and it still is.” I turn my back on her and keep packing. Something about Stephanie’s increasing fury is calming to me.

“She doesn’t want you anymore,” she spits. “She’s with Nick Sinclair now, and has been for months. You two are DONE. And by the way, you seemed pretty happy the night I climbed on top of you.”

“I’ll say when we’re done.” I grab my bag and walk out, letting the screen door slam shut behind me.

Unbelievable. All these months I’ve been trying to give her time and she’s been dating. And Sinclair, no less. I’m going to kill him. I am NOT going to call her. She’s not getting any notice. Somehow I keep missing her, but not this time. She will talk to me.

Why didn’t you wake me in the Tampa airport?

At the first traffic light, I flip through the pictures on my phone and find the one Earl sent me of Annie hugging Harlan. I almost ripped his arms off for it. This is what I am reduced to: pining over a picture of one friend touching her while she’s out dating another one. As I turn onto the I-44 on-ramp, it occurs to me they might be having sex. I accelerate to seventy. Seventy-five would be much faster, but this old truck can only go so fast. Maybe I should have flown.

You can’t be fucking Nick Sinclair.

Focus—I’ve got to focus. I have a twenty-four-hour drive and I can’t spend every minute of it imagining her with Sinclair. I’ll crash this truck. As soon as I get home, I’m crashing it right through his front door.

It’s been nine long months. I should never have let her leave my apartment that day. I believed she’d come back. She promised she’d come back. She’d never lied to me before.

The sign says sixteen miles to St. Louis. During the six hours I’ve been driving, I’ve gone over every letter I’ve written and every message I’ve left at least twice. Why won’t she forgive me? There’s got to be something I can do, something I can say. I wonder if Butch has seen her at Sinclair’s. I dial my old number and after the phone’s answered, there’s a pause before he says hello.

“Pops!”

“You okay?” he always asks.

“Yeah, and I’m heading home for a few days.”

“How come? It’s not a holiday, is it?” He sounds suspicious.

“Can’t a guy come home for a few days?” This is weird, about to get weirder. “Hey, Pops, do you ever see Sinclair? Nick Sinclair, the son.”

“I know who he is. And no, I never see him. Why do you want to know?”

“No reason. I’m going to crash tonight at a friend’s in St. Louis and stop tomorrow in Morgantown. I’ll see you Friday.”

“No rodeo this weekend?” Butch asks, and it’s the first time I’ve thought about it. Of course there’s a rodeo this weekend. I’m not going to be there, though—not without Annie.

“No. I’ll be home until Sunday. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

“How long do you have to drive today?” Ollie asks as he walks me out to my truck.

“Probably about nine or ten hours,” I answer. “That is if I don’t drive into a ravine because I’m picturing Annie with him the whole way.”

“Well, now, you know what she’s been going through for months,” Ollie says.

I stop walking and consider punching him in the face. Just because he let me crash on his couch does not mean he gets to discuss Annie’s feelings with me.

“Sorry, man,” he says, sensing his impending beating. “Look, I know you want her—and she’s great and all—but a lot’s happened. Maybe too much.”

“Shut up.” I throw my bag across the truck seat and get in behind it. “Thanks for the place to crash.” I slam the truck door and roll down the window. “I’ll be back on Monday night, hopefully with Annie.”

“Good luck, man.” Ollie looks like I don’t have a chance in hell. It makes me think he’s heard about Annie dating Sinclair before last night.

I take the on-ramp for I-64 toward Louisville and settle in for the next few hours. I can’t lose her. She can’t really be happy right now. She scared me after she found out. She’s always so strong, but when she said she’d kill herself, I could hear in her voice a revolting determination. I’ve never even seen her afraid of anything. The thought of her hurting herself was the only thing that kept me from driving home as soon as I found out she was there.

She’s strong. What other person could go back to Rutgers and finish with a 4.0 after losing both her parents? There’s no way this is unsalvageable. That girl can survive anything.

Louisville comes and goes and I cross into West Virginia. If Annie was here, she’d be following us on the map and have at least one hand between my legs. She’s smart and is, without a doubt, the reason I passed calculus. The weekends she came down, we had naked math class, with her having sex with me first to “clear my head,” then going over all the concepts. Nothing clears the mind like an orgasm.

When I left Oklahoma, I was angry enough to kill someone; now I’m depressed enough to kill someone. I wish I could get my hands on Sinclair, or maybe Jack Reynolds. When I heard that asshole had touched her, I was on my way home. Ralph Tighe called and said it wasn’t necessary, that Sinclair had taken care of it. Fucking Sinclair. I ALWAYS knew he wanted her. A blind idiot would have known it. Annie told me I was crazy. She refused to see one bad thing about him. Friends, my ass.

As I pull into Lee’s driveway, I see Lee and two other guys drinking on the side patio. I put the truck in park and rest my head on the steering wheel.

I’ll never let her go, and she’ll never be able to replace me with Sinclair. It’s not possible.

I pull out my phone and start to dial her number.

“Boy, how many hours did you drive today? GooodNESS!” Lee opens my door and stalls my call.

“Too many, way too many. How you been?” I grab my bag and put my phone in my pocket as I jump out of the truck.

“Been the same.” Lee hands me a beer. “How you holding up?”

I narrow my eyes.

“Stephanie called bitching about you going home to get Charlotte and told me she’s with Sinclair now,” Lee admits. “I figured this was probably a long ride for ya.”

“Yeah, it’s been a long ride.” I take a big gulp of my beer and it burns my throat on the way down. “Stephanie is so fucking annoying.”

“Yes, she is.” Lee holds his can up as he tips his head in agreement.

“It’s been a long month,” I say, realizing I’ve been living with Stephanie for five weeks and I can’t bring myself to even look at her. What I thought was going to be a money-saving solution is turning into an exercise in anger mismanagement.

Five and a half hours left. Lee had people in and out of his house all night, which took my mind off Annie and that ass Sinclair. It didn’t help me get much sleep, though. Three hours to Frederick, then two and a half from there. Annie and I can spend Happy Hour in bed today.

How the hell did things get so screwed up? I worried about her every minute she was away. New Brunswick and Rutgers seemed like the most unsafe place to leave her. I wish her father were still alive. I’d ask him how he could stand to drop her off up there. When she started working in Manhattan, I thought I would completely lose my mind. Every day on the train, walking through the streets…The nights she worked late were the worst. She was too beautiful to be traveling back to New Jersey on her own. The only peace I’ve had the last year is knowing she’s in Salem County and not Manhattan.

Why didn’t she just come to Oklahoma that weekend?

What was the big deal about that dance? I went to a few and they weren’t that great. I could usually persuade her, but not that time. Up until she called me the day before I thought she was going to surprise me and come down. The surprise was she wasn’t coming. I still remember the sting of her words. Not only was she not coming to Oklahoma, but she was also going to the dance without me. She was choosing New Brunswick over me.

No matter how many times she swore she didn’t mind giving it all up, I knew how much she loved it. I hung up on her and spent the next hour imagining all those Rutgers assholes thinking tonight was finally their chance to make a move. None of them were worthy of her. My mind punished me every minute she was away. The only reprieve was touching her and having her all to myself. Her visits filled me with confidence that shrunk with each passing day she was away. Her boss in New York, Sinclair, and all the rest of them were obviously just waiting for the right time. When she told me she was staying in New Jersey, all I could think of was the turkey buzzards descending. It literally drove me to drink.

Apparently Rutgers isn’t the only place with vultures because Stephanie didn’t waste any time descending on me either.

Three days of driving and I’m waiting for the freaking train to pass so I can pull into my driveway. I lean over in my seat. My back’s hurting worse than if I’d ridden bareback broncs last night. The train finally passes and I turn onto the farm lane. The sadness I used to feel driving down this lane, missing my mother every inch of the ride, is replaced by a hatred for Sinclair. I notice I’m clenching my teeth, and I rub my jaw as I consciously relax it. I’ve got to get hold of myself or someone’s going to get hurt.

I pull the truck to the side of Butch’s and hop out. There are posies or pansies or some other crazy shit lining the short walk to the front door. Mums in the fall, now tiny little purple and pink flowers. This chick Marie is definitely good for the place. By the looks of Butch, she’s good for him, too. This year he’s slightly less crusty than he has been. Since Mom died, he’s been miserable, but the last few months have been different. I actually think he smiled the last time I was home.

The flowers remind me of Annie. She was always buying me stuff: a pillow for my bed, a new shower curtain. Crap I couldn’t care less about, but it reminded me of her when she wasn’t there. They’re treasures now. In the move, Stephanie accidentally broke a mosaic candleholder that was a present from Annie, and I couldn’t decide whether to scream at her or bend down and cry. I ended up storming out, leaving her to finish unpacking. Moving in with her was a mistake. It’s saved us a lot of money—and I do get to see Jason Jr.—but Stephanie and I are never going to make it as a couple. I can barely stand the sight of her.

The kitchen mimics the front walk with new curtains over the sink and a bunch of shiny surfaces everywhere. The little dog comes running out and starts wagging his tail at the sight of me.

“You still here?” I ask him as I scratch behind each ear. There are meatballs bubbling in a Crock-Pot on the counter and a spoon resting on a sunshine spoon holder I’ve never seen before. The contrast between the sun’s animated face and Butch’s joyless scowl is not lost on me. I like this Marie’s sense of humor. I’ll bet Annie will like her, too. The smell is intoxicating. It’s been days since I’ve had anything hot to eat.

“How was the ride?” Butch startles me.

I have the lid of the Crock-Pot in my hand, my nose inhaling the steam. “Long.” I replace the lid and find a glass in the cupboard. There’s a filtering water pitcher in the fridge. Butch is being well taken care of and I like it.

“Why the sudden visit?” Butch asks as he limps over to the table and sits in the chair farthest from me.

“I came to see Annie,” I say, and pour myself a glass of water, no ice. I put it on the table and search the other cupboards. “You got any rolls?”

“In the bread drawer.”

I look at him, disoriented. He hasn’t actually used the bread drawer for bread in five years. “And there’s fresh provolone in the fridge.”

I can barely hide my complete fascination.

“When are you going to let this thing with Annie go?”

“This thing is my life and I’m never going to let it go,” I say, and fill my roll with too many meatballs. I add a slice of provolone and my mouth begins to water.

“It seems to me that it’s time to move on,” he says as he glances back at the doorway.

“Why’s that?” I take a huge bite of the sandwich and it doesn’t disappoint.

“Maybe because you have a kid with someone else!” he barks.

Aah, there is the short temper I’m used to.
I was beginning to think Butch was getting soft on me. I can’t help smiling as I look up at him. Even the sunshine spoon holder can’t completely fix Butch.

“Look, I love Jason Junior, but that doesn’t mean I have to love his mother, and I never will. Annie and I belong together. I just need to”—
What do I need to do?
—“explain it to her.”

“She’s a lot like your mother, as proud as she is stubborn. It’s time to let it go.”

I take the last bite of my sandwich and put my plate in the sink.

“I’m never letting it go.” I grab my truck keys and head for the door.

“You’ll break before you break her. Don’t make it worse than it already is.”

Could it possibly be worse?

“Besides, it might be too late,” Butch adds.