compassion. And ultimately, someone not worthy of love.
Unlovable. And if you’re unlovable, you’re incapable of love too. How could I ever know how to love if my own parents don’t love me?
My phone rings, and, pulling it from my pocket, I see that it’s Greer. I hit ignore. I can’t. I just can’t. He’s going to freak when he hears my plan. God, he deserves so much better than me. It rings again. Ignore. I toss it to the side and down my drink. Pouring another one, I situate myself against a bale of hay so that I can continue to drink in relative comfort. My phone chirps, signaling a text. I pull it up and sigh. He’ll be here in just a few minutes. Maybe he’ll look around, not find me, and leave. I gulp down my drink, wiping my chin of the dribble.
Pour another drink.
Chug.
Burn.
Fade.
Repeat.
After a while, I hear his utility vehicle pull up and cut off right outside the barn. His steps on the ladder have me laughing like a fool. Did I really think I could hide from him?
“Denver?” he calls when he gets to the top step. I laugh louder. “What the hell are you laughing at?”
“You,” I slur.
He climbs up the rest of the way, stretches out beside me, and stares for a minute. “Shit. You’re drunk.”
I shake what’s left of the vodka. “Join me, why don’t cha?”
Giving me a disapproving look, he motions toward the open bottle of vodka. “I hope that wasn’t full when you started.”
“Wasn’t. Only had two.” I don’t mention that they were mostly made up of alcohol. He reaches out, takes my cup from me, and downs the little that’s left in one gulp.
Grabbing the orange juice, he pours us a cup of juice to share. “I saw Blake’s truck here,” he says after a few minutes of our back and forth with the drink.
“Yep.”
“Unfuckingbelievable.”
“Is it really?” I ask, my voice laced with sarcasm.
“No. Your mother really shouldn’t surprise me anymore. But damn. What about your dad?”
My laugh is stilted. “He doesn’t give a shit about me either.”
Greer just shakes his head in disbelief.
“Did you know Blake wasn’t her first husband to come after me?”
He shakes his head at me, and I see pity in his eyes.
“Don’t pity me, Greer. I can’t take it.” I’m two seconds away from crying, and I need to be tough now. Useless emotion is not my friend. He nods at me and looks away. “Yep, her lover when she was married to husband number three was just looking for a peep show. Pretty harmless stuff. I could never get my mom to catch him or believe me, but I knew.” I blow out a deep breath.
“Husband number five came after me. He was such a coward, trying to keep me quiet, but I screamed bloody murder, and she actually responded. Caught him in my room, red-handed. But you know, if she hadn’t been done with him, she wouldn’t have sent him packing. I just got lucky. Then, there was husband number seven’s brother. Now he was younger, but dead drunk, so I overpowered his ass before he did more than cop a quick feel. I didn’t even bother telling anyone.”
I finally look back to Greer and see him wiping his nose on the edge of his shirt. Shit . “Greer, don’t cry for me. Please.” A lump forms in my throat, and I know I’m about to lose it too.
“Greer, look at me.” His head swivels around. “I need you do something for me.”
“Anything, Denver,” he whispers brokenly.
The solution to my problem had been but a blip on my horizon for quite some time. Only recently had it started to come more into focus, and although slight, it is my only solution. My certainty begs for me to spit it out, but I tamp down the impatience that bubbles up because I know I’m going to have to warm him up to the idea.
I focus on his eyes the best I can so that he will see every word I’m about to utter is undeniable truth. “It’s the element that she attracts. The only good man she’s ever had was my father, and she destroyed him.” I hesitate,
Unlovable. And if you’re unlovable, you’re incapable of love too. How could I ever know how to love if my own parents don’t love me?
My phone rings, and, pulling it from my pocket, I see that it’s Greer. I hit ignore. I can’t. I just can’t. He’s going to freak when he hears my plan. God, he deserves so much better than me. It rings again. Ignore. I toss it to the side and down my drink. Pouring another one, I situate myself against a bale of hay so that I can continue to drink in relative comfort. My phone chirps, signaling a text. I pull it up and sigh. He’ll be here in just a few minutes. Maybe he’ll look around, not find me, and leave. I gulp down my drink, wiping my chin of the dribble.
Pour another drink.
Chug.
Burn.
Fade.
Repeat.
After a while, I hear his utility vehicle pull up and cut off right outside the barn. His steps on the ladder have me laughing like a fool. Did I really think I could hide from him?
“Denver?” he calls when he gets to the top step. I laugh louder. “What the hell are you laughing at?”
“You,” I slur.
He climbs up the rest of the way, stretches out beside me, and stares for a minute. “Shit. You’re drunk.”
I shake what’s left of the vodka. “Join me, why don’t cha?”
Giving me a disapproving look, he motions toward the open bottle of vodka. “I hope that wasn’t full when you started.”
“Wasn’t. Only had two.” I don’t mention that they were mostly made up of alcohol. He reaches out, takes my cup from me, and downs the little that’s left in one gulp.
Grabbing the orange juice, he pours us a cup of juice to share. “I saw Blake’s truck here,” he says after a few minutes of our back and forth with the drink.
“Yep.”
“Unfuckingbelievable.”
“Is it really?” I ask, my voice laced with sarcasm.
“No. Your mother really shouldn’t surprise me anymore. But damn. What about your dad?”
My laugh is stilted. “He doesn’t give a shit about me either.”
Greer just shakes his head in disbelief.
“Did you know Blake wasn’t her first husband to come after me?”
He shakes his head at me, and I see pity in his eyes.
“Don’t pity me, Greer. I can’t take it.” I’m two seconds away from crying, and I need to be tough now. Useless emotion is not my friend. He nods at me and looks away. “Yep, her lover when she was married to husband number three was just looking for a peep show. Pretty harmless stuff. I could never get my mom to catch him or believe me, but I knew.” I blow out a deep breath.
“Husband number five came after me. He was such a coward, trying to keep me quiet, but I screamed bloody murder, and she actually responded. Caught him in my room, red-handed. But you know, if she hadn’t been done with him, she wouldn’t have sent him packing. I just got lucky. Then, there was husband number seven’s brother. Now he was younger, but dead drunk, so I overpowered his ass before he did more than cop a quick feel. I didn’t even bother telling anyone.”
I finally look back to Greer and see him wiping his nose on the edge of his shirt. Shit . “Greer, don’t cry for me. Please.” A lump forms in my throat, and I know I’m about to lose it too.
“Greer, look at me.” His head swivels around. “I need you do something for me.”
“Anything, Denver,” he whispers brokenly.
The solution to my problem had been but a blip on my horizon for quite some time. Only recently had it started to come more into focus, and although slight, it is my only solution. My certainty begs for me to spit it out, but I tamp down the impatience that bubbles up because I know I’m going to have to warm him up to the idea.
I focus on his eyes the best I can so that he will see every word I’m about to utter is undeniable truth. “It’s the element that she attracts. The only good man she’s ever had was my father, and she destroyed him.” I hesitate,
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