Chapter 9 – Carly
“Mom,” I called, walking down the hallway.
I padded through the house on socked feet, popping my head into every room.
“I’m out back, honey,” my mom called, and I walked through the kitchen to the back door. My mom was outside, kneeling in what looked like a vegetable garden.
“Oh, this is nice,” I said, stepping into the late afternoon sun. The wind had picked up, and with it came a chill that suggested it wasn’t summer anymore. “I didn’t know you had veggies out here.”
My mom laughed. “It’s just a hobby. I like puttering around in the garden, and it’s such a good feeling if I see the fruit of my labor.” She laughed again. “Almost literally.”
I sat down on the two steps that led down from the back door and watched my mom weed the vegetable garden, carefully removing the harmful plants from the good plants without damaging the roots.
“Where’s Dad?” I asked.
“He’s out at the store. He’ll be back any minute now.”
I nodded. “I’m going out with an old friend tonight.”
I had asked about my dad for a reason. I didn’t want him to hear the conversation I was about to have with my mom.
My mom looked up, pausing with her hands in the dirt.
“Is it with Brad?” she asked quietly, as if my dad was around anyway.
I nodded, watching my mom’s face. I had no idea how she would react after all this time. I was an adult now, but despite that fact, I still hadn’t graduated college, and my dad clung to his threat as if my purity depended on it.
My mom smiled, and I smiled, too, relieved.
“When I realized it was Lydia next door, I knew it would only be a matter of time before you ran into him again.”
“Dad didn’t seem to notice,” I said.
My mom pulled up her shoulders in a shrug. “Well, you know. Men.”
We chuckled together, and the conversation was relaxed. My mom had never been as harsh about my social life and my mixing with the opposite sex as my dad had. The only fights I had ever had with her about these issues were about the fact that she didn’t stand up for me.
She had never believed I needed to be held on such a tight leash, but she had told me more than once that she owed it to my dad to support him; that it was what marriage was about. I would never understand it. What was having kids about, then? I disagreed with her, and it had hurt me for a long time that she would side with him for the simple fact that she couldn’t side with me.
But I had learned to accept it over the years. After all, I had had little choice.
“Well, I hope you have a great time, honey,” my mom said. “Do I need to keep dinner for you?”
I shook my head. “I’ll grab something, don’t worry.”
This was how it was supposed to be. My mom understood that I was an adult, that I could make my own choices and look after myself now. My dad just didn’t seem to understand.
It was the reason I had gone to CSU, even though he would have liked me to study at the University of Wyoming. If he hadn’t dragged me away from Brad that day, I might have considered his request even though I had been dreaming of going to Colorado. But with him being the asshole he’d been, getting away had been my priority.
His stupid rules didn’t even make sense anymore; at CSU I could date whoever I wanted, and he would know nothing. That I didn’t want anyone after Brad— and had never been with anyone— was besides the point.
I got ready, putting on jeans and a cute blouse with a scooped neck. I had no idea what to expect, but Brad had said drinks, not dinner. I wasn’t going to dress up too much.
Besides, I didn’t want him thinking that I cared about what he thought of my looks. Even though I did. It was just like when we were kids; I felt nervous around him, constantly fighting the urge to touch my hair or check my makeup like a lovestruck teenager.
At six, I was ready.
My mom and dad were in the living room watching their show. When I passed, my mom looked up, and I waved at her. My dad was focused on the television, and I didn’t bother drawing his attention to tell him I was off. I didn’t need him to know.
I left the house quietly, taking care not to let the door make a sound above a click. This wasn’t the first time I’d snuck out of the house to meet Brad. I had been quite skilled at it as a teenager.
I hated that I had to sneak around like this when I was an adult. It had been years since I’d lived with my parents, and my choices were my own. But I didn’t feel like facing my dad about this issue. He would ask for explanations, and I would tell him it was none of his business. It would turn into a fight that my mom didn’t deserve, and for which I just didn’t have the energy.
When I reached the road, Brad was waiting for me. He stood with his hands in his pockets, and I had a moment to ogle him before he saw me. He wore a gray, collared t-shirt that stretched across his chest and arms like he was going to burst out of it. Jeans hung off his hips in just the right way, and he wore black loafers that looked expensive. The cocky jock from school had morphed into the handsome and fashionable man standing before me.
When he turned, and our eyes met, he smiled. I knew what those eyes would look like up close, but I wouldn’t get that close to them. We weren’t at that point where we used to be.
“You look fantastic,” he said, and despite myself, I blushed.
I looked down and away, and I felt my cheeks and my ears burn. Brad saw it and chuckled. He took his phone out of his pocket.
“I’m ordering us an Uber,” he said. “So we can relax and have some drinks without having to worry about driving home.”
I nodded, glancing over my shoulder at the house.
“I’ll beat him up for you if he bothers us again,” Brad said, without even looking at me.
I knew he was trying to be sweet. He was being the fighter, the man who protected me. But I didn’t feel warm and fuzzy and delicate. His comment and efforts were six years too late.
I understood why he didn’t— couldn’t— fight harder for me the day my dad caught us. After all, he’d had a gun drawn on him. But I couldn’t understand why he hadn’t approached me on graduation day. I had thought it had meant he was done with me for good and was moving on. Apparently, maybe I had been wrong.
The Uber arrived, and we got in.
“Buckhorn Barn,” the driver said in a heavy accent, and Brad chuckled because the man had said Barn and not Bar, but all I could think was, why there?
It wasn’t the best place in town, but we both knew it well. We had managed to sneak into it a time or two when we were younger and thought we were smart about it. I hadn’t managed to get alcohol either of the times, and the barman back then had recognized Brad almost right away and thrown us back out. So, maybe that’s why we were headed back there— now that we were old enough to enjoy it.
When the Uber pulled up in front of the bar and Brad helped me out of the car, I took a deep breath, and we dove head first into our past. Buckhorn Bar was the kind of place that you either loved or hated. Moose antlers adorned the walls, and the green and brown décor reminded me that we were very snugly tucked into the heart of Wyoming.
A rush of memories washed over me. God, we’d had the best of times trying to get into this place— and stay in without getting kicked out. I pushed the memories away. They had all been good, which automatically made them all bad now.
Now that we were old enough and legal, some of its appeal was lacking. But the fact that Brad and I were actually on a date together— was this a date?— was enough to make up for it.
“At the bar or at a table?” Brad asked me.
“Bar,” I said.
A table was too intimate for my liking. At the bar, there would be people surrounding us, but we could still talk about things. Alcohol would only be an arm’s length away, and that was a bonus.
We sat down, and Brad ordered a cider and a whiskey. He had remembered what I liked, even though neither of us had been of drinking age when we were together. We had sneaked what we could at parties, and my tastes hadn’t changed much over the years, although I didn’t drink that often now.
I took a sip of the cider when it arrived. It was cold and bittersweet, almost like my stay here so far.
“So, now that we’re away from parents and awkwardness, tell me more about yourself,” Brad said. “Tell me who you are now.”
And I did. The conversation wasn’t awkward, and I found that he was easy to talk to. I told him about my studies, about where I was headed in life, and about the friends I had made along the way.
“And boyfriends?” he asked. He seemed nonchalant, but I knew he had to be dying to know the answer.
“I don’t really have time for that right now,” I answered.
It was safe. I wasn’t going to tell him that no one had quite measured up since I’d been with him, that I had tried more times than I cared to remember just to move on and forget the boy that had stolen my heart.
Brad nodded, and he hid his relief as well as he’d hidden his concern.
“How about you?” I asked.
Brad chuckled. “If I had anyone remotely serious in my life the paparazzi would be all over me. So, no.”
He looked at me in a way that let me know that wasn’t the only reason he hadn’t been with anyone else. I had to admit— I liked that fact. But I tried to stay nonchalant in my response.
I shrugged. “You’ve always been good at keeping secrets.”
He grinned at me, and his eyes smiled along with it.
“It was a great secret we held, wasn’t it?” he asked.
I nodded. It had been a great secret, indeed.
The night slipped through our fingers, and we had one drink after the other. We spoke as if no time had passed at all, and that easy comfort that I’d had around him since day one was back.
We were both relaxed now. The alcohol had loosened us up. My head was light, and my veins were on fire. Brad was older and bigger now, a man with a goal and more confidence than I’d ever seen, but he was still the boy I had fallen in love with years ago. I wondered if he saw the same when he looked at me.
Before we know it, it was closing time.
“Is it two already?” I asked.
Brad nodded. “Time passes when you’re having fun. Will you let me take this further?”
“What do you mean?”
“Come back to my place.”
He looked at me with a fire in his eyes that reminded me of the first time we’d been together, and that time in his room. He wanted me, and I had to be honest with myself and admit that I wanted him, too. Maybe it was our past, maybe it was how comfortable we were with each other. So much time had passed but it felt like nothing. Or maybe it was just the alcohol.
But I shook my head. “It will be a little weird, don’t you think? Going to your mom’s place, with my parents right next door? Talk about tiptoeing.”
Brad nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. That would be so messed up.” He hesitated a moment. “A hotel, then.”
A hotel was a different thing. Going to someone’s home suggested you could still get away with expecting a cup of coffee, but agreeing to go to a hotel meant only one thing.
I had thought about it already when he’d suggested going home with him, but it came across more directly when he asked for a hotel. This was where I had to decide if I was going to let the night veer into love– or lust– or if I was going to put down my foot and say no.
Until now, it had been flowing in a direction all by itself.
I only thought about it for a second. I was still buzzing with alcohol, and I didn’t want to go home now. I wanted to be with Brad.
“Okay,” I said.
Why not? Hadn’t I been living the last six years of my life wondering if this moment would ever happen? I decided to throw caution to the wind and go for the one thing I truly wanted.