Chapter Six
My apartment feels empty. Hell, I feel empty. None of today has gone the way I expected it to.
To recap: my first love rolls back into town without warning, looking hot as hell and apparently just as successful in New York City, of all places. And apparently he considers leaving me to be one of the biggest mistakes of his life.
It’s kind of a lot to take in.
I’d done my best to get a grip on things by walking home after I’d left Hale’s trailer. I figured that the walk might do me good, to let me get a little perspective on things; more than that, I just didn’t want to wait around near The Grove for longer than I had to. Part of me thought Hale might have come after me, but he didn’t. I was all on my own. There was nothing but the five or so miles of road between me and Eden, and no one seemed to be driving by.
I ended up calling Pete to see if he could come and give me a ride; I didn’t have the money for a cab, and by the time I’d walked a mile or so in the summer heat I was starting to regret storming off. The two sips of beer I’d had at Hale’s trailer hadn’t done much to keep me hydrated. Even though it was just after his shift had finished and I was sure he had better things to do, twenty minutes later there he was, rolling up beside me in a truck that looked like it was held together with baling-wire and wishes.
‘Looking for a ride, honey?’ he asked as he leaned across to pop the door open for me; the handle, much like most of the other things on the truck, didn’t work from the outside. I was reliably informed that was all part of its charm, but I was so relieved to not have to walk back home he could have strapped me to the roof rack and I would have been happy with the arrangement.
‘Thanks.’
‘Don’t mention it.’
He took a hand off the steering wheel and tapped a bony finger against the glove compartment. ‘Should be a water bottle in there. It ain’t cold, but it’s wet. Looks like you could use it.’
He wasn’t wrong there. It was practically steam by the time I got it to my lips, but I’ve never had a drink taste sweeter in my life. Two-thirds of the bottle was down my throat before I offered the rest of it to Pete.
‘S’all yours,’ he said.
‘Thanks.’
‘Were you out there long?’
I shrugged. ‘About an hour.’
‘In this heat?’
‘I know, I know. Stupid.’
Pete had the good grace not to push it.
‘So,’ he said as he pulled into the space outside my apartment. ‘Want to tell me what’s going on?’
‘Not really.’
‘Boy trouble?’
‘Sort of.’
He smiled. ‘Yeah, that’ll happen. Never figured you for the sort, though.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you know. How long have I known you now? Four years? Five?’
‘About that, yeah.’
‘I’ve never once known you mixed up with a boy – and I’ve sure as hell never seen you this distracted. I’m guessing there’s a story there?’
Boy, is there ever, I thought. I could have explained it all to him right there: every last bit of it, going right back to that summer where we’d first met. I didn’t know what the hell he’d make of it, but it might be good to get it off my chest – and besides, who else was I going to tell? I didn’t have much in the way of friends. Over time, most people my age had drifted out of Eden and into the Big Wide World, even if that only meant a couple of towns away. They had settled down with husbands, children, loved ones. They wouldn’t have time for me to be so…
Childish.
That was the word, wasn’t it? That’s what you call it when you go nuts over your teenage boyfriend, when you forget all of the brakes that you’re supposed to put on your heart when you hit adulthood?
Maybe Pete would understand. After all, to Pete I was a child, practically. Just as I was about to launch into it all, he put out a hand to stop me. ‘Save it, kiddo,’ he said. ‘I know you don’t want to tell me, and I don’t want to pry. Just… look after yourself, alright?’
‘I’ll do my best.’
‘Atta girl. And I’m guessing if your mother asks, none of this happened?’
‘If you wouldn’t mind.’
‘Whatever makes things easier for you.’ He paused. ‘Just… well, she’s not a stupid woman, your mother. If an old fool like me can tell there’s something wrong, how long do you think it’s going to be before she notices it?’
I don’t know, I thought. Knowing her, it could be years. Since Dad died, Mom hasn’t been what you could call the observant type. I didn’t say any of this to Pete, of course.
I thanked Pete for the ride and the water, and he waited until I was safely back inside my apartment and had flashed my lights at him before he drove away around the corner.
~~~
That was four hours ago, and it’s taken me just about that long to realise that Pete was right. I never have been like this over a guy. Not since I was sixteen, back when getting distracted to the point of madness is just about what’s expected of you. Certainly not after Hale, that’s for sure. And that’s not to say there weren’t guys since him – although, you know, probably less than there should have been. What with being all cut up over Hale leaving, and then Dad getting sick, I didn’t have much time for romance. The dating pool in a town like Eden is pretty much non-existent to begin with, and it’s not made any better when you’ve got anything approaching standards. Sure, I could have put on a low-cut top, rolled up at Ronnie’s Bar on a Friday night and tried to catch the eye of someone roughly my age, but the pickings were slim and my appetite was never that intense – plus, word gets around a place like this. There aren’t many people from Away who come here to spend their drinking money, and the idea of being grist for the gossip mill never appealed.
Well… never enough to actually do anything about it, anyway. I had learned that lesson well enough once.
Stop it, I tell myself. You’re only going to get hurt again.
But saying to stop it is like asking the tide not to rise: there’s nothing I can do about it, not knowing that he’s only a few short miles away from me. Not knowing that he’s so close now. The life I could have had, but for one decision way back when.
It’s funny how things change. I wonder how many of my decisions in life stem from that one summer. If things had gone differently, if Hale had stuck around…
No. What’s the point in wondering? They are what they are. Hale has his life, I have mine. In a couple of days he’ll be gone, and I can start that old familiar process of forgetting him. It should be easier this time. I’m used to it by now.
But God, when he stood next to me, blocking my way out of his trailer…
When I caught a scent of him…
When I saw those hands again…
When I saw the look of anger in his eyes…
He didn’t even so much as touch me, and I haven’t got such a rush in years. How is that even possible? That just being close to him after so long is enough to turn my knees to jelly and leave my heart beating like a bass drum in my chest?
You should have kissed him, the little voice in my head says. To hell with the consequences. You only live once. You should have leaned in close, pulled yourself right up onto your tippy-toes and just taken what you wanted. And don’t you pretend to me for even one second that that wasn’t what you wanted, Carrie. I see you. I know you.
Even if that was true – which, hell, I don’t know either way – it’s stupid, and I’m stupid for thinking it. Real life doesn’t work that way. Girls like me don’t get second chances like that. When good things disappear, they don’t often roll back around again.
Maybe not often, the voice says. But there’s nothing often about ten years, and perhaps sometimes is often enough.
I turn off the light and try to distract myself from thoughts of Hale, from the way I blew it by storming off and leaving him there alone. From the way I let my impetuousness and pride ruin a good thing. I try not to picture what he’s doing right now, or to wonder if he’s thinking of me in the cramped, dusty trailer he’s currently calling home.
And when I drift off to sleep, his face is the last thing I see.