FAITH

Abbey: What are you doing? Is he there yet?

Me: Stocking the cooler. He’s not coming. We’re slow. This night is dragging ass.

Emma: Shut up. He’s coming.

Abbey: He comes in all the time. He’ll be there. He’s probably still working. Maybe there was a fire.

I put my phone down and shuffled another case of beer into the chest. The bottles clanked as I moved the ones in the back to the front.

Sally’s wasn’t busy and wasn’t going to be. When the other bar in town had a band, we were typically dead. The Tap had the Joey Settles Band, a local favorite, who we often booked on the weekends. It would have been fun to go, maybe hang out with people who were my age—in real life—but I was working. At least when the band was at Sally’s, I could still be where everyone else was. 

Besides, online friends, who were the only real friends I had, couldn’t dance with me anyway. However, in a jam, they were great for ladies’ room chats. 

I’d have a night out eventually. Sometime between then and when I was fifty.

It was already after nine, and the only people I had were a table of older town guys playing cards, a couple in the corner playing the new slot machines, and a pair of girls at the bar.

I didn’t know the young women, and they hadn’t looked twenty-one to me, but their IDs said otherwise. The older I got, the younger everyone else looked. The taller girl cried over an ex-boyfriend they’d followed into Wynne for the band. Evidently, he didn’t mind showing off his new girlfriend on the dance floor at the bar across town. He sounded a lot like Chad or even Abbey’s on-again, off-again boyfriend Scott.

The old saying, “That’s the fuckin’ you get for the fuckin’ you got,” sang through my head. 

Perhaps it was the vibe I was picking up from them, but I was losing hope that Aaron would show up. Normally, when he came in, he was there by nine. That gave him plenty of time to drink his three beers.

In a town that small, you got to know what everyone drank, and how much. Aaron’s drinking habits were odd, but I respected how he never overdrank, never got drunk. The way he never lost control was so appealing.

Chad would drink either none or thirty beers at a time. There’d never been any in between, and his addictions didn’t stop with alcohol. I’d hated when he’d stumble into the trailer, knocking over things and bumping into pictures I’d hung on the walls. The whole place would rock on its block foundation as he wrecked it on his way to bed.

Our whole relationship—if you’d call it that—had been shaky too.

Aaron, on the other hand, was responsible. He always had been.

Chad’s responsibility ended at making sure his child support money was always in my account at the same time every month. Honestly, it was some kind of miracle that he paid at all, and I rarely touched the money. To me, it was Delaney’s. So I only dipped into it when something was important to her. Something she’d otherwise miss out on because she only had me—her single parent mother.

I’d bought her an iPad for her birthday after noticing other kids with them. Enrolled her in karate over the winter when she’d asked. Other than that, I built her a stash she could use later for a car or party dress that was out of my reach. Things I’d missed out on, even though my mother had done her very best.

Chad never asked for visitation, and his family was nice, but they didn’t ask to spend time with Delaney either. To my knowledge, Chad had never even seen her. And, since he wasn’t there to protest the day she was born, I gave Delaney my last name. Simpson. At least, I shared a name with someone.

He didn’t want her.

He didn’t want me.

We didn’t want his name.

I had no regrets about it. Good riddance. 

“Would you girls like two more?” I asked, running a damp cloth along the bar top at the far end where the young ladies commiserated. They looked at each other and then at their phones.

“Yeah,” the supportive friend answered. “Two more.”

I took their empty glasses, placed the pair in the sink, and then replaced them with fresh ones. Obviously, I was making myself more work, but I needed something to kill the endless time.

Two more vodka and cranberries made, I set them on the empty coasters. They had a tab going, which I’d only allowed because we weren’t busy, so I didn’t even mention money. After adding two more tick marks to their ticket, I wandered over to the table of men. Shoving one end of the rag in my back pocket, I picked up a few of their empties.

“Who’s winning?”

“They’re all cheaters, Faith,” Dub accused. “Taking my money. Wasting my time. Maybe I should get them drunk. That’s when I play best.”

I laughed. Dub was a shithead, but like most shitheads, he didn’t mean any harm.

The other three men threw back the last of their drinks, wanting to make sure they didn’t miss the next round of cold ones while I was there. They looked like old, wrinkly frat guys chugging beer. In reality, they were just a mechanic, a couple of farmers, and an auctioneer with nothing better to do.

“So shots?” I proposed. One wasn’t going to hurt them, and they’d never caused trouble before. However, I did have to see their wives in town, so I wouldn’t be pushing hard liquor at them all night.

“What do you say?” Dub looked at his pal but then answered for them. “A round of beers and four shots of Southern. To hell with it. I’d rather they piss my money down the john than take it home.”

His older brother Carl slapped the deck onto the table and slid it over to Dub. “If you were better at Euchre you wouldn’t have this problem.”

With the deck in his hand, Dub tapped the long edges against the green felt. “What do you know?”

From under his faded John Deere ball cap, Carl asked, “You got any fresh popcorn back there?”

It wasn’t a bad idea, especially if they were doing a shot. “I’ll make some. Let me get your drinks, and then I’ll get on it.”

That pleased the table and they went right back to playing.

I pulled a tray out from beneath the counter, and then reached into the cooler for the two Coors and two Buds. After setting four shots on the tray, I poured them full of Southern Comfort. Yuck.

The old wooden floor creaked as I headed back to them, and I looked up as headlights pulled in out front. A flutter bounced around my stomach and my chest tightened, hoping it was him.

I passed the drinks but kept one eye on the door.

“To Dub’s money,” Carl toasted. All four men downed their liquor and as I collected the glasses, Aaron walked in.

Jeans. Work boots. T-shirt, tight in all the right places and loose in all the others. The brightness of the white tee made his skin look even tanner—if that was possible. He looked showered and clean, comfortable and calm.

His eyes roamed the room and stopped when they got to mine. He held them there for a few seconds, and then scanned the bar, seeing that his normal spot was taken by the girls.

“I’ll bring over the popcorn when it’s done, fellas.”

I didn’t have time to read what I’d missed in the chat thread, but I had to tell someone. In all caps. Exclamation mark. He was there.

Me: HE JUST WALKED IN!

Aaron took a seat in front of me at the center of the bar as I added the empty shot glasses to the sink under the countertop between us.

Jesus, being around him could be so frustrating—sexually—but I didn’t want him to leave. My friends had told me to grow some balls, and finally a pair began to sprout. Flirting wouldn’t hurt, and I desperately needed a thrill.

“First one’s on me,” I reminded him, leaning my hip against the stainless basin.

He cleared his throat. “Free beer always tastes better.”

“High Life?” He nodded.

I bent to get one out of the chest, noticed the green light flashing on my phone, popped the top off with my opener, and set it on a salty napkin between his outstretched hands.

They were huge. Working man hands. Rough and strong.

Fishing a few bucks out of my tip jar, I threw them in the register.

After a sip, he adjusted on the stool to lean over the bar a little more. “Slow night?”

I looked around—hello, Mr. Obvious—and gave him a half grin. “Yeah, I’m surprised you didn’t go watch the band like everyone else. Hell, Sally’s even down there.”

“Nah. I’ve seen them enough.” He took a second drink, a long one, tipping his head back. I studied the muscles in his neck and his Adam’s apple, lost for a second, gawking at his manliness. His tongue snuck out and licked his lip, and I looked down quickly when he caught me watching.

“That’s a good beer. Thank you.”

Didn’t I have something to do?

“How about that popcorn, Faith?” Dub hollered right on cue, jolting me out of my silly lapse.

“I know. I’m on it.” My knees felt rubbery as I stood there, not knowing what to say to Aaron. Judging by the candor in his eyes, I was pretty sure he was aware I’d been ogling him that time, but I couldn’t help myself. Seeing him be sweet to Delaney that afternoon had me feeling all sorts of wild new things and a few familiar old things, too.

Emma told me after the fish fry it was because I was badly in need of the “sauseeege.” Truthfully, I wouldn’t even know what to do with it if I got one. Then again, I doubt I’d turn it down either.

Excited and frazzled like a live wire, I shot away to start the popcorn machine. The oil wasn’t where it usually was, so I grabbed my phone and pushed through the swinging doors that lead to the stockroom and small kitchen area in the back.

Quickly, I opened the chat and skimmed. Basically, they were cheering me on.

Me: What do I do? I don’t even know what to say.

As I waited to see if anyone was there to reply, I found a new bottle of oil on the top shelf and reminded myself to leave Sally a note that I opened the last one.

I didn’t have time to wait, but I really needed help.

Without a quick response, I came back through the doors and knelt to collect the butter flavoring and seeds.

“She needs a man,” Carl exclaimed.

I couldn’t see them from where I squatted and wasn’t sure who the she was that they were talking about, so I just kept going, listening best I could.

“She doesn’t need a man,” Aaron firmly countered. “But, if she wants one, the line starts behind me.”

I spilled popcorn all over the floor and I almost fell on my ass. My pulse tripled.

Me: Fuck!

Did he just say that? Were they really talking about me?

No. No way.

I stuck my phone into my back pocket, ran my hands over the floor, gathered the scattered seeds into a pile and scooped them up. Praying for invisibility, I crawled across the wood on my knees and dumped them in the trash, making a less than stealthy rattling sound as they rolled to the bottom of the bag around dozens of empty bottles.

All eyes were on me as I stood and walked to the sink to wash my hands before trying to make the damn popcorn again.

“Did you hear me?” Aaron asked.

I shrugged, unsure of what to say, and pumped soap onto my shaky hands.

“I said you don’t need a man.”

I swallowed, washed and rinsed. “I know.”

Over Aaron’s shoulder, I noticed the four men on the other side of the room staring. My eyes scanned them and then came back to his where he appeared to be waiting on me to answer something.

He was right. I didn’t need a man; I was used to being single, and I was fine. I made due.

Still, whatever was happening in my chest made me think otherwise.

Maybe I didn’t need a man to take care of me and share my burdens and do all of the things good men often do, like take out the trash or change windshield wiper blades or kill spiders. But, I had other needs, and they were becoming more difficult to push to the back of my mind.

Hastily, I turned back to the task at hand. Popcorn. The oil was surely hot. So I added the ingredients into the machine and closed the doors.

Down the bar, the girls were talking, doing their thing, and thankfully, Carl was dealing cards again. That just left Aaron and me and this charge in the air between us.

He downed the rest of his bottle. I’d never seen him drink that fast. So I wandered back to him since he needed his second beer. I opened a bottle and replaced his empty one with it.

“That’s why I’m always here, you know? Just in case.” He looked me in the eye and spoke so only I could hear him over the corn bursting at the end of the bar top. Or maybe that was the sound of my heart slapping around in my chest. One or the other.

“Just in case what?”

“In case you ever want me again. That’s why I’m here.” He paused, closed his blue eyes and took a ragged breath. “Faith, back then...”

Back then.

I’d been a silly schoolgirl when I told him how I felt. When I’d stupidly told him what I wanted and asked him to want it too. I couldn’t ask for those things anymore, but there was no denying the attraction was still there.

I finished for him when he struggled to continue. “That was a long time ago. Another life ago.”

I was embarrassed about how I’d confessed my feelings to him before he left. I had so many big ideas about how it could still work out for us. I’d told him I didn’t care that he was leaving. That I’d wait for him.

But then, he didn’t write. Didn’t call. Didn’t visit. And without him around, I was lonely and broke the promises I’d made. 

“I didn’t wait for you, Aaron.”

His brows rose. “But I can wait for you.”

It was the first time he’d mentioned it since he’d come home. It had been four years of neither of us bringing it up.

Why now?

“Aaron?” The popping slowed, and I walked to the machine. He didn’t know what he was saying. He had no idea how different things were. I had a life full of baggage. No time. No energy to give him what he needed.

“I am waiting,” he countered to my back. The words seemed to hang in the air like a flickering neon sign in the dimly lit bar.

After dumping the contents of the kettle, I filled two paper dishes for the table of card players, and brought it over to them. Nervous and killing time, I got back to the machine and filled another for the girls.

I was at work. Flirting was one thing, but I couldn’t have that conversation there. What had I been thinking, wanting him to show up?

His eyes followed me around as I did my job. I could feel them on me all the way back to where he sat. Maybe I was looking for some fun, some nostalgia, but what he was saying was too much to handle. “You don’t mean that.”

“Try me, Fay.”

He was the only person to ever call me that and hearing it sent warmth across my skin.

“You don’t know what you’re saying. Things aren’t like they used to be. I’m not who I was.”

“Neither am I, but maybe who we are now will work. We could try.”

The faucet squeaked as I twisted the handle to wash the dishes, avoiding the shift in thoughts from attraction to emotion. To keep myself busy, I let the water run warm over the fingers of my left hand, leaning my weight atop the bar with my right.

I wanted him, in countless ways, but most of them weren’t possible and it wasn’t fair.

His hand touched mine alongside my pinky. A gentle swipe. A stroke. My eyes fluttered as I stared at the water filling the basin. It had been so long since I’d been touched by a man—by anyone—like that. Then Aaron put his index finger on the top of my hand and left it there.

My knees threatened to quit on me. The idea of us was entertaining and nice to think about, but in real life I didn’t have anything to offer. I had work to do. A daughter to raise. A better job to look for. Barely any time to sleep or eat or relax. I had nothing for him. 

“I can’t do this right now.” I hadn’t meant for it to be a whisper. Hell, it was no secret. But the words were heavy and barely squeezed their way out.

“Then just tell me that you want to. That’s enough for now.”

I looked up at him through my lashes. My chin trembled, hearing my old words repeated, and I hated it.

I hated all of it.

How I couldn’t control my life any more than I could get a handle on my emotions. How I would disappoint him. How if I let myself have him—in any capacity—the odds were he’d leave again.

How stupid and selfish I was for wanting him anyway.