Chapter 7 Wednesday, December 21st #5
“She knows, Rony,” Miranda says. “And if she doesn’t, I’d say she deserves to know.
What’s the point of swallowing it all? If she loves you the way you love her, then she’ll also love the not-so-perfect pieces of you, the broken parts, the darkness that’s still inside you that I know you’re working hard every day to keep at bay, because I do it, too,” she says, her voice warm.
“And two, when it comes to the shit your grandmother piled onto your already overburdened shoulders, you have nothing to worry about. I’ve known you for a long time, and you don’t have violent tendencies. ”
Except I do. It just has to be drawn out of me, which obviously can be done. It’s happened before, and it can happen again. “But what if I just fucking snap one day? What if something happens and I lose control? I could never undo that.”
“Rony, you were so sad when your grandpa hauled off that cow for culling when we were little. Do you remember that?” she asks with a smile, and I nod.
“You have such a good heart. You’ve always been there for me.
For crying out loud, you saved my dad’s life!
You really think someone capable of hurting the person they love most would drop everything to drive thirteen hours and do this?
I don’t. Someone like that wouldn’t do mouth-to-mouth on a drunk person who was choking on his puke. ”
“You’ve always been like that; you’ve always been there for the people who needed you, even while your own life lay in ruins.
That’s… that’s so damn selfless. How many times have I told you how damn good you are, Rony?
That wasn’t just bullshit. I know I say a lot of stupid shit, but I don’t lie.
You know me, I say it how I see it, and I know you’re good.
You don’t have a malicious bone in that sexy-ass body of yours,” she says with a grin and a wink.
I’m not convinced, but I also don’t want to argue her point right now. I know none of us are only ever just good or evil. My grandfather obviously had some redeeming qualities, and even my mom was respected and well-liked by others.
My mom never touched my brother. And even when she hurt me, she’d clean me up after.
Apologize. Say she didn’t want to hurt me.
That’s what fucked me up the most: how abuse and care came in the same breath.
That’s what made life with her such a damn mind-fuck.
It wasn’t just black and white. It was very, very gray.
And I’m well aware that I, too, have a switch that can be flipped under just the right circumstances.
The problem is, I don’t know myself enough to understand what those circumstances are.
I can’t guarantee that I’ll never lose my shit on anyone I love.
I only shrug. “Alright, if you say so.”
Miranda studies me a moment longer, then flashes a grin that’s equal parts mischief and mercy. “Okay. Mood reset. Can I see more sexy pictures of your girlfriend?”
I shake my head at her with a half-smile on my lips. “You’d like that, huh?”
“Well, yeah. I don’t discriminate, and she’s really nice to look at. How tall is she?”
“I’ve never asked her, but probably around five nine?”
“Damn, she’s tall!”
“Yeah, I definitely don’t throw my back out trying to kiss her,” I say with a smirk.
Miranda laughs. “I bet that’s convenient.”
“Definitely is.”
Out of my periphery, I notice Miranda running her hand over the conditioned leather seat as she looks around the interior of my ’69 Mustang.
“You know, I really, really like this car of yours. I bet it’s a real panty-dropper.
How many girls were you able to hook up with because of the car you drive? ”
I chuckle. “What do you think I did, take a survey after I finished? ‘Oh, hi, now that I’ve climaxed, please tell me exactly what it was that convinced you to let me fuck you.’”
Miranda giggles. “You ever have sex in this car?”
I shake my head at her. She really has no respect for my privacy. She never has, though.
“Come on, Rony, you know how nosy I am.”
“I’m well aware.”
“Glad we have that understanding. So? Sex in this car? I can’t imagine a reason why you wouldn’t. It’s so sexy in here,” she purrs, her right hand gliding along the black dash.
I still don’t answer but can’t hide the grin tugging at my lips.
“I knew it,” Miranda says victoriously. “With your feline? Of course with your feline. She sends you pictures like that, she’s definitely had you in this car.”
I laugh at her ability to carry an entire conversation without me even saying a word.
“I’d love to meet her some time, Rony.” She turns her attention to me. “Bring her to Montana with you one day. Or maybe I should come visit you in New York.”
“One thing at a time, Randi. Let’s get you set up first, okay?”
“Whatever you say,” she says, then sighs. “Thank you again for being here. It’s been a rough couple of days.”
“Don’t even mention it,” I say, merging lanes.
“You know what I could really go for right now?” she asks. I briefly look at her, bracing myself for another random subject change. “Some weed.” She sighs. “I’d really just love a couple hits to calm my nerves. You wouldn’t happen to have any on you, by any chance?”
I nod toward the passenger side. “Oh yeah, right there in my glove compartment.”
Her blue eyes widen as her brows move toward her hairline. “Seriously?”
I snort a laugh. “Fuck no. Of course I don’t have any weed on me, Randi.”
“Don’t get my damn hopes up like that, Rony,” she says, making me laugh even more. “Jordan took my last bit, too.”
“You still smoke?”
“Not as much as I used to, but occasionally. It helps me sleep. You?”
I shake my head. “Not since before I met Cat. But, if you’re desperate”—I chuckle quietly—“I still have a bag in my room in Montana. Not sure if it’s still any good since it’s like three years old, but it’s taped to the underside of the second dresser drawer in my room.”
“Are you lying to me again?”
I laugh. “No, I’m serious. Have at it. Just don’t let my grandmother catch you. And if she does, don’t tell her where you got it from.”
“I’d never rat on you.” She giggles and draws a cross over her heart. “So did meeting your girlfriend change your ways then, lover boy?”
“Not really. I just haven’t smoked much after moving back to New York; a handful of times with my best friend and Steve, but I don’t know, I just stopped, I guess. No particular reason.”
“That’s good,” Miranda says. “It’s just a crutch anyways. I should really stop, too. After I dig through your bedroom in Montana,” she says with a mischievous laugh.
***
We get to Nashville a little while later and grab some lunch before I check us into the hotel for the night.
“You have standards,” Miranda says as we step into the room, which is bright, modern, and clean.
“Didn’t want to risk catching some disease.” I throw my backpack on one of the two queen-sized beds. I made sure to book a room with two so we each had our own.
“I’m just glad there wasn’t a blacklight in that Pikeville room.
Aside from the bathroom, I’m pretty sure the bed, the carpet—hell, the walls—would’ve lit up like a Jackson Pollock painting,” I say with a disgusted face.
“There were probably fluids all over that damn place. Did you see those lampshades?” I shudder.
“Ew, Rony,” Miranda laughs. “On the lamps and walls?”
“Not everyone has great aim.” I shrug, and she dissolves into a new fit of laughter.
That’s something I’ve always been able to do—make her laugh.
No matter how bleak things got for either of us, I could always crack her open just enough to let in some light.
When you’re freefalling, that matters. I know.
“Gross,” she wheezes.
“I swear there are documentaries about how nasty motels are. I bet the one we stayed at last night was featured in one of those. You know they’ve found semen on remote controls?”
Miranda struggles to catch her breath from laughing so hard.
“Stop, Rony,” she screeches, tears streaming down her face as she holds her stomach, doubled-over. “That’s so nasty.”
“I’m truly sorry to burst your bubble about how clean last night’s place was.”
“You don’t even know if it really was as bad as you think it was,” she says, desperately trying to catch her breath. “Okay, the place was old, but—”
“Dude, I could smell the stale cum on the sheets. And those pillows were way too stiff and crinkly.”
Miranda folds her arms over her stomach like she did this morning. “Rony, seriously, you need to stop. I can’t breathe…” she squeals.
I stretch my arms over my head. “Fine. I’ll shower, and then maybe we can grab you some clothes once you catch your breath.” I grin and pull a fresh pair of boxers and a clean long-sleeved henley from my backpack.
When I walk into the bathroom, the white tile looks clean and the space smells fresh. Much better.
I stand under the shower for a long while, relishing the hot water, my muscles relaxing with the warmth.
I wash myself thoroughly and brush my teeth for a second time today before finally drying off and slipping into my fresh boxers and shirt, then pull on my jeans again.
Incredible what a hot shower can do for the body and soul.
***
Miranda and I set out and spend a couple of hours getting some basic necessities for her to take to Montana, along with a temporary phone and some new clothes.
I shake my head with a groan when Miranda holds up a lacy thong-and-bra set and notes how unsatisfactory the selection is at the store we’re in.
“I took your virginity, Rony. Stop acting all shy around me,” she says with a wicked grin before she throws the underwear into her shopping basket, then drags me onward.
Half an hour later, we leave the store with the essentials. It’s not much, but it’ll get her by until Miranda has the chance to stock up.