Chapter 16 Everywhere You Look
Everywhere You Look
Iplanned to change into an embroidered Pop’s polo shirt to go with the dark jeans I’m already wearing, but I can’t find it, so I settle for a newer red “Pop’s Diner” T-shirt. I still look more professional than usual.
Dave doesn’t care what I wear anyway, so I put my hair in a ponytail and pull it through the back of my Braves cap and slip my feet into red-and-white checkered Vans. I’ll probably regret wearing these to work, but I like the crisp red, white, and blue look.
My phone has finally calmed down. I’ve lived in three states in the last five years, not counting Kentucky twice. That doesn’t even touch all the childhood moves, but between moves and meeting people at concerts, I keep in touch with a lot of friends and family.
Visiting hours are over, though. I need to call Nathan before work and do something about this funk we’ve been in. Being around Jude is too easy. I’ve gotten spoiled. Life can’t be uncomplicated all the time.
Communicating by text and rushed phone calls doesn’t help matters, but I don’t think we can reconnect at this point. Every time I talk to Nathan, I hear some level of disdain in his voice making me question why I still try. Don’t even ask how I feel. I don’t think I feel anything but stupid.
But obligation wins again, so I make the call sitting in my car before I leave for work. It’s unusual not to cross paths with Jude at this time of day, and the absence of his black SUV gives me a twinge of disappointment.
I crank the engine to get the air-conditioning going and try not to think about the person I really want to talk to when it’s only been thirteen and a half hours since I saw him. Not that I’m counting.
My stomach swoops remembering how I fell asleep, then sinks with guilt and shame. Nathan would be livid if he knew, but I’ve practically begged for … what? Friendship?
He won’t eat anything I cook. Without work, we have no inside jokes or playful conversations. I can’t even get a Sunday afternoon baseball game without him screaming at the TV or trying cheap frat-boy-level moves. Being my friend isn’t part of his agenda. I don’t think he knows how.
Was it ever real?
He moved so fast. I was along for the ride before I knew if he was equipped to navigate the journey.
It’s not fair to judge the future based on his worst moments. I know it isn’t. But when was the last time we had any good ones?
Ugh, stop it with the negativity.
I hurry and tap his name to call since I need to leave soon. I don’t want to drive while I talk to him since I never know how it’ll go. He answers on the fourth ring, just as I was about to hang up.
“I hope you’re not calling me about your stupid car again,” he says. “I’m not a mechanic.”
I try not to return the same hostility, but it’s there.
“Nope, my car’s fixed. I’m headed to work.” I attempt a neutral topic to steer the conversation. “I think I’m going to look for a new job. I have my associate’s degree now, so I should be able to find something better while I work toward my bachelor’s.”
“Must be nice to quit and do what you want,” he lobs back.
I tell myself he probably doesn’t realize how he sounds, but these conversations suck the life out of me. “I didn’t go to school to stay at the diner, you know? I’m just looking. I’m not quitting yet.”
“I’m not going to bail you out when you can’t pay your bills. How bad did you get ripped off on your car? I know you didn’t call Dad or Jackson to help like I told you.”
Crap. What do I say? It’s a catch-22. If I say it was free because a friend helped me, he’ll demand to know who and find some roundabout way to accuse me of doing something wrong.
I’d still have to answer why I’d go to another friend’s uncle and not his dad, which he’ll see as disrespecting his family.
If I say I went to a local shop, he’ll want to know where and what it cost, then I’ll hear that I wasted money by not listening to him, and that’ll launch a whole lecture about my lack of money management skills … which is hurtful and untrue.
It’s like he knows what specific accusations bother me most. I’ve supported myself since I was eighteen, and he lives rent-free with his brother.
Plus, I shouldn’t have to lie to get through a conversation.
I hate this so much. These circular “gotcha” conversations are happening more and more, and there aren’t enough pillows in the world to scream into.
“I handled it,” I decide to say. Because, dang it, I’m a freaking adult.
“What does that mean?” he challenges.
“It’s done. You’ll have an opinion no matter what, so all I’m saying is it’s done. I’m going to work now.” My chest tightens and my heart pounds as I wait for his response.
“Oh, whatever. Always trying to start something. I’m sure you do have to work.
You probably went into some serious debt.
” His patronizing laugh says he’s sure I screwed up.
“Whatever. Listen, I know we haven’t seen each other much lately.
I’ve been under so much stress. We’re getting a big cabin for a family reunion next weekend.
Can you afford to be off work and come with us?
It’ll be good for me to get away from the pressure. ”
I consider keeping a tally of every time he says stress or pressure. I could make it a game and reward myself with Twizzlers every time I get to ten.
Three months ago, I would’ve been nervous, but I would’ve gone. Now, I don’t want to go anywhere I can’t leave when things get uncomfortable. Because every minute is uncomfortable.
And the car ride … I can’t. Not after last time. An hour of speeding, swerving to jerk me, and running up on other cars, swearing as he got increasingly angry over a text he saw from Alex—a female who lives nearly three hundred miles away.
My neck and shoulders clench with tension. I don’t want any of this.
“I—I don’t know. Who will be there?” I ask.
The last family event was a nightmare—a different side of the family than I’d met at first. His creepy cousin kept putting an arm around me, trying to hug me with way too much bodily contact like we were long-lost friends. Extremely close friends.
The dude was bald on top with a horseshoe of frizzy hair that came down to the pit stains on his Dale Jr. T-shirt, and he smelled like stale beer, cigarettes, and restraining orders. I have no doubt he sings “Free Bird” on karaoke night at Bang Bang BBQ and drives a truck with a rebel flag.
Nathan continually wandered off, dismissing me with annoyance when I asked him to stay close. “Steve owns a very successful landscaping business. He’s country, and country people hug. Stop being so stuck-up.”
He eyed me all day, his scent gagging me every time he got close. I had no trouble believing he was skilled with … plants.
I stayed glued to Nathan’s sister, Sarah, until she left, then held my pee all afternoon, not wanting to admit I was afraid to go to the public bathroom alone.
Nathan’s suspicious of every guy I mention in passing, even professors or old friends that live eight hundred miles away, but when I said his cousin made me uncomfortable, he wouldn’t listen.
I’ve invited him to come see the guys play at the coffeehouse or come to dinner and get to know everyone, but it always turns into a fight.
His jealousy isn’t the cute protective kind, either. He has the accusatory type where Garden Party Steve is apparently more trustworthy than I am.
I’ve never experienced anything like this, so it must be some kind of stress response. I keep hoping he’ll snap out of it.
Well … I did hope. I think I’m numb now.
I just don’t know how to get out.
“It’s my dad’s side, but just Mom, Dad, Jackson, Sarah and her family in our cabin. Jackson’s girlfriend might drive up later,” he says. “Don’t worry. No one’s interested in hitting on you, if that’s what you think.”
Wow. I didn’t think that, but I don’t care enough to argue anymore.
That’s a lot of people, and they’re all excited about this baby. You’d think a big churchgoing family would feel some discomfort over their son marrying one woman and having a child with another.
Wait … Am I a decoy?
Any time Nathan’s in a mood, Jackson looks annoyed, but the rest of them laugh it off or do what Nathan wants because “he’s got a lot on his shoulders right now.”
Smoothing things over is a Roberts family pastime. No wonder they like me. They thought I’d smooth over their son’s life.
I pull out of my thoughts to answer him. “I’m going to see my mom this weekend, but maybe if I work more on the weekdays …”
The answer is actually no.
But I can’t start an argument right now. I have to get to work.
“Are you skipping classes?” he asks, continuing his never-ending quest to expose some sort of transgression.
“No, I’m not skipping classes. Summer term is almost over. I’ll work evenings until I go to my mom’s house Friday, and I’ll come back Sunday.”
Probably.
“We’ve barely seen each other, and now you’ll be gone all weekend?”
Every syllable out of his mouth winds my nerves tighter. I was there for hours on Sunday, and he ignored me.
“You could come with me,” I say, regretting my words instantly.
My heart pounds, and my hands begin to shake.
No. Please say no.
I want to hang out with my mom. I need to think.
“I probably shouldn’t go that far with Candi being due soon.”
Ouch. Just a flesh wound.
“You could come by Friday before I leave if you want,” I offer, less than half-heartedly. I already know he won’t.
“I’ll see how it goes. I might take the overtime.” He sighs dramatically.
“All right, I better go. Have a good night. Love …”
“Bye.” Silence.
Well, that was painful. Ending calls with “love you” is just a habit.
There’s no love here.
I know that I know that I know … I’m not in love with him.
Like Jude said, I see broken pieces. It’s my nature to clean it up, but I can’t love someone who won’t let me.
Love isn’t part of the equation anymore, but I need to think about the rest of what he said.
And neither can I.