Chapter 8 The Way We Cope
THE WAY WE COPE
CARTER
Watching my strong, beautiful woman—watching her cry because of what I had stupidly done, was one of the worst moments of my adult life to date.
I didn’t mean for anything to happen. Everything was fine. I had it all under control until Tay was - we were - suddenly crossing lines I didn’t want to cross.
I hear my phone vibrate across the room and dive on it like a man starved. I’m hungry for the sound of Becky’s voice. I check the screen and my shoulders tense up.
Tay ;) Calling.
I ignore it.
Another notification pops up.
Tay ;) 4 missed calls.
I check the time and see it’s 9:00 in the fucking morning. She called three times last night, and again already this morning.
My biggest mistake is calling again, and she’s not letting me even pretend to forget the mess I’ve made.
I lay back down in my bed and stare at the ceiling. I need a plan. Another shuddering blast of pain moves through me. I feel empty. Shattered. Broken.
I deserve it.
My phone vibrates in my hand, and I debate not even looking. The .0001% chance it’s Becks makes me look.
AH Paul Calling.
Damn, not even close. I hit accept anyway. Anything to get my mind off my current personal problems. Even Asshole Paul. “Yeah,” I croak out.
“Carter, I need you to talk to your girl, Taylor. She’s apparently stuck somewhere and is clogging the fucking business line trying to get ahold of you.”
“She’s not my–”
“Deal with it, Carter. Keep your personal shit away from my business or I’ll do it for you.” Click
Yup, a fucking asshole.
I scroll to her name and hit call. I don’t even know how to play this.
You know what, if she doesn’t bring it up, neither will I. Fuck, I hope she doesn’t say anything.
“Hey Sweets!” She answers the phone sounding so fucking happy. My stomach rolls with the sickeningly sweet sound.
“Taylor–”
“Oh my gosh, Carter, I told you to call me Tay. Only strangers call me Taylor.”
Why does calling her that now feel like a betrayal?
“What do you need?” I’m already looking at the floor for my shoes. I need to get out of here. Away from this room—from this call.
“Sweetheart, you sound like you’re having a rough morning. Why don’t you come by for some yummy breakfast.”
Sweetheart. The word hits and sinks into me—a drop of acid burning away my ignorance of what I’ve allowed. Have I let her speak to me like this the whole time? Jesus. Apparently my pause meant she needed to convince me.
“I made stuffed French toast and sausage patties. I can also fry some eggs if you’d like?”
My already uneasy stomach revolts at the mention of food.
“Taylor–Tay, I have a lot I need to do today,” I lie. “Do you need a ride somewhere? There is a ride share—”
“What, but Carter, you said—”
“I know what I said, but—” I fish for anything I can use as an excuse, “I am late to help my buddy with his car. He lives the opposite way to your place.” A partial lie. That’s true for my home, not my parent’s house. I don’t care to say anything about being here, though.
“Oh, okay,” There’s a distinctive whine to her voice that grates on me. “I’ll just go another day when you have time.” I want to tell her that’ll be never, only I’m not in the mood to deal with it right now.
“Sounds good. Bye, Tay.”
“Bye Car-” I hang up before she can finish.
I sit up and put my head in my hands. Tay. Another stupid decision. I am drowning in those. After fighting Becky for ages about how she would NEVER go by her full name, I had learned to respect when a person asks me to call them by their chosen nickname.
Becky’s voice plays through my mind, and I flinch at the memory.
“Why the fuck is her name so fucking cutesy in your Goddamn phone?” Shit.
Was that just yesterday? Two days ago? I don’t think I even responded to her.
Did I answer her? It wasn’t even a big deal!
It would have taken no time at all to explain.
A surge of frustration rises and I go to pick up my phone to message her.
“I called her that because of respect for you!” Luckily for me, clarity hits faster than I can type, and I put my phone back down.
That reasoning doesn’t explain the stupid emoji.
I don’t even know how to explain the emoji to myself.
Why did I let her do that?
I pull my phone out again and go to her contact information. Tay ;) is changed back to Taylor with only a few taps on my phone. That’s something, right?
My parents are still on their summer excursion across the country in their little camper truck, making sneaking out of the house without a confrontation a small, easily won victory. Thank God for small mercies because they’d beat the tar out of me.
Lyle and Lorretta Stewart love Becky; but knowing her, she’d never reach out to them about any of this. She wouldn’t want to bother them while they’re out adventuring. She should know she’d never be a bother. Maybe that’s also my fault, that she doesn’t know.
I pass through the empty house and hop into my truck.
Taylor’s potent perfume still clogs the air, so I crank down my windows and head out of the small neighborhood.
Locals wave, or possibly flip me off as I pass by, heading over to my buddy Trevor’s house.
I wonder if I’m imagining the extra attention they’re paying to me this morning.
I gratefully pull out of town and head down the road a ways to Trev’s place in the country.
I’m not surprised to find that Trevor really is working on his Suburban when I swing by. He’s becoming this big deal at his bank job, but he still loves to get his hands dirty while working on his own stuff.
I pull up to his house to see him bent over the hood of his 1995 Chevy Suburban.
He’s convinced his wife that they don’t need a new one if they want to grow their family.
He said this vehicle will be their best option, but he also drives a 2024 Camaro to and from work everyday, and she’s driving a 2015 Subaru.
I have a feeling his wife doesn’t see things his way, but I love the Suburban and love working on it with him.
“Oh hell yeah.” I hear from under the hood. “I would recognize that old ass rumbly truck anywhere! Hand me the grease gun. I’m gonna finish up here, then you’re gonna help me bleed the brakes.”
“Sir, yes sir.” I go ahead and park my truck, head over to the Burb, and post up until he finishes.
“Couldn’t get Paige out here to help you with the brakes?” I ask, more to fill the silence. I’m not here for silence.
Paige is Trevor’s very patient wife of nine years.
They’re the classic high school sweethearts, oops baby, beat-the-odds couple.
Trevor went to school for his business degree while Paige found a way to monetize staying home with her kid.
It’s pretty badass, actually. They do well for themselves and it shows.
You can see it in their home, their land, and his car.
“Nope, she’s with Jacob, school shopping.” He quickly turns the questions back to me. “School starts for employees next week. Becky not want her special Saturday with you this year?”
It feels like a punch directly in the junk. Our tradition. I shake my head and feel another wave of shame come over me. It was supposed to be this weekend, and I was too busy with Tay—Taylor—to remember. I make a sound of frustration that rumbles deep in my chest.
I look up to see Trev staring at me from behind the hood of the vehicle. “You good, or was that some dying animal off in the woods I can’t see but can clearly hear?” He asks me, clearly confident that he is fucking hilarious.
“Probably a little of both.” He holds my stare a beat, then starts clanking around with something or another under the hood again.
“Paige says she’s been seeing you with a pretty little passenger these last few weeks. Tall model-like woman. Looks pretty young. That sound about right?”
Damn these small towns. “Yup.”
“So you and Becks-“
“Becks has nothing to do with Tay-lor.” I try to tack on that last bit before he notices the slip.
“Tay, huh.”
Damn.
Another forever pause. “So, I hear that Jill Farris’ niece is in town. Fresh outta college, starting at Jill’s school as a teacher’s assistant or some shit? Her name is also Tay-lor,” he mocks. “Your Tay-lor that girl?”
“She’s not my Taylor.” I grumble at him, and he’s being antagonistic. “Let me guess, Paige?” I say out loud, but on the inside I’m reeling. Did she lie about having nobody here?
“Yeah, of course it’s Paige. She’s a nanny for the biggest gossip in town. She knows things before people directly involved know things.” With this, he gives me a look. I don’t like that look.
“What’s her last name?” I ask, though I already know. Harrison.
“Harrison.” He says the same time I think it.
Clang. “Fuck!” He shouts, the sound followed by the clunk of a boot kicking metal and a litany of my other favorite four letter words.
I suppress a laugh and throw up a thanks for friends like Trev. He’s all prim and proper, but really he’s as real and raw as the rest of us. “Yeah, that’s the same person. I was doing her a few favors while her car keeps getting fixed.”
He’s silent a moment before looking at me over the hood again. “Paige really likes Becky.”
“I know.”
“So do I.”
This time I give him a look. “I know.”
Again, Trevor stares. I really don’t like that stare.
Becky
My sister and I sit in my house on the couch and just stare at the blank TV. I break the silence again with another, “Seriously, what the fuck.”
“Yeah,” is her eloquent and insightful response. “You sure I can’t kick his ass?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. He’s not worth the bail money.” I inform her, still staring at the TV. We are obviously taking this situation well.