Chapter 11 The Deal #2
Her knuckles are white from how hard she’s holding the tailgate, but I recognize the look on her face, so I cautiously continue.
“This—” I struggle to think of a word to describe it.
“Dynamic continued over the course of a few weeks before Paul stopped letting us drive her on the clock anymore. He said that if she can’t find a rental or use the rideshare, that’s on her. ”
“Carter, what the hell! You said…ugh. Never mind, keep going.”
I catch her eyes with a question in my own.
She just shakes her head, so I keep going.
“Well,” I clear my throat and remember where I left off.
“Yeah, so he informs her that we will no longer be providing that service. Personally, I think he stopped it because he was pissed she never called him on his days to help. She usually ended up calling me.”
“And why is that?” Becky interrupts, sitting straighter.
“Why is what?” I know that tone. It means to tread cautiously.
Suddenly, it’s like something releases in her. She hops off the tailgate and comes right at me, fury radiating off of her. She reaches me, pointer finger out, and she pokes me on the chest. Hard. “Why.” Poke. “Did.” Poke. “She.” Poke. “Usually.” Extra sass and poke. “Call you?” Poke, shove.
I take a step back, more from surprise than any loss of balance, and she follows that step, looking like she is going to push me again.
“Whoa! Hey! What’re you doing?” I go to grab her hands, but she whips them out of the way.
“You let her!” she yells, pounding her fists against my chest. “Why did you let yourself be available to her on days that you weren’t scheduled?
Huh, Carter? You were available to her, but away.
” Smack. “From.” Smack. “Me! You let her get between us! You left the fucking door wide open and you let her through—”
I gather her flailing hands into mine before she can cause any actual damage. “I was already working late those days—” I try to gently remind her, but she cuts me off.
“I don’t care, Carter! I don’t care how much of it was work. You still chose to be alone with a young, attractive woman so often I had my boss approach me at work to make sure there wouldn’t be any drama!” Tears line her eyes, and my chest cracks at the emotion there.
“Why would she—” I try to ask, but even with her hands tied, she keeps the hits coming.
“Do you have any idea how humiliating it is for me to have my personal life brought to work in this way? You say you know how important teaching is to me, so why would you jeopardize my career this way?” I move her hands to rest on my chest now, and her fingers curl into my shirt.
I hold her furious gaze for a beat before I answer, as honestly as I can. “I didn't think of it that way.” I say quietly. Then with a quick squeeze, I drop her hands and take a step back. My eyes drop away from the emotion in hers as her hands stay up, suspended between us.
Like it used to, my calm leads to her taking a few deep breaths and slowing down, but when she brings down her hands, her eyes are harder. Fortified against me and what I’m doing to her. What I’ve already done.
“Do you need me to stop?” I watch her for any hint of what she needs from me.
“No. Talk.” Abrupt and flat.
I keep watching her. “When I told her that I could no longer help her out, she offered to pay me double–”
A “what” comes from her, but I push out the rest.
“Double what I was earning from Paul, and she said that if it was on the weekend, she would offer me triple. Not by the hour, by the drive.”
Becky’s jaw drops in response. “What in the bunny boiler twisted shit?” She reels around and goes back to the truck, leans over the tailgate and rests her head in her hands.
Her head pops back up and she zeroes in on me.
“You did it because you were being paid.” I feel relieved at the statement, a weight off my shoulders because that’s nearly all of it. She knows everything she needs to.
The relief is short lived.
“But you kissed her! What, were you some kind of fucked up full-service escort? Is that what you’re trying to say to me?”
Full service escort? The truth of that statement lands like a hit. I stand silently opening and closing my mouth, no idea how to respond because isn’t that what I made it into?
“Oh my God, what the fuck?” She moves back away from the truck and starts pacing again. Her hands move from her head and start twisting around like crazy. Then she stops and swings back around to look at me again. “Why the hell doesn’t she just buy a new car if hers keeps acting up all the time?”
At first I just look at her, twisting the chain on my neck, my mind whirling, still caught on being an escort. Then I tune back in because Becky makes sense. Why has Taylor’s car been out of commission for months when she has what seems like “fuck you” money?
“Honestly, I have no idea.” I see her eyes roll and I continue, “Seriously, I had tunnel vision all summer long. I already told you my goals. Paul has been her mechanic this summer, he insisted and I didn’t really care one way or the other.
By that point I knew Taylor would come to me if she was worried that she was being taken advantage of. ”
“Jesus, Carter.” Those two words are loaded with frustration and condescension.
“What?” I’m honestly curious which of this evening's revelations she’s honing in on right now.
She considers me for a moment, shakes her head, seeming to make a decision. She holds up the phone she’s still holding. “What about this?”
I move closer to her to see what she’s talking about, and I have to fight the urge to wrap my hands around her hips like I’ve done countless other times.
I’ve lost that privilege. I look over her shoulder to see a string of messages on the screen, the majority from Taylor.
Embarrassment floods me because now I realize it looks bad.
Really bad. I’m so thankful I told her about the money and the rides before she pulled those up.
It would seem like a convenient excuse at this point.
“If you remember, the entire situation embarrassed me. I…I already lied to you about work being busy. It wasn’t.
I was busy working, and I understand the distinction.
So the messages I received that had anything to do with my rejected loan and all the things that I was doing to fix it all got deleted. Every night.”
I’m standing in front of her now and watch as something like realization flashes across her face, but she just listens, unmoving.
“It made me feel rotten every time, but you.” I gather her hands into my own. “You’ve always looked at me like I’m really something. From the very beginning you’ve made me feel like I’m something, someone amazing.”
She flinches and goes to pull her hands away, but I hold firm.
“Stop.”
No.
“Baby, sweetheart. Please. I love you. You know I love you.
“Carter, you had a very fucking public affair.”
She sounds done with this conversation. Done with me, and I talk faster because she has to know everything. “Becky, it was one time! We just kissed one time. That doesn’t make it an affair, it makes it a mistake.”
“It was an emotional affair, Carter, and it lasted weeks; and based on the fact that you still contact her, it’s still happening.”
I speak over her because she’s so off base.
“I jumped on the opportunity to help her because—because it was just everything was happening too slowly and every time I would look at your ring, and every time I would look at our beat down home, and every time I would watch as you checked your bank account and wizard your way through another financial setback, I felt like I was drowning.”
“Carter, stoppit.”
I keep going. “I should be able to take care of you. I was embarrassed that I was denied the loan. I was embarrassed that I was resorting to essentially being an Uber for a stranger and then I was really embarrassed when—” I pause for a second, choking on my words. “When she started to cross lines, and—”
“Stop! Carter. Stop. Don’t you get it? Don’t you understand that I would have rather had a courthouse wedding and lived the van life with you and our eventual family?
” Then, quieter. “I loved my ring, and I loved our life together, until you stopped showing up. Every time you were there when she needed you, you weren’t with me when I needed you.
You made your choices, and in the end, you didn’t choose me.
” She takes another deep breath and lets it out slowly. Her shoulders slump.
I wait for her to finish because… because I have no idea what to say.
“I told you just to answer my questions. I can’t deal with more than what you’ve given me tonight.
” I clamp my lips shut and nod. I won’t let her break down again because of me, so I listen.
Even though I hate it. “We will meet again and talk logistics about how everything will be—will be distributed between us.” She finishes, turning toward the house, toward our home.
No, I was too late. I waited too long and she’s done. She knows everything important now, and it doesn’t even matter.
She stops, turns back around and goes to hand me back my phone, but I take a step back and put my hands up.
“If you look through my deleted messages, I don’t care what you look at. You look at everything: pictures, messages, my schedule. You can look at, I don’t know, my credit card statement. Look at everything and you’ll see. I’m telling the truth.”
“I saw enough, but it still doesn’t matter, Carter. Even if I believe you, even with these messages, it doesn’t fix what you broke.”
Moisture coats her eyes. My stomach drops when one breaks and falls down her freckled cheek. She hates crying.
“I never wanted her, Becks.”
“It still doesn’t matter, Carter. You should have told me everything sooner.
Maybe then…” she trails off, then, “you could have told me, but you didn’t.
She knew more about your life than your own fiancé.
” Her voice cracks, but she pushes through.
“I was just home alone, and…you know what, I’m done here.
She starts on Monday. I’m tired. I’m going back inside.
” Becky then tosses my phone back at me, gently, which almost makes me sad.
Before she gets to the door, she stops and calls out, “I’m keeping your dog.”
In an attempt to alleviate my pain, I laugh, just a little. “Yeah, I know.” There’s nowhere else I’d rather Daisy be, I’d just like to be here with them all.
Becky nods again, her back still to me, and walks through her front door, flickering porchlight illuminating her briefly, and I just stand and watch.
I watch my heart walk away once again. I wait for the lights in the house to shut off and look for her shadow. I stand there long after all movement stops, and finally, I reach up a trembling hand, flick my headlamp back on, and then I change her oil.