Chapter 32 Dawsen
Dawsen
I’m such a fucking asshole.
I knew better. I knew I was saying too much. I knew what I was doing. I’m a selfish ass who so badly wanted to hear that she wanted me too.
And she does. And I fucking ran.
Because I won’t let myself touch her. I don’t deserve her. I’ll never let myself go there. So I ran. Like a coward.
This whole day has been such a terrible series of events.
And now I somehow have to pick up these pieces and figure out where to go from here without looking like a total prick, which is just inevitable at this point.
I’m going to need more than just a walk through this parking lot though.
And fuck. It’s cold.
I take a deep breath and slide the key card into the slot on the door.
I press open the door and there she is, sitting in the bed, right where I left her. Like she’s been frozen in time or something. I had kind of hoped she’d just went to sleep and we’d wake up and pretend none of this ever happened.
So much for wishful thinking. I know better.
“Hey.” Is all I say.
“Dawsen.” Is all she says.
I stand there, dueling eye contact with her.
I rub the back of my neck, and pace across the room slowly to her side of the bed. Her eyes follow me and I sit down next to her. I reach out for her hand. Because I need her to really hear me.
Her hand is between both of mine. It feels so small, so fragile. And I’ve longed to feel this, and at the same time, this breaks my fucking heart.
“Listen. This has all been really shitty of me. I shouldn’t have said the things I said when I have no way to follow through with any of it.
It was selfish of me. I just felt like I was going to literally explode being close to you like this and to not tell you what I’ve been wanting to tell you for years.
But I know it wasn’t right. I took advantage of the situation. ”
“Stop saying that.” She huffs out, pulling her hand out of mine.
“Saying what?”
“That you can’t have me. That you can’t ‘follow through with any of it’” She puts that last part in air quotes and rolls her eyes.
“It feels like you’re trying to make my choices for me. And quite frankly it’s annoying.”
“Birdie, I can’t explain it, but you just have to trust me. You don’t want to be with me, even if you think you do, or think you might someday. I can’t be that guy.” I say, trying to get her to understand something that I hardly understand myself.
Her eyes are welling up with tears, and it physically hurts knowing I’m the one who put them there.
“I need to sleep. I don’t understand what’s happening and it’s hurting, and I need to not be looking at you right now.” She says, sliding back on the bad further away from me.
“Okay.” I say, raising my hands in retreat. I stand up, and make my way to the light switch. I flick it off and slide back into the bed. We’re back to back with what feels like miles between us, and I force my eyes to close, and pray for sleep.
* * *
The sun peeking through the window wakes me up. I begin to shift when I realize Birdie is tucked into my side. Her leg is hanging over mine and her hand is laying flat on my chest. I go still, not wanting to make any sudden movements. I want to live in this moment forever.
And here I am, being wholly selfish again. Knowing when she wakes up, she’ll retreat and I won’t get a moment like this again.
I lay still, trying to steady my breathing. I don’t want to wake her. I’m staring at the motel ceiling, and I’m thinking about my mom, and how much I miss her. I don’t usually give myself the time or space to miss her, and I start to feel guilty with that realization.
I feel Birdie’s hand slide across my body, like she’s trying to pull me in closer. I revel in it, and that’s when she realizes.
I look down at her, her eyes shoot open, and she pulls her hand away, and pulls her leg off of mine. In 2 seconds flat shes a million miles away again.
“Uhh, sorry. Unconscious me hasn’t been made aware of the coward you’re being. I’ll make sure she gets the memo.” She bites out.
She’s right. I am a coward.
“We better get on the road. Gotta get you back home.” Is all I say as I slide out of the bed, and walk over towards my boots at the door.
She nods, lips tight.
“Yep. I’ve got work to do. And my boss is a real asshole.” She says, pulling her boots on.
She marches over to the door, grabbing my jacket on the way out and swiping my keys off the side table.
“I’ll be in the truck.” She says and walks out without looking my direction.
* * *
That was the longest drive in the world. Birdie didn’t say one word the entire time. Even when I asked her if she wanted to stop off for coffee, she just shook her head, no.
When we got back into town and I was dropping her off by her car, I attempted an apology, an explanation of sorts.
“Birdie. I’m so sorry. God, I’m sorry. The last thing I wanted to do was to leave you confused. I had a handle on all of this for so long, and to watch it unravel so terribly at my own doing is just so fucked.”
She cuts me off by putting up her hand.
“I’ve spent every year since I’ve known you trying not to love you.
So the shit you’re pulling right now, I don’t get it, I don’t understand it, and quite frankly, it’s absolute bullshit.
I don’t know why you said what you did and if you even meant a word of it.
But I’m going to give you a little piece of advice.
Next time you tell a girl how much you want her, don’t.
Unless you plan to grow some balls and a backbone and prove it. ”
She shuffles around the cab grabbing her purse, slinging it on her shoulder and jumping out of the truck. Before she shuts the door, she takes a look at me, brings her hand to her forehead, salutes me and says, “Until next time, asshole.”
She slams the door, turns and heads toward her car. Away from me.
* * *
I park my truck in it’s usual spot behind the shop. I lean my head against the headrest, feeling like a piece of shit and I pull my phone out and open my messages.
Me: Hey man, any chance you’ve got some time today to help me unload and set up some scaffolding for your sister?
River: Yeah, yeah. I’ve got a few things left to take care of here at the ranch, but I can make it there around 5ish if that works?
Me: Yep, thanks man.
River: See ya then.
I head up to my loft and head directly for my shower. I need to rinse off the last twenty four hours.
I reach into my shower and turn the knob, willing the water to be as cold as it will go.
I peel off my clothes and walk in, letting the icy water run down my head and across my back.
The cold gives my mind something else to think about.
A different kind of torture, yet somehow it’s relief from all my other thoughts.
* * *
Tuesday nights at the winery are actually pretty busy typically. We have open mic for local musicians on Tuesdays as well as a wine special. I decide I should probably make an appearance downstairs and help my staff out while I wait for River to show up to help me with the equipment for the mural.
I dry off from my shower, run some wax through my hair and throw on a pair of jeans and a hoodie.
I grab my boots by the door and push my feet inside and grab my phone before heading out the door.
I try to tell myself that staying busy will help the ache in my bones.
But really, all I’ve done is replay her words in my head like a fucking broken record.
* * *
The winery is full of patrons and it’s buzzing with people chatting and laughing and there’s a musician on the stage performing 80s rock covers.
The wine is being poured, people are enjoying themselves and I’m watching my winery be all that I’d ever hoped it would be— full of life.
Yet, I can’t help but feel empty. Like it’s lost it’s whole purpose.
I walk behind the bar and start helping Savannah with some tasting pours.
“How ya doing, boss? You look like shit.”
“Ahh, charming as ever. Thank you Sav.” I say, uncorking a new bottle of our Sauvignon blanc.
Savannah reaches for the bottle as I get it uncorked. “No, seriously boss—you’re gonna scare the customers with your bad vibes. I’ll take this.” She starts shooing me away. I roll my eyes, but oblige. I’ve got plenty of work that needs to be done in my office.
Christmas is going to be here before I know it and there’s inventory that needs to be finalized for the Merc as well as getting our online store for the winery fine tuned.
A couple of months ago, I had a journalist reach out to me because they were interested on doing a piece on Southbound.
Our cult wines have sort of been making a name for themselves which is how that journalist heard of us in the first place.
After a little digging she really loved our story.
The roots and beginnings of this place and she said it was the perfect story for their December issue, so I agreed. I didn’t see why not.
The journalist as well as a photographer and assistant all showed up the next week for an interview.
When I agreed to it I had sort of thought it was just a low key phone interview or something.
Turns out—it was a much bigger deal and the publication that the journalist works for is actually one of the most well known lifestyle magazines in the country.
And after our interview, she said she loved the story and the ‘spirit’ of Southbound so much, they are making it December’s cover story.
Had I known I was going to be on the cover of a magazine I would have put more thought into my answers and appearance. So, that was a fun surprise. (Not.)
With the issue rolling out in the next week or so, I figured it’d be smart to make sure our website is ready for any increased traffic and sales. Just in case.
I’m responding to emails when I hear a knock on my office door.
“It’s open!”
River walks in, almost like he’s out of breath.
“Sorry man, I have no idea what’s going on. She—“ A female voice cuts him off mid sentence, “…She is wondering what in the actual hell you did do to my best friend?” Casey storms in and practically shoves River out of the way so that she’s standing in front of my desk, peering down at me.
“Dude, I told her I was coming to help you and she went all psycho and took my keys and made me get in my own damn passenger seat and then she drove like a maniac to get here.”
“I wouldn’t have had to act like a ‘psycho’, which you so kindly put it, if Dawsen here wasn’t a complete and total asshole to Birdie last night!” Casey says, hands flailing between River and I.
I stand up and make my way around my desk and lean against it, crossing my arms across my chest. I have no idea which direction to take here. Casey and River are just staring at me, waiting for me to say something. Probably waiting for me to defend myself. But I don’t.
“I know.”
“Oh, you knowwww, do you?!” Casey spits out.
“What’s wrong with Birdie?” River asks, his voice has turned into concern and his eyes grow cold on me.
“Well your little buddy here told Birdie that he thinks she’s really ‘something’ and that he wishes he—“ I cut off Casey because I can’t stand to hear this again from this perspective.
“Look, River. I’m sorry man, I’m seriously so ass backwards for not telling you this before.
But, I’ve had a thing for Bird pretty much since the day I met her.
I never said anything because I never planned on acting on it.
Your friendship has meant so damn much to me, and I wasn’t going to do anything to jeopardize it, ever.
And I shouldn’t have said anything to her either, but I drank just enough and I got weak, man.
” I do my best to explain without a good explanation. Or at least one that matters.
“Dawsen, my man, you’re not as mysterious as you think. I’ve known about your crush on my sister for years. You’ve always been way too interested in all the bizarre-o crap she’s into… and you stare a lot.” River says, relaxing himself against the door, like this has all been a big relief to him.
“Okay, Can you please explain to me why you pulled a whole bait and switch performance on her then? I don’t really understand the disconnect here, Dawsen.” Casey says, clearly irritated by this entire conversation.
“I won’t ever be what she deserves. I just can’t.” I pause, my voice cracks. “Trust me, I wish I could. God, I wish things were different. But they aren’t.” I admit, knowing they wouldn’t understand even if I told them the real reason. I rub my palm across my stubbled face.
Casey rolls her eyes, and stands up straight and walks to the door. She turns on her heel and looks me in the eyes. “Coward.” And then she leaves.
I can’t even argue. She’s right. Birdie’s right. A selfish coward who let a moment of weakness break everything open that I once had perfectly contained.
It’s just River and I. I can tell he wants to press me on the matter. But I know he can also tell I’m not in the mood, so instead he nods towards the hallway.
“Let’s get this equipment set up.”
And without another word about it, we do.