Love Will (28 page)

I shrug my shoulders. “What would you like me to do about that?” He’s a thirty-year-old man. He should have this figured out by now.

“The first time, neither of us were sober enough to care. The second time, I just played it off as a slight malfunction, so she didn’t really know what happened.”

“You what?” I ask him.

“I’m so pissed at Brooke,” he says.

“I don’t give a fuck. What about Jessica?”

“I don’t know,” he sighs, putting his head in his hands.

“You don’t
know
? Did you go pick up a morning after pill or anything?”

“How am I gonna do that? Drive the bus to a Duane Reade? Do they have those here?”

“I’m sure they have pharmacies… you could have Uber’d it, I don’t know.”

“I’m sure they don’t have Uber here.”

“Well, I bet they have a fucking taxi. If nothing else, putting the idea in her head and giving her a fifty would have sufficed. Did you talk about it at all before she left the bus?”

“No.”

“Can you call her?”

“Didn’t get her number.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Peron. It’s one thing to have revenge sex. It’s another thing entirely to have a revenge fuck with a potential life-long memento.”

“I’m sure it’s fine. Right?”

“You’re looking for assurance from me?” I ask him. “Is that why I’m here?”

“Just lie to me.”

“I’m sure it’s fine, Peron. It’s fine for the next nine months, at least. It’s fine until she tracks you down and sends you the first picture of your little mistake.”

“You think I need to worry about STDs?”

“If I’m stereotyping her, no, Peron. I don’t think so. But would I trust
my
dick’s health to a stereotype? Fuck no.”

“Why did you let me do this?”

“Nope. You’re not pinning this on me. And trust me, no court of law’s gonna make
me
pay eighteen years of child support, either. This is all your doing, Peron. You wanted to get laid. You decided to get drunk last night. Then you
soberly
made dumb-ass decisions today. You had a chance to rectify it, too, and you didn’t.

“I mean, Per, even
I
have never done anything this stupid!”

“Well, Will, you’ve had a lot more experience with how to handle fuck-ups like this, so excuse me for not thinking this through and making the right choices to cover up my poor decisions in the first place.”

I lift my brows and stare him down. “You wanna rethink that statement?”

“Well?” he says, as if to say,
‘it’s true, isn’t it?’

“Don’t be pissed off at me for something you did. Don’t take this out on me.”

He breaks his gaze from mine and returns to his coffee, taking a few sips while I continue eating. “So do I just go on like nothing happened?”

“We could go back to the bar we met her at… see if anyone knows how to get in touch with her…” I suggest.

“And tell her what? I may or may not have knocked her up? I mean, maybe she remembered the first time it broke, and went and got something anyway.”

“It’s quite possible,” I admit. “You could just ignore it… and just hope the odds work out in your favor.”

“I think that’s what I have to do,” he says. I’m not happy with the statement, but I don’t think I can argue with him. I think he’s probably right.

“Just so you know, Peron, I’ve been through two abortions for mistakes girls have pinned on me. I’m still not certain either were mine, because I
have
been careful and taken responsibility for any incidents like yours, but I’ve gotten that news two times in my life. And I couldn’t call them liars because I was definitely with each of them.

“One girl got my number through a lawyer. Another one waited for me at my apartment late one night.”

“Did either of them want to keep the baby?”

I shake my head. “It’s an awful feeling, too. At first, there was a sense of relief. I mean, for me, as someone whose dad never paid a dime of child support, all I could think was that I didn’t want to be like my dad… but I have no money, you know that. So I was relieved initially, but once I started thinking about it, it was pretty fucking sad. You know… a life I may have helped create is growing inside this woman, and she wants it to die. What does that say about me, as a man?”

“Most likely nothing,” Peron says. “I’m sure it wasn’t like they were saying your genes weren’t good enough. Fuck, if they knew anything about you at all, they would have known they’d struck the gene pool lottery.”

“You know they all knew very little about me.”

“Yeah. But still, Will, I bet their decisions were made on where they were in their lives, and what was best for them… and possibly you, too.”

“Still not something I ever want to go through again. Listen, Peron. I’m sorry I was so… direct. I’m sure it’s fine… nothing you need to worry about.”

He tries to smile at me.

“You know, I learned early on that this one-night-stand business can be pretty… empty. It can suck the soul right out of you, and I know Damon jokes with me about it all the time. You have to strike a balance with it. It’s a selfish act. You have to do selfless things, too, or else you’ll completely harden. Take care of the girl, too, whatever her needs might be. You’d be surprised at how often it’s not even sexual. A lot of times they just want someone to listen to them.” I laugh a little. “I always warn them up front my advice is shit, but I listen.

“And if you’re not in the right frame of mind to take care of her, then do something for someone else in your life. There have been plenty of times when I just got what I needed from women, and I’m not proud, but it happened… and when I’d wake up in the morning, yeah, I’d feel like shit for it. To balance it out, I’d call my little brother. I’d find out what I could do for Max. It wasn’t completely selfless, I know. I always got something out of hanging out with him, but I’d always let him pick the activity, and more often than not, I’d put myself further into debt. It was always worth it to me.”

“I think I took care of Jessica,” Peron says.

“If you’d been honest about what happened this afternoon, you’d know for sure that you had,” I tell him. When he looks me in the eyes, I can tell he knows I’m right. “Not always sexual.”

“Maybe I’m not cut out for one night stands.”

“Maybe you’re not. I’m not gonna twist your arm, and if it’s not going to ease the Peron tension anyway, I’m certainly not going to encourage it. For a lot of guys, it takes the edge off. You’re free to be with whomever you choose. Just know your options. That’s all I’m trying to say.”

“Your advice isn’t shit, by the way,” he says. “And I appreciate your candor. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. You don’t candy coat anything.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it. Just don’t repeat it.”

“Yeah,” he says. “You gonna eat all that?”

“No.” I move the plate to the center of the table and share the appetizer, checking out the menu for my main course. After deciding on something, I set the menu down and look at Peron. “We need to get you some new condoms.”

By the time I wake up the next morning, we’re already en route to Fargo. Again, I got a much better night’s sleep than I’m used to, and–again–I owe it to Shea. I’d texted her before I fell asleep: the chorus to the first song I had decided I would play for her.

- I’m not even a musician. You say musicians lie.

- So back up; plug your ears to me. I’ll only make you cry.

I’d stared at my phone, hoping and waiting for a response, but I knew she would be sound asleep. Eventually the display of the phone blurred as my tired eyes lost focus, and with my mind still concentrating on her, I fell into a deep sleep.

My phone apparently did, too, until I realize I forgot to plug it in last night.

“Damn it.”

After setting it to charge, I leave my bunk to get the day started, and am surprised to see I’m the last one up.

“You sick?” Tavo asks me.

“Nope.”

“Just avoiding us?” Damon follows up.

“I’ve been asleep.”

“You must be sick,” my best friend says. He’s known me long enough to know that this is not normal behavior for me.

“I feel great. How long have we been driving?”

“Two hours.”

“Fuck, really? So we’ll be there soon?”

“Half hour or so,” Peron says, looking up from a bowl of cereal.

I hurry to get myself ready and pick up my phone just as Ben finds a place to park the bus close to the venue. Normally, we have a night off between shows, but our schedule this week has three in a row since the travel time between cities is so short.

Shea didn’t respond with a text; she left a voicemail.
“Will, what are you trying to say to me? I’ve been dissecting your message for an hour, and it sounds as if you’re trying to distance yourself from me already. First, please don’t. Secondly, don’t do that in a text message. I know you respect me more than that.”

“Oh, shit,” I mutter to myself, tapping back to the text message app and re-reading the line I’d sent her.

- I’m not even a musician. You say musicians lie.

- So back up; plug your ears to me. I’ll only make you cry.

Out of context, I can see why she would react the way she did. Fuck,
in context
, it’s supposed to sound that way. To get the message–which is actually a
good
one–she has to hear the whole song.

“Damon!” I call out to him.

“Yeah?” He comes over to my bunk.

“You know that song I wrote yesterday?”

“Yeah.”

“Think you could sing it today… for a video call?”

“I don’t have it memorized, but if I can look at your sheet.”

“Sure thing.”

He grins. “You’re gonna lay it out there for her?”

“I have to. I sent her the chorus and now she thinks I’m pushing her away.”

“You don’t
have
to. You could explain this to her. No one’s forcing you to pour your heart out to her.”

“This song is the least ‘pour-my-heart-out’ one I’ve written… and fine. Yeah. I want to tell her,” I admit to him.

He claps his hands together quickly. “This is so exciting!”

“Wait, what are you doing?” Peron asks.

“I’m gonna play one of my songs for Shea.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

“Yeah,” I answer him without giving it any thought. I call to leave her a message, letting her know that I’m up.

“Hello?”

“Hey!” I nod at Damon. “I didn’t expect you to answer. Aren’t you working?”

“I stepped away. I wanted to talk to you.”

“Shea, they were song lyrics…” I try to explain.

“I gathered that. Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“No, but you kind of need to hear the whole song.”

She’s silent for about ten seconds. “I’m listening.”

“You have a few minutes?”

“I can take as much time as I need.”

“Okay, hold on.” I thrust the phone into Damon’s hand and walk to the front of the bus to grab my guitar. “Turn on the camera, Damon.”

“On who?”

“Us… just set it on the table.” After he does, I move a chair behind him and smile at my phone. I can see Shea’s face for the first time since I left her crying behind the restaurant. There’s an effervescent feeling in my stomach. “All right, Shea… can you hear me okay?” She nods her head. “Damon, sing clearly.”

“Do I normally not?”

“You do fine. Shea? Listen to the whole song… you have to hear the whole thing. Don’t you dare hang up on me.”

“Okay,” she tells me, turning her head to the side as she laughs, exposing her dimple.

“She’s hot,” Damon turns around to whisper to me.

“I know.”

“That dimple…”

“Shut the fuck up and stop looking at the dimple. It’s mine,” I mumble softly to him just before I start strumming the opening chords. Tavo steps behind me, no doubt to get a glimpse of the woman we’re talking about.

Damon starts singing on queue:

There’s one just like you back in Toledo

Can’t even remember her name

And that girl I saw twice in Miami

Yeah, she made me feel the same