Shattered (15 page)

When the movie was over, we walked out to the parking lot and he quickly took my hand in his.  I let him hold my hand all the way to the truck.  I decided I could give him that much, seeing as how I’d crushed his dreams earlier.  He walked around to the passenger side and opened up the door for me.  His personality was like a coin flip; sometimes it landed on arrogant asshole, the other times on sweet and thoughtful.  He really turned up the charm on the drive home. He asked me about my plans for college, if I was planning to stick around Harrington.  He never once centered the conversation on himself.  By the time we reached my car, he’d worked his way to my good side.  “Thanks for the movie tonight,” I said as I reached for my door handle.

“Wait,” he called out as he opened his door and jumped down out of the truck.  He ran around the backside of the truck and pulled my door open for me. I reached for his hand and he helped me step down out of the truck.  “I had a nice time too,” he said as my feet reached the ground.  He leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. Unlike the last time at the race, it was reserved and soft.

“Thanks again,” I smiled as I pulled from his grasps and made my way to my car.  He watched me move with his suggestive eyes, but never spoke.  “See ya.”  As I got in my car. I noticed Jesse’s Jeep was still sitting in the same spot as when I left. I made it through the entire movie and car ride without thinking about him. I looked up at the upstairs windows.  No lights were on.  I felt a little twinge of pain as I thought about what might be going on up there in the dark.  The thought haunted me the entire ride home.

I was pleasantly surprised to see a text message from Collin appear on my phone the next afternoon.

Great time last night.  Can I see you again?

I went back and forth about what to reply to his question.  I hadn’t been on a lot of dates. None really thanks to Garrett and Jesse, so I didn’t have much room for comparison.  I just had this feeling that when you’re with the person you’re supposed to be with it should be easy.  The conversation on the ride to the movie theater was brutal.  The whole reach and grab at the theater led me to believe Collin was looking for someone a little more experienced.  I probably shouldn’t have come across as willing and ready the first night we went out, but I blame that on the medication and beers I drank.  The good-night kiss was nice, but it wasn’t the bring-me-to-my-knees kinda kiss I’d always dreamed of.  So I took a page out of Collin’s playbook and decided I’d just wait and see what happened.

I noticed a note from my mother hanging under a small picture frame magnet on the refrigerator door.  ALYSSA… was spelled out across the top in my mom trademark red ink.  For some reason, she always wrote in red. The crimson ink was abrasive and demanding, just like her.  As I pulled the magnet off and removed the note, I looked at the little girl smiling behind her birthday cake.  It was taken at my third birthday and was one of my first real memories as a child.  Of course, Mary Boyd threw an over-the-top extravagant party while my father held on tightly to the purse strings.  He insisted that I was too young to know the difference between a cake from Wal-Mart and one from the high-end bakery in the city.  He was wrong.  I remember blowing out the candles and sneaking a finger full of the rich buttercream frosting.  It was the best thing I’d ever tasted and I was naïve enough to think that my mother’s love was represented by that truly delicious frosting.  Only a mother who truly loved her daughter would go to such extremes to please her child.  Later, I figured out that she just wanted to brag about how much the cake cost. I placed the magnet back on the fridge door and looked down at the note.

ALYSSA…

I left a casserole in the fridge for dinner tonight.  Your father should be in by dark, so make sure it’s ready for him. Please take care of lunch tomorrow for your father and the workers. I’ve gone into the city to visit some friends.  I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon.

Mom

P.S. Don’t forget the sweet tea.

Her lack of emotion in her salutation didn’t surprise me.  I couldn’t remember the last time the word
love
came out of her mouth or the tip of that red ink pen.  Even more surprising, my mother had friends.

I looked at the clock and then at the sun through the window.  I had a couple of hours until dark, so I knew my dad was still working. I busied myself with thoughtless tasks around the house.  I imagined living a life like my mother’s, the same repetitive cooking, sweeping, laundry routine that she did tirelessly every day. The idea of such a mundane existence was exhausting. I would never be able to be the dutiful wife that she was, reiterating the fact that I was desperate to get out of Harrington. I was starting to understand her need to focus her energy on making my life miserable.  I was just the punching bag for her frustrations.  When my dad finally pulled up the lane, the timing was perfect.  I’d just finished setting the table and the oven timer dinged just as he walked through the door.

“Hi,” I said to him as he kicked his boots off at the back door, “dinner’s ready.”

“Smells good.”  He washed his hands and made his way over to take his seat at the head of table.  My mother waited on him hand and foot and he expected me to do the same.  I poured him a glass of tea and took my seat.  He offered a prayer thanking the “Good Lord” for providing us with a nutritious meal, but never once offered up a thank you to me.  I rolled my eyes when he said “Amen,” and wanted to remind him that while he was thanking God for the food he was about to eat, I was the one that had cooked it for him.  I didn’t remember seeing Jesus here setting the table either. I used to believe in a higher power.  I attended church regularly with my parents.  I even used to say a prayer every night before bed. Then, Garrett died and I buried every ounce of the belief I once had in the ground with him.

“How was your day?”  my dad asked as I scooped a helping of the beige-colored hamburger-tater tot concoction onto his plate.  I was a little taken back when he spoke.  Our usual dinner conversation was led by my mother and it was very rare that either of them asked me about my day.  Mom usually just listed off things that we, as a family, needed to do to maintain our title as Harrington’s favorite family.  This often led to the discussion of my choice of friends or the inappropriate behavior I was displaying.

“It was fine.” The last time my father and I had a one-on-one conversation, I was eight, so I wasn’t quite sure what he wanted from me.  We carried on casually discussing each other’s days then I decided to take advantage of the situation.  He seemed open to talking and we were alone.  “Dad,” I hesitated, “why does mom act the way she does?”

“What do you mean?” He took a bite and lowered his fork.

“I mean, well…” I was trying to read the confused look on his face.  Was I the only one who saw the way she acted?  Maybe, he’d been around her so long that he didn’t notice her off the wall remarks and desire for acceptance. “She’s always so worried about what everyone thinks of her and of me. ”

“Hmmm.” He took a drink. “Well, I’ve always just assumed that your mother was trying to make up for the way she was raised.  She didn’t have much growing up.  Her parents blew through money like a windstorm.  They owned a bar a few towns over and drank as much as they spent.  And they were mean drunks.”  The way he said mean, led me to believe she may have been abused.  I was grateful that trait hadn’t carried over to her.  As hurtful as mother’s words could be, she never once raised her hand to me.

Then the line “they owned a bar” registered in my mind.  Years of my mother’s confusing behavior now made sense.  She wasn’t as different from Jesse as she acted.  My mother’s parents were never a part of my life.  I just assumed it was because they died before I was old enough to remember.  We never talked about them and there wasn’t a single picture of them anywhere in the house.

My dad’s face softened as he began to reminisce, “I met your mom on my twenty-first birthday.  Some buddies and I were out celebrating and we happened to stumble into the bar they owned.  I remember walking into that bar a carefree, single guy and walking out completely in love with the sad, pretty girl that worked there.  She looked a lot like you do now.” His brown eyes smiled fondly as he remembered the girl he fell in love with. “I went back there every day for a week just to see her.  I finally convinced her to go out with me and after a couple of dates, she told me about her horrible upbringing and her longing to get away from her parents.  I promised, right then and there, that I would get her away from them. And I did.”

I couldn‘t believe that I’d never heard this story.  I think most kids know how their parents met, but neither of my parents ever offered up the information and I never asked. “So that’s why she never liked Jesse.  She assumes he’s a bad guy because his parents own a bar.”

“You’ve got to cut her some slack, Lyss.” He placed his hand on mine. “Her parents were really bad people.  You can’t expect her to just forget everything that happened to her.  She just worries about you.”

“She has a funny way of showing it.”  I thought back to all the snide remarks and disapproving headshakes she’d given me over the years.

 “Your mother loves you, Alyssa.” He reassured. “She may have a funny way of showing it, but everything she does is for you.” I wanted to believe him, but all of the nagging and complaining my mother did still weighed on me. “Just give her a little time.  I was the first person ever to tell your mother I loved her.  She has a hard time conveying her emotions.” He laughed, adding “you know I said ‘I love you’ for a month before she finally said it back to me.”

I laughed, “That sounds like her.”

We finished eating and stood to clear the table. “I’m gonna go take a shower,” my dad said, pushing his chair out from the table. Then he turned to me and wrapped his arms around me.  I stood frozen, not sure what to do next.  I couldn’t remember the last time my dad had given me a hug. “Try to give your mom a break.” He kissed the top of my head and I melted into his chest, inhaling his scent of sweat, soil and tobacco.  It had been a long time since I’d been this close to him. He lowered his arms before turning to walk out of the room. “Thanks for dinner, Lyss,” he smiled.

As I watched him leave the room a thought popped in my mind… Maybe there is a God.

Jesse

I was grateful it was Saturday.  I needed a break from working on the farm.  Being a farmhand worked an entirely different set of muscles than being a deck hand.  I spent most of the morning and the better part of the afternoon wondering what Alyssa was doing.  When I finally left my apartment and went down to the bar, I picked up a pool stick and tried to turn my focus.  There were a couple people I knew already playing a game.

“Hey Sam,” I said to the burly bald headed one, “I got winner?” I arched my eyebrow and smiled with my question.  

“Sure!” he replied.  Sam was a few years older than me and a regular at the bar.  He was playing against Nick Howard, who graduated a year ahead of me.  Nick’s girlfriend, Lindsey and her friend Randi were watching from across the room.  I saw Randi playfully run her tongue across her lips when I walked over to grab the chalk.

“Ladies,” I smiled politely.

“Hey Jesse,” Lindsey smiled.  She was a sweet girl.  Her and Nick had been together for a while and had gone to college with each other.  They were both home for summer vacation.  

“Hey Linds.   How’s school?”  I listened to her prattle on about her awesome sorority and how much she wanted to get back, while her friend stared me up and down.

Randi was a whole other story.  She was a lifer here in Harrington.  She managed to make it through a cosmetology program and now worked at her mother’s salon across town.  I knew all about her.  Literally.  She was one of the girls I used back in high school to try to get Alyssa off my mind.  I always hoped that I’d sleep with someone and feel something like I felt whenever I was around Alyssa, but it never worked. No matter who I was with, she was the only girl I thought about.  Randi didn’t seem to mind being used.  She gladly climbed into the back of the Jeep whenever I had an itch and  I was still a guy after all.  I shuddered at the thought of exactly how many backseats she’d seen over the past few years.

“You look good, Jess.” She twisted a piece of her red hair around her finger and leaned forward to give me a clear shot down the front of her tank top.  I’d seen that look on her face before and knew what she was doing.  Unfortunately for her I wasn’t sixteen anymore, I was not about to let her lure me in with her seductive ways.  It didn’t stop me from enjoying the view for a second before I turned my attention back to the pool table.

“You’re up,” Nick said as he settled into a chair next to Lindsey.  I racked the balls and handed Sam the cue ball.

“Twenty bucks?” I said as he lined up his break, “might as well make it interesting.” I smiled.

“Sounds good.”  He pulled the stick back and hit the white ball dead center, sending three balls into pockets.

“Shit.” I laughed as he tried for another, but missed.

I examined the table for a minute before picking out my shot.  I could feel Randi’s eyes on me as I leaned over the table.  I wished Alyssa looked at me that way.  When I finally hit the cue ball and sunk the shot, I felt a pair of arms wrap around me from behind.

“Good shot,” Randi whispered in my ear, “I like a man who knows how to handle his stick.  What do you say when this game is over we get out of here? Like old times.”

I laughed at her desperation before pulling away from her. “No thanks, Randi.” She glared at me for a moment before returning to her seat.  She sat back and crossed her arms, mumbling something to Lindsey about me.  I’m sure there were a few choice words involved by Lindsey’s reaction.

I lost the game and handed my money over to Sam.  “Thanks, Jess.” He smiled sliding the bill into his pocket.

“I’ll getcha next time, Sam.”  

I head up to the bar to talk to my sister.  “Hey Kel,” I greeted her as I made my way over to the cooler and pulled out a beer.