My stomach is a steel trap, I never vomit. Right now? It flips so fucking hard I barely get the door open before spilling the alcoholic contents all over the ground. I open the glove compartment and hunt for napkins to wipe my mouth. This would be a tough conversation to havesober. Drunk? Implausible. I realize now that her pure innocence is what made her different, kept me interested, and I open the door to heave once more. At least I won’t have a hangover tomorrow. Not from alcohol at least.
“You called me a cunt,” she says.
I nod. “I’m sorry.” That’s the least of my offenses at this point, right? Still, my stomach flips at the reminder of my cruelty. There are moments in your life where you can’t see the future because it hangs in the balance of whatever you say or do next. That moment for Caroline and me is right now. It’s a real shame because it’s not just her and me. There are also fuckers named bourbon and keg beer here too.
Several seconds pass as I stare out into the moonlit field. “Say something,” she whispers.
“What the fuck am I supposed to say? That I almost stole your innocence with angry drunk fucking? That I never thought for one moment to make love to you? That I’m sorry? Nothing I could say would take that back or make it seem genuine. Not right now, when the world is spinning and you’re sitting over there afraid of me.” She is afraid, too. The combination of my messed-up eyes and my actions has created the perfect villain. One that in the movies would fuck her and leave her crying—never looking back.
She pulls her knees into her chest, and something in that deep cavernous place that lies dank and dormant comes to life. “You should have told me.”
“What difference would it make?” she asks. “If youtake my virginity here or in a bed? It’s all the same to me. From the second I met you, I knew I wanted it to be you.”
Shaking my head, I let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t want it to be me. This right here is testament.” Gesturing to the truck cab, my face, and then to her timid, shaking body.
Caroline presses her lips together. “Let’s do it right now. It’s going to be you, Tahoe. Why not right now?” Instead of rattling off the many reasons I won’t, I think about how I missed the signs. I dwell on mistakes. That’s what type A folks do. It’s how we better ourselves regardless of cost.
“Have you messed around with a guy before me?” I can’t help the question. It’s typically one my pride would never let me ask. Now, I need to connect the dots, and I require her responses to help ease this pain.
She stays silent. “Have you kissed a man before me?” I ask, my voice cracking.
Caroline doesn’t say a word. I swallow down the disbelief. “I’m getting the fuck out of here before I take anything else from you, Caroline. I’ll catch a ride home with someone else. Take my truck and go home.”
Her defiant reply comes, “No.”
“I’ve taken a lot of things in my lifetime. I can’t be the one to take this from you. I don’t deserve it. You deserve someone who can give you the world—at the very least someone who can offer you a promise for a bright future.” My future will sometimes involve trudging through gutters and subway tracks hunting bad people.When you juxtapose me next to her, I can’t understand how I could have been so blinded by our differences. Love. I was blinded by it. By the thought that maybe I deserved it. Could keep it. There was never any keeping it. Not in my world. There’s only losing it slowly. Piece by piece. She’s still whole—intact. I have to respect that.
Her jaw twitches. “Don’t tell me what I want,” she says. “You live in this insane utopia where you think everything needs to be perfect. Maybe I don’t want perfect. Maybe I want to lose my virginity to you, drunk, in this truck. Maybe nothing else matters because I’m in love with you. Even despite you being completely out of your mind right now.” What did I almost do? How did this happen? “Fine, if not tonight, let’s talk about this tomorrow when you’re in your right mind.” Her voice sounds desperate, and it calls out my need to protect her. I can’t protect her from this monster. I am what she needs protecting from.
With my hand on the handle, I survey my feelings using the part of my fuzzy brain that isn’t completely wrecked by alcohol. “I’m not the man for that job. Never will be.” I shake my head once. “Get home safe, all right?”
“Fuck you, Tyler Holiday. You really are an idiot!”
Gritting my teeth, I open the door and fall out. Blessedly landing on my feet in the pile of my own puke. My chest stings, and there’s no way I can look at her right now. Turning around to survey what I’ve done would only drive the nail into my chest deeper—create more empty space, where she is. Where nothing else willever be.
I close the door on her loud sob and trudge back to find someone to give me a ride home.
And another bottle of something to replace what I just lost.
This is one of my seconds. The seconds that change everything. The lonely, taking ones that will keep me company for the rest of my life.
SIXTEEN
Caroline
The thunder rolls,shaking the hangar all night long. In true Florida fashion, the storm hit unannounced on my drive home from The Spot. I didn’t want to follow his instructions, but my options were zilch. I didn’t want to see him drown in a canoe. I also didn’t want to face my peers with the strings of heartbreak searing like shackles around every limb. It’s all my fault. This is what men expect, and I was too scared to go with it. He was out of his mind drunk, and if he’d been a little more himself, I would have had sex with him in that tiny, cramped, smelly space.
I called Shirley on the way home, and she confirmed I shouldn’t have told him. Or waited until after. Even though that would have made it worse, she doesn’t understand how Tahoe operates. This desire to perfect things he has no control over. Everything was exacerbated by the fact that he was drinking with his buddies in this odd environment that I was an outsider in.
I am delicate. He is a storm. Carnage was inevitable.
When the clock finally clicks to five a.m., I sigh in relief. I gave myself permission for a night filled with tears and feeling sorry, but now it’s a new day, and I have a shift at the diner. A master at hiding my emotions, I’m ready to put on a happy face.
I shower last night’s mistakes and regrets from my body, letting the water scorch my body to a needling red color, and dress in the familiar, soft uniform my mom tailored to fit me perfectly. As I stare at my reflection, I tie my wet hair into a bun on top of my head and debate covering the dark circles haunting under my eyes. I decide to leave them there and make great time getting to work.
Everyone stares, the news from last night already trickling around the town like a lively case of bedbugs. Who knows what these people actually think they know. A lie. The truth. It doesn’t matter. Not anymore. I’m numb to anything except what has always brought me happiness and comfort. The known entities.
I serve my usual customers at the bar, remembering their orders, filling coffee cups, and pretending better than I ever have.
