After Tuesday (18 page)

Why did this have to happen tonight? Can’t I have one perfect night?

Opening the door to the bar, I find it’s somewhat crowded for a Friday evening. No one looks at me as I make my way across the room to Benji, standing behind the bar.

“Hey,” I say to him with a sense of purpose. I just want to get this over with. I want to pretend it didn’t happen.

“He’s over there,” he says, pointing to the back corner. “He had a fight with the mirror in the bathroom. I think the mirror won. You tell him he needs to pay for that, okay? I’m not putting it on his tab either.”

“I know, Benj,” I clip as I walk over to my dad.

He’s sitting alone in a booth, leaning against the wall. Staring at a group of people playing pool in the back, his face is vacant, lost in thought. Or maybe he’s about to fall over. It’s a toss up.

“Hey, Dad,” I say, trying to hold back the disappointment in my voice.

I’m almost in tears looking at him, but I need to hold it together to get us out of here safely. I’ve never seen him hurt anyone, but that doesn’t mean his movements are predictable. He’s been known to throw things.

“Hey, Tuesday,” he slurs. He leans away from the wall, and gravity pulls his head forward without the support.

His eyes are bloodshot, and his hair is pointing in more directions than I can count. When I look over the rest of him, I see his fist is wrapped in a bar towel stained with blood. We’re lucky Benji is a friend because this kind of crap is worthy of a call to the cops. Maybe Benji’s just used to this kind of shit here.

“Are you ready?” I ask my dad through tight lips.

“Ruby?”

I hear a voice call from behind me, but I focus on my dad, knowing that any change could set him off, causing more damage.

“Ruby?”

I hear my name being called again, and less than a moment later, I feel someone come to stand beside me.

My world crumbles as my peripheral vision processes the familiar silhouette next to me.
It’s Brent.
I can sense his tentative motions, even through all my rage, hurt, and disappointment. My stomach sinks into further despair as I wonder what he must think of the scene before him.
Why is he here?

“Brent,” I say evenly, trying not to call attention to my father. I turn to look at Brent. “What are you doing here?”

“I saw you come in,” he says, his eyes roaming around the room with a bit of fear.

I can tell he doesn’t frequent places like this. Hell, I’m probably the only kid in town who does.
Wait. He saw me come in? Was he following me?

“Were you following me?” I ask.

“Calm down, Ruby. I went back to your house to return your jacket. I texted you, and then I saw you when I was driving home.”

“So, you decided to come in? Are you keeping tabs on me?”
Now, I’m picking a fight with him. This sucks.
I know I shouldn’t direct my anger at him, even if he is the only one talking to me.

“No,” Brent retorts defensively.

“Tuesday,” my dad gurgles from the booth. “Who’s this?” He motions a heavy arm in Brent’s direction.

“Tuesday?” Brent questions with a look of confusion.

Everything is crumbling
right now
. I feel like I’m treading through a pile of shit.

“Yeah, that’s me,” I say to Brent.

Leaning on the table with one hand, my dad stumbles to his feet, swinging the bloodied hand freely at his side.
Good God, he’s a mess.
I hope he doesn’t think he can run for it. The last time he did that, we had to chase him, and I ended up twisting my ankle.

When my dad’s knees give out to his own weight, Benji pulls him up by the arm. “Whoa, Jerry. Take it easy.” Benji turns to me, handing me my dad’s car keys. “Here, Ruby.”

“Thanks,” I whisper.

“Ruby, what’s going on?” Brent asks me, losing patience.

“This is my dad. I’m picking him up.” I motion to the slumped bloody-handed man before us.

Gaining some motor function, my dad stands taller when I address him. Benji lets go of him, so he can walk to the door. I don’t know if it’s the best move, but I know when a man is trashed, sometimes it’s best to let him do things on his own until he really can’t anymore. It’s often the best way to avoid a fight.

“C’mon, Dad. Let’s go,” I say, walking around Brent as I head toward the door.

I’m so ashamed that I can’t even look at him as I pass. I take a few steps away before I hear a loud commotion behind me. It sounds like wood and glass hitting the floor. I turn and see both my dad and Brent on the floor.

Seriously? Can this get any worse?

My dad breathes heavily, curling into a fetal position while Brent sits with his elbows on knees as I approach him. One of the tables is on its side, chairs are knocked over, and glass and beer are all over the floor. Two female patrons stand off to the side, unsure of what just happened, but they look happy to have saved the drinks they’re holding. Blood is trickling from Brent’s nose, and his lower lip looks like it’s split.

What the hell?
Shit.

“Are you all right?” I lean down, examining his face.

He looks up into my eyes, and I realize I’m looking into the face of a stranger. I can tell he’s not sure who he is looking at either. I push down everything I want to say into my gut as I try to stay calm. I hate everything about this situation, including myself.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Brent says with restrained anger.

“Benji? What happened?”

“Your dad fell and took the kid down with him,” he tells me, pointing at Brent. “He should have known better. I think he hit the table.”

I can’t believe this fucking night!

“All right, let’s go,” I say.

I grab Brent’s arm to help him up, but he shrugs me off. I draw my hand back like it’s on fire. I walk over to my dad. I just want to get the hell out of here and leave this situation behind to forgotten memory.
Will it ever really be forgotten though?

I shake my dad’s shoulder. “C’mon.” I end up having to help him to a stand, and then I guide him to the door.

With a towel covering his face, Brent is standing near the door, staring me down, as I negotiate the debris on the floor while walking toward the door with my dad. I am so conflicted right now as I hold my dad in my arms while I look at the guy who’s getting a glimpse into something I wasn’t ready to share.

Right now, I can’t look at him the same. Places like this change everyone, even the best people in the world. I want to leave and go back to sitting safely in Brent’s arms in our happy place on the island.
I hate this.

After clearing my throat, I call over my shoulder, “Sorry about the mess, Benj.”

When we reach the door, Brent holds it open for us, and then I lead my dad through the parking lot. Brent follows close behind until we reach the car. I try to balance my dad on one side of my body while I sort through the keys in my other hand. It’s really awkward, so I lean him against the car. I can feel Brent’s gaze on me the whole time. Leaning his head back, my dad slides down the side of the car to sit in the dirt. Finally, I get the back door open. I dare a glance at Brent to see he’s staring indifferently at my dad’s pitiful figure.

“All right, Dad, let’s go,” I say, kneeling beside him.

Rolling his head in my direction, he tries to lift his own dead weight. He’s struggling a little, so I help him the best I can.
God, he’s heavy.

Without breaking my back, I try to maneuver my dad like a dead fish. “Could you help?” I ask Brent.

Brent looks at me with fearful round eyes.

“He won’t hurt you,” I grunt. “That was an accident.”

Believing me, he steps over to relieve most of my dad’s weight from my body. Together, we’re able to push him into the backseat where he lies down. After I tuck his feet into the car, he closes his eyes before I shut the door. Staring at my dad through the window, I procrastinate the inevitable confrontation with Brent.

Finally, I take a calming breath before I turn to look at him. His eyes are focused on the ground, like he’s lost in thought.
God, what I wouldn’t give to know what’s going on inside of that head of his.
However, I don’t know if I could handle hearing any of it.

I shove my hands in my pockets as I look at his feet. “Thanks,” I say barely above a whisper.

“Are you okay?” he asks. His gaze moves to the back of the car, looking at my dad.

“Yeah. He’ll sleep it off.”

“Do you need me to follow you home?”

“No, but thanks.”

“All right,” he says with a tight face.

He looks like…I don’t know. It’s not in a way like he’ll hurt me. It’s more like he’s judging me, unsure of me, and questioning me. It scares me.

“Call me tomorrow?” I ask with hope.

“Sure.”

When he steps in close, I can feel his breath on my face. My emotions gather in my throat, so I close my eyes and fight off the tears while my heartbeat thumps loudly in my ears. His heat closes in on me before I feel his moist lips touch my forehead. I squeeze my eyes tighter, causing a tear to escape down my cheek. As he pulls back, I wipe the tear away with my fingertips, trying to withhold my foreseeable sobs.

I don’t know what to say, so I look into his eyes, offering a weak smile before I get into the car. He watches me close the door, and then he turns to walk to his car on the other side of the lot. I pull out to head home, turning left. From my rearview mirror, I can see Brent head in the opposite direction.
We didn’t even say good-bye. I didn’t say good-bye.

When I get home, I help my dad to his room, and then I gather some extra blankets to camp outside. I can’t sleep in the house with him. Dragon is waiting for me, lying on the ground, as he senses my mood. I do my best to hold back my inevitable emotional breakdown while I set up camp for the night, but I can’t withhold the silent sobs that escape.

After everything is set up, my mind is telling me to sleep, but my body has other ideas. I’m shaking from the loss, the hurt, the anxiety, and the fucking anger pulsating adrenaline through my veins. I circle the tent for a while as Dragon whines beside me, nudging my leg with his nose.

I feel this overwhelming need to hit or punch something. I resort to throwing my flashlight against the tree, smashing it to pieces. I bend over myself, sobbing, as I mutter, “fuck you,” over and over again.

I don’t know who I’m talking to. It certainly isn’t Dragon. Maybe I’m talking to my dad for failing me, for losing his control, for embarrassing me, for moving us here, or for being who he is. Maybe I’m directing it to Jas and Cody for being the evil that draws my dad in. I know it isn’t fair to them, but fuck them, too. Or maybe I mean it for Brent. I saw the way he looked at me, like I was a strange pariah and not the girl who inspires poetry.

Tears pour even harder as I crawl into the tent, and Dragon curls up beside me.
Well, fuck me, too
.
What was I thinking?
Fucked-up me doesn’t belong with someone as wonderful as Brent. Our worlds are separate for a reason, and I was a fool to think otherwise.

Chapter Seventeen

My body aches with fatigue, and my brain…well, it’s really not working. I’m so overwhelmed that I feel foggy and unable to think. I put my body on autopilot and head into the house to get ready for work. Even though I would love to mope, I know getting away from here will be good. It might get my mind off of things…or not.

I dress quickly, hoping I don’t wake up my dad because I just can’t face him right now. I need to be alone. I just need more time to deal with what happened. Before heading out the door, I grab my jacket, the same one Brent dropped off at my doorstep before he found me at Ace’s.

Apparently, I want to punish myself because I look again at his text.

You left your jacket. Sweet dreams. Until tomorrow.

Yes, until tomorrow.
Today, however, seems miles away from yesterday. Last night, I hoped to maybe hear something from him when he got home. I waited for a text, an email, or something, but I got nothing, but an ache in my heart. After wiping the tears away from my eyes, I start the car and head to the restaurant.

During my drive to work, I try not to think about my Dad and Brent, but it’s impossible. Regardless of the walls I try to build around my heart, everything rushes back. Last night was perfect. It was so perfect that it could have been a dream, but like many dreams, there was evil lurking in the corner, waiting to strike at the opportune moment. I gave myself to Brent so openly. I truly wanted everything that happened, but the way he looked at me later at the bar…well, now, I’m not so sure about a lot of things. Maybe I got swept away, living in the fantasy of his arms.

Sniffling, I take in a giant gulp of air while shaking out my hands, trying to push away my emotions to get through the morning. I shut down my feelings and head into the restaurant to work my shift. I secretly wish the mindless orders of coffee, eggs, and sausages were more distracting.
Maybe one of my patrons will get mad about getting decaf coffee instead of regular, throw a fit, and smash dishware.
Now that would be a distraction. Things like that never happen here though.

“Morning, Ruby,” Ron, the owner and manager, greets me as I enter the restaurant. “Good to have you back. Did you have a nice summer?”

“Yeah. It was good.” I put on a brave face. “And you? Did you have a nice summer?”

“It was busy but good. I did lots of fishing. The wife and I spent most of our summer by the lake.”

“Me, too.”

“So, are you ready to start your shift?”

I tighten my apron around my waist. “Yep, I’m ready.”

“Well, go see Deb. She’s got your section lined up.”

I start to head to the hostess stand to see Deb, his wife. “Thanks,” I drone.

“Are you okay, Ruby? You seem sort of down.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just tired,” I say, looking over my shoulder.

“Well, you’ll get back into the swing of things. First day back is always the hardest.”