Can't Go Home (Oasis Waterfall) (19 page)

When I took Kathryn back to her apartment, she said that she’d love to see me tonight, and winked at me. I got hard just watching her do that, insinuate that there’s more fun coming our way. Fuck man, I’ve never had it this bad before—ever. Just thinking about her makes me horny as hell. I think for a while I thought I was in love with Waverly. Holy shit was I wrong. Nothing’s ever felt like this. Waverly’s like cough syrup to Kathryn’s fine wine.

As I approach her apartment door tonight, I can hear muffled voices inside. I knock, curious as to who is inside. Kathryn didn’t mention having anyone over tonight. When she opens the door, she smiles, but her face doesn’t light up. The smile looks forced, pained even.

“Hey Dre,” Kathryn says, not opening the door the whole way. “I really need to get your number. There’s been a slight change of plans.”

“Is that him?” comes a dude’s voice from inside. The door opens, and Theodore is staring at me. Oh Hell no. Not this guy again. Come on. “Sorry Dree, but Kathryn and I are kind of in the middle of something.” Did this mother-fucker just call me Dree? What the fuck? Nobody’s name is Dree.

“Theodore, don’t. I told you I had plans with Dre,” Kathryn says, emphasizing the correct pronunciation of my name.

“Kathryn, we need to talk. Make plans of our own,” Theodore confirms. “Listen Dre, why don’t you stop back some time tomorrow, and my girl here can fill ya in.”

His girl? “Uh Kathryn, what’s going on?” I say, looking away from Theodore, ignoring him completely.

“Theodore was on his way back from Atlanta and stopped here before going home … to Virginia,” she explains.

“Okay. So … what? Do you want me to leave?” I want to punch this fucker until the pain I’m feeling goes away.

“Listen Dre,” she says, pushing me out the door, closing it behind her. “You have to believe me; Theodore blindsided me. I had no idea he was coming.”

“What the fuck is that?” I ask, grabbing her left hand, feeling like I was just beaten in the stomach with a two-by-four. “Don’t answer that. I know goddamn well what that is. So that’s it? You were just ‘slumming’ for a bit until he came back? That’s just great. Fuck this.” I punch the wall; my fist goes straight through the drywall. I feel nothing. Physical pain is for pussies. Emotional pain kicks physical pain’s ass.

“Dre wait!” Kathryn yells. I don’t even turn around. Fucking bullshit. I’ve seen and heard enough. “Stop! Please!” she screams as I go through the door into the stairwell.

“Come inside honey,” Theodore says, “let him go.” The door closes, and I don’t hear her response—or fucking care.

Goddamn huge-ass diamond on her hand. Are you kidding me? What was I? Leverage to get the douchebag to finally fucking propose? Ammunition to fire at him to get him to do what she was waiting for all along? What-the-fuck-ever. I don’t need this shit.

Out on the street, there’s only one place that I can go, only person who I can talk to right now. I head over to the Oasis. Lanette will know what to say to make this feeling in my gut get the Hell out. I cannot believe I couldn’t see this for what it was—a ploy to land the “nerdy” guy she wanted all along. Goddamn it. I shouldn’t have gotten off course, changed paths, just because my dick wanted to come out and play. Christ. I knew better. Know better.

As soon as I walk in, Lanette says, “Oh no Sugar, what’d you do?”

I sit down at the bar, shake my head, and say, “Not until I’ve had a shot of Beam.” Lanette goes behind the bar, pours me a shot, and hands it to me. I down the shot, tapping it twice on the bar. “One more,” I nod toward the glass. She refills it.

“Start talking Dre,” she says. I tell her the whole story.

When I finish, I tap the glass again, she grabs it, and says, “So what’d she say when she telled you to ‘stop?’ Did she ‘splain everything?”

“I didn’t stop. I fucking walked out the door and down the steps,” I explain, reaching for the glass. Lanette jerks it out of my reach.

“Dre, yous as dumb as yous is pretty. How could you not listen to what that sweet thing wanted to say?” she asks, smacking me in the head. “I seen the way she looks at you. That ain’t game-play. She’s honey-suckered smitten with you, Sugar.”

“Lanette, weren’t you listening? She had a goddamn diamond on her finger. A fucking shiny-ass boulder,” I said, pounding my head on the bar. “Just fill the shot glass … please.”

“Yas need ta listen to her. Go back and hear her out,” Lanette scolds.

“No, I’m done. I shouldn’t have gotten started in the first place. I’m just gonna drown my pain. Hand me that bottle, please,” I ask. “You know I love you. You’re the only one I could come to for this. So give me the bottle.”

“Ain’t no amount of sweet-talking gonna get ya this bottle,” Lanette says, moving it to the shelf above her head.

I feel a tap on my shoulder, turning around I recognize a busty redhead from being at the bar over the summer. “Dre?”

“Yeah?”

“I was listening to your story. That chick sounds like a total bitch. I’ll buy you a shot. Miss Lanette, get my friend, Dre here a shot,” she says, running her hand through the back of my hair.

“Sorry Darling, I’m not serving Dre anything more tonight,” Lanette explains, glaring at me.

The girl scoffs, and whines, “Come on Dre, let’s go somewhere else.” As she’s tugging my arm, I want to tell her to go away, that I’m not interested, and that I just want to be alone.

But more than I want to say those things; I want the pain in my chest to go away, so I can forget about Kathryn Howell. Releasing all rationality, I ask, “Sure Honey, where to?”

“My apartment is right around the corner,” she coos, running her tongue along her top lip. And just like that, I’m back to being the asshole that I’ve been trying to overcome this past year. Goddamn Kathryn Howell.

As we get up to go, the redhead says, “By the way, I’m—”

“No. Don’t go there. I don’t even want to know,” I say, cutting her off.

Shrugging, she giggles and says, “Whatever turns you on, handsome, and I mean whatever … you … want.”

Man, I hope this helps. I need to shake this feeling. This kind of pain can’t be natural. People can’t possibly endure this sort of torture on a regular basis.

Walking to the door, she has her tongue in my ear and her hand on my ass just as the door opens and someone walks in. Kathryn. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

“Seriously?” Kathryn says, taking a deep breath. Kathryn walks right up to “whatever her name is” without as much as a second look at me.

“I’m sorry, Sweetie. Dre screwed up tonight and made some really really bad choices,” she explains as if she’s talking to a toddler about another petulant child, putting her arm around the girl and leading her toward the door.

Continuing, she says, “I’m gonna need to take him home. You need to run along now.” Kathryn glares at me and rolls her eyes again.

“Oh I don’t think so,” the redhead says, crossing her arms over her chest like an obstinate preschooler, refusing to go any further.

“I found him first!” the redhead exclaims, stomping her foot for effect. Kathryn begins to laugh hysterically at her, covering her mouth in the process.

I glance down at Kathryn’s hand; there’s no ring on it. I look back at her, and she scowls at me, shaking her head. Needing to get to the bottom of this, I say, “Umm yeah, Kathryn’s right, I really need to get home.”

“I was going to do things to you that you wouldn’t even comprehound?” she whines.

Still laughing in disbelief, Kathryn says, “Comprehound?”

“Yeah ‘comprehound,’ it means ‘understand,’ skank,” the redhead says.

“Skank? Oh Honey, you have no idea,” Kathryn says, patting her on the arm, condescendingly.

“Stop calling me ‘Honey.’ I’m not your honey. My name’s Amber,” she sulks, crossing her arms in a huff.

“I’m sure it is, Amber. I’m sure it is,” Kathryn says. “Ya know, to this day, I’ve never met an Amber who wasn’t slutty or stupid.”

Amber’s eyes light up, “So I’m the first one?”

Lanette walks over and hands the redhead a tall drink, and says, “A beautiful girl like you shouldn’t be alone, I have someone you need to meet.” As Lanette leads the girl away from us to “Levi the Lush,” she looks at me and whispers, “Don’t blow it.”

“Kathryn, what’re you—”

“Not here,” she says, cutting me off. “Let’s go outside, go for a walk.”

Once we’re outside and out of earshot from onlookers, Kathryn says, “All this storming off when things don’t go the ‘Dre-way’ are gonna need to stop. I’m not gonna spend every minute running after you, Dre.” I lean up against the wall, bracing my foot against it for balance.

“What’re you doing here, Kathryn? Where’s Theodore?” I ask, not looking at her.

“Finding you. And he’s probably on 26 West heading home by now,” Kathryn explains. I still can’t look at her, because all I want to do is wrap her in my arms and kiss her until dawn. “Dre, what you think you saw and what was actually happening were two totally different things.”

“So I didn’t see your ex-boyfriend in your apartment, on the same day we had sex all day? And I didn’t see nearly a 1-carat diamond on your hand? Oh yeah, you’re right; I must be blind,” I say, storming away.

“Holy shit, are you a fucking baby?” she screams after me.

I stop. Turn around, and say, “I thought you didn’t swear Kathryn or is that just another one of your lies?” My hypocrisy is astounding.

“No, that is exactly what you
think
you saw. But that is not what happened, Dre,” Kathryn said, grasping my shoulders. “Theodore came over. He delivered those same lines that he gave on his way down to Georgia. But this time, he knelt down, pulled out a ring, and then put it on my finger.”

“Well congratulations, I’m sure you’ll be fucking happy together,” I growl, turning away from her.

“Damn it Dre, listen!” she yells. “The second he slipped it on my finger, the knock came. You got there. I didn’t even have a chance to tell him ‘No,’ and take it off.”

I’m staring at her, not knowing what to say or what to believe. “Theodore was on his way to the door to tell you that we just got engaged. It all happened so fast. I ran ahead of him to open it, forgetting that I still had the ring on.”

I really want Kathryn to be telling me the truth, but it just doesn’t add up. Why would she turn down someone like Theodore, someone who’s apparently her type, for someone like me? I’m a dickhead. A lying loser dickhead—who has nothing to offer her.

“To tell him ‘No?’ You were going to turn him down?”

“How many times do I have to tell you this? I don’t want Theodore, Dre. I don’t want to marry him. I mean; we’re not even together anymore. Who proposes to someone they’re not even with? That’s weird,” she says, looking confused.

“What’re you saying, Kathryn?” I ask, refusing to get my hopes up.

“I don’t even know why he’d propose. It’s so strange. He’s my past.” Kathryn walks over to me and clasps her hands together around my neck. “I was kind of hoping that you were my present—at least for a little while anyway.”

“So, you’re not engaged?” I ask, still not believing her.

“No! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, ” she yells, exasperatedly, hugging me, and putting her head on my chest. “What can’t you ‘comprehound?’ My God, do you ever listen?”

I chuckle, not believing my luck or her patience. “Nah, not really,” I admit, grinning, feeling my entire body relax and lighten. “So, you and me? Huh?”

“Yeah, you and me,” she says, kissing me as I lean down. “But man, you need some serious tweaking if this is gonna work.”

“Tweaking? Me?”

“Absolutely, this whole guy/girl thing’s got you all kinds of messed up,” Kathryn says, shaking her head. “You need to get it through your head that a girl like me is not gonna walk away from a guy like you.”

“I think it’s the other way around, Pebbles,” I say, nuzzling her neck, suddenly feeling very aroused. “Does a girl like you want to take home a guy like me?”

“We can’t get there soon enough.”

I woke up early and watched her sleep for over an hour. Kathryn’s even gorgeous when she’s snoring softly and a small dribble of spit pools in the corners of her mouth. Watching her, I told myself, promised myself, that I would tell her everything today. I slipped out of bed to make her my specialty, peanut butter toast, for breakfast. Eh, so I can’t cook.

Walking back into the room, Kathryn’s sitting up, talking on her cell phone. “I know Mom, I’m just a little behind. I’ll be there. I’ll meet you at the church.” She smiles at me, and scoots over on the bed, motioning for me to sit down. “I always do. Yes Mom, I always do. You too. Love you too.” Kathryn hangs up the phone and groans, pounding her head back a few times on the headboard. Taking the toast from me, she says, “Thank you, but you didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes I did, we saw your cooking before,” I tease, kissing her neck. “So, you’re on your way to church with your mom?”

“Not really,” Kathryn says. “I’m meeting her tonight at the church where I used to go … for a family picture. Our church has a family directory, complete with a family portrait in it.”

Kathryn eats the last of her toast and starts to lick the peanut butter from her fingers. I stop her, finishing the job myself. Kathryn’s breath catches as I slide my tongue over her fingers, dipping softly in the valleys between them.