Then Kiss Me (33 page)

I arrived at the truck stop.  I got there ten minutes early, as a matter of fact.  I didn’t see Scott’s truck there, but I looked inside anyway.  He wasn’t there yet, so I sat down at a booth by a window.  A waitress brought me a menu.  I told her I was expecting someone else, so I wouldn’t order yet, but I’d l
ike some coffee.  She brought
back
a mug of coffee that was too hot but smelled good
, left a second menu, and said she’d be over when my party joined me.  She was young and perky—not what I’d expect the stereotypical truck-stop waitress to look like.  I estimated her age to be twenty-one or twenty-two.  But here I was, worry about the fucking waitress instead of focusing on my own problems like I should have been.  Of course, I didn’t want to.  I was kind of in limbo until Scott got there.  Everything until then was just hanging in the balance…just where it had been since seeing him the day before.

I grabbed a small notebook out of my purse and started sketching the tables on the other side of the restaurant.  I was basically doodling, doing something to keep my hands busy.  I needed to keep my mind off my dread—if I didn’t, I’d be too nervous.  At least by drawing, I was able to steady my hands.

If I were still smoking…I’d be half a pack in by now.

The waitress came by and refilled my coffee.  I asked her what time it was, too lazy to dig my phone out of my purse.  “Twenty after,” she replied, looking at the watch wrapped around her wrist.

“Thanks.”  I was starting to suspect I’d been stood up.

Ten more minutes, I though
t
, and then I’m leaving.  How pathetic I was.  Obviously, this was Scott’s way of telling me we had no chance in hell.

But I continued sketching furiously, determined not to lose it.  I felt dangerously close to tears.  I swore that if I had to cry, I’d save it for the car.  Not here.

And then he slid into the seat across from me. 
Same old Scott.
  Not quite as cold as yesterday.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said. 
“Flat tire.”
  Yeah, and he still didn’t have my new cell number, so there was no way he could
’ve
call
ed
and t
old
me.  He held up the palms of his blackened hands as proof.  On an emotional level, I felt better.  I even felt a twinge of guilt for thinking what I had been a few minutes earlier.

“Why don’t you go
ahead and
wash up?”

He looked around for the restrooms.  “Order me some coffee, would you?”

I nodded and watched him walk off.  Jesus…he was still fucking hot.  I’d probably never get to touch him again, though.  At least, that’s what I was starting to suspect.

The waitress stopped by again, and I ordered coffee for him.  She said she’d swing by in
a few minutes to take our
order.

Scott walked out, and I made sure I was distracted
…sketching again when he did.  “
Whatcha
doin
’?” he asked.

“
Nothin
’.”
  I set the pencil down.  He took a drink of his coffee and slid my notebook around, studying it.

“
Nothin
’
…to
you
maybe.
  I don’t think you realize how talented you are.”

“Thanks…I think.”

He considered me.  “You quit smoking?”
  He’d probably also noticed the patch on my upper arm.

“Yeah…a couple weeks now.”

He nodded.  “Good for you, Case.”  He took a sip of his coffee.  “Well, I guess we’re avoiding the issues, huh?”  He took a deep breath.  “What did you want to talk about?”

Damn…he was cool and calm and collected.  And here I sat, feeling like I was on the edge of a major emotional breakdown.  I
had
to keep it together.

“I don’t even know where to start.”  I let out a deep sigh.  And then—perfect timing—the waitress came over to take our order.

“You can have breakfast or lunch if you want.  We start serving lunch in a few minutes.”

I didn’t even want to eat, no matter what meal it was.  Scott glanced at the menu and ordered a big breakfast.  I wasn’t hungry so I just picked something I would maybe eat once it was in front of me.  “I guess I’ll just take a BLT and French fries.”  Maybe I could eat a few fries if I forced myself.  The waitress smiled, collected our orders, and clipped to the kitchen.

Okay…at this point, I just need to lay all my cards on the table.  “I guess…uh…things aren’t the same between us.”

He looked at me.  “Look, Casey…a lot has happened since you left.”

One fucking month.
 
A lot?
  But, yeah…I could
tell
just by the vibes I was getting.  I averted my eyes, looking down at my bony knuckles on the table. 
“Yeah.
  I guess so.”  I rubbed my forehead in frustration—and fear.  Did I want to know the whole, horrible reality?

Apparently,
he
did.  “Casey, tell me the truth.  Why did you leave?  Did I scare you?”  I just looked at him, afraid to tell him.  “Was it something as simple as still being in love with you
r
ex or were you afraid of being in a committed relationship again?”  I still didn’t say anything; he acted liked he had more to say…and he did.
  “You said you had to find yourself.  Did you?”

Did I? 
Right now, I didn’t know…not a clue.
  I felt so empty, lonely, alone. 
Unwanted.

“Some.  I…uh…I did learn a lot about myself.”  I paused, feeling awkward.  “Did you get my postcards?”

“Yeah, I did.  You drove over half the fucking state, it seemed like.  Even your ex came looking for you.”

“Barry?”

“Yeah.
  I guess he was pretty worried about you.  At least, that’s what your parents said.”  He looked at his hand that was wrapped around his coffee mug, and then he got to the point.  “What was the reason, Casey?  Why?”  He lowered his voice and his eyes drilled into mine. 
“You don’t just up and leave a relationship that’s working for no good reason.  I don’t believe your lame excuse.”

That one hurt.  I needed to tell him.  He was calling my bluff, and I was more transparent than I’d thought.  Probably about as transparent as the lightly grease-stained window we were sitting by.  Of course, just at that point, the waitress brought our orders and refilled our coffee, then asked if we needed anything else.

Yes. 
Privacy, please.

But I didn’t say that.  Soon, she was on her way.  Scott didn’t touch a thing, just continued to bore into my soul with his steely eyes.

I tried to speak but no words came out.  The smell of the bacon assaulted my nostrils and made my stomach
cartwheel.  So I tried to start again, clearing my throat.  I had to do it.  My voice low, I said, “I thought I was pregnant.”

He looked like I’d slapped him.  He just sat there, wind knocked out of him, looking at me, searching my eyes for truth.  It pained me, but I looked back, seeing if he understood.

Yeah.  He understood, all right.  He turned his head to look out the window.  The traffic was pretty steady out.  I could hear other customers in the restaurant talking, laughing,
enjoying
their lives, the whirr of tires rolling by on the highway, everyone moving.  But my life had stopped.  For me, time was standing still.

What was Scott thinking?

“Pregnant.”  I could barely hear him.  His eyes moved back to me.  “So you left to have an abortion?”

“No.”  I was quick to stop that line of thinking.  “Good God, I could’ve done that here if that had been an option.”  I’d been afraid of this—here came my stupid-ass tears.  “I left to
have
the baby.”

I could see that he was starting to get angry—a side of Scott I’d rarely seen.  But he was controlling it well, considering all that I’d just hit him with.  “Well, it’s pretty obvious you’re not pregnant now.”  He was glowering.  “What happened?”

I drew in a deep breath.  “The doctor in Grand Junction told me I’d never been pregnant.  All the tests I’d taken before were faulty.  The doctor said I was
malnutritioned
, and that’s why I thought I was pregnant.”

He shook his head.  “Casey, that doesn’t make any sense.  Don’t you see that?”

“No…I guess it wouldn’t.”  I bit my lip.  God, I was craving a cigarette—hardcore.  I pushed my plate aside.  I just couldn’t even try.  “The doctor said I wasn’t having periods because there wasn’t enough fat in my diet or stored in my body.  He said that female Olympic runners and ballet dancers are like that.  They’re super-lean and
are lucky to
have
a few
periods a year
—they definitely don’t have them regularly
.  But I hadn’t had a period, and I’d tested positive
twice
—so I thought…I
believed
I was pregnant.”

He sat there for a while, soaking in all the information.  Finally, he picked up his fork and ate a couple bites of eggs.  Then he said, “So…let’s say you
had
been pregnant like you’d thought.  Would the baby have been mine?”  He was ice-cold and angry.  He didn’t even look at me.

But that sentence…I was starting to feel angry too, but I kept my voice low.  “What the
hell
do you think, Scott?”

He looked up at me, daggers in his eyes piercing my heart, but his voice stayed quiet.  “Fuck, Casey.  If you couldn’t tell me you thought you were pregnant, what else couldn’t you tell
me?  What am I supposed to think?”  I didn’t have an answer.  I just shook my head, wishing I could retreat.  I looked down and saw the plate by my arm.  It looked so repulsive right now.

I sighed again, wiped my eyes.  “Yes, Scott, it would have been yours.”  I looked up at him.  His eyes were just boring into mine.  “You are the
only
man I’ve been with since Barry.  The
only
man I’ve been with in at least a year
…probably a year and a half.
”  He kept glaring, and I felt my anger flare again.  “So, yeah…since I don’t have the gestational cycle of an elephant, you would have been the baby’s father.”

He leaned in closer.  His words were quiet, intense, and direct when he asked, “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

At this point, it seemed like a really good question.  Why hadn’t I?  Well…I’d been afraid.  I didn’t want to ruin his life.  But I was starting to feel defensiv
e, back
ed
into a corner.  “What i
f I had?  What would you have done?”

He barely missed a beat, but I could see the gears turning.  “I don’t know.  You didn’t even give me the chance.  Fuck, woman, first you tell me you can’t get pregnant, and then you tell me you think you were.  You don’t make any sense.”

He was so frustrating.  “Scott, I really believed I couldn’t.  But the doctor in Grand Junction said I probably could.  I don’t know anymore.”

He didn’t even pause.  “You still didn’t answer my question.”  Yeah…I knew that.  I’d been avoiding it.  “Why didn’t you tell me?  Don’t you thi
nk I’d have wanted to know?”  His
voice became a little gentler,
more tender
, inquisitive…not so demanding.  At that moment, I could tell that I’d hurt him badly.  I should’ve just stabbed him—it wouldn’t have hurt him as much as my actions had.

And it didn’t seem as clear now—at the
time,
I’d thought it was the best, most logical thing to do.  Now, looking back, it seemed like the stupidest, most childish thing I’d ever done, especially seeing it through Scott’s eyes.  I would try to explain it as best as I could.  “Scott,” I said so quietly I could barely hear myself, “I was afraid.  Afraid of making you angry, thinking
that I’d lied to you.  Afraid of what my parents would think.  I was so scared—
”  Here
came the tears again.  I was a goddamned baby.  “I was confused.  I didn’t know what to do.”

“But, Casey…I thought you trusted me.  You didn’t even
try
to tell me, did you?  You just left.  And did you know what you were going to do
after
you had the baby?  Were you really going to come back?  Or would you have let me hang on for God knows how long?  Would I ever have known that I had a child out in the world?”  He drew in a deep breath.  “Is a child’s father not important?”  His quiet tenderness was growing into anger again.

“I don’t know, Scott.  I was going to tell you
eventually
.  But I also wanted to give you the chance to bow out if you wanted to…if you couldn’t handle the obligation—”

“Is
that
the kind of man you think I am?”  Oh, fuck…
now
I’d done it.  He was beyond angry.  There was no hiding it in his eyes.  He shook his head and then pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, his eyes closed for a moment.  “You don’t know shit about me, Casey.”  He stood up and reached in his back pocket.  “Nice knowing you.”  He opened his wallet and threw some money on the table and left, his food barely eaten.