The Other Side of Someday Page 4

  “I miss you. I don’t know how to live without you.” His voice breaks, and for the first time, I see the differences in him. He doesn’t look like he’s slept or eaten; his hands are shaking, and he looks close to tears.

  “I’m not coming back.” As hurt as I am by what he did, there is no point in being cruel now.

  I don’t have the energy to hurt him like he hurt me. Some piece of what makes me who I am, a part of me that I never had to see before now, allows me to accept all I can do now is move forward. The tears that threatened him before now spill. All I can do is stand here and watch the man I once loved crumble. I’m strangely detached watching him break down.

  My mind recognizes the lie in his behavior, the falseness in his pain. If he loved me as much as he claims, he never would have betrayed me the way he did. All I want is for him to leave, to wipe his presence from my memories. At this point, he’s a ghost; he was never real.

  “If you could box up my things and drop them by, it would mean a lot to me,” I say it more for his sake than mine.

  It gives him the unfortunate opportunity to see me again. With any luck, I can work it out so I’m not here when he comes by. I could go my whole life without seeing him again and that will be fine with me.

  “What are you doing for money? I know you took your name off the joint account.”

  My mouth drops. “What I do now is none of your business. You should be happy I didn’t clean it out and leave you with nothing.”

  He looks up at the ceiling, his shoulders sagging. “I can’t keep your money Courtney. At least let me write you a check for half of what’s in it.” As much as I want to refuse it, some of that money is mine and would come in handy right now. “Not half, you put more into it than I did.”

  When he reaches out as though to grab my hand I step back, watching his hand fall back to his side. “What can I do Courtney? I’ll do anything.”

  Shaking my head, I open the door. “I don’t want any guilt money.”

  Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a check. “This isn’t guilt money. It’s yours and I won’t keep it. I’m…” he hesitates, his eyes searching mine for something that died the day I learned he betrayed me. “I’m so sorry.”

  Lifting my hand, he presses the check into it then leaves. I sag against the door once it’s closed behind him.

  My hopes of accomplishing anything today are dashed. I only want to sleep now. Maybe Mike isn’t a ghost, but a vampire because I feel drained from being near him.

  I stagger back up to my room. I’m still in bed when my mom returns, her face flushed with the excitement of her finds. Her expression falls when she sees me.

  “Mike stopped by,” I whisper.

  “Oh, honey.” She’s by my side, perched on the edge of my bed, her hand on my back to comfort me.

  “I’m not sad. I feel as though, maybe, I finally have figured out we never were supposed to be together.”

  “Don’t say that. You had something special.”

  I know she’s only trying to make me feel better; but how can that comment help me now? If what we had was special, clearly, it wasn’t special enough to keep him from fucking someone else.

  “Mom, I need some time to myself, if that’s okay.”

  She squeezes my shoulder and hesitates before leaving, gently closing my door behind her. I glance around my room, the room I grew up in. I’ve never felt more of a failure. I’m thirty, never married, cheated on, no job, and never even held a job that had anything to do with my degree. I’m at square one.

  My self-disgust, more than anything else, propels me into the shower. There is one thing I can do today, reimburse that nice man for the tire he gave me. I am starting over. I don’t want to tarnish my clean slate by owing someone.

  When I go to shampoo my hair, I remember it’s now half gone. Well, I won’t have to waste any of my time drying it is my only thought. I change into a new cream-colored dress courtesy of Jen. This one hits my knee and isn’t as dressy as the green one I wore the night before.

  “Where are you going?” My mom seems surprised to see me rushing down the stairs.

  “I’m driving out to pay that man for the tire he gave me.”

  She nods. “Are you okay for money?”

  “I’ll be okay.” I need to do this.

  I don’t have much in the way of funds; the check from Mike will help though. My mom already has refused my offer to pay her rent. Once I figure out a job, I’ll be able to build up a cushion of my own. The drive to Pete’s is quiet. I don’t turn on any music. I have no cell phone to distract me. I have only the buzz from air conditioning and the other cars to pull me from my thoughts.

  I recognize the exit from my hellish day. I can only think about the things I didn’t know, the last time I took it. Business seems slow, like the last time I was here. I feel better at my decision to pay back the owner. I have no idea how solid his business is and I would hate to think helping me in any way hurt him.

  I park and, after getting out of my car, smooth my dress before walking to the office. A bell I don’t remember from my last visit chimes to announce me.

  “Be right out.” A voice calls out from the back.

  My eyes move over the sales posters on the wall. Shocks, brakes, and one type of oil or another. It’s somewhat daunting how little I know about how my car runs.

  “How can I help you?”

  I turn at the sound of the voice and I am greeted with startling blue eyes. I blink suddenly, certain mine are deceiving me. In addition, I seem to have lost the ability to talk. I stare and gulp as my eyes process the man in front of me. He’s tall, not as tall as Grant Offenheim my mind argues, which is odd.

  My open perusal of him seems to amuse him. He gives me a crooked smile while my eyes take him in; no dimples, my brain screams. I direct my gaze to his biceps clearly straining his white t-shirt. My brain offers no argument to them.

  Once I find my voice I speak, “I was…” My tongue feels heavy and fatter than normal. “Looking for an older man who works here.”

  His eyes narrow. “My dad isn’t here. Is there something I can help you with?”

  I wonder at his chilly response. “I had a flat tire last week and my card was declined when I went to pay. Your dad told me not to worry about it, but I wanted to come pay for it.”

  “Shit,” he mutters under his breath.

  “Excuse me?” I stammer.

  He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. It’s just-” he stops to drag his hand through his wavy hair. “My dad has a heart of gold, you know?”

  I slowly nod and he goes on. “You’re here to pay, which is great. I don’t want to dump all over you for doing the right thing. It’s that my dad has to stop letting people not pay or he’s going to lose the shop.”

  “That’s awful. I’m so sorry. Here.” I take out my wallet. “Please let me pay you.”

  He gives me a half smile. “Do you remember what the total was?”

  I groan, to which he raises his eyebrows. “It was embarrassing when my card was declined,” I explain. “Trust me; I remember what the total was.”

  As he rings me up for the figure I give him, I feel the need to tell him why my card was declined. “Someone tried to pull money out of my account from overseas. My bank wouldn’t authorize any new transactions until they could confirm whether or not I knew about it. I didn’t know about it but that’s all straightened out now.” I gulp. “I don’t want you to think I couldn’t afford the work.”

  His eyes widen, but I can tell he gets it. He quietly hands me my receipt. “Is your dad taking the day off? I’d like to thank him, personally, at some point for what he did,” I babble on. “You have no idea what an awful day that was. Your father not charging me was the one nice thing that happened.” His expression hardens, so I start backpedaling. “I’m being silly, I know. Maybe, if you tell him thank you for me. I don’t want to waste your time.”

  I turn to go, but he reaches over the counter to grab my wrist. I shake my head and stare at his hand, not fully understanding why he stopped me.

  He releases me, putting his hands up. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you something before you left.” He pauses, his eyes lifting from my arm to my face. “I’m Clay, by the way.”

  “I’m Courtney,” I stammer, weirded out by the random introduction.

  “I don’t usually work here. I’m only helping out because my dad fell and broke his hip.”

  “Oh, my God! That’s awful,” I blurt.

  Clay walks around the counter and sits in one of the plastic waiting room chairs. “He’s so stubborn. He needs to sell this place and retire, but he won’t.”

  My mouth drops.

  “You don’t need me dumping all of this on you. Absolutely, I’ll tell my dad you stopped by to thank him. It will mean a lot to him.”

  “But what about the garage?” I blurt.

  He squints at me. “What do you mean?”

  “I can work here.” I think I’ve lost my mind.

  He cocks his head at me, an amused grin spreading over his face. “Do you even know anything about cars?”

  I scratch the back of my neck before shrugging. “Not really.”

  He stands, moving closer to me. “You’re adorable.”

  “Pardon?” I take a step back.

  “You seriously want to become a mechanic?” He’s teasing me.

  “No,” I admit. “I don’t even know where that idea came from.”

  “Too bad. I wouldn’t mind working here from time to time if he hired someone as cute as you.”

  “Ugh.” Cute? Adorable? I head for the door.

  He follows me through it. “I didn’t mean to offend you. Aw, don’t get mad.”

  I turn to face him. “This has been great fun; but since I’m all paid up, I’m going to head home.”

  “Would you like to go out sometime?”

  “Not even a little bit,” I snap.

  He grins. “Not even this much?” He holds his hand up with a sliver of space between his thumb and his index finger.

  I can’t help it, I laugh. “I don’t like you.”

  He looks at me. “I think you might.”

  “I just got out of a really serious relationship,” I begin.

  He jumps in. “All the better to go out with someone you don’t even like. It’ll be like practice for when you meet someone you do.”

  “That’s a terrible idea,” I argue.

  “What if I take you to see my dad?” He pauses to gauge my reaction. When I don’t immediately argue he goes on. “You said yourself you’d like to thank him in person. And think how much it would cheer him up to see you.”

  “That’s unfair,” I grumble.

  Worst weekend ever, check. Spending the day at the hospital helping my mom get my dad checked out and over to their house sucked. I missed lunch with my niece, Mags, because of it, so now I can add a self-imposed guilt trip to my already full mental dance card. I worked until o'dark thirty getting as much shit done for my actual job as I could.

  Since I've been here, the phones have been ringing off the hook all morning. I think I have a cramp from running back and forth from the bays to the office to answer all the calls. For a smart guy it took me longer than I care to admit to unplug the phone and move it to the bay, so I wouldn't have to run to grab it.

  Half of the calls aren't even to schedule work, but to check on my dad. I had to swallow the urge to shout 'call their fucking house' to them. My mom's retired, and loves to talk. This is her type of stuff, not mine. Still, as annoyed as I've been, I have to remind myself not to be an asshole. I'm not usually one. I blame stress.

  It's gotta be the mindfuck I'm dealing with, considering I'm even here. I never expected today to go this way when I woke up this morning. My dad's been on my ass to take over the shop since forever. Now I'm here; all he had to do was break a hip to make it happen. I have nothing against the place; I don't want to work on cars for a living.

  My dad isn't thrilled that I'm in IT; but I like what I do and it pays the bills. My business is thriving. There isn't a company on the planet that doesn't already have or want a website. Since I can build and maintain them, I'm so busy I've turned jobs down.

  Last thing I needed was to deal with the garage. I’m already crazy busy with my shit. So, one minute I’m stressing over how I’m going to balance my own projects with temporarily taking over my dad’s shop, to trying to think of a way to keep this girl from leaving. I’ll figure out those other things somehow.

  Those other things don’t seem to matter as much anymore, which is crazy. Speaking of crazy, I’m trying to talk a girl I’ve never met before into coming to meet my parents. It was the best I could come up with at the time. She’s too cute to let her walk away. I haven’t felt this…attracted, interested, I’m not even sure what… in I don’t even know how long.

  How could I not? Her concern over my dad did something to me. I’m used to people only being interested in one thing, themselves. A cute little blonde thing, her offering to work at my dad’s garage because he hurt himself blew my mind. This Courtney chick is nothing like the girls I’m normally into, not that I’ve been into anyone recently. I’ve barely had time for anything. I’ve had my head down working my ass off this past year.

  “What is?” I ask.

  “You’re using me wanting to thank your dad to get me to go out with you.”

  Nodding, I reply. “Sure am. Did it work?”

  When she smiles, I make a fist and pull my elbow down to my side, biting my lower lip.

  All for spontaneity, I jog back to the office to flip the sign to closed and lock the door.

  When I start closing the openings to the bays, she gasps. “Right now?”

  “Why not?” I grin. “I need to take a lunch anyway.” I reach my hand out to her. She gapes at it for a moment, before gently placing her hand in mine. My fingers close around hers, and I give her a squeeze before leading her toward my truck.

  Her mouth drops as we near it. If only I can make her panties as wet as my truck does. “Hungry?”

  She glances back at me, a blush coloring her cheeks. I walk her over to the passenger side, opening her door for her. She's not short, but still needs to use the running board to get in. I walk around the front of the truck, grinning at her the whole way. Once I'm in and buckled, I turn the truck on with an added rev of the engine just for her. She blushes again and I grin.

  I turn to look at her after popping it into reverse. “You really shouldn’t get into trucks with strange men.”

  She gulps and reaches to put her hand on the door handle.

  When I see her reaction, I hit the brake, feeling like an ass and shift the truck back to park. “I’m not going to hurt you, Courtney. I promise.”

  When she continues to hesitate, I go on. “Why don’t you take a picture of me and text it to someone?”

  I hope that she'll relax since I'm sure a serial killer wouldn't want his picture texted to someone.

  “I don’t have a cell phone.”

  I still haven't put the truck back into gear because I wasn't expecting her to say that.

  “Everyone has a cellphone. My niece is ten and she has a cellphone,” I argue.

  She seems at war with herself deciding what to say.

  Finally, she replies, “I just don’t. It’s a long story. If you want, I can use your phone to do it, if it will make you happy. I’m not some crazy anti-technology person who doesn’t own a TV or something. I know how to work a cellphone. I had one up until recently. For reasons I don’t feel like getting into, I don’t have one anymore. Okay?”

  It’s time to change the subject. “Are you still nervous about driving away with me?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. It's not until I've pulled onto the main road, that I notice her shiver. I had the air on full blast.

  “Sorry.” I move to turn it down. “I run hot.”

  She hugs herself, and still manages to blush at my words.

  She blinks at me in surprise when I pull into my ’parents’ driveway. The house I grew up in is a simple rancher. It’s funny how the place seemed huge when I was a kid. The house is the same for the most part; the same white siding and maroon shutters, I’m what’s changed.

  Trying not to startle her further, I quietly tell her, “Here we are.”

  With that, I get out of my truck and start making my way to the front door. I purposefully walk ahead of her, away from her. The pull I feel toward her is messing with my head, stupidly, I wonder if distance will dull it. Half-jogging, she quickly catches up to me, sliding in front of me as I hold open the door for her.

  “Mom, Dad. I’ve got a visitor for you,” I call out from the foyer.

  Standing beside me, she straightens her dress and looks around. I glance at her, wondering what she thinks of me, my parents’ house, and being here. Their foyer has a warm wood toned chair rail with thin wooden panels beneath it. Above the chair rail, the walls are painted a pale green with a border of painted ivy leaves near the ceiling.

  “Visitor?” My mom calls out from further down a hall.

  “They must be in the den.” I tilt my head for her to follow me.

  We pass a sitting room on the right and a dining room on the left before entering a large white kitchen. From there the den is off to the right. An oversized flat screen is on Sports Center.

  “Who do we have here?” my mom asks, arching a brow in Courtney's direction.

  “Courtney, this is my mom, Judy. Mom, this is Courtney.”

  She reaches out to shake my mom's hand, who looks happily confused I brought a girl home. I can’t help but wonder what she thinks.

  “Your husband gave me a tire last week. I stopped by the shop today to pay him back and thank him,” she explains.

  Where I was annoyed at hearing what my dad had done, my mother gets a sweet faraway look in her eyes and smiles. “That’s my Pete.”

  She walks further into the room to lift a remote off the coffee table and mute the TV. “Honey, you have a visitor.” She beckons Courtney to her side.