Whiskey and a Gun (4 page)

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

I smile and push the hair back from her forehead. "I love you, too."
 

She stares up at me like she's debating on whether or not to say something, then she sighs and sits up so we're facing each other. "I want to do dinner with your family."

It's so out of the blue, it takes my mouth a few seconds to catch up to my brain. She said it so casually, so sweetly, that it pisses me off. She's taking advantage of this moment to weasel her way into something that's none of her business.

"We've talked about this before, Tawny. That's not gonna happen."

She digs her hands into the soft ground, letting the soil crumble through her fingers. "I don't understand why we can't just have a nice dinner... Oh, I get it. You're ashamed. How stupid of me," she says, hitting her forehead with the palm of her hand. "Of course families like
yours
don't want their sons to date girls like
me
. Trailer trash. Good-for-nothing. That's it, right?"

"God, you're so dramatic and insecure sometimes."

"Am I? Because it sure feels like you only want to be with me in hiding. So what am I supposed to think other than the obvious? You. Are. Ashamed."

My parents know about her. And my father will occasionally call her that "white trash whore," but he says things like that about my mother all the time; it's practically a term of endearment, so who the fuck cares what he thinks? Shit, I wish it were as simple as disapproving parents.
 

No, it's not that I don't bring her around for her own good. It's so she doesn't have to see what a miserable waste of a family I have. Mostly, I just don't want her fucking pity.
 

I take her hands in mine. "You're being stupid. I'm not ashamed of you, and how many times do I have to prove it?"

"Then why, for Christ's sake, won't you just bring me over for dinner? We've been dating for two years and I still have yet to see your parents for longer than ten minutes at a time. Maybe…I mean…if I'm around, they can't be that bad."

" '
That bad
'? You know what life is like in my house. Do you really want to see the black eye my father gave my mother last week for ironing his shirt wrong? How about this?" I pull up my shirt so she can see a raging blister on my abdomen, coincidentally the size of a cigarette butt. "Is this what you want to come to dinner for? To see how much my father
loves
us?"

"Oh my God, Carter. Why? Why would he do that to you?" She reaches up to touch the spot where my father branded me. I slap her arm away. My punishment for coming home too late after being with Tawny.
 

"Because of you."

She looks at me bewildered. "What do you mean, because of me?"

"Tuesday night. After I got back from your place."

The brief moment of pity in her expression is washed away and replaced by something else. Guilt? No.
 

Anger.
 

"Oh no, don't blame this on
me
. You were the one who stayed here longer than usual. I didn't hold a gun to your head and force you to be late."

For the second time today, I raise my hand to hit her but she doesn't recoil. She doesn't blink an eye.
 

"You won't do it," she says, her eyes boring into mine. She's so sure, but I'm a loose cannon ready to explode any second. I drop my hand.

"How do you know?"

She sits up on her knees and pulls me in for a kiss but leaves her breathless words on my lips. "Because I know you."

I push her backwards softly, and she lands with a soft thud on the blanket. "Apparently, you don't. I'm just another "rich boy" with daddy issues, right?"

"No. I just said that you weren't. I don't really think you're anything like those guys at school. I've known you were different from the start. And I know when someone really wants to hurt me. You forget we're made from the same cloth. You don't want to hurt me, you just don't know what else to do with your anger."

I want to believe her, I do. "Why do you even love me?"

"Because deep down, we're the same. I didn't realize it until that night under the train tracks. You remember that night? It was the first time you told me you loved me and I asked you about the bruises. You didn't lie to me about it. I knew you wanted to. But you didn't and I knew you've never trusted anyone the way you trust me. You've never seen me as South Water's punk-slut-girl. When you look at me, you see
me
, Carter. The real me. No one ever has before."
 

She stands up then, and paces back and forth.
 

"And you're right—I don't want to come to dinner. Your father is repulsive for doing that to his own kid. If I came over, I'd be too afraid of what I would do to him."
 

It's the single most important thing she's ever said to me. No one, not even my own mother, has stood up to my father. And this girl—who has only heard the tip of a very deep iceberg—wants to hurt my father as much as I do.
 

I grab her hand when she's close enough and pull her down to me. The little piece of metal hiding deep in my pocket starts to burn. I swear I can feel it branding my thigh. I spent every last dime I worked for on this damn ring, and I've been carrying it around in my pocket for two weeks. But right now is the time. It's "the moment."
 

"What's the matter?" she asks.

"What you just said… Well. It's just…" Shit. This is not how I planned this. I practiced this speech in my bedroom seven hundred fucking times and now I'm freezing up. I hadn't anticipated her honesty. I honestly didn't know I loved her this much until right this minute. Beads of sweat cling to my neck, and I wipe them away.
 

"Carter? Are you okay?"

I smile and it's not forced. A minute ago, I was ready to hit her and now, I want to scoop her up and never let her go. "I'm more than okay. Tawny, I didn't think I could ever feel this way about someone. You know I love you, so I don’t need to say it over and over again. But it's just…"

The color drains from her face. "Wait, you're not breaking up with me are you?"

"No! Will you shut up for a minute?" I say, laughing. "You're the first person who has ever known about my family…and my father. I'm not the person you should be with. I don't deserve you. But I love the way you only blush when I tell you how badass you are. It doesn't faze you, what other people think of you, and you're the strongest girl—actually, the strongest
person
I've ever met. And me? You made me earn every bit of you." I stop to catch my breath and then add, "Close your eyes."

"I hate surprises. You know that."

"Just close them. You'll like this one, I promise. And no peeking."
 

She closes her eyes, and I can't believe every inch of her is mine. From her knobby knees to her collarbone that calls attention to her peachy, flawless skin. I wriggle the diamond ring out of my pocket and maneuver my body so I'm on one knee. Whether it's the wine or the heat or the way my heart is beating out of my chest, I'm dangerously close to passing out.
 

"Okay."
 

Her eyes pop open. She doesn't seem to register anything at first, and then it washes over her face. Her eyes widen and her hand goes to her mouth.
 

"Tawny Owens, I want to take care of you and make all the bad things in your life disappear. I promise we'll never end up like our parents. We'll be so much better than them. Will you marry me?"

The single tear rolling down her right cheek is evidence that I've won. I got the girl.
 

She shakes her head and whispers, "Yes! Yes. Yes. Fucking yes times a million. Oh my God."
 

I slide the ring on her finger and pull her into me so I can kiss those ungodly addictive lips of hers.

2002

She wanted it to feel real. As opposed to those fake, consumer-ridden events most people call a wedding. She knew as well as I did that if we had a wedding in a church, there'd be five people in the pews. Plus, considering we're big sinners and all, it just felt wrong to get married in a church.

We compromised. I promised I'd bring the cheesy bridal music and she could waltz into the judge's chambers like she was walking down the aisle.
 

Now that the day is here and the first notes of the bridal march are playing through the grainy boom box speakers, I twist my hands together, the friction of my calluses numbing the nerves. To my left, Grayson and Courtney’s hands are linked, and her stomach’s as big as a beach ball.

The door swings open and Tawny glides in. Her simple ivory dress swooshes from side to side as she comes toward me. Her hair is curled so it frames her face, and her smile is bigger than I've ever seen it. I can't keep track of the things happening inside my body. My stomach is churning, wrapping itself in knots. My chest seems to be tightening by the minute, and it's getting harder to breathe. She chose me. I chose her.
 

She takes her place beside me and reaches for my hand. I try to wipe a tear before anyone else in the room can see it, but Tawny has. She smiles wider.
 

The judge asks us to recite our vows. I speak, but I can't concentrate on a word I say. Grayson, Courtney, and the judge fade away; all I can see is Tawny. It's not like they make it out to be in those movies—where the guy’s stunned by the girl’s beauty or whatever—rather, I’m amazed I’ve managed to keep the same person in love with me for so long. I realize how much has changed from the moment we met to now. Gone are the days of purple plaid skirts, cigarettes and black eye makeup. My Tawny, she looks better now than Bridget Monahan ever did.
 

The judge says something, and I have to ask him to repeat it.
 

He clears his throat. "Do you, Carter Michael Brooks, take Tawny Renee Owens to be your faithful wife? Do you promise to be true to her in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health? Will you love and honor her all the days of your life?"

"I do."

He turns his focus to Tawny. "And do you, Tawny Renee Owens, take Carter Michael Brooks to be your faithful husband? Do you promise to be true to him in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health? Will you love him and honor him all the days of your life?"

"I do," she says, without hesitation.

"Then I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss your bride."
 

I pull Tawny to me and kiss her like it's the last time. Tears stream down her face.

Tawny and I separate, and the judge instructs us to sign the paperwork. When we're finished, Grayson claps me on the back. "I'm proud of you, man. You've got a beautiful wife."

I nod, the right words stuck in my throat.
 

"God, that dress! If I wasn't six months preggo…" Courtney says as she pulls Tawny into an awkward hug.
 

Tawny rubs Courtney's belly and leans down to kiss it. "Thanks for being here today, Court. Carter and I really appreciate it."

Courtney waves her off. "It's no big deal, really."
 

Tawny turns to Grayson and he picks her up, spinning her around. "You better keep him in line now, Mrs. Brooks."

She buries her head in his shoulder and laughs. "You know I will."

We walk out in pairs like we're two couples against the world. I never imagined staying friends with Grayson, especially with Courtney involved, but somehow, we just never got around to forgetting each other.
 

The air outside of the courthouse is the best kind of crisp and breezy for an October day, but it goes completely still and stagnant when my father approaches us from the bottom of the courthouse steps.
 

"You already did it, didn't you?" he screams, stumbling up the stairs at an alarming speed. "How can you get married without your goddamn family? And you!" he points to Tawny. "How could you let him just forget about us?"

Tawny's smile vanishes. Her hand is at her mouth and the tears are already starting to fall. I move quickly, but Tawny is quicker. She grabs my arm.

"Please, Carter, don't. He's on the edge right now. Nothing good can come of this. Let someone else handle him."

"Oh, that's cute. She has you whipped, son. Did I not teach you anything?" My father's words are slurred venom.
 

"I'll be right back, I promise," I tell Tawny.

When I meet my father on the steps, I can smell the liquor seeping through his skin. His face is a sunken, sullen version of the man I grew up with. The bags under his eyes make him seem much older than he is. I'm so revolted I could kill him.
 

"You're pathetic. How did you even know we were here?"

He sways, his lips curling into a smirk. "You mean, your friend over there didn't tell you he told us?"

I turn to Grayson, who looks away from me. I'll deal with him later.

"You are nothing but a drunk. A waste of life," I spit at my father.
 

Even drunk, his hand moves quicker than I remember. It makes contact with my cheek with a deafening crack. My childhood flashes before my eyes: every slap, hit, punch, kick.
 

I grab him by the throat and push him to the ground. "If you don't get the fuck out of here, I will kill you. Do you hear me? I will find the most torturous item I can and I will gut you like a fish in front of everyone."

I vaguely hear gasps and a flurry of “oh my God”s
.

My father’s face is so red it's turning to purple and he's all bug-eyed as he tries to pry my fingers from his neck. I let him go, and his breath comes out wispy and haggard. He brings himself to his feet slowly, trying to keep his balance. He shoves a finger in my chest. "This isn't over, boy."
 

He staggers down the steps and away from view. I told him this day would come. When I would be stronger than he was. He didn't believe me.
 

A crowd has formed around us. Tawny’s face is in her hands, and Courtney’s clinging to Grayson's arm, her expression radiating fear.