Changing Tunes (11 page)

I haven’t been able to get Ashley out of my head. No matter how hard I try. It’s like she’s already made a place for herself in my heart. For whatever reason, I care. I can’t explain it. I guess you could say I’m curious about her.

To say I was shocked beyond belief when I saw her, leaning against Joe’s door, would be a grave understatement. At first, I thought something was wrong, but the more I watched her, the more I knew they weren’t
just
friends. I noticed the embarrassment etched across her face, not to mention her avoidance of any eye contact.

I know people do it all the time; one-night stands. I’ve been there, and done that, but now I’m a grown man, and I can’t do that shit anymore. I’m not judging her; it’s just the thought of another guy’s hands all over her makes my blood boil. I have no rights to her; hell, I don’t even know her. Do I want to?
Hell yes
! But I can’t. There are people depending on me to make something of myself.  I have a responsibility to people I love, and they will always come first, no matter how badly I want something, or, more to the point, someone.

I know there’s more to Ashley than meets the eye. She’s intriguing and complicated. I sure as hell don’t need any complications in my life, but I would love nothing more than to break down the wall she has up. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. I wonder, briefly, what my life would be like if I didn’t have people counting on me. Don’t mistake me. I love everyone I’ve left at home to be here, to make something of myself, with my whole heart. For a very brief moment, I take myself to a place I should never venture.

What it would be like to have Ashley in my arms; to see her laugh, and to kiss her until she’s breathless, to touch every inch of her, and have my name cross her lips. It’s a fantasy, not reality.

I shake myself out of the daydream and come back to reality, getting pissed at myself. I’m such a selfish bastard. My life is good, great even. I can’t imagine not having the life I have now.

What would it hurt to be her friend? She looks like she could use one. Lord knows I could use one, too. Strictly platonic, friends only. As her friend, I could still try to make her laugh. I would just have to watch the boundaries, and myself.

Once again, I give myself the talk. Ashley and I will be lab partners, and it’s okay to be friends. Why does it seem I’m doing an awful lot of convincing myself this is fine and will work?

Something in the back of my mind is screaming this won’t work out the way I’m hoping, and
just
friends is going to be a hell of a lot harder than I think it will. But I shove it away and bury it down deep, for now.

I quickly walk out of the building and head to my car. Who knew the relief I’d feel just escaping to my car? I lock myself in and take my phone out to call Mac. I didn’t even stay to look for her; I just needed to leave. I didn’t want to run in to anyone. I feel my face catch on fire once again. Why do I feel so awful and bothered by this whole situation? I never would have cared what anyone thought about me before. I’ve also never been with a guy that wanted to date me after having sex. Or run into the guy that has been invading my mind.

I push the speed dial number that will take me directly to Mac. I need her like I’ve never needed anyone. I need someone to listen, and tell me I’m not crazy, or stupid, or whatever. The moment I hear her voice I instantly feel better. Like a cool blanket has wrapped around my burn. That’s how I feel. Like I’ve been burned and the fire still needs to be put out. I’m a raging mess, and for the first time in my life, I have a true friend, one that listens without judgment, and doesn’t require anything from me—a first.

“Hey Mac? Are you still here, or back at the apartment?”

“Nope, I’m still here. I waited for you, just I case it didn’t take long.” She teases.

“I’m in the car, can we go?”

“Of course,” Mac says. “Ash, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you when you get here.”

“Okay, be there in just a second.” Mac hangs up and it’s less than minute later when she taps on the window. I unlock the door and let her in.

We drive back to our apartment in silence. She doesn’t push; that’s Mac.

In our apartment, I settle down on the couch and Mac sits opposite me.

“Where to start…” I begin. I clear my throat and begin my tale. “I was never a nice person in high school. I was horrible. I didn’t think twice about making a move on other people’s boyfriends, and I didn’t care who I hurt in the process. I was in it for the challenge. It was a feeling of control, knowing I could take what wasn’t mine. I didn’t care about the end result. I just wanted what I wanted, and if someone else got hurt, I was okay with that. Let others feel the pain I’d felt. I knew what I was doing. The girls in school deemed me the ‘evil bitch’ and I was. You would have hated me.

“Mac, I was so embarrassed walking out of Joe’s room. I’ve never felt like this before.” I explain the behavior is not new to me, and I’ve never had a problem before now.

“Can I ask you questions? I won’t judge you, Ash, you should know that by now.”

“I know,” I say. There’s no condemnation on her face, or pity—nothing.

“How often do you get together with guys you don’t know?”

I’m ashamed answering the question, but I trek on. “I guess as often as I can. Whenever I feel an itch, if you will.” I look down, humiliated, as I begin. “It’s the only form of control I have in my life. Let’s face it, the Warden makes all of the decisions for me, and he doesn’t trust me. Hell, he doesn’t even love me.” A single tear escapes and I wipe it away. “I’m not telling you this to make you feel sorry for me. It’s the last thing I want.”

“Ash, what happened to your mom? You’ve never talked about her.”

I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut at the mere mention of my mom. I never talk about her ever, with anyone. The pain must be mirrored across my face because Mac begins to backtrack.

“You don’t have to talk about her if you don’t want to.”

I shake my head, “No, I can’t let it fester and eat at me anymore. I need to talk about it. It’s been so long since I’ve spoken about her to anyone.”

I think back and honestly can’t remember ever talking about her to anyone, actually. I never spoke about her to Miranda; quite frankly, I didn’t trust her as far as I could throw her. She would have laughed and taunted me, going so far as to say she probably didn’t love me enough to stay, and she would’ve been right. My mother didn’t love me enough to stay. I don’t remember being loved, not since before my mom left. I recall the times she would read to me, or she’d laugh at something funny I’d said. I don’t remember my parents being a happy couple. There always seemed to be an air of discord. I only recall my mom being happy when she and I were together. Until one day, she was just gone.

I swallow the tsunami of tears that want to break out. It’s hard as hell and makes me choke, but I press on, hoping that maybe, just maybe, all this pent up shit I’ve been holding onto for so long will be replaced with relief. Relief from letting it go, if only just a little bit.

I turn away, escaping to another time and place. Remembering the past is hard, and I’ve always pushed it to the back of my mind. Taking a deep breath and exhaling, I begin.

“My dad hasn’t always been so controlling. I do remember a time when there wasn’t so much discord between him and my mom.  His company took off, and he spent less and less time at home with us. He’d grown up with nothing, so being successful was a big deal to him. He never wanted to want for anything, or us, for that matter. The fighting between them got worse the more time my dad was gone. He was never home, and as a consequence, she became unhappy. She wanted out; he didn’t want her to leave, and I’m sure he made it difficult for her.”

Wistfully I say, “I loved my mom. We did things together and she was a good mom.”

For a moment, a smile graces my face as I share the moments of my mom and her romance novels. The comfort of Jude Deveraux novels and how she would wind the story into a tale appropriate for her daughter to hear. “She would spend hours upon hours reading her books to me. It is the best memory I have of my mom.”

“She sounds wonderful.” Mac says.

“Yes she was, but then…then she left. I wasn’t worth sticking around for. One day she was just gone. No goodbye, no nothing.”

“What did your dad say about it?”

I laugh cynically, “All he said was mom couldn’t live with us anymore, and I wouldn’t be seeing her. That was it. No explanation, no goodbye, nothing. After that, I never saw her again. I think about her all the time, despite being left.”

“What happened tonight, Ash, that had you so upset?”

“Here is where I tell you how even more messed up I am.” I say, resigned, wiping my hands down my face. “The guy, Joe, he was a nice guy. I don’t allow any guy to touch me. It’s a rule. I take control. It’s too intimate. We kiss, I’m on top and there is no foreplay. It’s just my rules, a way to control the situation.” I sigh, “He told me I was beautiful and we had sex. Sex was all it was supposed to be. He said he was interested in dating me. I was shocked, to say the least. I mean, who in their ever-loving mind would want to date a girl they just screwed? It was just sex. That’s it. There were no expectations. What caught me off guard was that he was so nice. I’m not used to nice. I’m used to guys being okay with just screwing me and me leaving, and I’m good with that. It’s all I have to offer. I can’t do anything else. I’m the queen of mess-ups and I’ve made my share, trust me. I’m trying to do better and I have made some changes, but for the most part, I’m not a good person.”

Mac interrupts me before I can continue. “Cut the crap, Ash! I can’t sit here and listen to you bash yourself. I refuse to.”

I’m surprised at her tone and look up at her. I just bared everything to her, okay not necessarily everything, but a lot of who I am.

She softens her tone. “I sympathize, and I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through. It hurts my heart to hear about your mom and dad. I knew something had to have hurt you, I just didn’t know what. You haven’t had it easy, especially not having your mom by your side, and feeling a sense of abandonment, which I can’t even fathom. But, even after such a short period of time, I can tell you are a good person. Ashley, you have a lot more to offer than you think. You’re more than just a good lay. We all have excess baggage, including me. Your parents do not define who you are as a person, that’s your choice. You can choose not to change, or you can choose to become who you want to be. I see a woman who takes control in the bedroom, simply because it’s the only form of control you have. Unless you choose to take back control in other parts of your life.”

I stay silent and ponder what she’s saying, and I see where she’s going with this.

“Why have you never stood up and told your dad what your dreams are? Or what classes you want to take? Why do you let him call the shots?”

I know why. He’s the only person I have left. Without him, I have no one, and I’ll be left all alone.