Escaping Me (23 page)

The music alerts us that it is time to stand, and I cautiously turn to face the back of the church as the main doors are pulled open by two ushers.  I know Megan is standing behind them and I still don't know what kind of effect this moment is going to have on me.  I had loved Megan and I had hated her.  When she finally steps through the doors on the arm of her father, there is nothing.  No love.  No hate.  I am relieved when the only thing I feel is Whitney's hand slipping into mine. 

Megan's long blond hair is elegantly pinned up and a soft white veil covers her face.  The long, form-fitting dress she’s wearing barely shows off a baby bump, if anything.  I'll admit it, there was a time when I thought I would be the one waiting at the end of an aisle for Megan.  As I watch her place her hand in my brother's, I realize this moment seems more fitting.  When I think about my wedding now, there is only one girl I want walking toward me, and she is standing right beside me.

The look on Finn's face as the minister pronounces them man and wife tells me he is truly in love with his bride.  The small crowd of about one hundred people erupts into cheers as Finn and Megan make their way down the aisle and out of the church.  I am anxious to get the reception and fill everyone in on my exciting news.  I don’t want to steal the spotlight from Finn and Megan, but I've waited a long time to be proud about something.

“She's pretty,” Whitney says as we are driving over to the reception hall.

“
She's got nothing on you,” I assure her, squeezing my hand down on her thigh.

“
Thanks, babe.” She leans over and pecks my cheek before letting her head fall on my shoulder.  She's been quiet since announcing to my brother how amazing I am.  Usually she'd be talking my leg off about something.

“
You okay?”

“
Yeah,” she answers shortly.  I know her better than she thinks.  Short answers only happen when she is upset about something.  Her responses are usually detailed and sometimes dramatic.  She once spent a good thirty minutes explaining the “no white before Memorial Day or after Labor Day” rule.  I never should have brought up that topic of conversation.  This is not my Whit.  I can see the “I shut it all down and feign no emotions” Whitney creeping out.

“
Is this about me asking you to go to Georgia?”  She leans back and looks at me.  “I should have asked you sooner, but I wasn't sure if you would even want to go.”

Nothing but quiet.  I'll be damned if she is going to pull the same shit on me that she pulled when her father was around.  She is going to talk to me.

“Tell me what you're thinking,” I say to her, maybe a bit more authoritative than I meant.  I see her take in a deep breath and purse her lips.  “We're not doing this.  You don't get to just check out when a conversation is too hard for you to handle.  Start talking.”  I stare her down while trying to keep an eye on the road.

“
You didn't ask me.” She shakes her head.  “You didn't ask me if I would like to go with you.  You told me that me 'going is an option.'” I can tell she is aggravated by the way she used her fingers in harsh quotes.   “The only reason you said it was because you thought it was what I wanted to hear.” 

“
Don't be like that,” I say calmly, nudging her.  “You know that isn't true.”

“
Do I?  Because I feel like you're waiting for me to make the decision.”

“
Not true,” I disagree.  “I said I would stay.”

“
Yeah, but you know I'm not going to agree to that because you keep going on and on about how great the job is going to be and how excited you are about starting your own business.  There is no way that I'm going to be reason that you give all that up.” 

“
Are you trying to pick a fight?” I can’t believe the way she is acting.  “You picked a hell of a time to do it.”

“
Oh,” she scoffs.  “Just like you picked a hell of a time to decide that moving with you was an
option
!”

I've never seen her so pissed off, especially at me, and I haven’t even done anything.  “What do you want me to say, Whitney?”  I throw a hand up in the air.  “That I'm not excited about this opportunity? Because that would be a lie.  Not all of us have had everything handed to us our entire lives.  I busted my ass working on that house.”  I see the look in her eyes as her nostrils flare in anger.  I've probably just jumped way the fuck over the line, but all of this was coming out of left field.  Yes, I know we have a lot to think about, but I've never once acted as if her feelings on the subject aren’t the most important thing to me.  How many more times do I have to tell this girl that I love her and want to find a way to make this work before she gets it through her thick head?

“Well, excuse fucking me,” she hisses.  “I'm sorry for the fact that my family has money, Cole.  I didn't ask to have a father who actually made something out of himself, just like you didn't ask to have a father that was in prison.”

That hurts.  “You're acting like a spoiled brat.”

“Well, you're acting like an asshole.”

By the time I pull the truck to a stop in front of the hall, Whitney has already slid across the cab of the truck and is now sitting with her hand on the passenger door handle.  She jumps out of the truck and takes off walking.

“Where in the hell are you going?” I yell as she digs her heels into the gravel.

“
For a walk!” she screams back.

“
In a town you've never been in?!”

“
It ain't that big!” She turns around with a pissy look on her face and throws her hands up in the air.  “I'll try not to get lost!” she adds sarcastically.

It takes everything in me to let her walk away.  I’m not worried about her getting lost in town. It is small enough that if she takes enough right turns, she’ll end up right back where she started.  I don’t want her to leave because this is the first argument we've had and I don’t want her to think I am the kind of guy who just walks away from an argument, so to speak.  I am a handle-this-shit-now kind of guy.  

I think we both need some time to cool off, so I watch her click her heels down the pavement and disappear down the block.  The Ford's fender takes the brunt of my anxiety when I ram my fist against it.  I already regret what I said to her and I really hope she is feeling the same way. 

* * *

One hour and thirteen minutes.  That's exactly how long it is before Whitney reappears at the reception.  By my calculations, she walked around the entire town... twice.  The timing of her return couldn't be worse.

“
What the hell is going on?” are the first words out of her mouth and her eyes are one blink away from releasing a set of tears that could mean the breaking of the proverbial flood gates.  As I stand, still in shock from the news I just discovered and trying to rationalize the best way to diffuse the fucked up situation I find myself in.  I replay the events of the last seventy-three minutes in my head.

“
Cole,” Finn called out right after my fender-denting temper tantrum.  “Come over here so we can get a family picture.”  He and Megan had just arrived in their limo and were waiting with my grandma outside of the hall.

“
Yep,” I said after a deep breath and made my way over to where they were getting ready to pose for the anxious photographer and her giant camera. 

“
Over there,” the photographer pointed out.  I took the spot next to my grandma and leaned in to press a quick kiss on her cheek. 

“
I'm so glad you are here,” she grinned up at me.  It was nice to be in her good graces for once, and it reminded me that I had some big news to tell them.  Finn and Megan were on the other side of Grandma with their arms around one another.

“
Me too,” I confirmed, noting the way Megan was shifting her shoulders back and forth to get her perfect angle for the picture.  Finn, on the other hand, was too busy smiling to notice that she was only worried about how she looked.

“
Where'd that pretty girl go?”  Grandma asked as the photographer began snapping pictures.

“
She'll be back,” I answered, hoping it was true. My grandma took my answer as it was and didn't press the issue.  “I've got some exciting news,” I told everyone as the photographer asked Megan and my grandma to step aside for a picture of just me and my brother.  “I made some life-changing money this summer on a side project I was working on and I just got an awesome job offer.”

Finn broke his pose and turned to face me, placing both hands on my shoulders.  “Really?”

“Yeah,” I nodded.  “Got a chance to move to Georgia and, if I don't screw it up,” I added with a smile, “I'll be all set.”  Finn quickly pulled me into a hug.  “I'm so proud of you, little brother.”

“
Thanks, buddy.”  I returned the hug, noting that the last time we'd done this was right after our mom had split, and back then it was because I was little and Finn was trying to comfort me.  It felt nice, and when my grandma moved in and pressed a kiss on my cheek, it made the moment even better.

“
I'm so proud of you, sweetie,” she fawned.

 
The only thing that didn't seem right was the conniving look Megan had on her face as she let the news sink in.  I'd seen that scheming look before.  It was the same look she’d had on her face the night I told her Finn was moving back to town to take a job with the county police department.  I rolled my eyes as I turned back to face forward and finish getting our pictures taken.  I had enough to worry about with my own girlfriend.  I didn't need to worry about my brother's new wife and her ridiculousness.

I probably should have
worried
about Megan a little more, because now, as I am removing myself from her tight grasp and staring at Whitney with a dumbfounded look on my face, I’m not sure what in the hell I can possibly say to make the situation look better.

“
It's not what it looks like,” I start, knowing that it sounds about as cliché as it possibly can—my ex-girlfriend is hugging me in a deserted parking lot and my current girlfriend caught us in the act.

“
Really?” Whitney asks.  “It looks to me like you were mad at me and found the one person you knew would piss me off the most to comfort you.”  She tries to let her anger overtake the fact that she is reeling with sadness.  “And you,” she seethes, turning her attention to Megan.  “Where's your new husband?  I think it would be wise for you to remove your hands from my boyfriend. I'm not above slapping a girl in her wedding dress,” she threatens, causing Megan to quickly drop her arms to her side.  If I weren’t so worried about what I have to say to rectify this situation, I probably would be a little turned on by Whitney's feistiness.  I am just pleased that she is still referring to me as her boyfriend.

“
Let me explain.” I step toward her and reach my hand out for her arm.  She shrugs it off, takes a step back, and crosses her arms over her chest, waiting for my so-called explanation.  I start at the beginning...

Whit was gone for almost an hour.  I let myself relish in the fact that my family was actually impressed with me before I slipped outside of the reception to have a cigarette and see if Whitney came back yet.  I really hoped I'd find her waiting by my truck, or even better, run into her as I walked out the door.  I'd had enough time to cool off and beg her to forgive me for not asking her to move with me in the right way.  I meant it when I'd said I wanted her with me in Georgia, but my timing sucked.  I felt awful for making her seem like it was my way of getting her shut up about the situation.  The last thing I ever wanted to do was make her feel that way.  Imagine my disappointment when I found myself alone in the lot.  Or at least that's what I thought.  I walked back over to the small patio area outside the front door.  As I was lighting my cigarette, a familiar hand pulled it from my lips and placed it to hers, taking a drag.

“What are you doing out here?” Megan asked as she exhaled a puff of smoke, smoothing back a piece of blond hair that had fallen from its place.

“
I could ask you the same question,” I replied with an uncomfortable chuckle.  “It's your wedding in there.”

“
Yeah, I needed a break,” she laughed.  I knew that was a lie.  Megan loved the spotlight and there was no way she'd leave it without a good reason.

“
You look good,” I complimented her.  Megan is a pretty girl.  She has an amazing figure and the kind of face that starts a lot of fights.  I know from personal experience.  Meg might have acted like she hadn't approved of the way I used to overreact when guys would make passes at her, but she was lying.  She loved seeing me get all riled up and fight over her.

“
So do you.  You let your hair grow out,” she noted.

“
Yeah,” I shrugged.  “Whit likes it too.” I nonchalantly reminded her that I had a girlfriend.  She pouted at the mention of Whitney and I took it to mean that she was aggravated I never changed anything for her.

“
Smoking is bad for the baby,” I added, changing the subject as I continued to search for Whitney in the light of dusk that had fallen over the sky.  The last thing I wanted was for my girlfriend to be walking around in the dark, even if it was a small town.