The Quest (10 page)

              “Drink till I’m ugly huh?” He cackled. “What’s that mean? I’ve never heard that before.” His smile was infectious, his body tight and fitted within the boundaries of his grey T-shirt. His knee grazed mine as he spoke teasing my upper thigh. He was a close talker too with his lips inches from mine.

              “Well, it’s a saying that keeps you out of trouble. The more you drink, the less likely you’ll be able to hookup, or at least I’m that way. The more I drink, the harder it is for me to umm…think straight or umm…focus.”

              “So you’re saying alcohol alters your view of me?”

              With his question, he moved even closer till I was right underneath the rim of his sweet black hat. I swear his lips almost kissed me as they spoke. “And you have no desire,” he continued slowly to speak words to tease me while the tip of his fingers traced the binding on the blouse that fit tight across my chest making the girls flinch when he tickled them, “to even kiss me when you’ve been drinking?” His lips were whispering low in unison with the beat of the band. I don’t even think I heard his words. I think I needed a crash course in lip reading. I understood nothing. Was it a question? Did he ask me a question? His fingers sent chills racing to the girls again telling them to, “wake up wake up! We got a live one here!” No doubt my chest was blotchy and flushed red at this point.

              “Something like that…I’m umm…more likely gonna puke on you. Besides, I’m much more sober fun.”

              “Much more sober fun? Oh really?”

              “I mean fun sober. Yup.”

              “Hmm…could have fooled me.” He adjusted his hat and cleared his throat.

              “Yeah, me too.
”
He had such pretty lips. He was a mix of something, what I didn’t quite know. Maybe Hawaiian, maybe African American, White, Indian, definitely not Mexican though. “Who knew?” I added. I was still watching his lips waiting for them to move again. If I dared to look in his eyes, I would be mush so I was concentrating, concentrating on the lips. Look at the lips, Sadie, just the lips.

              “So how’s that working for you?”

              “Umm…honestly?
”
I stammered.

              “Yeah, honestly.
”
His breath bounced, but not landing where it wanted, deep inside my lungs.

              “At the moment I would say rather challenging.”

              “Yeah, thought so.” He pulled back grabbing his drink, tipped his glass to his lips, and asked the ladies if they were ready for another shot. A few agreed, I, of course, declined again with the wave of my hand. My head was already spinning, my body unknowingly scooting closer to his and I couldn’t stop it. Another shot and I’d be sitting in his lap, my favorite place to be of course. My motto wasn’t working. I was failing the words of the toast,
Drink Until He’s Ugly
. With every beat of the music, my heart was skipping, happy to be sitting next to the Cowboy Hottie. There wasn’t another guy in sight that compared to him. What was his name again? I realized I didn’t even know. Did he tell me his name at the bar? I remembered shaking his hand and telling him mine but I couldn’t remember his. I grabbed the flyer off the table, no name. Just the name of his band. Hmm. I grabbed one of my friends and we excused ourselves to the bathroom.

              Women go to the bathroom in pairs or packs, it’s just our way. We use that opportunity to gossip, talk about the guys, fix our hair and share our makeup. Of course, we do our business while we are there too. I for one am a pee master. Once I get started, I go almost every hour. So it’s usually many trips to the potty when I’m out drinking. This time, I quizzed my friend about Mr. Hottie wanting her opinion and needing her help with finding out his name.

              “Do you know his name?” I asked feeling silly, I should know it. “I think he told me it, but I forgot it!”

              “No, you don’t know his name? Sadie!”

              “Nope.
”
Our laughter could be heard outside the bathroom walls. What’s funny to us, especially after many shots of liquor, may not be funny to others especially those standing around waiting to pee. Of course, we were hosing up the stall traffic trying to figure out his name, then scheming a plan for my friend to ask him just as soon as we got back to the table. With freshly made up faces and pouty lips we wobbled back to our table.

              I stopped at the bar and ordered another beer from the bartender adding a glass of water to water it down this time. Mr. Cowboy Hottie, who apparently had no name, appeared beside me again at the bar offering to pay. I, declining his gesture and thanking him, continued on with the bartender about the lime. He followed me back to the table and sat down beside me again. I motioned to my girlfriend to ask him. I felt I was being rude not knowing, especially since he remembered mine.

              “So what’s your name?” she blurted. “I love your band.” Nice touch I thought. “You look like the Rock!” she added. The girls all turned starring him down, inspecting his face, his chest, his jeans, then agreeing she was right, it was so.

              “Jon.” He wasn’t a bit embarrassed by our gawking. I’m sure he gets it all the time. “I’m not the Rock, my name is Jon. Johnny Jackson to be exact.”

              Jon turned toward me now placing one arm around the back of my chair and his hand on my thigh. It was one of those gestures that showed everyone I was with him, and not alone, as I was when I arrived.

              “Do you have children?” he asked making conversation.

              “No. No children.” He didn’t need the details of my pathetic childless life. One day I would have a child, an adopted one, but nevertheless I’d have one but I wasn’t sharing those dreams with him. “You?”

              “Yes, one, a daughter. She’s twenty.”

              “Wow, you don’t look old enough to have a twenty year old daughter. How old are you?”

              “Thirty-nine.
”
He smiled.

              “You don’t look it.”

              “Thank you.” He pulled out his phone and scrolled through some pictures till he came across a picture of his daughter adding, “And this is my grandson.”

              “You’re a grandpa? That’s sweet!” What was I saying? I just made the guy sound old, but Mr. Hottie did not look old enough to be near forty, nor have a twenty year old daughter, much less be a grandfather.

              “Well, it happened and I am. Wouldn’t change a thing, though.
”

              “Precious.” 

              “Yes, he is. I gave her no choice about having him. Had the talk with her that life happens. If she didn’t want him, then she must give him to me.”

              “You raised her right. That’s being a very good Father.”

              “So listen, I gotta get back up there to finish my last set. I hope you’ll stick around after. I would love to finish this talk and get to know you a little better.”

              “Why?” I asked. Why did I ask why? He doesn’t live in Huntsville. I’m sure he meets many women in bars around the world that he plays in, why would I want to be added to his list?

              “Like I said, to finish our talk. Get to know you.”

              “Why?”

              “Can I at least get your number? Maybe call you while I’m in town?” He gave me his gig schedule and told me how long he would be here and when he would return again to Huntsville in a few weeks to play again.

              “Sure,” I agreed. “Maybe we can do lunch sometime.”

              “Or dinner,” he added.

              If he wanted to meet me outside of the bar then maybe he had a real interest. But who knows, guys usually don’t call you the next day. Asking for your number is just an exit excuse. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was one of those guys that never called. Besides, what did he want with me? I was still arguing with myself about being his type. Oh, his type is what I’m drawn to, I navigate toward them, I pick them out of a crowd. But I know from being Radlyfied, guys like him are no good for me. I get attached to all that manliness, get a little freaky with all that muscle, love that testosterone overload under that hat, but never end up keeping them long term. My experience has been they always trade me for a blonde in the end. He wasn’t from here, I reminded myself. He lives miles away. That, I agreed, was a good thing.

              I handed him my photography business card that held my number, and told him it was nice meeting him. He moved in for a hug and I grabbed his hand to shake it. He took my hand holding it in his then reached for a kiss on the cheek. He landed an awkward one then stood to his feet. I watched as he stepped back on stage and greeted the crowd. When a slow ballad rolled off his tongue, I wished I was in his arms dancing. I suppose at that moment he did to because what he did next was the most romantic thing I had experienced in a long while.

              Jon stepped off the stage, came over to my table, and reached for my hand. As the crowd parted he led me on to the dance floor and wrapped his free arm around me, pulling me tight against his waist. As he sang into the mike he stared into my eyes. We swayed in a circle around and around till the song came to an end, then he kissed me. Part of me wanted that kiss, wanted to get even closer to him. I was so curious about him. But part of me was guarded. I didn’t want to be just another girl for him. His public display of affection had me wondering if he does this at every show. You know, pick a girl out of the crowd and woo her.

              I found my way back to my table as he found his spot back on stage. One of the girls saw the look on my face and scooted around the table.

              “Why can’t I be the fun girl?” I asked her sluring my words.

              “Because you are worthy of more.
”
She hugged me, and then she dragged me to the dance floor. Okay, I admit, I needed to dance to clear my head, forget about Mr. Cowboy Hottie and his smooth moves, and enjoy my girlfriends.

              What a buzz kill I thought as my alcohol was wearing off. I was settling into the thought of going home too now. This is the thing about GNO’s. When you meet a guy it really messes up your night. You end up ignoring your friends and giving all your attention to some guy. I was suddenly not so happy Mr. Hottie paid me attention, I wish he hadn’t. But I was glad he was on stage right where he belonged so I could get back to my girls. In a circle, we were back on the dance floor shaking our bootie to our favorite line dances. We were getting low, enjoying the beat of the music, not a care in the world. When the night finally came to an end, I was right where I needed to be, alone in the comfort of my bed. Yes, I was thinking about Mr. Hottie and wondering if he would ever call or text me. He said he would right? But then again I did threaten to puke on him so I wouldn't blame him if he chose not to.

The Guppy Profile

S
ofie was banging on my door like she always does lately, around two a.m. It had been a few weeks since I’d seen her. And the last time I saw her she was drunk then too. I let her in, tossed her a pillow and blanket, and went back to bed. I still had a bit of a buzz and hadn’t been asleep long before she arrived. I couldn’t function. She wanted to talk, I didn’t.

              “Shhh!
”
I told her with my forefinger on my lips and beady little eyes. “I’m going to bed. We’ll chat in the mornin.”

              “But it’s alwady mornin’, Sadie, talk to me. I need to tawk!”

              “Nope. Got to go to bed, girl. Nite.”

              “Wanna tell ya ’bout ’dis guy.”

              “Nope. Mornin’.
”
She followed me to my room raving about how cute he was or something. I wasn’t listening, nor was I understanding. I wanted to sleep, only sleep, but she kept on talking. I slipped back into my bed and back under the covers pulling them up past my nose. She plopped down on the other side and continued her conversation with herself. I opened one eye and glared at her. She didn’t even notice. I watched her move her mouth, wave her hands, and do her best to explain where she had been. If I was a good friend, I’d wake up and talk to her, take an interest in what she was saying, make coffee to sober her up. But I didn’t want to be a good friend. I wanted to be a sleeping friend and chat in the morning.

              “And it’s hard ya know?” Tears were running from both her eyes.

              What’s hard? What did she just say? Ugh! “Okay, okay. I’m awake. What’s hard? What are you talking about?” I sat up in bed, still snuggled within my blanket, to listen a little closer.

              “Being without him. He’s all I’ve known for years, Sadie. I need to give him another chance. I miss him. I miss my babies.”

              “No you don’t. He doesn’t deserve it!”

              “He says he’s changed. He promised he would never hurt me again.”

              “Sofie, my gosh, you know he hasn’t changed! He’s just saying that to get you to come home and take care of him. You deserve better! You deserve someone who doesn’t beat you!”

              “He won’t! He said he’d never do that again.”

              “Yeah? And how many times has he told you that?” She had my attention now. WTF! There were still bruises that weren’t quite healed on her body and she was sitting here telling me she’s going back to him. What is she thinking? She can’t do that!

              “I miss my babies, Sadie.” Her tears were the sad ones. The ones that make everyone around you cry, so I joined in, hugging her, promising her things would get better. I knew if she returned to Chris things would be worse, I was afraid for her, so I needed to find some way to convince her to go to counseling so she could see she had options. I just felt once an abuser always an abuser, but what did I know. I had never been beaten by someone I loved. So I just sat there till daybreak and cried with her.

              “You know, I’m starving, you hungry?”

              “No.”

              “You sure? I’m thinking bacon, maybe some juice, chocolate gravy, and biscuits? Hmm?
”
I knew the chocolate gravy and biscuits would get her, but no. Now I was wide awake and she was curled up in my blanket falling asleep.

              “Sofie, let’s go get some breakfast.” I shook her shoulder.

              “Not hungry,” she responded not even opening her eyes.

              I sighed heavily and covered the rest of her up, grabbed my pillow, and headed to the living room. I flipped on the TV hoping to find something boring that would put me to sleep. Nothing. Everything was too stimulating and reminding me how hungry I was. Breakfast after breakfast commercials was showing. I trudged into the kitchen to find some bacon. I knew I had a few pieces left over from this week. I made myself a lonely bacon sandwich and returned back to the couch.

              It was mid-afternoon when I heard Sofie’s voice waking me to say goodbye.

              “Where are you going?”

              “Home.”

              “No Sof, please don’t do that. It’s too soon.”

              “No I need to. I need to go back and face him, it’s going to be all right, I promise.”

              “Please…don’t go home!” I begged. “At least take someone with you, your dad, your brother, someone.”

              “No, I can’t involve them, besides, Chris and I talked this morning. He really is sorry Sadie. He promised me things will be better. I’ve got to believe him. I need him. I need my kids. I know you don’t understand that but…”

              “I do understand that, it’s just…”

              “He won’t. I’ll be fine, okay? No worries. I’ll be fine.”

              When she walked out the door I just knew. What, I don’t know but there was something unsettling about her leaving. Maybe I’m paranoid. Maybe I have a hard time believing in someone that smashes your face in on a daily basis. Maybe the bruises that still appeared on her arms were reaching out to me begging me to stop her, but I couldn’t. Her mind was made up. She was going home. Part of me didn’t blame her. She had to leave her kids behind. Not to mention if I was in her shoes, well not sure I’d ever allow someone to beat me but if I did, I couldn’t have left them. I also wouldn’t be able to understand how someone could love you so much yet hate you at the same time and hurt you like that. Her stories were horrific!

              I had felt through hearing them all, she was leaving some very important details out like how long it had been going on. I wondered if that’s why she had moved to Chicago in the first place, so no one would find out. She rarely visited, and when she did she was in such a hurry, never staying long enough. I remembered our beach trip, now remembering bruising on her then. I remembered thinking how clumsy she must have been to have caused those. She wasn’t able to hide them in a bathing suit. Wow. I never asked her about all those. How could I have been so blind? And that was before her baby girl was born.

              Then I remembered what she said about him raping her. I put the timeline together and realized that’s when she got pregnant with her little girl. OMG! How can you rape your wife, the woman that you love that bore your children? How could one be so evil to destroy such a beautiful soul like that? My body was covered in chills questioning all the things she had shared with me this morning. Why did she tell me those things? I would have been better off not knowing. But then again, she needed to tell someone. I was glad that someone was me. If you can’t tell your best friend your darkest secrets then who ya gonna tell?

              I slipped back to my room and shut the door. I wasn’t happy pappy smiling about her leaving. But I wasn’t skilled in dealing with this sort of thing and in convincing her to stay. I just knew that I loved her and I wanted no one to hurt her. It broke my heart to know all she told me. But there was nothing I could do. I slipped under the sheet where she had lain, I could still smell her perfume. It made me cry. Why? I guess I was worried I wouldn’t see her again. I was afraid Chris would do something really horrible to her, like kill her. I’ve heard about this stuff happening, seen it in TV movies, even on the news. If he had covered it up for this long, there was no telling what he would do when she returned to him. He must know that her family knew of his awful behavior now. So I was worried about her. I needed the comfort of knowing she would be okay.

              “Of course not!
”
I got out of bed and stripped the sheets; they needed to be washed now. I couldn’t sleep with the reminder that I was a coward and didn’t stop her even if there was nothing I could do about her leaving and returning to the evil beast. I said a prayer and loaded the sheets into the washing machine. Very mechanic like I strolled around my apartment looking for other things that needed my attention. Before long I was on my bathroom floor scrubbing the grout with an old toothbrush and a bleach mixture.

              When I’m lost, I clean. When I’m angry, I clean. When my best old friend tells me she has been abused by her piece of shit husband, I have no clue what to do with that, so I clean.

              My apartment reeked of bleach and Pine Sol. I finished up with a wood grain polish on my pristine floor and patted myself on the back for its beautiful shine. It was the first time in a long time these floors got this kind of attention. I was happy and content, still worried, but I had worked it out in my mind and was no longer dwelling on Sofie. She wasn’t listening to the voice of reason. She wasn’t ready to move forward with her life. I kind of understood this only because of her kids, but I felt she could win that fight. Of course, the main problem was she wasn’t ready to fight. I knew when she was, I’d know it, and I’d be there for her to help her.

              Sofie called about a half hour ago to let me know she had made it home safe. Of course she wasn’t quite at home yet, close, so I had no idea what reaction she had from Chris. With the kids there I figured tonight she would at least be safe. I figured he wouldn’t do anything stupid the first night she returned. I was hoping not anyway. The thought of him being a changed man was out of the question. Abusers don’t change overnight. It takes time and counseling to change them. Not to mention prayers and the help of the Good Lord to change their hearts.

              By the time I finished cleaning my apartment it was late. Too late to go out, but I didn’t feel like staying in. I was lonely, awake, but tired. I debated on taking a walk, going down to the local bar for a drink, calling my friends to chat, or watching TV. I honestly couldn’t make a decision on anything. My draining mind and dragging body was still running despite my distress. My mind wouldn’t shut up actually. Thoughts running rapid in my head reminding me where I was, why I was where I was, but giving no thought on how not to be here. No advice on how to move forward out of my loneliness. Oh, I could get back online and look at the handful of hopefuls, but I wasn’t interested in that either. Having to start all over again and again wasn’t appealing. “Oh what do you do? Where do you work? Do you have kids? Do you like football? Wh
o’
s your favorite team? Do you have a crazy ex somewhere waiting to jump out of the bushes and scratch my eyes out?” Yeah, it was getting old.

              I had one date that had a crazy ex stalker. She followed us everywhere that night. The guy thought it was funny and never confronted her. So in the background of every place we strolled to she was there, seriously everywhere! It was creepy having her stare me down while I ate my eggplant parmesan. Even more creepy when she was spotted by the manager of the restaurant, and she pointed to us saying she was with us. She was not! The manager came over to us asking lots of questions. My date just laughed it off and waved at her egging her on. How could he do that? He had no respect for me nor should he have been on a date if he knew she was that crazy.

              I sat in the booth watching her, trying to not make it obvious that I was, thinking I will never go out with him again. And I felt so sorry for her. He wasn’t that great of a catch! He had issues, hang ups, bad habits, but now that he was teasing this poor soul behind the plant in the corner, I found him disgusting. Not to mention I kept wondering if she was packing! I couldn’t tell with the big coat she was wearing. The more I watched her, the more fearful I became. I grabbed my purse and excused myself for the bathroom, only I went the opposite direction, and slipped through the kitchen and out the back kitchen door. The staff was very understanding and called me a cab. The manager gave me a free meal to go, feeling sorry for me, and had our waitress go out to his table and keep him occupied till I got in the cab safe and on my way.

              He felt the chick hiding in the corner wasn’t playing with a full deck. I’m sure he wondered how he was going to get her out of his restaurant without a scuffle. She had wild eyes, he said, eyes that no one could trust. I thanked him gratefully as I climbed into the cab. He was right. I needed out of there and away from the drama. Remembering all that wretchedness made me remember Sofie again. I was sure she was knee deep in it by now.

              I remember when she was single, back when we were roomies, how she always got the hottest guys wherever we went. She always hooked up too. I didn’t. Just like I didn’t get my cowboy last night. I reminded myself, only because I was a chicken shit. Yup. I agreed I was. But good for her. She deserved to get what she wanted especially after knowing what she was getting from Chris now. I still didn’t understand how she could allow it. How could any woman allow a man to abuse her like that? I had questions. Many questions.

              To get my mind and my heart off of Sofie I decided to re-write my profile. Yes, again. I needed to find a way to write it that would ward off unwanted men yet leave the ones that I desired begging at my feet. But how could I do that? Be honest? Lie? Delete the things I listed I liked? Or add more? Hmm… maybe I should be more honest. No, that’s just way too much information and leaves nothing for them to wonder. I need to remain a little mysterious; keep them guessing; be intriguing. At the present time my profile read: