Then Kiss Me (30 page)

I was thinking about the last night I spent with mom and dad.  I feel like we mended a lot of fences.  And I’ve decided to accept my parents (especially mom) for who they are.  They are human beings…fallible, just like I am.  And I love them and hope they love me.  So I’m letting go of my bitterness.  I’m trying to grow up.

I know…I’m running and avoiding the inevitable.  I keep putting it off, burying my head in the sand, pretending it will go away if I ignore it.  But I’ve decided…I’m driving west to Grand Junction, a decent-sized city, and then I’m stopping.  I’ll get a doctor and get my shit together.  But for now…I just need a little more time.

I’m going to bed now.  I’m tired.  I know I should eat first, but I just don’t feel like it.

August 5

I
STILL DON’T
feel
pregnant.  I realize I’m not that far along, but still…  I wonder when I’ll start feeling like it.  Of course, never having been preg
nant before, I don’t know what
it’s supposed to feel like.  The only thing that feels different is that I’m starting to get this…maternal feeling.

I’m thinking about calling my parents tonight to let them know I’m all right.  I’m sure mom’s beside herself.  Either
that,
or she’s forgotten all about it.

I’ve drawn some really great stuff.  I decided to stay in Montrose for a day or so.  A cashier at the grocery store told me about Ouray.  It’s a town less than an hour away, south, deep in the mountains.  Oh, my God.  I’ve never been to Switzerland, but that’s what I imagine it to look like.  The mountains are right fucking there…right in your face.  It’s breathtaking.  So…I took a shitload of pictures, but I did a lot of sketching too.

Yeah…along with my soul-searching, I’ve been creating a lot of art. 
A lot.

I know.  I’m avoiding a lot of things.  I know I am.  Even with my art.  But I think, behind the scenes in my subconscious, I’m working things out.

Artistically, I’m trying new things.  I’ve always considered myself to be shitty at portraits, but every night, the last few nights, I’ve been working on a portrait of Scott. 
Just his head.
  It’s not a huge canvas, but it’s a challenge.  What are his features that really stand out to me?  What is it I see of him when I fall asleep at night?  So…I’m painting him…I want to see what my subconscious thinks is most special.

And…I think I’ve finally gotten up the nerve to call mom and dad, so here goes.

* * *

Oh, shit.  I called them.  I’m kind of glad I did, because mom has been freaking out.  I guess Barry’s been calling my parents constantly since I changed my number, and mom told him I was gone.  The way mom talked, I guess he’s going to drive down there in the next couple of days.

Seriously?

So I’m not going to call for a while.  And for once, I’m glad my parents live in the dark ages.  No caller ID and I didn’t give them my phone number.

I really wanted to call Scott.  I want to hear his voice.  But it’s bad enough that I sent a postcard.  As it is, I’m starting to feel really guilty and ashamed that I didn’t have the guts to tell him what’s going on in the first place.

I’m really starting to think, though, that I should just let it all go.  You know, find a small town somewhere to live for good, raise my child, let Scott move on with his life and fall in love with someone a little more stable than I am.  Just disappear.  I don’t know.  I’m so confused.

But I know for certain that Barry is not the man for me.  I might have loved him once, but definitely not anymore.  There’s only one man in my heart, and if I’m smart, I’ll let him go too.

August 6

STILL IN MONTROSE
.
  I
spent today
sleeping late.  I’m really tired.  I guess I should eat, but I have no appetite. 
None.
  I bought some over-the-counter prenatal vitamins, and I’ve decided to take one a day faithfully.  Eating, though…well, that’s another story.

I wonder how Scott is doing.  I wonder
what
he’s doing…if he thinks about me as much as I do about him; if he thinks about our short time together as much as I
do; if it meant as much to him
or if he’s already moved on.  I wonder if he hates me for leaving.  It makes me sad to think about it.

But I know after these last few weeks that I
can
make it on my own.  Money-wise, I’m doing okay, but my cash will be tapped out in a few weeks.  I know mom and dad offered to lend me money, but I’m not going there if I can help it.  Plus…winter will be here before I know it.  I need to find a place to settle down, get a job.  I also really need to get my ass to the doctor.  I just need to decide on a permanent residence so I can get a doctor.

I’m really doing all right.  I can live without a man.  Sure, I love Scott, but I don’t need him.  I can do this on my own.

I wonder how far along I am in my pregnancy and when
I
will start to show.  Am I two months pregnant? 
Three?
  I really should have paid more attention in biology.  Jesus.
  I should have paid more attention at the clinic.
  I really need to get to a doctor, but part of me doesn’t want to.  He (or she) will tell me I haven’t been eating right, haven’t been taking care of myself.  Yes, guilty.  I need to go.

* * *

I just
thought about the Arts Center gig…the tattoo show this fall.
  Fuck. 
I’d completely forgotten about it till just now. 
It would have been a great oppo
rtunity.  About the only tattoo-
like art I’d created, though, was my drawing of Scott.  I might be willing to share it, but I wasn’t going back to Winchester just to put a piece of art in
t
he show.  Guess it was an opportunity that just wasn’t meant to be.

August 9

SO I FINALLY
got my ass
back
on the road.  I’m staying in a hotel in a place called Delta, another small town.  I’m sure I visited here as a kid, but I don’t remember it.

I got here yesterday afternoon and went out to eat.  Then I just drove outside of town a little and got out to look at the stars.  Shit.  They seem closer and brighter than I’ve ever seen them.  I’m going to start
taking walks
at night.  I actually saw the fucking Milky Way last night
—big and vivid
. 
Unbelievable.
  I never thought I could love the night sky like I do now.

It made me think of the night of our first date. 
Riding in his truck
, night surrounding us.
  Yes, everything reminds me of Scott. 
Everything.
  I love that man.  I keep seeing his mischievous smile, his tanned skin and lovely tattoos, his firm, smooth muscles, the light in his eyes.  Every time I think I’m doing okay without him, I snap back to needing him more than ever. 
Missing him.
  Even painting isn’t distracting me anymore.  And I can’t think about the baby without thinking about Scott.

I miss him too much.

August 10

ALL RIGHT.
  WHAT
a fucking idiot.  I called my parents last night.  I’ll admit I miss human contact.  I haven’t stayed around anywhere long enough to really get to know anyone, so…they’re all I have really.

Anyway, Karen was visiting my parents.  Nothing was said about Barry.  But I did get stuck talking with my sister who decided to take it upon herself to lecture me at length about how I should come back.  She said I was being irrational and childish, selfish even.  She asked how I could do this to our parents, etc., etc.  Typical Karen—she wouldn’t even listen to my side.

Why do they care anyway?  What difference does it make?  I
had
to do this, even if they don’t understand.

But part of me thinks she’s right, so right.

August 11

I
GOT
A
flat tire yesterday, so I’m still here in Delta.  I took it to a tire shop for repair.  Fortunately, I didn’t have to buy a new one.  They said this one’s in good shape.  I just drove over a nail.

I still have a burning desire to call Scott, but I don’t dare.  I can’t believe I’ve been gone almost three weeks.  It doesn’t seem that long on one hand, but then sometimes it feels like an eternity.  I wonder how he’s doing.

He’s probably put me out of his mind already.

Should I send another round of postcards?  I’m thinking about it.  They’re safer.  They don’t talk back.  Maybe I’ll send one to Barry too.

So…tomorrow maybe I’ll go to Grand Junction as originally planned.  Then I think maybe I’ll just keep going west. 
Running.
  Right now, I don’t even remember why I left in the first pla
ce but it’s all I can think of.

August 13

I
FINALLY GOT
my ass to Grand Junction.  It reminds me of Pueblo in a lot of ways.  I can’t explain it.  Having lived in Pueblo all my childhood…well, this place just has that feel.  And I mean that in a good way.  In some ways, it feels like home.

So can I stay here?  I don’t know.  I’m not sure yet, but I’m tempted.

I called dad earlier. 
Holy shit.
  He said Scott called him to ask if they’d heard anything from me.  I guess, from what dad said, he told him pretty much everything he knew.  Dad asked where I was and I told him.  I couldn’t lie.  That makes me think I should keep on fucking driving
…j
ust leave now.

But no.
  Not yet.  I have a Colorado map and it ends a short way into Utah. 
I’d need to buy another map.  I need to think about it. 
Will I leave the state?  I don’t know yet.

I’ve decided I’m not going to call
home
anymore.  If I feel the need, why don’t I just go back?

It’s tempting.

I did buy more postcards, though.  On both to my parents and Scott, I just wrote, “I’m okay.  Love, Casey.”  That way, they know I’m all right and alive.

I need to settle in, but I still feel restless…nervous.  Things don’t feel right.  And I’ve been in some beautiful places
so far on this journey
, many where I should have just put down roots, but they’re not the right place, because my heart’s not there.

But I know where my heart is, and I can’t go back there.

August 14

JESUS, YES
.  I know.  I
know
.  I really need to go to the doctor.  This baby isn’t getting the care it needs, and I’m not taking good care of myself either.  I didn’t even get out of bed yesterday, didn’t shower…couldn’t even make myself draw, the only thing I’ve been doing that’s kept my sanity intact.

I know I can’t keep putting it off.  I’m a shitty mother already.  Fuck.

When I draw, though, holy shit.
  I know…weird, but I think my art is the best it’s ever been.  I’m starting to run low on supplies, and my car trunk is filling up.  So, even though I’m starting to feel void inside, I’m breaking out artistically.

I’m going to call my parents tomorrow.  I have to know everything’s okay.  Something in my gut tells me I need to call them.
  I don’t care what I said before.

August 15

I
CALLED MOM
and dad and found out that Barry said he was going to call the police and re
port me missing.  What the fuck?
  So I’m tempted to get back on the road again.

I should just call him and tell him to leave me alone.

Dad assured me they haven’t told Barry where I am
,
and he also told Barry I’m not missing.  I could hear in his voice that dad’s disappointed
with me
, but he defended me anyway.

And then I lay
down to take a nap.  I had a dream about Scott and woke up knowing that I love him completely.  But I also know now, having left, that I can live without him.  I can live without any man.  Why do women always think they need a man to fulfill them?

Dad said that Isabel called him.  A couple of my paintings sold and dad deposited them in my account, so I have a little more money than I thought.  That’s good.  It’s bought me a little more time before I have to buckle down and get a job.