I climbed in the passenger seat of Al’s truck, he started it up and we took off.
We rode in silence. Al wasn’t much of a talker, he spoke when he needed to and said as much as had to be said, though Mimi told me and Jessie he was a sweet nothin’s man. I loved knowing that about Al, though I’d never share it with him. My friend Mimi deserved sweet nothin’s and Al deserved to have a woman who he’d want to give them to.
I wanted to talk though. I wanted to ask him, being who he was, how he was, a lot like Colt, how I should handle the situation I was about to walk into. I wanted advice on how to bring Colt back to me, knowing he’d used the hours I slept in a drugged up unconscious to build a wedge between us. But I didn’t reckon Al had the answers I needed.
I was all on my own with this one.
Al parked in front of Sully’s house and Sully was out the door and halfway down the walk before I’d slammed the truck door. Lorraine appeared behind their storm door.
“Feb, sweetheart, I’m thinkin’ this isn’t a good idea,” Sully said, coming at me, hands up, palms out.
I walked right by him. Sully was a man, a good one. He wouldn’t do what he needed to do to stop me.
My obstacle, I knew, was Lorraine. She didn’t want me in her house, she didn’t want me near Colt; she’d be able to stop me.
I held my breath as I approached the house.
Lorraine reached to the handle, swung open the door, moved her body aside and held the door open for me.
“Thank you,” I whispered as I slid by her, tears lodged in my throat.
“Work magic in there, honey,” she whispered back, I swallowed and went in.
Colt was in the living room, seated in the middle of the couch, forearms to his knees, a glass of Jack, uncut, not even with ice, held in one hand between his knees. The bottle was in front of him on the coffee table, mostly empty. Only his eyes hit me, other than that, he didn’t move.
Sully drank beer and on occasion would spring for a shot of single malt if he was in the mood. Lorraine wasn’t a drinker at all, when she came to J&J’s she ordered strawberry daiquiris which was mildly annoying, they were a pain in the ass to make. Still, she got loopy on them quick and Lorraine loopy was hilarious enough to be worth the pain it was to make a daiquiri.
That Jack Daniels was in the house for when Colt came around. I couldn’t know how much he’d imbibed, he wasn’t moving or speaking so even though I had years of practice being around people who were drinking, I didn’t know what state of sober, or not, he was in.
What I did know was that Colt never drank his bourbon uncut. I knew Colt never drank vodka because both of his parents drank it and he also never drank his bourbon uncut. Usually, it was Coke he cut it with if not, some water or ice. This was an effort to prove he wasn’t like his folks who drank their liquor straight, always and often. Colt drinking straight bourbon was not good.
Colt not moving or saying a word, worse.
I stopped far enough away he could see me, not close enough to push it.
And when I started, I didn’t fuck around.
“I know you blame me,” I told him.
He didn’t move.
“I was there, I saw it, I coulda stopped it,” I went on.
He gave me nothing even his golden eyes didn’t flicker.
“Or I coulda said something after, so you’d understand, so Amy wouldn’t have had to –”
He moved then, barely, his body locked and I reckoned this was to keep himself in control and I stopped talking.
He knew like I knew, I said something even if it wasn’t during the act but after, it would have saved a lot of hurt. Colt, being Colt, would have done something. Dad, being Dad, and Mom, being Mom, would have had his back. Amy wouldn’t have suffered, she’d have had her son and Colt would have had him too. Colt, Dad and Mom would have made us all a family, somehow they’d have made it work. They’d have made it work so Colt and me would still have each other, Amy would have had us all and no one would be dead because it would have stopped Denny before the sick fully took hold.
I pulled in breath and whispered, “I have to live with that forever.” My voice dipped even lower, the bitter guilt germinating from that seed stark in my tone before I repeated, “I have to live with that forever.”
Colt still didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t lift his glass to his lips or throw it against the wall. He just kept his eyes on me and the blame was clear.
“I was twenty,” I continued, knowing it was weak but also knowing it was true, “she was everything I wasn’t and you were… you were…” I couldn’t find a word that said it all and what I used was just as weak but it’d have to do, “golden.”
Even hearing the wonder I had of him heavy in that word, Colt gave me nothing.
“You could have had anyone you wanted, in this town, out of it, anywhere you went, anyone you wanted. Why’d you want me?” I asked and, not surprisingly, Colt didn’t answer so I forged on. “She was sweet and quiet and shy. She was small and pretty and dark. I wasn’t any of that. I was loud, I was wild, I did crazy shit,” I explained. “That night I was drunk, I got home after seein’ you two and my mind played tricks on me. Tricks it’d been playin’ for a good long while.” I shook my head, knowing it was stupid now but thinking it was real back then and said, “You wouldn’t have sex with me.”
There it was, finally his hand twitched, the bourbon sloshing in his glass.
That was all he gave me but it was something.
“I was getting worried, Colt,” I whispered. “You seemed to want me but didn’t want me. I didn’t understand, even though you told me. You were a guy, I was willing to give it up, I made that clear, but you didn’t wanna take it and that didn’t make sense.”