“It’s a simple question.” I grinned at our brother. “Do you need me to provide you with some multiple-choice options?”
Roscoe glared at me, but I could tell he was working to cover a smile.
He was our little brother, but he’d been taller than both Duane and me—and Cletus, and Ashley—since about fourteen. He was now the tallest, his height having eclipsed Jethro’s three years ago. His face was a younger, less world-weary version of Billy’s, but his rascally, good-natured disposition was the direct opposite of Billy’s stoic and oftentimes jaded temperament.
And this difference was understandable. We’d all worked to protect Roscoe from our father’s violence, and Billy had been the shield that saved all of us.
“Let’s see, option A: you were hunting snipe.” I rubbed my chin.
His glare intensified.
“Okay, option B: you were making love to a sheep.”
“Shut up, dummy.” Roscoe climbed the steps and sat next to Ashley.
“Option C: a sheep was making love to you?”
Ashley snort-laughed and Roscoe ignored me, skootching real close. As soon as Ashley was squeezed between us, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders.
“Roscoe! You have the entire step to sit on. Get off me.” She tried to shove him off, laughing at his antics.
“I want hugs.” He rested his big head on her little shoulder, like he used to do when they were little. He’d sit on her lap and she’d read him a book, or help him finger paint, or rock him to sleep.
Ashley really was the best.
Inspired by my brother, I wrapped my arms around her and placed my head on her shoulder as well.
“Oh good Lord,” she huffed. I couldn’t see her, but I knew she’d rolled her eyes. “Fine. Fine.” Her arms came up and encircled each of us, squeezing then rubbing our backs. “You’re a bunch of big babies.”
I took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of her perfume mixed with the aroma of apple pie and coffee. Of Ashley. Of a soft place I could count on. Of a person I loved.
I was so glad she’d decided to come home.
Why was it you never realized how much you would miss someone until they’d left?
7
“Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality.”
― Edgar Allan Poe
*Beau*
Ash was right.
I was going to call things off with Darlene. I didn’t have strong feelings for her. I’d been using her, though I hadn’t realized until the talk with my sister. She wasn’t sure about being exclusive, and she’d been right.
Duane was fond of saying that the best thing about having Darrell Winston as a father was knowing what not to do.
“What would Darrell do? Once you figure it out, do the opposite,” he’d say.
That included being honorable, even when it was uncomfortable, even when it was inconvenient.
After thinking it over for a few days, I called Darlene Friday afternoon before my lunch break. I’d been working on a tricky engine rebuild all morning and decided my mood wasn’t going to improve as long as I had this hanging over me.
Darlene didn’t pick up, but then she never did when I called. I texted:
* * *
Beau: Let me know when you can talk
* * *
I hadn’t even tucked my phone away when it vibrated.
* * *
Darlene: What’s up?
* * *
Staring dumbly at her unexpectedly quick reply, I figured she must’ve been someplace where she couldn’t talk but could text.
* * *
Beau: Just let me know when you’re free for a phone call.
Darlene: Just text
Beau: It’s not something to text about
Darlene: Oh! U want phone sex?
* * *
Before I could respond, she sent through a picture of herself. Naked.
I choked on air, quickly responding.
* * *
Beau: Don’t send any more pictures. I need to speak with you.
* * *
What the hell? Had she just taken that picture? Or did she have nudes of herself on her phone? If so, I had to applaud her efficiency. Maybe I should hook up Darlene and Cletus.
* * *
Darlene: Only answer ur call if u send naked pix
Beau: We need to talk.
Darlene: Naked pix first
Darlene: Don’t be such a prude
* * *
Scowling at her words, I decided I should’ve saved the conversation for after lunch. I was more irritated by her messages than I had a right to be and that was likely due to being hungry.
* * *
Beau: Just let me know when you have time for a call.
* * *
I turned my screen off, preparing to tuck the phone in my pocket, when it vibrated again. This time her number was flashing on the screen.
She was calling?
I answered.
Darlene spoke before I could. “What are you wearing?” I heard the light splashing of water, like she was in a swimming pool.
“Where are you?”
“I’m taking a bath.”
My irritation grew tenfold. “Then why didn’t you answer when I called?”
“Because I didn’t know you wanted phone sex,” she responded sweetly. “You know how sexy I think you are, what your body does to me. Send me a picture.”
“But you don’t pick up just to talk?”
“Come on, Beau.” I could hear the eye-roll in her voice. “What is there for us to talk about? You want to tell me about an interesting oil change?” She laughed at her own joke and my lungs filled with fire.
Unfuckingbelievable.
Well, clearly she didn’t have a high opinion of me. No worries there.
“I didn’t call for phone sex, Darlene.”
“Oh . . . Fine. Then what do you want?” She sounded irritated, as if she was . . . sulking. What the hell?
I didn’t laugh, but her shitty attitude was enough to ease any guilt I’d been harboring about what I had to do.
“I’m ending whatever this is we’re doing. I didn’t want to do this over text message, that’s why I insisted on the call. So, that’s it. Goodbye.”
“What?” I heard the sound of lapping water in the background, like she’d moved suddenly, and she made a strangled sound. “You’re not serious. Of course you want to see me again.”
“Nope. I’m serious.” And that was the truth.
I may not have been going to medical school like her, or vet school like Roscoe, or be senior vice president in charge of everything like Billy, but I wasn’t an idiot, and I wasn’t going to put up with being treated like one.
I listened as she gathered an audible inhale just before screeching, “You bastard!” followed by several key phrases that would’ve made Shelly’s profane parrot blush.
Moving the phone to my other ear, I released another tired breath as she ranted. Unfortunately, she kept on ranting, calling me every name under the sun, and some names I was pretty sure were only supposed to be used at night.