Beautiful Disaster 02 Walking Disaster (35 page)

Several minutes passed before I could gain the strength to stand. My feet didn’t want to move, but somehow I forced them to cooperate long enough to get me to the Harley. I sat on the
seat, and let my tears fall. Loss was something I’d only experienced once before in my life, but this felt more real. Losing Abby wasn’t a story I remembered from early
childhood—it was in my face, debilitating me like a sickness, robbing me of my senses and physically, excruciatingly painful.

My mother’s words echoed in my ear. Abby was the girl I had to fight for, and I went down fighting. None of it was ever going to be enough.

A red Dodge Intrepid pulled up next to my bike. I didn’t have to look up to see who it was.

Trenton killed the engine, resting an arm out of the open window. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I said, wiping my eyes with my jacket sleeve.

“Rough night?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, staring at the Harley’s fuel tank.

“I just got off work. I need a fuckin’ drink. Ride with me to the Dutch.”

I took a long, faltering breath. Trenton, like Dad and the rest of my brothers, always knew how to handle me. We both knew I shouldn’t drive in my condition.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?” Trenton said with a small, surprised smile.

I swung my leg backward over the seat, and then walked around to the passenger side of Trenton’s car. The heat from the vents made my skin burn, and for the first time that night I felt
how biting cold the air was, and recognized that I didn’t have nearly enough clothes on for the temperature.

“Shepley called you?”

“Yep.” He backed out from the parking space and slowly weaved through the lot, finding the street at a turtle’s pace. He looked over at me. “I guess a guy named French
called his girl? Said you and Abby were fighting outside the cafeteria.”

“We weren’t fighting. I was just . . . trying to get her back.”

Trenton nodded once, pulling into the street. “That’s what I figured.”

We didn’t speak again until we took our stools at the bar of the Dutch. The crowd was rough, but Bill, the owner and bartender, knew Dad well from when we were kids, and most of the
regulars watched us grow up.

“Good to see you boys. It’s been a while,” Bill said, wiping down the counter before setting a beer and a shot on the bar in front of each of us.

“Hey, Bill,” Trenton said, immediately tossing back his shot.

“You feeling okay, Travis?” Bill asked.

Trenton answered for me. “He’ll feel better after a few rounds.”

I was grateful. In that moment, if I spoke, I might have broken down.

Trenton continued buying me whiskey until my teeth were numb and I was on the verge of passing out. I must have done so sometime between the bar and the apartment, because I woke up the next
morning on the couch in my clothes, unsure of how in the hell I got there.

Shepley closed the door, and I heard the familiar sound of America’s Honda rev up and pull away.

I sat up and closed one eye. “Did you guys have a good night.”

“Yeah. Did you?”

“I guess so. Did you hear me come in?”

“Yeah, Trent carried your ass upstairs and threw you on the couch. You were laughing, so I’d say it was a successful night.”

“Trent can be a dick, but he’s a good brother.”

“That he is. You hungry?”

“Fuck no,” I groaned.

“Alrighty, then. I’m gonna make me some cereal.”

I sat on the couch, going over the night before in my mind. The last hours were hazy, but when I backed up to the moment I saw Abby on campus, I winced.

“I told Mare we had plans today. I thought we’d go to the lumber place to replace your creaky ass door.”

“You don’t have to babysit me, Shep.”

“I’m not. We’re leaving in half an hour. Wash the stank off you, first,” he said, sitting in the recliner with his bowl of Mini Wheats. “And then we’re going
to come home and study. Finals.”

“Fuck,” I said with a sigh.

“I’ll order pizza for lunch, and we can just eat leftovers for dinner.”

“Thanksgiving is coming up, remember? I’ll be eating pizza three meals a day for two days straight. No, thank you.”

“Okay, Chinese, then.”

“You’re micromanaging,” I said.

“I know. Trust me, it helps.”

I nodded slowly, hoping he was right.

THE DAYS PASSED SLOWLY. BUT STAYING UP LATE TO
study with Shepley, and sometimes America, helped to shorten the sleepless nights. Trenton promised not
to tell Dad or the rest of the Maddox boys about Abby until after Thanksgiving, but I still dreaded it, knowing I’d already told them all she would come. They would ask about her, and then
see right through me when I lied.

After my last class on Friday, I called Shepley. “Hey, I know this is supposed to be off-limits, but I need you to find out where Abby is going for break.”

“Well, that’s easy. She’ll be with us. She spends the holidays at America’s.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Nothing,” I said, abruptly hanging up the phone.

I walked around campus in the light rain, waiting for Abby’s class to let out. Outside the Hoover building, I saw a few people from Abby’s calculus class congregated outside. The
back of Parker’s head came into view, and then Abby.

She was huddled inside her winter coat, seeming uncomfortable as Parker babbled on.

I pulled down my red ball cap and jogged in their direction. Abby’s eyes drifted to mine; recognition made her eyebrows raise infinitesimally.

The same mantra played on repeat in my head.
No matter what smart-ass comment Parker makes, play it cool. Don’t fuck this up. Don’t. Fuck. This. Up.

To my surprise, Parker left without saying a word to me.

I shoved my hands into the front pockets of my hoodie. “Shepley said you’re going with him and Mare to Wichita tomorrow.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re spending the whole break at America’s?”

She shrugged, trying too hard to be unaffected by my presence. “I’m really close with her parents.”

“What about your mom?”

“She’s a drunk, Travis. She won’t know it’s Thanksgiving.”

My stomach lurched, knowing the answer to my next question was going to be my last chance. Thunder rolled above us and I looked up, squinting as the large drops fell against my face.

“I need to ask you for a favor,” I said, ducking from the hard rain. “C’mere.” I pulled Abby under the closest awning so she wouldn’t get soaked from the
sudden downpour.

“What kind of favor?” she asked, clearly suspicious. It was hard to hear her over the rain.

“My uh . . .” I shifted my weight, my nerves attempting to get the best of me. My mind screamed
abort!,
but I was determined to at least try. “Dad and the guys are
still expecting you on Thursday.”

“Travis!” Abby whined.

I looked to my feet. “You said you would come.”

“I know, but . . . it’s a little inappropriate now, don’t you think?”

“You said you would come,” I said again, trying to keep my voice calm.

“We were still together when I agreed to go home with you. You
knew
I wasn’t going to come.”

“I
didn’t
know, and it’s too late, anyway. Thomas is flying in, and Tyler took off work. Everyone’s looking forward to seeing you.”

Abby cringed, twirling a piece of her wet hair around her finger. “They were going to come anyway, weren’t they?”

“Not everyone. We haven’t had all of us there for Thanksgiving in years. They all made an effort to be there, since I promised them a real meal. We haven’t had a woman in the
kitchen since Mom died and . . .”

“That’s not sexist or anything,”

“That’s not what I meant, Pidge, c’mon. We all want you there. That’s all I’m sayin’.”

“You haven’t told them about us, have you?”

“Dad would ask why, and I’m not ready to talk to him about it. I’d never hear the end of how stupid I am. Please come, Pidge.”

“I have to put the turkey in at six in the morning. We’d have to leave here by five . . .”

“Or we could stay there.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “No way! It’s bad enough that I’m going to have to lie to your family and pretend we’re still together.”

Her reaction, although anticipated, still stung my ego a little. “You act like I’m asking you to light yourself on fire.”

“You should have told them!”

“I will. After Thanksgiving . . . I’ll tell them.”

She sighed and then looked away. Waiting for her answer was like pulling out my fingernails one by one.

“If you promise me that this isn’t some stunt to try and get back together, I’ll do it.”

I nodded, trying not to be too eager. “I promise.”

Her lips formed a hard line, but there was the tiniest hint of a smile in her eyes. “I’ll see you at five.”

I leaned down to kiss her cheek. I’d just meant to give her a quick peck, but my lips had missed her skin, and it was hard to pull away. “Thanks, Pigeon.”

After Shepley and America headed out for Wichita in the Honda, I cleaned the apartment, folded the last load of laundry, smoked half a pack of cigarettes, packed an overnight bag, and then
cussed the clock for being so slow. When four thirty finally rolled around, I jogged down the steps to Shepley’s Charger, trying not to speed all the way to Morgan.

When I arrived at Abby’s door, her confused expression took me by surprise.

“Travis,” she breathed.

“Are you ready?”

Abby raised an eyebrow. “Ready for what?”

“You said pick you up at five.”

She folded her arms across my chest. “I meant five in the
morning
!”

“Oh. I guess I should call Dad and let him know we won’t be staying after all.”

“Travis!” she wailed.

“I brought Shep’s car so we didn’t have to deal with our bags on the bike. There’s a spare bedroom you can crash in. We can watch a movie or—”

“I’m
not
staying at your dad’s!”

My face fell. “Okay. I’ll uh . . . I’ll see you in the morning.”

I took a step back, and Abby shut the door. She would still come, but my family would definitely know something was up if she didn’t show up tonight like I’d said she would. I walked
down the hall slowly as I punched in Dad’s number. He was going to ask why, and I didn’t want to outright lie to him.

“Travis, wait.”

I flipped around to see Abby standing in the hallway.

“Give me a minute to pack a few things.”

I smiled, nearly overwhelmed with relief. We walked together back to her room, and I waited in the doorway while she shoved a few things in a bag. The scene reminded me of the night I’d
won the bet, and I realized that I wouldn’t have traded a single second we spent together.

“I still love you, Pidge.”

She didn’t look up. “Don’t. I’m not doing this for you.”

I sucked in a breath, physical pain shooting in all directions in my chest. “I know.”

T
HE EASY CONVERSATIONS WE USED TO HAVE WERE
lost on me. Nothing that came to mind seemed appropriate, and I was worried
about pissing her off before we got to Dad’s.

The plan was for her to play the part, start to miss me, and then maybe I would get another chance to beg her back. It was a long shot, but the only thing I had going for me.

I pulled into the wet gravel drive, and carried our bags to the front porch.

Dad answered the door with a smile.

“Good to see ya, son.” His smiled broadened when he looked at the damp but beautiful girl standing beside me. “Abby Abernathy. We’re looking forward to dinner tomorrow.
It’s been a long time since . . . Well. It’s been a long time.”

Inside the house, Dad rested his hand on his protruding belly and grinned. “I set you two up in the guest bedroom, Trav. I didn’t figure you would wanna fight with the twin bed in
your room.”

Abby looked to me. “Abby’s uh . . . she’s going to uh . . . going to take the guest room. I’m going to crash in mine.”

Trenton walked up, his face screwed into disgust. “
Why?
She’s been staying at your apartment, hasn’t she?”

“Not lately,” I said, trying not to lunge at him. He knew exactly why.

Dad and Trenton traded glances.

“Thomas’s room has been storage for years now, so I was going to let him take your room. I guess he can sleep on the couch,” Dad said, looking at its ratty, discolored
cushions.

“Don’t worry about it, Jim. We were just trying to be respectful,” Abby said, touching my arm.

Dad’s laughter bellowed throughout the house, and he patted her hand. “You’ve met my sons, Abby. You should know it’s damn near impossible to offend me.”

I nodded toward the stairs, and Abby followed. I gently pushed open the door with my foot and sat our bags on the floor, looking at the bed and then turning to Abby. Her gray eyes were big as
they scanned the room, stopping on a picture of my parents that hung from the wall.

“I’m sorry, Pidge. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Damn straight you will,” she said, pulling her hair up into a ponytail. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

I sat on the bed, realizing just how unhappy she was about the situation. I guess part of me hoped she’d be as relieved as I was to be together. “This is going to be a fucking mess.
I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“I know exactly what you were thinking. I’m not stupid, Travis.”

I looked up and offered a tired smile. “But you still came.”

“I have to get everything ready for tomorrow,” she said, opening the door.

I stood. “I’ll help you.”

As Abby prepared the potatoes, pies, and turkey, I was busy fetching and handing her things, and completed the small cooking tasks she assigned to me. The first hour was awkward, but when the
twins arrived, everyone seemed to congregate in the kitchen, helping Abby to relax. Dad told Abby stories about us boys, and we laughed about tales of previous disastrous Thanksgivings when we
attempted to do something other than order pizza.