Read My One Regret (Martin Family Book 3) Online
Authors: Brooke St. James
I figured there was no sense in delaying the inevitable, so I didn't waste any time making arrangements to get back to Louisiana. It was Tuesday when I had that final conversation with Marcus, and my family was there with a trailer that weekend.
I texted Marcus after he left to tell him I'd be out by the first of next week and that he could just stay with a friend until then. I had a few girlfriends in Austin who I thought about calling to help me pack, but I decided against it. Literally everyone I knew in this city was through Marcus, and I really didn't feel like reliving the whole ordeal with anyone or even saying goodbye to any of them.
I did everything myself.
It took me two days to pack.
I wasn't crazy about shopping or anything, but I had been in Austin for two years, so I had managed to accumulate more than I thought. I wanted to leave so badly that I nearly left it all and told my parents to come right away. I knew they would catch on to something being wrong if I asked to leave in such a hurry—it was already bad enough that I only gave him a few days notice. I didn't lie to them, but I didn't give them all the details, either. I told them Marcus and I broke up and that I was moving back home. I didn't tell them about the money because I didn't want any added drama.
I felt sad about leaving Austin—especially under such crazy circumstances. I had hopes and dreams that Austin would be my launching pad to a career in music, and it was humbling to think about going back to Louisiana with less than I had when I left. I had no band. I had no plan. All I knew was that I needed to get home.
It was three o'clock in the afternoon when my mom called to tell me that she and my dad were just about to pull up to my apartment. New Orleans to Austin was an eight-hour drive, so I knew they were tired from being on the road all day. The plan was to load the trailer that evening and get on the road headed for home first thing in the morning.
I was standing in the doorway when my dad backed into the driveway. Our apartment was one of two places in the back of a house in Bryker Woods. We shared the driveway with the people in the other apartment, but my dad knew which side was ours, and he made quick work of backing the truck and trailer into the right spot. I had already moved my truck to the street to make room for him.
My mom was the first one out of the truck when he cut the engine. The passenger's door opened the instant the truck was parked, and she came walking towards me. "You look thin," she said with a somewhat worried expression.
It had been about a week since I ran into that club owner at the grocery store, and I really hadn't eaten much since then. Not that I was keeping track or anything, but I was pretty sure I had dropped about 10 accidental pounds.
I gave her a reassuring smile as she approached. "You look thin, too," I said, hoping to distract her as I reached out for a hug.
She hugged me and then pulled back to glance down at her own appearance. She used her hands to dust off her pants and straighten her shirt. "I do not," she said. "Your daddy won't quit bringing home that Bluebell. Sometimes he gets two tubs if he can't figure out which one he wants."
I smiled at the thought of two tubs of Bluebell waiting for me when I got home.
"Is Marcus here?" my mom asked in hushed tones as she peered around me into the apartment.
I shook my head as I pushed open the door, letting her go inside. "I haven't seen him since we broke up. I told him I'd be out by Monday, and he hasn't come here at all."
"Well, I can't say I'm glad you broke up, But you know I never did like you living together without doing the other."
I knew by
the other
, my mother meant getting married. My parents were old-fashioned, and had several times voiced their disapproval for my decision to move in with Marcus without getting married. In light of everything I had just gone through, I felt like maybe they were right. I didn't tell my mom as much. I basically just ignored her statement and focused my attention on my father who had just gotten out of the driver's seat.
He approached, regarding me with a cautious smile. "How are you, baby?" he asked in the soft-spoken way he always used when he thought one of his girls might be hurting.
"I'm good, Daddy," I said, stretching onto my tiptoes to hug him.
"Your mama wanted to go to that noodle place she likes," he said.
I knew he was trying to take the pressure off of me and I smiled at how sweet he was as I opened the door to let him walk past me.
"Oh man, you've got a lot," he said, coming face to face with the wall of boxes I had stacked in the living room.
"Over thirty of them, I'll bet," my mom said, from the other side of the room.
"I thought y'all were bringing Pop's trailer," I said since the U-Haul trailer that was now sitting in my driveway was a surprise.
"Your dad said we're supposed to get some rain," Mom said absentmindedly, still inspecting my packing job. "He wanted to get a covered one."
"What furniture's going?" my dad asked, joining her as she looked around.
"I have a couple of chairs including this one," I said gesturing to a vintage, velvet, wingback chair that was sitting nearby. "There's a desk and a couple of little tables I want to take, too."
"I think we can get everything in the trailer," Dad said, looking at Mom. "And what we can't, we can put in the back of my truck, cover with a tarp, and hope for the best."
"If it can't fit into that trailer, I probably don't need it," I said.
***
Turns out I had to eat those words. We didn't have quite enough room in the trailer for my desk, so we covered it securely with a tarp and some tape, and tied it down in the back of my dad's truck.
I drove a Toyota SUV that my parents bought for me when I graduated high school. They would have bought me something new when I graduated college, but that never happened, obviously. My truck was packed. I had already loaded it with my most important stuff before they got there. I didn't think about leaving open space for my mom in the passenger's seat, so she wound up riding back with my dad. I could have easily cleared a spot for her, but the fact of the matter was that I didn't mind driving alone. I loved my mom, and I would probably end up telling her everything eventually, but I wasn't necessarily feeling talkative about it yet.
Early that Sunday morning, we set off on our journey back to Louisiana, and for the next six or so hours, I followed my dad and that trailer down the interstate.
We were past Lake Charles on interstate 10 when the sky opened up. It seemed like we drove into a wall of some thick grey matter. One minute, it was a normal, overcast day, and the next, I was driving through the hardest rain I'd ever seen. We went from 75 MPH to 35 MPH within a matter of seconds after hitting the storm.
I turned on the windshield wipers as high as they would go, and sat up in my seat, trying to get a better view. My dad was going slow, and even then, it seemed like we were almost being reckless. I could literally see nothing but the very back of that U-Haul trailer in front of me.
"Oh my goodness," I said out loud in spite of being alone. "This is insane." I adjusted in my seat and bobbed my head, trying anything to get a better focus on the road in front of me. I had been listening to music, but I turned it down, feeling like I needed to focus all of my attention on driving.
My truck was getting pounded with huge droplets of heavy rain. It was by far the heaviest downpour I had ever driven in—had ever seen. I was thinking about the likelihood of having to come to a complete stop when I saw a semi truck pulled over on the shoulder with his hazards on. That must have reminded my dad to do the same because the lights on the U-Haul trailer started blinking in unison. I followed suit and turned on my hazards as well.
My phone was plugged into the stereo, and I heard it ring even though I had turned the volume down. The call had gone to voicemail by the time I found my phone and picked it up. It didn't matter because it instantly rang again. There was no way I could take my eyes off the road, so I had to guess at the appropriate button to answer the phone.
"Hello?" I said once I thought it picked up.
I turned up my stereo so I could better hear the caller over the speakers.
"Are you okay?" my mom asked.
"This is nuts!" I yelled over the sound of the pounding rain.
It was all I could do to keep up with my dad and keep my vehicle in the center of the lane. Actually, I had no idea whether or not we were in the center of the lane, all I knew was that I was following that trailer. I glanced at the speedometer to see that we were going 30 MPH.
"I saw some cars stopping back there," I said, feeling like that might be a possibility.
"Does she need to stop?" I heard my dad (who was obviously overhearing our conversation) ask.
"Do you need to stop?" my mom asked.
"I don't think so," I said, since they seemed confident with driving. "I'll just stay behind you. Just go as slow as you need to." My dad eased of the gas, dropping us to a slightly more comfortable 25 MPH.
It was raining cats and dogs, ladies and gentlemen. The rain and clouds were so thick that I might as well have been driving through literal cats and dogs. My windshield wipers were going a thousand miles an hour, and they still weren't doing the trick. The rain was so thick that the back of the U-Haul trailer was the only thing I could see. I couldn’t even see the road. If it weren't for my dad in front of me leading the way, I would have no idea what to do. Without him there, I would probably have driven straight onto the shoulder or into the median.
I drove like that, with my eyes glued to the back of that trailer, for several minutes, which seemed like a lifetime.
The whole thing felt a bit like my current situation in life. I had been trucking along, minding my own business when a storm descended upon me, making me feel lost and confused.
I remember thinking as I drove through that storm that I was in a situation that couldn't get any worse. I was emotionally and physically drained, and I was completely confused about how to move forward.
I had no idea what I wanted to do.
I didn't feel like doing anything. At that point, quitting music felt like the most logical choice.
All this, and now God opened the heavens up on me and sent a downpour, the likes of which I had never seen.
There was absolutely zero visibility.
I kept my eyes fixed on the U-Haul, praying that Dad wouldn’t speed up and disappear into the nothingness. I had a series of thoughts as I focused on the blinking lights on my dad's trailer.
I'm helpless to make it through this storm alone.
Completely helpless.
What would I do if I didn't have Dad to follow?
I'd lose the road.
I'd go skidding off into the median.
Thank God I have Dad to follow.
Maybe it's sort of like God.
Maybe, if I just keep my eyes on Him, He'll lead me out of this.
Not this storm, but my life.
Well, this storm, too.
God, please lead me out of this storm and the storm of my life.
What makes you think He'll listen to you? You've been living for nobody but yourself for the last… I don't even know how long.
God, I’m sorry I'm only talking to you because I need you. I know it's really selfish of me, and I won't blame you if you have to ignore me out of tough love or whatever, but I sort of need you right now. I need help out of this rain, and I need you to please show me where to go from here.
At that point, my brain uncontrollably went off on a tangent where it was thinking about all the things Marcus said to hurt me.
Maybe he was right.
Maybe my stage presence was all I had going for me. I wasn't so sure I even felt like having a stage presence anymore.
I can't even pray right.
I lost track of what I was saying to God like one minute after I started praying.
Who are these people who can pray extended prayers like Daniel?
I need to be more like Daniel.
I'm trying to pray to ask for help, and I can't even do that right. Even when I'm petitioning God for something my brain goes off track.
I let out a long sigh, feeling like the worst person in the world and wondering how God could possibly love someone like me.
More pounding of rain and swishing of windshield wipers.
More grey.
Tons of grey.
All grey.
The only thing that wasn't grey was the back of that trailer. Just trust the trailer.
"Just trust Me," I heard God whisper to my soul.
A feeling of peace washed over me when I chose to trust that the small voice I was hearing was my creator. Something shifted inside me. I knew it was God who let me drive through this storm. He was clearly telling me that if I wanted to get out of the mess I was in, all I had to do was lock my eyes on Him—trust Him fully.
I was overcome by a feeling of true joy when that reality hit me. I knew the storm and the U-Haul were a message, and my spirit felt happy when it sank in for what it was.
Within a few minutes of my realization, the clouds finally parted. I could choose to look at it as coincidence, but Nana always said that coincidence was just when God remained anonymous.
We were almost all the way to Lafayette by the time the rain slacked off completely. I went to college in Lafayette, so I had driven the path from Lafayette home lots of times. The roads were familiar, and the skies had cleared, so I relaxed into the seat and turned up the stereo.
Several songs had passed in the time that I had it turned down, and a new album was playing when I turned it up. It was one I hadn't listened to in a long time—one Ryan Collins had exposed me to when we first met.
I smiled at the thought of Ryan.
Nearing Lafayette brought up so many memories of him. I was thinking back to some of them when my phone rang.
"Hello?"
"We made it," my mom said. "Your dad wanted to stop at Billy's. He likes that crawfish boudin."
(Boudin
boo-danh
: A tasty treat made of pork, rice, and seasonings, which are stuffed into sausage casing and steamed or smoked. Sometimes the pork is replaced with crawfish or another protein. ~There's a place right down the road from our house called Ty's where you could find some really good boudin, but Dad loved the crawfish boudin at Billy's in Scott, Louisiana, which was on the outskirts of Lafayette.)
There was a drive-through, but we decided to get out so we could stretch our legs and use the restroom one more time before we made the last leg home. I'd been to Billy's at least twenty times when I lived in Lafayette, and I smiled at the familiar feeling I got when I pulled into the parking lot.
Ryan liked the boudin at Billy's, and I remembered going there with him. I wondered what Ryan was doing now. I thought about that storm, and I wondered if thinking about Ryan right after all that happened had anything to do with God. Then I laughed at myself for reading into it so much.
"Why don't you ride with your dad for a little while," my mom asked as soon as we parked and got out of our vehicles. "I can drive your truck."
"I'm fine driving," I said.
"Well, why don't we move some stuff around so I can ride with you?" my mom asked. She reached out to massage my shoulders as I approached, and we both stepped onto the sidewalk near the door to the building. "It won't take long to move a few things," she added. She pulled back to stare at me with a sincere expression. "I'm riding with you," she said, smiling a little like she was looking forward to it.
We all stretched and talked about the unlikelihood of that caliber of storm as we went inside to use the restroom and order some food for the road. I didn't tell either of them that God spoke to me through the experience.
"Driving through Lafayette makes me think of Ryan," I said to my mom once we were back on the interstate. I pointed at a sign we were passing. "He used to live right off of University, so every time I see this exit, I think about him."
"Is Ryan one of your friends from school?" Mom asked.
"Yes, Mom," I said, glancing at her. "He was my drummer."
"Oh, was he the one who liked you?"
I reflected on Ryan approaching me that night in New Orleans. My gut clinched at the memory. I felt embarrassed at the thought of turning him down like that.
"Yeah, he, he was the one who, yeah, he liked me," I said.
I felt oddly nervous and giddy at the thought of Ryan—like some feelings had been awakened for him even though I hadn't seen him in years. I literally giggled.
"What?" my mom asked.
"I was just thinking about Ryan," I said. "I was thinking about the irony of it all."
"What irony?"
"That I really thought Marcus was somehow the better choice." I paused and let out a humorless laugh. "Looking back, I was probably a fool to not choose Ryan, but I didn't see it that way at the time."
"Did he come right out and say he liked you?" my mom asked.
She was looking at me as I drove, so I just nodded.
"He really liked me," I said, remembering the way Ryan looked at me when we spoke that night. "I just didn't feel that crazy sense of passion toward him like I did with Marcus."
"Passion can only go so far," my mom said, causing me to let out a little laugh.
"Obviously," I said, gesturing around us at the fact that I was in the middle of moving from another state. "Aren't you attracted to Dad, though?" I asked, knowing the answer was 'yes' since I'd seen her behaving accordingly all my life.
"Not always," she said, taking me by surprise.
I cut my eyes at her from over the console and found that she was smiling and shrugging at me innocently.
"I'm human, Wynn, and so is your Daddy. I'm sure he's not always attracted to
me
. But we made a conscious decision to love each other all these years in spite of our fickle feelings."
Her words made me feel nauseated. I was already sick with my own stuff, and now here she was, telling me she might or might not love my dad. My face must have reflected my disappointment and confusion because she reached out and put her hand on my arm as I drove.
"I love your father with all my heart, baby," she clarified. "But what we have isn't built on that passion you're talking about. Passion should be the by-product of something else—something deeper."
"Yeah, but there's got to be some kind of spark, right? I mean, I'm not gonna just go off and marry someone and hope I'll fall in love with them later."
"I'm not saying that at all," she said. "I was attracted to your dad when we met, and I still am. He's a handsome man, and I know that. All I'm saying is that attraction isn't everything—not even close. It definitely shouldn't be what you base a relationship on."
We didn't speak for several seconds while I thought about what she was saying. "I guess looking back, Ryan would have been the better choice, but I just couldn’t see it then. Everything inside me was saying Marcus was the one. I thought for sure I was doing right."
"And that's all you can do, sweetie. You can't go back and change what's done, and you can't beat yourself up over it." She used her hand to rub my arm again as I drove. "We live and learn. Next time you meet someone, you'll have this experience in your back pocket, and you'll be a better person for it."
I was quiet, so she continued.
"You're not always going to feel passion in your life no matter who you marry. Your dad and I choose to stick with each other during the times when we're not feeling it, and then, next thing you know, we're feeling it again."
"I wonder what he's doing now," I said.
"Who?" she asked.
"Ryan."
"Who knows," she said. "You shouldn’t think you were wrong for not going after this other guy, honey. Just, in the future, maybe you'll factor in that passion isn't everything. It's experiences like this that help us make different choices moving forward."
"But I
was
wrong for not choosing Ryan," I said, regret evident in my tone. "I know I was."
My mom continued to rub my arm and shoulder comfortingly. "We live and learn, sweetie. I know it's hard to believe right now, but there will be someone else who comes along, and you'll have plenty more opportunities to get it wrong or get it right, or do something in between. There will probably be a few more Marcuses and more Ryans in your future. You have to just give yourself grace and try to learn from your experiences."
I thought about everything she was saying. I thought about the last time I saw Ryan and wished I had been able to see through Marcus the way I saw through him now. I felt a sense of regret wash over me in regards to Ryan, which made me extremely curious about what he was doing now. I picked up my phone to call Claire, hoping she had heard from him during the past two years.
"What you doin'?" Mom asked when she saw me digging for my phone.
"Calling Claire. I want to see if she's heard from Ryan."
"Maybe you should take a little break," my mom said before I could place the call.
"I'm not trying to have a rebound relationship, Mom. I'm not that desperate." I let out a sigh, trying to put my feelings into words. "I just know I was wrong with Ryan. Not someone
like
Ryan, but specifically Ryan. I shouldn’t have left him hanging like I did. He really liked me, and I just…" I trailed off, feeling plagued with regret at the memory of that night. I was sick with regret.
I was drawn to the memory of Ryan, and the thoughts of what we could have had together began running through my mind. He was good to me. I pictured him—remembering what he looked like. He was handsome, and I wondered how I hadn't seen it back then.
I glanced at my mom. "I'm just gonna see if she knows what he's doing now," I said.
I knew by her facial expression that she didn't think it was a good idea for me to call asking after some guy when I was just breaking up with another one, but I pressed the button to call Claire anyway.