“I can’t deal with this right now. I’ll call you later,” I lie.
She accepts the lie. She shakes her leaking head before standing up. She steps closer to me; unsure of what she’s about to do, I cross my arms across my chest, unwilling to give in to her. I am not allowing a hug. We may have been friends yesterday, but today is a new day.
“One more thing,” she says, stepping away from me carefully. She slides her shades over her eyes.
“What is it?” I ask, not sure I can take anything else.
“We’ve been kind of hanging out,” she says, looking away from me again.
“You’re the girl?”
“I’m so sorry…” she starts crying again.
How did I not suspect anything? She stopped drinking…she stopped going home with guys from the bar. She even pushed me to pick up her slack. She felt bad for me. It was her way of making it right. I just assumed she was growing up. How did I not see what was right in front of my face?
“I hope you two have a lifetime of happiness,” I say, and I completely dismiss her. She opens her mouth, but I pick up my phone, pretending to text someone so that she will leave.
I don’t know that I will ever accept her, but I understand her. If nothing else, at least she had the decency to tell me. I sip my coffee, looking out on the street. In a city as big as this one, surrounded by people, I’ve never felt so alone.
A chair at my table moves; I am startled, but I don’t look up. I know it is not Tabatha coming back. When you’ve known someone as long as I have known him, you know when they are in your presence. The way they carry themselves, their walk, their breathing, the sounds and odd things they do that no one else notices becomes imprinted on your brain.
“Is this about coffee? Or getting away?” He asks. His voice is void of emotion. I did that to him; again.
“Both,” I say, honestly.
“What happened last night?” He asks, his blue eyes are glaring at me.
“Nothing. I was just selfish. I should’ve stopped,” I say, avoiding his gaze.
“You wanted it as much as I did.”
“I am not denying that,” I say, hurting. I know I have to do this. I have too much baggage. “I got what I wanted, and now I am done.”
“I call bullshit, Natalie,” he says, his voice is a little louder.
“I just found out my best friend cheated with my ex-husband, and they’ve been dating behind my back. Excuse me for not wanting to jump into a relationship with a guy that didn’t work out the first time around!”
Leaving my coffee on the table, I run. I am headed straight for my apartment. When I get to the elevator, I hear him catching up to me. I get on the elevator, pushing the door closing button receptively. Large hands appear and pull the door back.
Jack steps on the elevator, and I roll my eyes. I just want him to get over everything and let me live my life alone and in misery. Is that too much to ask?
“I am not leaving until we figure this out,” he says.
“You’re the only one that hasn’t caught on, Jack. I have…the people at the coffee shop, the people on the sidewalk. Everyone,” I say, annoyed.
“I let you walk out of my life without so much as a goodbye one time. It sure as hell isn’t happening a second time,” he says.
I cross my arms across my chest, annoyed that he has a point. I am even more annoyed that I want to be around him. I don’t want him to go. I need to learn to be alone and pull myself up on my own. I can’t depend on anyone; not right now.
“Fine,” I say.
The elevator dings and I walk off, stalking toward my apartment. Jack is on my tail. I open the door and walk into my living room. This place is depressing. I wish I would have kept my apartment from before I married.
The windows are smaller, and my view is shitty. I can see the sidewalk and into the windows of all of my neighbors. If I were a creep, this would be the perfect place. But I am not, and this place sucks.
I sit down on the white couch that has stuck with me through three moves and a divorce. It is my only stable ground. Jack sits down at the other end, keeping his distance.
“You’re scared, Natalie, but you have nothing to be afraid of,” Jack says, looking in my direction. “I wasn’t the one that left.”
His blue eyes are bloodshot, and his blonde hair is damp and hanging down his forehead. I can’t answer him. I know my voice will come out as a blubbering mess. This is why I run. I can’t confront my problems, because I know I can’t deal with them.
“What do I have to do?” He asks when I don’t answer. “Obviously, I’ll do it. I moved here for you. I waited for you. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Natalie, just say it.”
“Leave. Give up; go back to your old life,” I say, flatly. I don’t mean to be rude to Jack, but this is a hopeless situation. I will never be enough for him.
“Anything but that,” he says, determined.
“I can’t give you all of me,” I say. Shaking my head, I clear my thoughts before a tear escapes. “Why are you doing this? What is it about me?”
“I am not asking for all. I know you’re fucked up from the divorce. I was fucked up for years when you left. I guess I am asking for a chance to prove myself to you,” he says, watching me, waiting for me to give in. I can hear his ragged breathing from across the couch.
“What if I can’t give you that, Jack? You know how I am…something will come up tomorrow, and I’ll be gone. Is that fair to you?” I ask, trying to make him see how unstable I am.
“I’ll make you a deal. You leave, and I’ll come after you and talk you down?” He asks, smiling. I look at him and laugh. It doesn’t take long before he joins me. It is freeing to be like this; to be this open with someone.
“I don’t know,” I say, sighing. I am tossing my thoughts around, looking for a valid reason to run. He doesn’t need this.
“Friends? Anything…I’ll never push you for more. I just know I am not living without you in my life again,” he says.
Shaking my head, I bring my hands to my head. This can’t be happening. “Okay…but you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He lifts my chin, making me look at him. “I’ll never have to say that. You’re scared now, but in ten years, you’ll look back on this and laugh.”
“You sound so sure of yourself,” I say, smirking.
“I am, Natalie. This isn’t like last time…We were kids then. We’re in this forever, whether we are friends, dating, married, you name it. From this day on, I’ll never go another day without you.”
He kissed me with everything he had to offer. I’ve been waiting for him to say those things to me, whether I want to admit it or not. I knew when we kissed, his words were true. No matter what, he would be a part of me forever. I can’t shake Jack Mathis.
The silver fox; I think I’ve been waiting on this day since the day I met him. He sits with his pen between his teeth, grading a test. As if he senses me watching him, he looks up, his brows bump together before he breaks out into a grin.
“What?” He asks, shyly.
We’ve spent almost half of our lives together, and we still get embarrassed by the other. His hair is shorter than he ever wore it in our twenties. Strips of gray can be seen under the light, especially from this angle. His beard is short and trimmed, and he has a few faint lines on the outside of his eyes, signifying the joy and laughter we’ve had together.
“I was just thinking about how lucky I am,” I say, halfway telling the truth. If I told him I was thinking about bedding him, his tests would never be graded, and my great American novel would never be written.
“Oh yeah? How’s that?” He asks, grinning.
He sets the stack of papers down and leans up in his recliner. His smile is contagious. I grab my phone, looking at the time. Like clockwork, my stomach growls.
“I was just thinking how lucky I am to have a boyfriend who will get dressed and go for dinner at nine- o’clock at night.”
“We might be creeping up on forty, but I refuse to be lame every night,” I say. Standing, I stretch and wait for him to get up. Tell me I won.
“I was just sitting here thinking how lame it is to be called boyfriend at almost forty,” he says. His smile is smug.
“What do you prefer? Life partner? Manfriend?” I ask, giggling.
He comes up behind me, embracing me into a hug before letting me go. I walk down the small hallway, and into our bedroom, a goofy grin is plastered on my face. I am so thankful we found a larger apartment at my old building to buy.
On paper, we are the same as we were ten years ago. I am a writer, but I write for me. I publish, but I only focus on what I want to write about, and I know without a doubt, that at least one person will like it, and that’s all that matters to me anymore. People’s opinions use to break me, but not anymore. Jack is still a teacher. He’s the best damn teacher in Dallas, and possibly the world. I’ve never known a more caring, beautiful soul.
I pull on a simple, black dress just as Jack walks out. Dressed in a button-down shirt and slacks, he looks fantastic. He ages like wine fine. I, on the other hand, age with Botox.
“Where to, my love?” He asks, following me from the bedroom.
“Let’s go to the new Italian place across from us,” I say, grabbing my purse as we leave. I sling it over my body and open the door, holding it open for Jack.
I pushed the button at the elevator, stepping back beside Jack to wait. Almost immediately, the door opened, and we stepped on.
“Remember that one time,” Jack started.
“We are not,” I say, laughing. If we are in the elevator together, he feels the need to remind me of the one time we made out in one. He’s hoping to get lucky in here one day. I expect it every single time.
“Maybe for my birthday?” He asks.
“I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you,” I say, stepping out into the night. The street is lit up, illuminating the walkway. Across the road, the restaurant is still full of life with people going in and out.
“I wouldn’t hold my breath until my birthday regardless of your answer. I would die,” he deadpans.
Ignoring him, I walk across the street, and he follows closely behind, laughing. I walk in the small restaurant, stopping in front of the hostess stand.
“Two please,” I say.
The young girl with long brown hair and large rimmed glasses grabs two menus. She smiles at me like I am an old friend. We walk behind her until she stops, motioning to the table. She lays down the menus, nervously, and takes a step back.
“I probably shouldn’t do this at my job….” She bites her bottom lip and pulls out her cell phone. “But can I get a picture with you? I love your books,” she says.
I break out into a grin. “Absolutely, Jack, do you mind?”
“Not at all. You were meant to be photographed,” he says, winking at me. We stand beside each other, and he takes the picture.
“You guys are adorable. Is he your inspiration?” She asks, looking between us.
“His head would explode if I said yes,” I say, laughing. Jack rolls his eyes at me and sits down at the table.
“Thanks again, Natalie,” the hostess says before walking back to her stand.
“Cute,” Jack says, pointing out my joke. Laughing, I start looking through the menu. He knows he’s my inspiration. Even when he wasn’t in my life; there may have been a time that I thought he wasn’t the one, but he took those feelings away.
“Natalie,” Jack says, and I look up. “Collin’s behind you.”
I twist in my seat, finding Collin two tables behind us. I wave, catching his attention. He grabs a to-go container and my ex-best friend’s hand before coming to our table.
“Hey, Collin.” Jack stands, shaking his hand before sitting down again.
“Where’s the baby?” I ask, my eyes bouncing between him and his wife. She hasn’t thoroughly warmed up to the friendship between Jack and Collin yet. She smiles, but it is forced; at least she’s trying.
We are in an odd place. Collin told Jack over drinks that she seems to think we are in a ploy to destroy them, but he believes she will get over her insecurities. Jack and I have moved on from the hurt they’ve caused me, and maybe one day she will too. It’s odd to say, but I hope the girl that ultimately ended my marriage, will be my friend again one. It is time she healed and moved on from our past.
“She’s with a sitter. We never get out alone anymore,” Collin says, shrugging his shoulders.
“Gotcha,” Jack says. “We should all hang out sometime!”
“Yeah, definitely,” Collin says. He sounds so American. His accent is fading, and he has dropped the British lingo he used to cling to. He looks back at his wife before grabbing her hand again.
“It was good seeing you too,” Jack says.
“Take care,” Collin says, looking between us before they walk off. I wave bye to them and look back at the man in front of me.
“Bye Tabatha,” I say, and she turns and waves at me.
We run into the pair often, especially since we share the same publisher. It was weird at first, but everyone was cordial. Over time, we became acquainted. Jack and Collin even went out for a drink one night after an event.
I look over Jack’s shoulder, watching Collin walk out the door, Tabatha in tow. He catches my eyes and smiles briefly one more time before leaving. It makes me happy to see him doing well. It makes me even happier to know that he has someone in his life that can help in ways I was never able to. We both stuck around because we felt like we had to, but that wasn’t fair. We both have what we deserve. He has a family, and I have Jack.
“We’re so grown up now,” I say.
“Thirty- eight will do that to you,” he says, smiling back at me. “I love you, Natalie.”
“I love you, Jack.”
It was always him; even when I was confused all of those years ago. We never married, never had children. Honestly, the subject never came up. We lived in the moment. We are two people in love, wanting to celebrate every day for the rest of our lives together. We never know what they may look like from day to day. The only certain in my life is him. We knew what was at stake if we forced something to happen.
We didn’t need a piece of paper to show each other how we felt. I belonged to him as he did to me. When I felt like running, he found me. When I lied, he caught it. When life was overwhelming, he calmed my storm. We were no longer two natural disasters, waiting to tear down each other and everything around us.
With age, came maturity. We needed each other, and we were willing to do whatever that meant to achieve that goal. I may have told some lies in my day, but one thing that is true is that Jack Mathis is my person.
THE END
A look into Hazed,
Brittany Butler’s best-selling novel
My head screamed that I didn't belong here—my hand falls numb from pressure, I realize I am using my gear shirt as a security blanket and release my hold. The adjacent porch advertised beer; a rusted truck harnessed with an improvised tow, bounces from the lot with a car. The entire scene playing before my face is the very one I spent my Sunday mornings hearing of. They crammed hatred into my ears like a scolding, hot branding iron.
Don't fall into that lifestyle. It is the devils trap.
Now I sit in my car, crumpled newspaper ads in my hand, starring at the bar, anticipating my ticket to hell upon arrival. My father's voice rings through my head; I can almost feel his hard glare, the stern shake of his head as I glance at the newspaper then back at the building.
"Am I sure?" I ask aloud.
But I know the answer to that. I am. I am more than sure. This job will allow me the freedom I so desperately crave. One short weekend stands in the way of my first semester in college. I kill my car, and my thighs peel from the leather seat. East Texas is baking again. The thermometer in my shiny, red Volkswagen
reads over one hundred degrees.
The grim bar sits in front of me with promises of money and freedom. Tugging on the hem of my shorts, I stand on the porch, inspecting the new angle. I fuss with my auburn hair, raking my fingers through the chipped ends before I open the heavy wooden door.
The bar is bright—not what I expected. Signs decorate the dark walls. The black marble bar top is shiny and clean, chairs are stacked neatly on the tables. I've never seen the inside of a bar in the day, so I take my time looking over the sights.
Well, if I am being honest I've never seen the inside of a bar, period. Unless you count movies, but that's just how it is where I am from. My town hosts less than a thousand people, allowing each of them access to personal information. Being the daughter of a preacher, I am under a watchful eye. But all of that is about to change. I moved an hour away into a dorm on campus, and this job is the missing piece. Aside from holidays, I now have absolutely no reason to go back to that place—my own personal hell.
"Taylor Thompson?" I turn to see a dumpy gentleman holding a clipboard. The lighting casts a glare on his bald head, his cheeks sag into a deep scowl. His handkerchief wipes down his face, removing the beads of sweat from his shiny forehead.
"That's me," I smiled.
"Let's do the interview in my office," he said, turning from me.
"Randy! Miller tap needs to be refilled!" A deep voice booms from the kitchen.
"Gotcha," he replied.
I follow him into the cramped, unruly office that's located behind the kitchen. He takes a seat in a chair motioning for me to take the other. He lifts a cup from the desk, pulling my application out from underneath. With a brush of the paper, he pulls glasses on and skims over the details.
Clicking his tongue he said, "I read over your application. Basically all I need is to confirm your availability." He tosses the paper on the cluttered desk and leans back; folding his arms on his stomach, using the plump article as an armrest. His head leans down and peers at me above his glasses.
"Afternoons during the week and free all weekend," I said. He murmurs something inaudible as he presses his pen to the paper.
The Lies We Tell Page 13
