by Lorrie Kruse
This house was just that—a house—no longer a home.
He flipped open his cell phone and dialed Faith’s number. She was speechless as he told her his idea. They’d swap houses. He’d manage the apartments. She could stay in his house until Russ came home from Afghanistan. The only thing was, he wanted the move to happen as soon as possible. Tomorrow.
That done, he pulled out his checkbook and wrote out a three-thousand dollar check to Derrick he that couldn’t really afford. If he had to, he’d eat stale bread and water until he’d paid Derrick back every cent he owed. Being in debt to the traitor was one monkey he didn’t want choking him any longer than necessary.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Matt wheeled a triangle in Faith’s compact apartment. He’d never think of it as his apartment. Dining room. Kitchen. Living room. Then back to the dining room.
A caged lion. That’s what he was. A caged lion separated from his pride.
Three weeks without his family. Three weeks cooped up in this tiny apartment. Three weeks with a social life that amounted to listening to his neighbors’ arguments through the wall followed by the sounds of them making up.
On a trip back to the living room, he caught sight of the phone. Back in the old days, he’d have called Derrick to go shoot some baskets with him or go fishing. Those days were gone. Forever.
He faced the TV, turning his back on the phone. His reflection stared back at him from the forty-two inch screen. A lonely man in need of a haircut and a shave and a purpose in life.
He took a long draw from the bottle of Miller that had been tucked between his legs. Barely past noon, and he was drinking already. Alcohol. The perfect substitute for friends.
The telephone rang. He snatched it up before the second ring. It could be a salesman and he wouldn’t care, although it was Derrick who came to mind. Like he’d really want to talk to the back-stabbing son-of-a-bitch. “Hello.”
“Good, I got you.”
It wasn’t Derrick. Not like he really thought it would be. Nor did he want it to be. “Hi, Dad.”
The whine of a saw competed with the echo of hammers in action. Matt could almost smell the scent of fresh-cut pine. He should be there, adding to the hammer symphony.
“I’m looking at your diagram for the lobby’s tile. I can’t tell from your notes if we’re using the six inch tiles or the four inch. Do you remember?”
“Six inch. Bigger room, bigger tiles.” Which his father already knew. It was, after all, his rule. “The fours are for the bathrooms.”
“That’s what I thought, but I wanted to be sure.”
“How’s the build going?” What he really wanted to ask was how Derrick was doing. Was the jerk as lonely as he was? Or was he too busy with Crystal to be lonely? “Back on schedule?”
“Close enough to make Rex happy.”
Based on the relaxed tone of his father’s voice, Matt read that to mean they were back on target. Spending time on needless chit chat wouldn’t keep them that way, but he didn’t want to hang up. “And the new guy?”
“Doesn’t know shit about making materials stretch, and he’s got a total lack of vision.”
“So he’s working well, huh?”
His father grunted. A “yes” without admitting it. “How’s the manager job?”
“Keeps me busy.” In three weeks, he’d fixed one electrical problem. That’s all. It’d taken him all of fifteen seconds to diagnose the problem and flip the wall switch the tenant didn’t realize controlled the outlet.
“Too busy to write up a bid for me? Gotta line up some fall work.”
“I think I can squeeze it in.”
“Good. I’ll email the details later when I get home.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Don’t hang up. Not yet.
“While I’ve got you, do you have any idea what’s eating Derrick?”
Guilt, he hoped. “No idea.”
“I thought maybe he would have said something to you.”
“No. We haven’t talked much.” Did not at all count as not much?
“Something going on between you two?”
Not anymore. “Of course not.”
“Well then, maybe you could feel him out the next time you talk.”
“Sure. I’ll do just that.” When hell freezes over.
“Your mother wants to come down for a visit. Probably not this coming weekend, but we’ll make it soon. As soon as we have a comfortable lead on the group home.”
We’ll come visit. But not right now. Like a carrot jerked away from a hungry horse. “I’ll get out the good china then.”
His father laughed. “Chinet instead of Dixie, huh?”
“And Cool Whip bowls instead of the cheap brand.” Anything to keep his father talking.
“Well, Son, I’ve got to go. Take care. I love you.” And then he was gone.
“I love you too, Dad,” he said to the dial tone, already missing his contact to home. He held his thumb on the reset button and pinched the bridge of his nose with his other hand. A tear managed to escape, anyhow. Just like he was some kind of girl.
“Pathetic,” he mumbled as he swiped the back of his hand across his cheek. Not like it mattered. There wasn’t anyone to see him crying. Nobody to care. He was in a city of six hundred thousand people and he’d never felt more alone. Him, Matthew Huntz, the guy who’d always had a pack of friends—all alone. No family. No friends. No Derrick.
“Who needs him?” Matt slammed the phone onto the cradle harder than he’d intended. “Who the fuck needs him?”
He wheeled to the kitchen, to the dining room, to the living room, and back to the kitchen.
Why Derrick? If Crystal had to cheat, why couldn’t it have been with someone else? And why, of all the women in the world, why’d Derrick have to pick Crystal to finally fall in love with?
“They deserve each other,” he mumbled as he grabbed a fresh Miller from the fridge. “I don’t need him, and I don’t need her. I’m fine on my own.” He wheeled to the living room and parked in front of the blank TV again, facing the lonely reflection in need of a haircut, a shave, and a purpose in life. “Just fucking fine.”
He watched his reflection as he took a drink of his beer. Getting drunk wasn’t going to get him back to work. He should be figuring out a way to get his legs moving again. At the very least, he should be at a health club lifting weights, keeping in shape, doing whatever he could to prove that Derrick hadn’t won.
Tomorrow. He’d find a health club tomorrow.
He finished off his beer and wheeled to the fridge for another. He twisted off the cap and took a deep swig. He could feel the cold liquid all the way down his throat. He just wished he could feel it clouding his brain, wished desperately for the numbness he sought. Instead, everything was too vibrant. The emptiness inside him too deep a cavern. The loneliness too present. His family, too absent. And him, too fresh out of friends.
An image of Abby flashed in his mind.
He set the bottle on his knee. Abby lived in Milwaukee. The rehab center was only a few miles away. Next to Derrick she’d been the only person he knew who he could bare his soul to, and heaven knows he had a lot of baring to do these days.
He wheeled to the phone. As he dialed Milwaukee Spine Care Center’s phone number, he realized he must be well on his way to being drunk or he never would have called her.
“Milwaukee Spine Care Center. How may I direct your call?”
“Abigail Fischner, please.”
This is stupid, he thought as he listened to canned Muzak while waiting to be connected. He and Abby weren’t really friends. Talking with her had been nothing more than a way to pass the time. And she certainly had better things to do than keep him company.
He was about to hang up when the music died off and he heard Abby’s voice. “Abigail Fischner.”
What the hell. “Hi. It’s Matt Huntz, in need of a good listener. Can you meet me at Bar None after work?” He chose the bar based on location. “It’s no
t that far from the center. About a fifteen-minute drive.” Just around the corner from the apartment. Close enough he could wheel home drunk, if need be.
For six long seconds he heard not a sound. Abby trying to figure out a polite way to say no. But just as he was ready to write her off, she said, “I have to visit my mother right after work, but I can meet you at six thirty, if that’s okay.”
Six hours. He took a swig of his beer. He’d be so drunk by then he wouldn’t remember what he wanted to talk to her about. He liked the not remembering part. “Sounds perfect.”
Waiting at Bar None sounded like a much better alternative to staying cooped up in the tiny apartment for the next six hours.
Outside, he squinted at the bright sunlight. Had the sun always been this bright?
Bar None was the complete opposite of the outdoors. He sat just inside the doorway for a moment while his eyes adjusted to the hazy darkness. A man with a ZZ Top beard wiped down glasses behind the bar. A woman wearing shorts that were so short her ass hung out and a tank top that looked two sizes too small carried a tray loaded with dirty glasses and beer bottles.
Laughter came from a booth at the far end of the bar. People who knew how to have a good time.
A man and a woman sat at the bar. The man rubbed her leg while he spoke.
Two men at the pool table took turns pretending they knew what they were doing. In the few seconds Matt watched them from across the room, he decided he could probably teach them a thing or two, even stuck in a wheelchair.
People, Matt thought as a smile formed. All around him, people. Too bad he hadn’t come here before calling Abby. Then he could have saved her from wasting her time.
He wheeled to the back of the bar and took a place at one of the tables close to the pool table. He’d watch for a while, study the men’s techniques, and then offer a challenge. Good way to kill an afternoon. Too bad he hadn’t thought of coming here earlier, like three weeks ago.
The waitress laid a napkin in front of him. Her breasts spilled over the top of the too-tight knit shirt. Breasts like that could help him forget Crystal. Breasts like that could help him forget he’d lost his best friend. Putting on his best smile, he reached into his shirt pocket for some money, but his keys were in the way. He dropped the keys onto the table and then pulled a crumpled ten from his pocket. “Miller Draft. And a drink for yourself.”
She eyed his wheelchair. “Thanks, but Charlie don’t like me getting too chummy with the customers.”
Pretending she was staring at him and not his chair, he said, “But he doesn’t mind you becoming dehydrated?”
Her eyes came back to him. “De…hide…what?”
Silicone poisoning, he decided as he pushed the crumpled ten closer to her. “Just bring me a Miller, okay?”
One of the men at the pool table looked his way and nodded a polite greeting. The perfect opportunity to strike up a conversation. Matt nodded back, but looked away.
Why are you still sitting here, you dip-shit? You wanted to shoot pool, so get your ass over there.
A billiard ball smacked against another one, followed by the sound of the ball rolling over the felt before ricocheting off the bumper. The game was underway again. It’d be rude to interrupt. As soon as he heard a lull, he’d go over.
He shifted his attention to the couple at the bar. The man smiled and nodded at the exit. The woman crawled off the barstool. The man slid his arm around her waist and led her to the door.
Even though it had been a long time since Matt had walked with Crystal, he could feel the memory of her nestled against him. He crossed his arms, but they still felt empty. Sure bet Derrick’s arms didn’t feel as empty.
A tightness formed in Matt’s throat.
Needing a distraction, he turned his attention back to his pool-shooting pals. What he saw was himself and Derrick shooting pool, laughing, having a good time. His chest constricted and his eyes burned. God, please, don’t let me start crying. Not here.
The blonde with the breasts brought him his beer. Concentrating on the exploding display of skin helped take the edge off his loneliness. She had a little mole deep in her cleavage that looked a little bit like a heart. Staring at the mole, he asked, “You sure I can’t buy you a drink?”
“I’m up here, sugar.”
He lifted his eyes.
“I told you, Charlie don’t like me drinking with the customers.”
“Charlie would get over it.”
“No, he wouldn’t. He’s my boyfriend.”
Great. He hadn’t come here to get himself killed by a ZZ Top wannabe. He lifted the beer. “Then, I’ll drink this one for you.”
As soon as she left, he set the bottle down and wrapped both hands around it. He stared at the mouth as though it were a crystal ball that held the answers that’d fix his life. All he saw in the crystal ball was the opening to a pit of nothingness.
He drained the last of his beer from the defective crystal ball and held up the empty, indicating he needed a refill. The waitress brought him a fresh beer.
§
Abby stood outside Bar None and finger-combed her hair. Her stomach fluttered at the thought of how close Matt was. In less than a minute, she’d be seated across a table from him. Would it be like their after-hours chats? Her stomach fluttered again. If she were smart, she’d turn on her heel and run as fast as she could to her car.
She wasn’t smart though, because she saw her hand reaching for the door handle. Lord, don’t let me regret this.
Just inside the door, she scanned the faces through the dim lighting. There were several men at the bar clumped in groups of two or more. Two men were taking turns hitting balls around the pool table while two more men waited for their turn. No Matt. Maybe he’d changed his mind. Which would be a good thing.
Someone by the pool table moved, revealing the lone man sitting at a table tucked in the corner. Forty feet separated them but she recognized Matt as though she’d seen him yesterday, instead of months ago. His hair was longer. Much longer. And he needed a shave. But it was him. She could tell by the way her heart was pounding.
She moved toward him. Ten feet still separated them when she noticed the empty beer bottles and the loose change on the table. Either he’d been there a while, more than a couple of hours based on the number of empties, or he’d chosen the dirtiest table in the joint.
He downed the rest of his beer and waved the bottle in the air before he added it to his collection, making her reasonably sure he hadn’t picked the dirtiest table. She thought again about making a dash for her car. Chances were good, with that many empties littering the table, he’d never notice she hadn’t shown up. She took a step backward. Then he looked her way. A wave of heat flushed through her as his dark eyes locked onto hers. She pressed her hand to her chest and acknowledged that she was about to dive into the deep end without a life vest.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Although Abby had finally reached her goal of working exclusively with brain-injured patients, the victory had barely carried her through each day these last two months. Her world had seemed flat without the after-hours visits with Matt. Even her mother’s progress had seemed less astounding than it should have. Now, as she slid into a chair across from Matt, her world felt complete. She smiled, even though she knew the happy place she’d reached was a bad thing. It would be that much further to fall. “Long way to come for a drink, isn’t it?”
“Not when home is just around the corner.”
She arched her eyebrows. “You live here? In Milwaukee?”
“That’s what my mailing address says.”
“But I thought you loved Fuller Lake and your house there.”
He croaked out a laugh. “The house got a little too big and Fuller Lake got a little too small.”
She wasn’t sure what to make of his answer. “How does Crystal like living in Milwaukee?”
“She doesn’t. Live in Milwaukee, that is.”
The meaning of what he’d
said sank in. She put her hand on his arm. “Oh, Matt. I’m so sorry.”
He pulled away from her touch. “Don’t be. It’s over and done with.”
His words sounded tough, but he didn’t look tough. He looked broken. There was a sad edge to those dark eyes. He didn’t look like a guy overjoyed to be free of the old ball and chain. Like so many times during their past discussions, she felt the urge to wrap him in a hug. He wasn’t her patient. He was no longer engaged. Two good reasons to get up and leave.
“She was messing around with my best friend,” Matt said.
“Derrick?”
A pained expression pinched his mouth and eyes as he nodded.
“Oh, Matt.” She leaned into him before she realized what she was doing. “I’m sorry.” She wrapped her arms around him. He felt solid against her. For a moment, he stayed stone still. Then he relaxed all of that solid weight against her. His arms went around her. His breath warmed her shoulder. She gave a silent sigh.
Matt turned his head, just a little. He kissed her neck. Just a little. Just enough to get her heart pumping. And to make her want more. If she turned her head, just a little, his kiss would move to her lips. She tensed her muscles, refusing to give in. As quickly as they’d come together he pulled away, the moment gone.
“I’m drunk,” he said. “More drunk than I’d thought, ‘cause for a second there—just a second mind you—I forgot what a pain in the ass you can be.”
Her world felt off kilter. She wrapped her arms around herself. “And I forgot how darned stubborn you are.”
The waitress chose that moment to walk past the table. He downed the rest of his beer and waved the bottle. “Bring me another, darlin’.”
The waitress stopped and eyed his mounting collection. “I think you’ve had enough.”
With his attention centered on the skin spilling out of the top of the waitress’s shirt he said, “Trust me, I’m not drunk enough yet. Bring me another.”
