Feral

by Teagan Kade

  “Guilty as charged. When you’ve got a lady rabbit this hot, it’s hard to do anything else.”

  “Well, tell Indy congratulations. Not on the baby, but for making it this long with a walking hard-on like you.”

  More laugher. “Trust me, she knows what to do with that hard-on.”

  “Cayden!” I hear Indy in the background, followed by some kind of giggling.

  Uninterested in being witness to the creation of their fourth child, I say my goodbyes and promise to visit their little vignette of domestic bliss, even though every time I do, I can’t help but feel jealous when I leave.

  Cayden, Colton, Hunter—they’re all leading normal, contented lives. I’m the only one of us who let himself be saddled with the Beckett Family Expectations. I know they all want me to join their club, but there are too many shadows looming over me. There is no path to that kind of life for me, not anymore.

  I hang up the phone and start looking for paper towels to clean the spilled paint up.

  Just then, the bells jingle up front, even though the closed sign is out. Great, looks like I forgot to lock the door.

  Fuck it.

  I leave the pool of spilled paint where it is. My life is a mess as it is, why shouldn’t the garage be?

  Ripping the mask off my head and tossing it at the work bench, I stalk to the shop, annoyed at the intrusion. I’ve been turning down any new jobs, and I figured word would have gotten out by now.

  I grab my water, chugging it as I walk through the doorway and looking around for the customer.

  “Hi Mason,” comes Jeanie’s voice.

  I turn to see her in the shadows of the hallway.

  She steps out and, despite the splotches in her cheeks that tell me she’s been crying, she looks mostly composed.

  “I wanted to talk to you about things,” she says, stepping closer. “I know I reacted… hastily last night. I was hurt, angry. I didn’t give you the benefit of the doubt and I’m sorry.”

  She’s sorry? What is this? The Twilight Zone?

  “You were right to be angry,” I say, not really knowing how to digest her apparent forgiveness.

  Why can’t she just hate you? You deserve at least that.

  “Maybe… maybe not.” She’s running her hands through her hair. She looks tired, restless as she paces. “I don’t know what makes sense right now. I just know what I feel.”

  Her green eyes are searching mine and I can’t take it. Damn it, why does she have to be so good? Why does she have to come in here, apology in hand when I’m the bad guy?

  “Last night I came to talk to you, but I never got the chance. I know it’s not fair of me to expect certain things when we haven’t really talked about what this is. You were right. You can’t know what I’m thinking if I don’t tell you. So, I am here to tell you.”

  “Wait, first you’re sorry and now you’re telling me I’m right?” I ask, confused as hell.

  “Yes, I haven’t been very fair in what I’ve expected out of you.”

  Is this some kind of trick? If so, she’s cannier than I thought.

  “Look, I don’t want to make demands on you that you’re not prepared for…” she’s coming up to me, touching my arm, lighting my skin on fire, and waking a hard-on that will torture me the rest of the night.

  “I do want more. I want to know you, but I know it’s not right of me to rush that. You have secrets, like anyone, and I can’t expect you to suddenly reveal everything about yourself because we’ve been seeing each other for a couple weeks. I get it. You have a right to your privacy. I just know that I don’t want to give up on this.”

  There’s a pain starting behind my eyes, an ache from all the fumes and the fact I haven’t slept in well over twenty-four hours.

  I scrub my face and pace, needing to put some distance between us because I can’t afford to be drawn in to her warmth. “Look, Jeanie, you were right to be upset and you were right to expect more. You ought to be with someone who can give you that. I’m not that guy. I’m not… I’m not good.”

  “Of course you are,” she starts to interrupt, looking at me with that naïve goodness.

  “No, I’m actually not. The things I’ve done…” I fight the urge to tell her, to prove to her how bad I actually am. “You’ve never been anywhere else but Silver Springs, you can’t understand, but believe me when I say there are things in life you don’t come back from. You said it yourself; you don’t want to know me, not really. If you did, I promise you wouldn’t be here right now.”

  “Well, then maybe it’s you who doesn’t know me. Whatever happened in your past, you’re not that person anymore. Maybe I don’t know your secrets or who you were before you came here, but I know you for who you are now, and if that’s all you can give me, that’s enough.”

  “You say you’re okay with my secrets, but what you mean is you’re okay for now… You need to understand I can’t ever share that with you.”

  Her eyes widen. She looks at me in disbelief, “Ever as in never?”

  “Never. I can’t give you what you’re looking for, now or down the road.”

  No matter how much I might want to.

  Her lashes are sparkling with moisture as she blinks rapidly. “You don’t even want to try? We can take it as slow as you want.”

  I shake my head, looking away. “It’ll always lead back to this place. In the end, I’ll end up hurting you.”

  Her voice is hoarse. “Is it that easy for you to walk away from this?”

  “I don’t have a choice. I have to leave. I don’t belong here,” I tell her.

  “No, don’t do that. Don’t pretend that everything is out of your hands. Damn it, Mason. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but there is always a choice.”

  She’s looking at me with pleading in her eyes. I realize the only way to do right by her now is to crush the hope she’s still holding onto—to put things into painful clarity so she can move on.

  “Fine. I’m choosing to leave. I’m choosing to close the shop. I’m choosing to end things between us.”

  Several moments of silence later, she says, “You’re making the wrong choice,” with quiet conviction.

  Part of me wonders if she’s right.

  But it’s too late now. The decision was made when I accepted the job from Buddy. The door has been opened again and it can’t be closed. No matter how much I might crave the simplicity, the warmth of this place, of her… it’s a luxury that I can’t afford. The mistake was thinking I ever could.

  “I think it would be best if we just kept our relationship professional, from here on out,” I tell her.

  She’s already turned away from me, rushing out the door, the bells tinkling as she walks out of my life.

  My head is pounding now, blood rushing in my ears as I sulk back into the garage and slam tools around.

  I’m angry. Not at her, not even at Buddy, but at myself.

  Look at my brothers. They started off the same as me but they made the choice to get out of things. They had the backbones to scrap the plot laid before them.

  Jeanie is right. I did have a choice years ago, but I made the wrong one, starting me down a path I can’t escape.

  I’ll be paying for it the rest of my life.

  There is no happily ever after, no quiet, peaceful life in some sleepy, idyllic town… not for someone like me. There is a reason there are so many jokes about blood sucking, amoral lawyers.

  The reality is, most of us are selling our souls one case at a time. Sure, I’ve met a small handful who are really, truly, in it for their own convictions—defenders of that sacred constitutional right to representation.

  But that’s not me. I’m in a different, darker class. More like Roman gladiators, we ride in to the defense of the Goliath, the brute, and pummel our enemy. We relish the battle of words, the taste of blood, the thrill of triumph.

  Once you’re a member of those ranks, there is no returning to who you were before.

  I walk
back into the garage, reliving the hurt in Jeanie’s eyes, in her voice, wishing so much I could let her in, but knowing with certainty I can’t. She sees the world, and me in it, as it ought to be, as she wishes it could be, but I have no illusions. I know exactly what I am, and no matter how much I might wish it otherwise, I can’t change that.

  Distracted, I step in the spilled blue paint.

  Motherfucker!

  I can’t do anything right. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try to change things, I just end up spinning my tires, kicking up mud on everything and everyone around me.

  My phone dings in my hand. I throw it against the bench, the battery cover popping off.

  Dragging in my breath, I go to grab it and through the webbed cracks on the screen I see the message telling me the final part is ready for the GTO.

  The GTO—maybe the only thing I’ll manage to do right in all this mess.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  JEANIE

  “I’m choosing to end things between us.”

  His words sting even now, so many hours later. My lungs and eyes ache from all the tears it took me to finally cry myself into the oblivion of sleep.

  I try to block out the feelings, but they’re consuming.

  Maybe it has to do with my ‘dad’ dumping me unceremoniously with Jerry and Lola, maybe it’s because Jerry is so obviously fading, losing his will to fight, or maybe it’s because my only other relationship ended with being cheated on. It feels like all the emotional blowbacks have gathered up and are striking me again.

  Somehow, this is the moment when I finally accept the fact that in the end the only person I can rely on is myself. Every time I let myself depend on someone else, put my faith, my trust in them, I get the rug pulled out from under me.

  Maybe Jerry was right. Maybe love is worth the risk… but I’m tired of being hurt and disappointed.

  Ordinarily, I’d be getting ready to go work at the shop, but I can’t bring myself to just be ‘professional’ today, and something tells me Mason isn’t expecting to see me again. The look on his face when I showed up there last night said it all.

  He wants to move on, that was clear, and it hurts too much to fight for something when you’re the only one fighting. Maybe he can act like we’re cutting things off before they really started, but I know the truth. I know what I feel and I know what I saw in his eyes that night.

  I lay in bed far longer than I should, finally moving once Jinx jumps on my bed and starts licking my hand with her sandpaper tongue as if to remind me today is important, whether I have the energy to embrace it or not.

  I go through the morning motions and gather my things. Jerry has his first chemo session and I need to focus on that.

  Heading to the diner, I decide to walk the extra handful of blocks to the shop.

  Surprisingly, the closed sign is still out, lights are off, and Mason is nowhere in sight. Briefly, I wonder if he’s reeling as much as I am—a small comfort.

  I let myself into the darkened shop, debating what to do. I can’t wait for him. Maybe it’s better this way.

  I place the key on the counter and go behind it, grabbing a scratch piece of paper to let him know I won’t be coming back.

  I set the pen to the paper to jot the simple message, but suddenly words just start coming.

  Mason—

  I’m leaving you my key. I won’t be coming back. You want to keep things professional, but I don’t know how to go back to that. Honestly, I’m not even sure we were ever just professional. Since the moment we met, we’ve been a lot of things, none of them tame or businesslike.

  I know you want me to hate you, and part of me wants to, but I just… don’t. What I do feel… It’s not what you seem to want, but I can’t act like it’s not there.

  I can’t guess what it is you’re hiding, but I know that whatever it is, it’s not going to change how I feel. You think you know my mind, my feelings, but you don’t. I wish you could trust me enough, trust yourself enough, to see that.

  What’s between us, it’s real, and I know you can feel it. Maybe you can let go of it, but I don’t know how to. You were right about one thing. There are things in life that you just don’t come back from, and for me, this is one of them.

  —Jeanie

  It barely scratches the surface but it’s all I can bring myself to put into writing. I don’t need to start crying again. I don’t want Jerry or anyone else worrying over me.

  I leave the note and the key front and center on the counter, and head to the diner.

  It’s like I’ve left something behind, but I force myself to keep walking, lifting my face to the sky, breathing in the crisp morning air and wondering how I’ll get over this.

  The sun is hot on my cheeks as it warms the town, sparkling off the dew on the flower baskets that dot the streets and driving people out onto the sidewalks and in the streets as they start the daily flow.

  By the time I get to the diner, the counter is already lined with patrons for breakfast. I search the bustle for Maggie. She’s busy training a new girl—one of the pretty little blonde Watson triplets. Cari, I think.

  Maggie waves me over to the register when she finally catches sight of me.

  “Thanks for letting me borrow the van, Maggie. I really appreciate it,” I say, touching her arm.

  “Don’t you even mention it, honey. Let me find them keys,” she says, reaching under the counter for her purse and digging through the large pockets searching for them.

  I look around, scanning the booths, the counter, bracing myself for a familiar head of wavy dark blond hair, but not finding it.

  “By the way, when you’re making the next schedule, you can go ahead and put me down for morning or day shifts again,” I tell her.

  It’s hard to think too much about anything else when you’re on the floor at the diner, and it’s maybe the best way to keep my mind off Mason.

  “Oh, okay. Something happen with Mason?” she asks, up to her elbows, feeling around in her giant purple bag.

  “More like nothing is happening with Mason, not anymore,” I say, trying not to sound too sullen.

  Maggie looks up, her eyes wide and full of questions, but saying only, “I see. Well, I know better than to tip over the outhouse, but what a shame. He sure was a fine thing to look at.”

  “You see him in here today?” I ask, hoping to sound nonchalant.

  “No, don’t think I have.” She looks around quickly, then shouts. “Any of y’all seen the new mechanic?”

  Down the counter, Herb Franklin, Mason’s landlord, nods, his green John Deere hat bobbing.

  “Did this morning, but won’t be seein’ much of him anymore. Boy’s headed outta town, told me just today. Movin’ back to the city, he says.”

  A few people around Herb gasp. Some start whispering.

  So that’s it. He really is leaving.

  He’d said as much, but still, with everyone tittering about it, it feels somehow more real.

  Herb continues, “Can’t say I’m surprised. Folks raised on concrete always end up going back.”

  I watch as the gossip spreads throughout the restaurant like fire on a dry prairie. The whispers whoosh through the air, choking me like so much smoke.

  “I bet ol’ Hank chased him out after he got into fists with his boy.”

  “You ever see that car of his? Probably one of those rich weirdos on some kind of a kick.”

  “You know he knocked up Harper’s wife?”

  “She was pregnant when he got here, y’old coot. No, I heard he was running drugs out of the shop, one of those ‘fronts’ like on that show with that actor I like, what’s his name?”

  My face is growing hot wishing for once the citizens of Silver Springs could mind their own business.

  Maggie stands up, keys dangling in her hand. “Here they are! Let me know how the appointment goes, won’t ya? Good luck, honey!”

  She comes around and hugs me. The gesture brings me more comfort tha
n I expected. I find myself clinging to her. For a moment, it seems like I might break.

  The new girl drops a pot of coffee, scaring a shriek out of Eunice and spurring me back to reality.

  I can’t fall apart right now. Jerry needs me to be strong.

  I say my goodbyes and hurry to the van. It’s a tan Honda Odyssey parked across the street. I climb in, enjoying the feel of driving a car again. It’s been a year since I sold my old VW bug to pay for a water heater. The thrill of being behind the wheel again is nearly enough to make me forget about everything with Mason… nearly.

  Pulling out onto the street, windows down, Little Big Town playing on the radio, I follow the grid of one-ways that forces me down Jefferson St. and past The Crank & Wrench.

  I try to focus my eyes forward, but my will is weak when movement behind the smooth panes of glass catches my attention.

  It’s Mason, sleeves rolled up on his jumpsuit, opening a box in the front of the store. As I pass, I see him toss the box against the wall, and despite everything else that’s passed between us, I can’t help but be a little irritated at the affront.

  That’s not where that goes.

  Shaking the thought from my mind, I see him pass by the counter just as I lose sight of him passing stop sign at the end of the street.

  For one fleeting moment, I consider parking the van and going back in there. I could say all the things I didn’t put in that note and… what? Beg him?

  No. You have more dignity than that.

  He has made it pretty clear, twice now, he’s made up his mind. Besides, my note may not have said everything, but it said enough.

  The way he’s going about his business tells me everything I need to know. He’s not in there agonizing or shedding any tears over my note.

  I turn onto Lambert Street and head home. If he can move on, I can too. I don’t know how or how long it’ll take, but I know I’ve got to do what I can to put him and these feelings behind me.

  There’s only one problem.

  As I pull up to the house, I see the garage and remember the GTO. He promised to have it done on time, but he’s not sticking around to see that through.

  Just one more broken dream.