by B. B. Hamel
“Fine.” I kiss her again then head back into my room. I change out of my suit and into a pair of expensive jeans I’ve been wearing and fading over the years, plus a Henley undershirt and a flannel over-shirt. I roll up my jeans, put on a pair of thick socks, and finally slip on my trusty Iron Ranger boots. When I’m done, I look at myself in the mirror.
When I’m at work, I’m a suit. It’s part of the world I live in. The suit stands for power, and I wear expensive ones to show that I can afford them. It’s a status thing, basically, although I do look damn good in them.
But when I think of myself, my actual self, I’m always wearing this outfit. Work clothes, basically, the sort of stuff I wear around the house when I’m doing projects. I love to work with my hands, and would probably have been a carpenter in another life if I hadn’t been born into what I do now. I do woodworking projects all the time anyway, and fill my free time fixing things.
I walk back out into the kitchen and pour myself a drink. By the time I’m finished, Kylie joins me, standing in the kitchen entrance.
“What do you think?” she asks, and gives me a little spin.
I smile huge at her. “Perfect,” I say. She’s wearing a short dress with heavy tights on underneath and leather boots.
“Think I’ll be too cold?”
I shake my head. “We won’t be outside long.”
“Good.” She walks over to me and leans against the refrigerator. “Where are we going, anyway?”
“A place I like,” I say.
“You look different out of a suit.”
I grin at her and sip my drink. “Is that a bad thing?”
“No, not at all. You just... look like an Alaskan.”
“I am an Alaskan.”
“I know, but my stereotypical view of one. You know, manly man lumberjack.”
“I’m not manly in my suit? I’m almost insulted.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“You wound me deeply, Kylie.”
“Oh get over it, you big baby.”
I laugh and grab her. She tries to get away, laughing, but I pin her up against the refrigerator door and kiss her.
She kisses me back like that for a second before finally breaking off. “Come on,” she says. “Let’s go. I’m tired of being cooped up in here all day.”
“Okay then.” I let her go. “But I was going to do unspeakable things to your body just then.”
“I’m sure.” She gives me a look and then laughs. I grin, knock back my drink, and then we head out front. Albert has the car running, the hot air on full blast, as we climb into the back.
She’s flirtatious and happy as we head into town. The roads are clear and it hasn’t snowed again, which is a small mercy. Juneau is usually covered in snow at this point, but it’s not too bad right now, fortunately. Albert still drives carefully, like he always does, but we’re parking outside of The Walker only a half hour later.
“What is this place?” Kylie asks as we climb out of the car.
“It’s an old fisherman bar,” I say. “Or at least it used to be. My father bought it years ago. It’s something of a family place now.”
“Family place?” she asks.
“I mean, my family.” I laugh a little. “I know, it’s absurd. But it’s one of my favorite places.”
“I’m excited to see it,” she says.
The outside of The Walker is more or less unchanged from the way it was when my father bought it. The sign is handpainted and peeling slightly, despite having been touched up a few years ago. My father could renovate, but he likes that The Walker retains its “rustic charms” as he says.
I personally think it looks a little too old school, but I wouldn’t change it, either. It’s just been a part of my life for so long that I can barely think of it any other way.
We step in front and shut the door, closing out the cold air behind us. The Walker is one large room with pillars breaking it up. Booths ring the main room, and there’s a small stage in the far corner. A massive bar takes up the entire north wall of the place.
“Carson!”
I grin and wave at Brenda, the bartender. She’s been working the bar for maybe the last ten years. I head over to her and she comes out from behind it, giving me a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“How are you, Brenda?” I ask.
“Doing great. Haven’t seen you in here lately.”
“You know how things are. Always busy.”
“Of course. How’s your dad?”
“Not great, but thanks for asking. I’ll tell him you said hi.”
“Please do. I’d love to visit him sometime.”
“I’ll pass that along as well.”
Brenda laughs long and loud then looks over at Kylie. “Who’s this now?”
“Brenda, this is Kylie.”
“Good to meet you,” Kylie said.
“You too,” Brenda answers then gives me a look. I grin at her and shrug. “Well, you can have the corner booth,” Brenda says.
“Thanks. Can I get the usual when you have a chance, and some wine for Kylie?”
“Sure thing,” Brenda says, then says a little lower, “you sure she can legally drink?”
She laughs and winks at me and I just shake my head, grinning. Brenda always speaks her mind, even when it’s not something I really want to hear. I take Kylie’s hand and we head off to the corner table. A minute later, an old fashioned appears along with a glass of white for Kylie.
“Cheers,” I say, and we toast, sipping our drinks.
“Nice place,” Kylie says. “I can see why you like it.”
I shrug. “It’s a little old and falling apart, but I like it anyway.”
“I mean it, I really like it here. And Brenda seems nice.”
I sip my drink again. “She’s pretty great,” I say.
The Walker isn’t crowded tonight for whatever reason. I can’t tell if I’m pleased with that or a little disappointed. I want the people that I’ve known my whole life to see Kylie, even if that’s a dumb idea. Juneau is a small place and the locals all know each other, even though it’s the largest city in Alaska. There are strangers constantly coming in and out, but the locals are always here, always coming to the same places over the over, and The Walker happens to be an affordable and popular spot.
“Has she been working here long?” Kylie asks.
“Sure,” I say. “Forever, basically.”
“It must be nice. Having a place like this.”
“It is and it isn’t,” I say, trying to be honest.
She cocks her head and sips her drink. “What’s bad about it?”
“Everyone knows me here,” I say, glancing around the room.
“Isn’t that what everyone wants? A place where everyone knows your name?”
I grin at her. “I’m surprised you’re old enough to make that reference.”
“Cheers is famous. And I’m not that young.”
I lean toward her. “Yes, you are. But to answer your question, there are no secrets here, not when you’re in my family.”
“Can’t hide me,” she says with a slight frown.
“If I wanted to hide you, I wouldn’t have brought you here.”
“It’s funny,” she says, shrugging. “We come from such different worlds, but they’re similar in a lot of ways.”
“How’s that?”
“Back in my neighborhood, there was no such thing as privacy. Everyone knew everyone. And everyone knew your business.”
I laugh softly. “Yeah, that’s Juneau all right.”
“It’s good and bad.” Her face suddenly gets dark, like she’s remembering some far off bad memory. “It’s a sense of community, but sometimes people try and protect their own, even when their own are fucking scumbags.”
“Is that why you ran away?” I ask her.
“My father.” She says it simply. “He was... abusive.”
I nod slowly, understanding. I remember seeing bruises on her
body when she was getting changed, but I didn’t make note of them until now.
“He’s why you ran away. That’s why you came here.”
“That’s right. It was between here and Philadelphia, and I chose here. I guess Alaska felt further away.” She shrugs a little bit. “I had no choice but to run. Everyone knew what he did when he was drunk, but nobody cared. He’s good ol’ Jimmy, can’t do anything wrong.”
“Assholes,” I murmur softly.
“Nobody raised a hand to help me. So I had to run away on my own.”
“You got away though. That’s pretty amazing on its own.”
“Maybe. I don’t feel amazing.”
“I’m sorry you had to live alone with that for so long.”
“It’s nothing,” she says, trying to brush it off.
“It’s not nothing. It’s a heavy burden to bear. It’s amazing you got away at all.”
“Thanks,” she says softly. There are slight tears in her eyes and she wipes them away.
I reach out and take her hand. “Listen to me,” I say. “I won’t let anyone hurt you again, you hear? I’m sorry your asshole father did that to you. But you’ll never go back.”
“You’re right,” she says. “I won’t go back.”
“I guess we have a lot in common. You have an asshole dad and I have a crazy shitty family.”
“Bad families,” she says, smiling. “And yet we both turned out so great.”
“I know. We really beat the system.”
She laughs and I can sense the darkness move away from her, at least for the time being. I don’t let go of her hand though. I note that there are people looking at us, noticing what I’m doing, but I don’t care. It’ll get back to my father one way or another, and I’m not hiding this.
I sip my drink and as I put it down, Brenda comes over and sits in the booth next to me. “Shove over,” she says.
I grin and Kylie laughs a little bit. Brenda smiles at Kylie.
“Don’t you have a bar to watch?” I ask her.
“Sure,” she says. “But it’ll survive without me a few minutes.”
“Aren’t you getting paid right now?”
She glares at me. “Sure am. Gonna fire me?”
I grin. “Maybe.”
“Good luck finding a bartender as attractive and competent as I am.”
“Very good point,” I say, putting my hands up in surrender.
She looks back at Kylie, her smile softening. “So dear, what do you want to know?”
Kylie looks surprised. “What?”
“About Carson here. What do you want to know?”
“I... I don’t know.”
Brenda laughs and I sigh. “I’ve known this boy for years,” she says. “I’ve seen it all. Go ahead, ask me. I’ll tell you.”
“She’s bluffing,” I say to Kylie. “Don’t listen to her.”
I can sense danger in this moment, but Kylie doesn’t seem to mind it. Brenda isn’t kidding when she says she’s seen it all, and part of me is afraid what she might tell Kylie about me. There have been some moments in my life that I’m not too proud of. I don’t think Brenda will air my dirty laundry and low moments right here, but I can never be sure with that one.
“Tell me about his last girlfriend,” Kylie says.
Brenda laughs loudly. “Girlfriend? You hear, that Carson?”
“I heard it,” I say, shaking my head and smiling.
“Girlfriend!” Brenda laughs some more.
“What?” Kylie asks.
“Carson here has never had a girlfriend in his life,” she says. “Plenty of girls, sure, but never a girlfriend.”
Kylie gives me a little knowing grin. “Is that so, playboy?”
“What can I say? I’m a very eligible bachelor.” I grin at her and wink.
“Please!” Brenda says. “This is Juneau, boy. Out here you’re a catch only because you’re competing with toothless rednecks and a bunch of poor fishermen. You look like a king in comparison.”
“Thanks, Brenda,” I say, wincing. “You really make a guy feel good.”
“Please, like you need the ego boost,” she says, grinning at Kylie again.
“Does he have a big ego?” Kylie asks.
“Oh please, the biggest!”
I groan and shake my head. “Okay, that’s enough.”
“Aw, I’m teasing.” Brenda leans toward Kylie a little conspiratorially. “Listen honey, truth is, Carson is a damn fine catch. The man needs to settle down. I don’t know if you’re the girl to make him figure it all out, and maybe you are, but give it a shot.”
“Okay,” she says simply, looking at me. “I think I will try.”
I smirk at her. “Bring it on,” I say.
“Well now, that’s my damn cue,” Brenda says, standing up. “You two behave. I’ll be right over there, doing my job.”
“Back to work with you!” I say, laughing.
Brenda gives me a little smack on the shoulder then waves and heads back to the bar. Kylie is smiling and laughing, which makes me feel good. Brenda took it easy on me, which is nice. And I liked the way Kylie said she was going to try and make me settle.
The idea of settling seems strange to me, but the situation I’m in with Kylie feels more settled than anything I’ve ever been in before. Normally I’d be bored already and looking for something new, but Kylie isn’t letting my attention stray. Truth is, I want to see where this goes. I want more from her. I haven’t gotten what I want, not nearly enough, not yet.
“I like her,” Kylie says.
“I do too,” I say. “Although she can be an ass sometimes.”
“I bet she says the same thing about you.”
I grin. “No way. I’m an angel.”
“Not according to her, playboy.”
I reach out and squeeze Kylie’s hand, and am about to make a killer and hilarious retort, but my phone starts ringing.
I sigh. “Sorry,” I say, checking it. “I have to take this. It’s work.”
“Go ahead.”
I answer the phone, lifting it to my ear. “Yes?” I say.
“Carson, it’s Melissa from accounting,” she says. “I’m sorry. I know this is a bad time.”
“What’s the matter?” I ask.
“Well, I just got a report from your brother. And there are some seriously strange numbers on here regarding your Lower proposal.”
I pause, frowning. “I thought those numbers were set.”
“So did we. But I was double-checking, and there are some big errors. I think you need to take a look at this.”
I frown and check my watch. “I can be there in ten minutes.”
“Okay. I’m so sorry to do this.”
“Not your fault. The job is what it is.” I hang up the phone and frown at Kylie.
“You have to go?” she asks.
“I do,” I say. “I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”
“Albert is outside with the car. Finish your drink, have something to eat, do whatever. Head on back when you’re done.”
“What about you?” she asks.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get a ride back,” I say. “I might be late. So don’t wait up.”
“Okay,” she says.
I go around the booth and kiss her softly on the lips. “See you soon,” I say.
“See you.”
I shrug my jacket on and head out toward the entrance. I stop at the bar and catch Brenda’s attention. “Take care of Kylie,” I say. “Gotta go to work.”
“Will do,” she says.
I nod and wave, then head out, annoyed, but feeling good.
That was a good date. And it was a date, a real date. I hate that it got cut short, but that’s just the nature of my job. It never ends, and there are no real days off. As much as I want to stay, I’ll see her again soon.
I head out into the cold and walk over toward the office, trying to think about the job, but my mind stays back
with Kylie.
12
Kylie
After Carson leaves, Brenda brings me over a big bowl of soup with a smile and a wink. I accept it gratefully and dig in. It’s a fresh and delicious clam chowder, and I bet the clams are all locally sourced, probably barely a few days old. I didn’t know clam chowder could be this good.
I take a few bites then lean back and look around the room. I’m not surprised that Carson loves this place. It still has a rustic and local feel to it, but it’s not seedy and rundown. It’s clearly lovingly maintained. I notice people glancing at me, but I don’t let that get to me.
Carson warned me what it would be like to be with him, although he didn’t come out and say it. He insinuated that people would stare, since he’s very well known, and he’s right. I can feel eyes on me. But in this moment, I feel too good to care.
It felt great to talk about my father. I didn’t think it would, but the way he handled it made me feel like every choice I made was right. There’s a part of me that still thinks I should have stayed back home and figured out some way to get by there, back where I know people. But he’s right, I got away, and that’s more than most people in my situation do.
It’s impossible to imagine what the kind of constant abuse can do to a person. It beat me down, physically and mentally, and it broke me. For a long time, I felt like a shell of a person. Now that I’m away from it and with Carson, I’m starting to come back to myself. I feel like I’m finally waking up again after a long nightmare.
And it’s thanks to him, to Carson. He took me in, gave me a place to stay, and then decided to give me so much more. He makes me feel something I never dreamed I’d feel. I always assumed I was doomed to sadness, maybe moments of happiness, but never anything lasting. But my time with him so far has been incredible, and is nothing short of a miracle.
It’s strange how much we have in common. We’re from two different worlds, but our stories are similar. We both come from small towns, although in my case its more like a small neighborhood, and we both have very difficult parents. He’s luckier than I am though, and he was given a lot that I never saw. Still, I know how hard he works, and it’s remarkable. He seems like his own person, despite all of the pressures from his family to conform.
