Clean Break

by Erin McLellan

  She sniffed her cup, shrugged, and took a sip.

  What if it gave her food poisoning? My throat filled with metallic fear immediately.

  It wasn’t safe.

  I tried to keep my mouth shut, to let her make her own choices. I couldn’t control other people, and she’d likely be fine. But panic began to bubble through my chest, pushing on it hard.

  “Lena, please don’t drink that.”

  My voice sounded off. To both of us, obviously, because she narrowed her eyes. She took another sip, and the record scratch in my brain was hurting my own ears. I needed to let her drink that fucking poisonous coffee. She’d be fine.

  I didn’t think she’d be fine. I tried to be nonchalant as I walked into the kitchen.

  I’d check the expiration date on the coffee can, then I’d feel okay.

  Shit. Fuck.

  I’d been doing better.

  “Breathe through it, Connor. It’ll be fine.”

  I nodded and closed my eyes. So much for hiding it. She directed me back into the living room. My heart was pounding hard, but the spikey, tingling in my hands was abating.

  “So, Connor Redford Blume, this is quite the sexy bucket list. Might want to hide it before Mom or Dad come to visit.” I could tell she was trying to distract me.

  I collapsed back into the couch cushions. I’d forgotten that the bucket list had been what pushed me to drinking. I sat up abruptly as a vague memory hit me, and the living room spun. “Did I write anything on there last night?”

  “How am I supposed to know? I’ve never seen this list before. For example, I didn’t know that you were into spanking people, or that you’ve been in love.”

  I groaned and raced into the kitchen. My head was pounding now, like a delayed hangover onset by an annoying little sister and my compulsions.

  I’d added five items to my list last night:

  Get over Travis

  Text Travis

  Absolutely do not text Travis ever

  Learn to be happy

  Get job at Farming the Future

  I grabbed my phone and frantically checked to make sure I’d only messaged Lena the night before. Thankfully, she was it. I’d tried so hard not to write Travis’s name on my bucket list. Then in a moment of weakness, I’d scrawled his name all over it.

  I pulled it off the refrigerator and threw it away.

  “Connor, your unhappiness—you can see that it isn’t normal, can’t you?”

  There was so much pity in her eyes it made me feel sick.

  “It’s growing pains. I’ll figure it out. I’m fine.”

  Her lips tipped down into a frown. She looked like me—or at least the frowny jerk I’d been staring at in the mirror for the last month.

  I shook my head. “Maybe I’m not fine.”

  “Until last night, I’d thought you were stressed about the family businesses and being tied down here, but maybe I was wrong. Are you stressed about Travis? I hadn’t known you two were that serious. You introduced him as your friend over spring break.”

  “I think one issue has compounded the other. I’m getting over Travis. Slowly, but it’ll happen.”

  That felt like a big fucking lie, but it had to be true, right? Surely, I wouldn’t be pining for him forever.

  Hopefully.

  Lena nodded. “So, Farming the Future?”

  I winced. I’d checked their website the day before. Truth be told, I checked it every day. They had a job opening for a resource specialist, and it sounded perfect for me. My drunk ass had thought so too, or I wouldn’t have written it down.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Lena said. “Mom and Dad will get the fuck over it if you don’t want to be Elkville’s Golden Farm Boy forever.”

  “It’s not that easy. It’s our legacy. I can’t turn my back on that, Lena.”

  “Why not? Is it what you want to do with your life? Or would you rather be working somewhere with a bunch of farming hipsters?”

  I laughed at that. Farming the Future was hipster-y, but I liked that they weren’t shy about that fact. I liked most things I’d read about Farming the Future, actually.

  “I can’t work for Farming the Future, sis. Even though I want to. You know I can’t. Mom and Dad deserve a break, and they’ve given us so much. I have to step up. Who’d be able to take over at this point, if not me?”

  She slammed her palm down on my rickety table, and I about fell out of my chair.

  “Me, you dipshit. For fuck’s sake.”

  “Oh.” We stared at each other. A tiny flicker of hope shimmered in my chest.

  “I don’t want to keep going to school after I get my associate’s. I hate school, and I know what I’m doing. I’m good at it.” She ticked her points off on her fingers. “I have actual ideas about how to improve the farm. Mom and Dad are too traditional, and you’re too indifferent. This has been forced on you, and that is on them because it’s been blatantly obvious that you are not ready. I am. I’m better at day-to-day farm management, while you’re better at the big picture. But I can learn that. The thing I’d struggle with the most at this point is the tax stuff, and we could pay someone else to handle that. Plus, I have a better rapport with most of our employees than you do because you’re incapable of rapport, and you hate working at the Feed Store.”

  The strength of the silence following that speech flooded my ears.

  Finally, I said, “That is all true.”

  She snorted. “Connor, you shouldn’t force yourself to fit into a role that you don’t want, family legacy or not, especially when you have an incredibly capable sister who does want that role. I’m ready.”

  When I’d talked to Dr. Greer about it weeks ago, I’d hoped that I’d know in my gut which route I should take. I’d thought my heart would tell me, and it hadn’t.

  His words—“You’re allowed to change your mind”—reverberated in my head.

  I was allowed to change my mind, right? My path.

  Then Lena’s words—“I’m ready.” Lena was ready and capable. She was the most capable, to be honest. She had a drive in her heart, one that was absent in mine. I’d shrugged that absence off because I was reserved. Because I was stoic.

  But I’m not stoic. If my relationship with Travis had taught me anything, it was that I had a lot of feelings.

  My hands were trembling. I sat on them. Normally that was an indicator of anxiety, but I was pretty sure I wasn’t anxious.

  The emotion sparking in my chest did not feel like anxiety. I could hardly believe, hardly trust the sense of rightness blooming through me.

  It felt like hope.

  “We need to talk to Mom and Dad,” I said.

  “And you need to call Farming the Future.”

  I nodded. “I’m scared, but I think you’re right.”

  Lena rushed around the table and hugged me. “It’s okay to be scared. But you’re also allowed to be happy.”

  “I think I can be. Thanks to you.”

  I moved into an apartment in Oklahoma City on the fourth of July.

  When Lena and I had talked to our parents, my mom cried.

  “I always expected you to be a part of this. It’s what Cliff and I dreamed of. I thought—” She’d shaken her head. “I’m sorry.”

  Mom so infrequently brought up my father in that way. I’d almost called the whole thing off.

  But Dad had said, “We never wanted you to feel trapped, son. And Cliff would have been proud of you. I’m proud of you.”

  Mom had wiped her eyes, then clapped her hands. “You’re right. I’m proud of you too. This is what we need to do . . .”

  I’d applied for four different jobs, but my heart had been set on Farming the Future. I was no longer drawing a salary from my family’s holdings, and my parents had worked a ton of estate-planning magic to make it fair and equitable between Lena and me. She was the star of the show now, and I was proud of her.

  Starting next week, I was officially a resource specialist for
Farming the Future. I’d be facilitating grants for operations that needed monetary help transitioning to no-till farming. Conservation tillage reduced carbon and nitrous oxide emissions, as well as helped with soil erosion, but the initial cost of implementation was too high for some. I was also teaching a class for new farmers on ways to leverage their holdings without having to take year-by-year loans.

  Desi and Alex helped me move into my new home. My apartment was in the heart of downtown, and if it hadn’t been one hundred degrees outside, I would have opened the windows to hear the bustle of the city. Part of me wished Travis could see me now. I thought he’d be proud. I wouldn’t have had the guts to make this change if I hadn’t found my courage while with him.

  As Alex and I were lugging my couch off the freight elevator, two men waltzed out of the door next to mine. They were both a bit older than us, sexy as hell, and holding hands.

  Alex and I watched them go by, and one of them winked at us. “Hiya, new neighbors,” he said.

  Once they were out of sight, Alex whistled. “Lucky you with that eye candy next door. If they become your queer older brothers, you better invite me over so they can adopt me too.”

  I laughed and bumped my door open. Desi was sitting on the kitchen counter, not doing a thing. We dragged the couch into the living room before collapsing on it.

  I pulled out my to-do list and checked off “Move large furniture.”

  “Break time,” I said.

  Desi jumped off the counter. Before I could smile, she’d taken a picture of me on her phone. Then she made us take a selfie together. I was going to miss her so much.

  She’d gotten an entry-level city position in a Parks and Recreation Department in the Oklahoma panhandle. I didn’t know what I’d do without her close. I threw an arm over her shoulder. “Thank you for being my best friend.”

  “You’re going to make me cry.”

  “Don’t. I’m bad at that.”

  Alex chuckled. “Connor, are you excited to meet some big-city Grindr boys?”

  My stomach rolled. I wasn’t ready for dating apps yet. Or dating. Or hooking up. Or generally being around anyone in a romantic way at all. “Can Oklahoma City really be described as ‘big city?’”

  It felt huge to me, but that seemed very small-town to admit.

  He tipped his head onto the back of my couch and smiled. “No, and nice deflection. You going to call Travis now that you’ll be close?”

  Desi gave my shoulders a squeeze. I assumed that Travis had moved to St. Louis after graduation, like he’d planned, but I hadn’t spoken to him. He’d be moving to Oklahoma City to start law school soon—probably sometime in August.

  “No. I don’t think so. My feelings were stronger than his.”

  “Are you sure?” Alex asked.

  “Yeah, he told me. He said that I feel things for him that he doesn’t feel for me. That I wanted things he didn’t want.”

  I’d been working through that phrase in therapy, so it didn’t hurt to say it out loud. Much.

  Desi shook her head. “I assumed you guys didn’t work out because he thought you were going to be stuck in Elkville. Different life plans and all that. But now you’re both going to be here. I think you should call him, Connor.”

  A fine tremble worked its way through my hands. I clasped them together. “I think back to all these moments where Travis put distance between us. He wasn’t invested. I tried to tell him that I was willing to change my future plans, and he rejected me.” I took a deep breath. “He’s fun and exciting and adventurous. I’m not. He’s outgoing. I’m not. He’s spontaneous. I’m not. Maybe he thought we weren’t that compatible, that we didn’t fit.”

  Desi and Alex shared a sad glance. It pissed me off, but I let it go. They didn’t understand.

  “I don’t think he’d care that I’m in Oklahoma City,” I said. “It’s been months. We’re over. And I’m okay with that.”

  I wasn’t okay with it, but I was learning to be.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  TRAVIS

  I pulled up my text messages from Connor. It was a new weird and awful habit. I’d essentially replaced the letter writing with obsessing over past texts. Now that I was back in Oklahoma, it was instinct to reach for him, for our connection.

  I couldn’t stop doing it.

  I should have deleted his existence from my phone, like I’d promised, but that hurt too much to fathom. It hurt to read our messages too. Most of our last text communications were him trying to make plans with me and me begging off.

  I hated the me that shone through in those messages, but I also loved his good humor and his single-mindedness.

  I hated how much I missed him.

  I also hated my new apartment with its sea-breeze wall—I was painting it purple haze ASAP. I hated my neighbors, who fucked loudly and often, their headboard banging into my bedroom wall.

  I hated living alone and not knowing a single soul.

  When I’d started school at Farm College, I’d forged my friend group by attending FarmOUT and QSOC meetings and sneaking into the Lumberyard with a fake ID. At SAFE Asylum, there were other interns. But I didn’t know how to insert myself onto this new campus, into this new town.

  I was lonely, which I’d never excelled at. Every night, I’d lie in bed, listening to my neighbors bone, and agonize over various conversations I’d had with Connor.

  There was the conversation where I’d insinuated that I didn’t love him.

  I did.

  I still do.

  The conversation that haunted me the most, though, was the one where I’d ended it. I’d dragged out our relationship, knowing we had no future, because I couldn’t stand the thought of being without him. I’d ruined any chance we had of remaining friends. He’d deserved better than me.

  I still wasn’t over it, even after a summer of pining, but I wasn’t sure I had a right to be torn up about it either. We’d been doomed from the beginning.

  At least I’d never mailed Connor my letters. Thank the Lord I didn’t have his mailing address.

  My phone dinged in my hand, and I dropped it on my face when the notification flashed across the screen.

  “Shit.” I’d probably given myself a black eye. My phone had bounced off my face and skidded onto the floor of my bedroom. I grabbed it and stared at the notification from Instagram.

  “ConnorBlume580 just posted a photo.”

  The room seemed to spin around me, and heat rushed through me so fast I thought I’d be sick.

  I’d forgotten I’d set up automatic notifications for him months ago. He hadn’t posted to Instagram since that picture of Lena eating sushi.

  I opened the app with trepidation and stared at the image he’d posted.

  It didn’t make sense.

  It was a skyline. The photo was accompanied by the caption, “View from my room.”

  I dropped my phone again, this time on my mattress. Devon Tower, in all its ugly, phallic glory, was in that picture. There was no mistaking it.

  That was Oklahoma City.

  What the actual fuck?

  I snatched up the phone again to see if Connor had been tagged in any recent photos. There were several from Desi’s account. They were all of Connor, Desi, and Alex moving Connor into an apartment.

  My hands started to shake. Desi’s photos were from the beginning of July. It was now the beginning of August.

  Had he moved to Oklahoma City without telling me?

  What the fuckity fuck?

  I called Paulie.

  “I need Alex Oleastro’s phone number,” I snapped as soon as it stopped ringing.

  “Well, hello to you too, sunshine. Why?”

  “I think Connor moved to Oklahoma City, and Alex helped him.”

  “And you need Alex’s number why?” Paulie’s voice was very measured, his usual lilt completely gone. It was like he thought I was acting strangely.

  “I need his address, Paulie. Obviously.”

  “S
low down, hon. Are you sure that’s a good idea? Don’t you think Connor would have told you he was moving if he’d wanted you to know?”

  Ouch.

  “Paulie. Give. Me. Alex’s. Number.”

  He rattled it off, then said, “You need to sleep on this, Trav. Don’t do anything off the wall.”

  I huffed and hung up on him. Paulie didn’t know shit.

  I called Alex. He didn’t answer, which wasn’t surprising. I didn’t answer unknown numbers either.

  I left him a voicemail. “Alex. It’s Travis Bradford. I need you to call me back. Immediately. It’s important.”

  There. That didn’t sound too frantic.

  I sent him a text to be sure.

  Alex, this is Travis. Call me ASAP.

  I could see that he’d read my message—read receipts were a beautiful thing. I added, Please, and sent that off too.

  My phone rang, and I answered it before it could complete one trill.

  “Alex.”

  “Travis, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  He blew out a noisy breath. “Fuck. Then why are you blowing up my phone like a stalker?”

  “Did Connor move to Oklahoma City?”

  There was a long pause.

  “Uh, why do you want to know?”

  “You fucking know why, Alex. Don’t play games with me.” After a few seconds, I said, “I’m sorry. Please just tell me.”

  Another obnoxiously long pause. Was he trying to give me an aneurysm?

  “Do you remember when you told me that my relationship with Paulie was doomed?”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. Of course I remembered that. I’d thought it was nuts for Alex to date Paulie when Paulie was so obviously torn up over his breakup with Joel. It had been rebound central.

  “Yes,” I hissed. “It was doomed. What about it?”

  “I’ve always appreciated that. You were the only one who was honest with me. You don’t like me—”

  I tried to interrupt him, but he talked over me.

  “—and I don’t particularly like you either. There’s not enough scenery to chew when we’re both in a room together. But you told me the truth when I didn’t want to see it.”