Andy's Song

by Beth Burnett

  “I refused to have sex with her.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Hmm, what?”

  “Why did you refuse to have sex with her?”

  “I was thinking you and I might be making a forward progression.”

  She squeezes me and kisses me on the cheek. “I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

  “I just don’t want to screw anything up while we’re figuring out what we’re doing with each other.”

  She shifts her body so that our faces are close. Leaning my head down, I let my lips touch hers. We kiss gently for a moment, breaking apart every couple of seconds to look at each other. I can smell the chili that I made for our dinner, and I’m sure it’s about two minutes away from burning.

  “I have to check our dinner,” I say, kissing her one more time before standing.

  “I am very hungry,” she leers.

  I turn to look at her from the kitchen door. “Maybe I should just turn the chili off and come back.”

  She nods. Looking at me seriously, she reaches up and slowly unbuttons the top two buttons of her shirt. Catching just a glimpse of lacy bra, I run into the kitchen, turn off the stove, and tear back out to the couch. She shrieks as I take a flying leap onto the couch. We throw our arms around each other, laughing. My lips are all over her face, kissing her nose, her cheek, her neck. She’s still laughing as she strokes my head and my face. I finish unbuttoning the rest of her shirt and pull her bra up over her breast. My mouth finds her already hard nipple and I pull it between my lips, letting my tongue flick over it. She presses down on my head, groaning. Moving on top of her, I press my body against her, letting my thigh come between hers as I start to bite down a bit on her nipple. She grabs the bottom of my shirt and starts struggling to pull it up. I’m moving to put some space between our bodies so she can get my head over my shirt when the front door slams open.

  “Shit!” I jump up, pulling my shirt down.

  Heather yanks her bra down and pulls her shirt closed. Davey is standing in the doorway looking half-embarrassed and half-pissed.

  “Heather, I’m so sorry,” she says. “I just needed to talk to Andy. I didn’t realize she had company.”

  Still breathing hard, I glare at Davey. “Some people actually call before showing up at someone’s house.”

  Davey looks hurt. “I needed to speak to you. I’m sorry.”

  Heather stands up. “Davey, it’s fine. I’ll go check on dinner.” She grabs her cell phone from the table and walks into the other room.

  Davey paces for a minute, looking sad. The anger that had flared so suddenly is slipping away. I pull Davey into a hug. “I’m sorry.”

  “Andy, we’ve been through some crap. But we have always been on each other’s side.”

  Sighing, I perch on the edge of the couch. “I know. I know it. I’m sorry. Davey, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  “You’ve had a traumatic event. It’s understandable to be confused and scared. But you can’t take it out on the people who love you.”

  “I just keep screwing everything up.”

  “Not everything.” She sits down next to me on the couch and puts her arm around me.

  Heather comes out of the kitchen holding her phone. She looks pissed. What now?

  “Apparently I picked up the wrong phone,” she says quietly, enunciating every syllable.

  Davey stands up. “Perhaps I should go.”

  Heather shakes her head. “Don’t bother, Davey. I’m going to go.”

  “Heather this is silly.” I’m trying to stay calm, but I have butterflies in my stomach.

  “Is it?” She turns to glare at me. “I realized I had the wrong phone when I got a text from Maggie saying she was sorry for getting mad at you. She was apparently just so turned on from making out with you that she went a little out of control.”

  Play cool. I didn’t do anything wrong. “Look, Heather. She kissed me. I kissed her back and then I pulled away. I already kind of told you about this.”

  Davey looks uncomfortable. She’s backing toward the door. “Andy, call me later.”

  Heather tosses my phone down on the table and grabs her own. “Then I happened to notice the texts she sent you this afternoon in which the two of you made fun of my book-- my life’s work!”

  Oh, shit. Standing, I reach for Heather. “No. I wasn’t making fun of it. She was just making a little joke. She’s jealous of you, that’s all.”

  “Jealous? She has no reason to be. Apparently you respect me so little you’ll let another woman make fun of me and all you’ll write back to her is ‘you’re naughty’. Fuck off, Andy.”

  She swings for the door and slams in behind her. Davey looks at me sadly, shaking her head.

  “Oh Andy, you do have a way of fucking things up, don’t you?”

  I look back at her helplessly.

  “I better go see if Heather wants a ride. I’m sure she shouldn’t walk all the way to Olmsted at this time on a Friday night.”

  “I should go after her.”

  “No,” she says, firmly. “No, you really shouldn’t.”

  She leaves, closing the door quietly behind her.

  I can’t move. The door is still closed and part of me is waiting for it to open. The text message notification has beeped twice, but I have no desire to look at it. This whole business with trying to change my life is a real pain in the ass. I’m trying to be different. I’m trying to be a better person. I’m trying to change the way I live—and it isn’t working. Seriously. Things were much better in my life when I was just living for myself. Maybe I should give Wolf Featherstone a call. Maybe he can tell me what I need to do to get some fucking inner peace.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I woke up this morning feeling like crap. A hard run through the Huntington Hills didn’t help. Neither did a potato, eggs, bacon, and onion casserole. It doesn’t matter. Women come and go, but I have my family and I have myself. I’m sick of trying to juggle people’s feelings. Heather either trusts me or she doesn’t. Maybe I shouldn’t have laughed at Maggie’s joke, but it was just a joke. Why does she have to be so sensitive?

  Grabbing my keys, I jump into the Chevy. I don’t want to go to the gym after yesterday’s debacle. I feel like I need to do something; I’m just not sure what it is. I just need to be away from the house. The sun is shining, so I open the windows, singing along with the Ferron song on the CD player. I love her music, but it always puts me in mind of driving down a lonely highway in the rain, by myself. I’m feeling some wanderlust coming on. There’s going to have to be a road trip in my future. I wonder if Davey can take a weekend trip with me now that she’s all settled down in coupleland. Maybe my problem is that I was meant to be a solitary person. I like living alone. I like being alone. I’m never bored. There are a billion ways in which I can occupy myself wherever I am. But Davey always busted through that. She hates to admit it, but she truly is a people person. She enjoys being with people. As much as she complains about having Lynne and Leah in her apartment, she really does love having people around her. I think Leah is more like me in that regard. She loves people. In fact, she loves them way more than I do. She’s like a mother to the world. But she lives inside her own mind a lot, and I think she’s perfectly content there. I dig out my cell phone and dial her number.

  “Andy,” Leah sounds happy to hear from me.

  “Leah, do you want to take a weekend trip somewhere?”

  “We could take a day trip down to Amish country?”

  “I don’t like the Amish.”

  “How can you not like the Amish?”

  “I have a thing about bonnets.”

  She scoffs. “Andy, I’m serious.”

  “So am I. What about a weekend backpacking trip in Southern Ohio? There’re some beautiful spots there.”

  “I could do that. I went back packing in Hocking Hills State Park about thirty years ago. I wonder if they still have trails.”

  I bring up my search en
gine and do a quick check. “Yep, they do. They also have hot showers at some of the campsites.”

  “I do love roughing it, but I love a hot shower even more. When do you want to go?”

  I pause for a second, letting Ferron’s powerful, yet calming voice wash over me. “Now.”

  “I need about twenty minutes to pack up my tent and sleeping bag.”

  I have an air mattress and a sleeping bag in the back of the Trailblazer. I can sleep in Leah’s tent. I’ll probably need to swing back to my house to pick up my cooking gear and camp stove. “Leah, give me forty minutes. I’ll turn around and pick up my gear, then swing by for you. We can stop at a grocery store before we get to the campground.”

  “Do you think we’ll be hiking in?”

  “Yeah, bring your backpack.”

  She laughs, delighted. Leah has always been one for spontaneous fun. I’m suddenly joyous. Taking Ferron out of the CD player, I rummage around for something upbeat. Big Bad Gina. I slip it in and tap my fingers on the steering wheel.

  Leah is waiting for me when I get to Davey’s house. She’s wearing jeans, hiking boots and a t-shirt. She’s also got a field hat on her head and a bandana tied around her neck. Perfect. Jumping out of the SUV, I grab her backpack and tent and toss it into the back. Leah slips into the passenger seat and throws some Crosby, Stills, & Nash into the CD player. I don’t mind. A little hippie music is a good idea on a road trip. Leah fires up a joint as we hit the freeway.

  “Dammit, Leah.” I’m laughing, though I know I shouldn’t be. “You can’t smoke that in here.”

  “Come on, Andy. It’s barely against the law. Besides, with these tinted windows, who can tell?”

  I crack open the window, grinning. “Davey will be pissed at me.”

  “Davey doesn’t need to know. She doesn’t need to know about the shrooms I brought, either.”

  “Shrooms! Leah, we’re not doing shrooms.”

  She looks incredulous. “Who ever heard of camping without shrooms?”

  “Uh...me. I’ve gone camping a million times, and I’ve never done shrooms.”

  “You’re missing out.”

  “No, Leah.” I’m firm this time.

  “Fine.” She sighs like a petulant child.

  “I’m not giving in to this one.”

  “I said fine.”

  We both laugh. She starts singing along with the music. When she puts out her joint, we open both windows and let the air rush in. Leah puts her feet up on the dashboard. She hands me a few pieces of trail mix every once in a while. It’s a perfect August day in Ohio. Leah points out a trio of hawks circling above us.

  “Mama, Daddy, and baby,” she says.

  “Could be three females, banding together to fight against predators.”

  Leah looks at me carefully. “Could be,” she says finally.

  Leah has a road map out and is trying to unfold it and refold it to the place that she wants.

  “Do you want to take route thirty-seven?” She’s got her finger on the map.

  “No. Let’s just take seventy-one all the way to Columbus. It’s almost a straight shot.”

  She looks back down at the map. “All right. Let me figure out where to go from there.”

  “I already put it in my GPS. We’ll be fine.”

  Leah shakes the map at me. “You know, when the entire infrastructure falls apart, you kids are going to be really sorry that you don’t know how to read a map.”

  “I do know how to read a map,” I respond, laughing. “It’s just easier this way.”

  “You need to know how to do things without technology. Start a fire, forage for food, build shelter.”

  Shaking my head, I reach into the bag of trail mix again. “Leah, I have a basic understanding of all of that stuff. What about you? You take advantage of modern conveniences as much as the rest of us.”

  She shrugs. “I’m not saying that I don’t. I’m just saying that we need to be prepared for the eventuality that it will all collapse, and we’re going to need to relearn everything that we, as a population, have forgotten.”

  “In case of the end of the world!” I raise my hand in a dramatic gesture.

  “Laugh at me if you will, but you know my motto: the question is not whether you’re paranoid, but...”

  “Whether you’re paranoid enough,” I finish.

  She shakes her head, laughing. “Someday you’ll thank me for instilling these survival traits into you.”

  We cruise along for a while. A couple of turkey buzzards are chewing on something at the side of the road. Leah hands me a bottle of water, and then changes the CD. Still hippie music, but that’s still okay. The gas tank is not low enough to necessitate a stop. If I remember correctly, there’s a creepy little ramshackle market and gas station off the freeway on the other side of Columbus. It’s Leah’s kind of place. She can buy some groceries for us while I fill up the tank and pee.

  The little store is just where I remembered and it still looks creepy. In fact, it’s shoddier than it was last time I was here. Leah is grinning as we pull up to one of the old-fashioned tanks.

  “How did you know about this?” She is wide-eyed with wonder.

  “Columbus Pride, about six years ago. I ended up in a car with a dyke named AJ We drove around lost and starving and somehow ended up all the way on the outskirts of town and at this very same store. She bought some beef jerky and a can of Vienna sausage. I got a banana and a package of Doritos.”

  Leah laughs. “I’ll try to do better than that.”

  I hand her forty bucks and she goes into the store. Whistling while filling up the tank, I glance around. The parking lot is nothing but dirt. I imagine it gets pretty bad during a rainstorm. Turning around to look at the front door, I jump at the man who is suddenly standing right next to me.

  “I coulda pumped yer gas for you.” He’s got a piece of straw between his teeth. Really? This is Ohio, not Louisiana.

  “I’m fine,” I answer. “Really.”

  He rocks back on his heels and tucks his fingers into his overalls.

  “Where y’all headed?”

  All he needs is a banjo and a dirty bandana. Staring at the gas pump, I’m willing the numbers to turn a little faster.

  “Hocking Hills. We’re just on a day trip,” I answer, still staring at the pump.

  He makes a deep guttural sound in his throat before spitting a big wad of mucus at the ground. Oh, for Christ’s sake. Leah better hurry up.

  “Looks like yer rear tire needs air.” He gestures toward the tire. It looks a little low.

  “You have a pump?”

  “Got a compressor.”

  The gas tank is finally full and Leah isn’t in sight, so I pull around to the garage. Bubba checks all of my tires and puts air in a couple of them. I pass over a five dollar bill and pull back around to the front of the store. Leah is just coming out with two paper bags full of groceries. Running over to relieve her of her burdens, I take both bags and tuck them into the back.

  The straw-sucker follows me around to the back of the Trailblazer. Leah is watching him with fascination.

  He spits on the ground again and takes a dirty bandana out of his pocket to wipe his mouth. It’s all I can do to suppress a laugh. “Now y’all wanna be careful up there in Hocking Hills. If we get rain, it’ll be slicker than snot on a doorknob.”

  Leah grins widely. “Indeed it will be!” she exclaims happily.

  The man just nods. Leah thanks him profusely as I usher her into the vehicle.

  Driving off, I glance in the rear view mirror. He’s staring after us.

  “Creepy.”

  “Nonsense. He was perfect.” Leah is enraptured.

  “Who waited on you inside?”

  She giggles. “The most delightful woman! Gingham dress, full apron, hair in a bun. Called me ‘sugar’. It was wonderful.”

  “Sounds lovely,” I say, shaking my head. “Full on, Mrs. Walton.”

  “You had a crush on
Mrs. Walton when you were in grade school.”

  “I thought we agreed not to talk about that ever again.”

  She pulls the map out again and rustles it around. Okay, look, if we take route thirty-three, we’ll be headed directly for Logan.”

  Nodding, I merge over to the right lane. “Got it.”

  Leah changes the CD again and hums along to some older Fleetwood Mac. We’re cruising along and the scenery is getting greener and more wooded. Leah gives me a few more directions, and we’re pulling up to the park gate at the campground. The man in the booth gives me a map in exchange for my few dollars and we pull off into the parking area. Leah sets about repacking our bags so we can carry in all of our groceries, too. Fastening my backpack, I swing her tent around my shoulder while she picks up my sleeping bag. I check the tie that holds her sleeping bag to her pack. Secure. We set off for the area that the booth guy said was likely to be pretty unpopulated. It’s a far hike to the hot showers from my intended camping spot, but that doesn’t matter. If we’re desperate enough for a shower, we won’t mind walking a couple of miles.

  “Leah, it’s a couple miles in. Are you going to be okay?”

  “Fine. I’m a pack mule. I could walk a hundred miles. It’s running that kills me.”

  “I noticed.”

  The sun is beating down on us, and it’s getting really hot. A few dark clouds are threatening off to the North, but they don’t look close. Leah is happily gliding along, watching the butterflies that flit up in great clouds around us as we disturb them. Rustlings in the brush probably mean we have squirrels or rabbits nearby. We pass several tents, but no campers. On a day like today, they’re probably hiking, or fishing over by the stream. I turn off that path and take us around a bend, following the map. Leah is holding a compass.

  “I know where we’re going, Leah.”

  “I want to make note of what direction we are from the parking area so we can get out in case you get us lost.”

  “I won’t get us lost.”

  “Just in case.” She smiles.

  “Isn’t a compass considered technology?”