Whiskey Lullaby

by Stevie J. Cole

  I pulled my phone from my pocket and checked the message I had sent her via Facebook. The little blue circle below the message had turned to her profile picture. She had read it, but not responded. Thanks Facebook for letting me know, I thought as I shoved my phone back into my pocket and grabbed my guitar. I strummed out the first few notes of the song I wrote for Hannah, closed my eyes, and sang.

  Halfway through the song, Brice entered the room with a smile on his face. “Tell me that’s your song?”

  “Yeah.” I rested my arm on the side of my guitar, fiddling with the pick.

  Brice scrubbed a hand over his face. “You got any more?”

  “A few.”

  “We could get you an EP together.” He grabbed his guitar from the corner of the room and took a seat on the other stool, strumming out a chord. “Women would eat that song up.”

  “I don’t know…”

  He clapped me on the shoulder. “Alright, let’s go over the last bridge again. Once that’s nailed, go back to Alabama and pack your shit. Your life is about to change.”

  36

  Hannah

  The pharmacy was empty except for Martha checking her blood pressure next to the counter. A little boy came running down the aisle with an action figure clutched against his chest. Seconds later, a frazzled woman skirted around the corner. Shaking her head, she snatched him by the arm. “I’m not getting you that toy, Matthew.”

  “But I wannit!” he wailed. I stared at the floor, trying to block it out. My nerves were on edge.

  My phone dinged with a text:

  Bo: What’s the difference between Yukon Potatoes and Baking Potatoes?

  Just get normal potatoes.

  Bo: What’s Culantro?

  Cilantro, Bo. CILANTRO

  Bo: You still in the pharmacy?

  Yes

  “Ms. Blake,” the technician said. I shoved my phone into my purse when I stood up. Martha’s eyes followed me all the way to the window. The technician laid the white paper bag on the counter. “Do you have any questions.”

  “No.”

  She rang me up and I paid without a word. When I turned around, Ms. Greyson was at the end of the aisle, looking at the over-the-counters. I took a breath and went to escape down another aisle, but before I could round the corner, Martha cleared her throat.

  “Is this bad?” She tapped her finger on the red block numbers flashing on the blood pressure machine.

  “It looks fine.”

  “That’s not hypertensive?” She jabbed her finger over the top number.

  “No, you’re fine.”

  “Hmmm.”

  Ms. Greyson was still staring at the antacid tablets, and I took a step toward the shampoo aisle.

  “Hannah,” Martha said. “I haven’t seen you at church lately.”

  I eye rolled on a huff before spinning around with a smile. “I’ve been busy.”

  “So I’ve heard…”

  Are you kidding me? The nerve of some people never ceases to amaze me, but, again. In a small town, everyone thinks they have a right to tell you how you need to live your life.

  “It’s making your daddy look awful bad.” She pushed up and rolled her sleeve down. “Running around with the likes of that boy.”

  I wanted to tell her that I knew she kept a bottle of whiskey underneath the counter at the Bait and Tackle. I wanted to tell her I knew she was the reason my first-grade teacher ended up divorced—because she was having an affair with the husband. But there was no point. I’ve learned it’s most often times those with a guilty conscious that point out other’s faults. “I’ll keep that in mind, Martha.”

  The wrinkles around her mouth deepened when she frowned, and I spun around, walking down the hair care aisle. Right when I reached the end of the walkway, Ms. Greyson rounded the corner. I froze when her eyes landed on me. “Well, hello, Hannah.”

  “Hi.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and she dug a fist into one of her hips. “Dangnabbit, boy.” She shook her head. “What’s he gone and done did now?”

  Even his grandma could admit he was bad for me, so why couldn’t I? “Oh, nothing.”

  “I know that look, and I saw you tryin’ to make your great escape over there, not that I blame you, Martha’s about as dimwitted as a fruit fly.” She sighed. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, he up and ran off to Nashville without as much as tellin’ me. Phoned me and said he had some singing shindig.” She rolled her eyes. “He told me it was just some singing gig. I found out the real truth from the waitress at Ruby’s. I bet it’s ‘cause he’s afraid he’s gonna fail. Never did have much faith in himself.”

  “Oh.”

  “Poor thing, don’t let it hurt you too bad. He’s immature. Don’t realize what he does to people.” She patted my shoulder. “But he does care about you, I can promise you that.” She frowned. “He’ll be back around when he comes home.”

  Doris was only trying to help, I’m sure, but what she had just said to me caused me to realize it would be best if I kept my distance from Noah. I was in no place to be worried about a guy, no position to place my already bleeding heart on a silver platter. I couldn’t handle any more uncertainty when everything in my life was so uncertain.

  Thankfully, I heard Bo calling me from the aisle over. “I…” I shifted on my feet and held the prescription up. “I gotta go.” I turned around and walked back to the pharmacy where Bo was waiting. I glanced in the buggy and he didn’t have half of what I told him to get. I reached in and grabbed a head of cabbage. “What is this?”

  “Uh, lettuce.”

  “Wow.” I dropped it into the cart and grabbed the handle. “Come on.”

  “What’s your deal?”

  The wheel squeaked. It wobbled and stuck, making it nearly impossible to steer. “You would get the cart with the screwed-up wheel.”

  “Didn’t bother me.”

  “Of course it didn’t.”

  I went to the produce section and tossed the cabbage back in the bin before grabbing the lettuce and holding it up. “This is lettuce.”

  “Looks the same.”

  I threw it in the cart. “No, it doesn’t.”

  “Whatever.”

  We walked to the checkout and Bo stopped at one of the end caps, snagging a gossip magazine. “It’s crazy.”

  I put the milk and cheese onto the conveyer belt. “What is?” Then I grabbed the butter and pie crusts.

  “Brice Taylor’s huge.” I turned around as he placed the magazine back on the rack. Celebrities covered the front, headlines of secret babies and affairs.

  “Yep.” I dropped the lettuce on the belt. Then chucked the bread on there. “He’s huge, alright.”

  And I had no doubt that soon enough Noah would be right there on the magazine next to him. I threw the rest of the groceries on the belt and shoved the buggy to the end of the line. I should have been happy for him, but I wasn’t.

  _______

  My knuckles ached from weeding Momma’s flower beds all day. Sweat rolled between my shoulder blades when I grabbed a clump of clovers and pulled. Taking my garden gloves off, I stood up and took a seat on the porch step to drink my water. Sampson wobbled down the steps, sitting next to me and placing his head on my lap. “Hey, buddy.”

  His ears perked, and he sat up, giving a lazy bark as he stared at the road. I looked up to find Noah’s truck coming down the drive. “Great,” I mumbled.

  Sampson stood up and wagged his tail before he let out a howl and took off toward the approaching vehicle. I hadn’t answered Noah’s message. Maybe I should have, but sometimes it’s best to let things go when you don’t have the right words.

  “Hey, Sampson,” Noah said before I heard his truck door close. The sound of his voice made my stomach flip-flop. He crossed the yard with his tattooed hand shoved deep in his jeans, his eyebrows pinched together in a frown.

  “Hey, you,” he said.

  “Hey.” I took a swig of water and exhaled.

&
nbsp; “I lost my phone and—”

  “I know.”

  He nodded. “Hannah, I…” He swiped a hand through his hair and sighed. “I care about you.”

  “Yeah, I know. You’ve told me.” I’d had seven days to mull over everything. Seven days to overanalyze every word, every kiss, every lie. I had enough on my shoulders, and he had big things on the horizon. I was too much for anyone to take on, and he was too much for me to handle.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing. I suck at things like this, and with everything going on…”

  “Look, we made a mistake. It’s that simple.” I stared right at him, clenching my teeth and swallowing back every emotion I wanted to feel for him.

  “That’s what you think?”

  “Yep.” I pushed up from the stair.

  “Jesus!” He groaned. “Would you stop! I care about you, damn it.” But that could have meant so many things.

  His nostrils flared, his eyes set hard on me and he closed the space between us, his hand coming to cup my cheek. He brushed at something on my face. I fought to keep my eyes on his, to not let my gaze fall to his lips. To not let my heart have a say in what I was doing, because I was doing what was best for us both. Wasn’t I?

  My heart could only handle so much, and right then, all it could handle was my mother. Just as vulnerable as I was, he was too. It doesn’t take much to break the already broken. “Well, it’s not enough,” I said.

  His eyes searched mine and a line sank between his brows. My heart pounded in my chest and I prepared myself for a comeback. I wanted a comeback, because if he cared about me enough, he’d fight this. He wouldn’t just let me go. “You’re right.” He pressed his lips together, his jaw ticked. “It’s really not.” His hand dropped to his side. And with that, he stormed back to his truck and cranked the engine. “Bye, Hannah.” I fought the tightness creeping through my chest. He turned his truck around, dirt flying up from the tires as he sped down the drive.

  I thought if he really cared about me he’d turn around and look at me. I waited, but he didn’t even glance at me before he turned onto the highway. He consumed too much of my thoughts, and as much as I loved him, I couldn’t handle him right then. Besides, whatever was going on with him, I couldn’t hold him back.

  I didn’t tell him goodbye on purpose. I may have been ready to walk away, but I wasn’t ready to let him go.

  37

  Noah

  July 4th, 2015

  Trevor pulled over behind the line of cars to park, revving his engine like an asshole at some girls strutting by in bikinis. Benji shook the back of my seat. “All the titties, bro. All the titties.”

  “You’re both dicks,” I said.

  “Thanks.” Trevor grinned.

  I shoved open the door. Within five seconds of climbing out of the car, the muggy Alabama heat had my skin slicked. The whir of bottle rockets whizzed through the air followed by the pop and crackle of the fireworks shimmering in the sky.

  Trevor grabbed the case of beer from the back seat, tossing me and Benji one each. “Shit, this is our boy’s last night.”

  Benji sniffed, pretending to wipe tears from his eyes. “Don’t talk like that, Trev. I’m never gonna be the same. I ain’t gonna have nobody to draw cocks on when he passes out like a pussy at a party.”

  “Shut up.” I shoved Benji hard enough that he stumbled.

  “Come on, man, you leave for Nashville tomorrow.” He caught his footing and smacked me on the back. “You just better not forget us. I expect the royal treatment at your first CMA. First class flight, front row seat, some hot blonde to pose as my arm candy. And hey, hey,” he grinned wide. “Make sure she’s got one of them coochie piercings.”

  I glared at him.

  Trevor tucked the case of beer under his arm, popping the tab to his Coors and taking a gulp. “I can’t believe this shit.” He took another sip, then burped. “This fucker’s about to be a big damn deal.”

  “Hell, we don’t even know if the album’ll get picked up.”

  “Brice-fucking-Taylor, bitch!” Trevor shook his head. “He said it’s golden, right?”

  I shrugged, and he stopped, turning to face me as he placed a hand on my shoulder. “I’m proud of you.” He smiled before walking off. “Now, you won’t ever hear some sappy shit like that come outta my mouth again.” The music from the dock boomed through the air accompanied by the shouts and screams of people jumping into the lake.

  The pier was covered with people dancing, drinking, kissing. And as we made our way down the slope to the lake, it felt like every person we passed stared. Assholes I didn’t like stopped me to take a picture, and I started to wonder if maybe I wasn’t cut out for this shit. I mean, I hadn’t even recorded the album, but, for that little town, the fact that I was going to Nashville—the fact that I had met Brice Taylor and sang on one track for his next release, well, that was enough. I was famous to them.

  “Shit,” Trevor said. “This is nuts!”

  “Yeah.”

  When we reached the pier, Benji climbed up onto one of the picnic tables, cupped his hands over his mouth, and shouted: “Hey, fuckwads!” The crowd didn’t quiet down. “Hey! Hey!”

  “What the hell is he doing,” I asked Trevor. He just shook his head and tipped his beer back.

  “Hey!” Benji clapped his hands, then whistled. Most everybody turned and looked at him. “Fucking finally!” He cleared his throat before pointing at me. “You all know Noah Greyson, right?”

  Everyone glanced in my direction.

  “Well, tonight’s his last night in little ole’ Rockford, Alabama, in case you didn’t know. He’s getting the fuck outta here!” He raised his beer, and everyone followed suit. “So, cheers, fucker. Do us all proud.” He grinned. Everyone shouted before gulping down their drinks. Benji jumped off the table, and just like flies on shit, everyone crowded around me. Somehow, through the throngs of people, I caught sight of Hannah standing on the end of the pier with her eyes locked on me. Damn, I should go talk to her… But people grabbed me, taking selfies, telling me how amazing it was that my dreams were coming true. Those people didn’t fucking know me, I’d never dreamed of becoming famous because I’d never believed in myself enough to dream up bullshit like that. I just thanked them and nodded, then took the beers and shots they shoved in my direction. An hour later, I was shitfaced and signing some girl’s tits while I tried to look through my blurred vision for Hannah somewhere in the crowd.

  “Man.” Trevor slapped me on the back while the topless girl threw her arm over my shoulder. “This is the fucking life!” he slurred. “The life.” He reached over and pinched the girl’s nipple.

  Flashes from phones went off, and the girl leaned in to my ear. “I want to fuck you so bad.” She rubbed over the front of my jeans.

  Smiling, I pulled away a little. “Nah, you don’t.”

  “I do.” Her tongue trailed over my throat, and a group of guys standing in front of me stepped away, revealing Hannah watching from across the yard. Our eyes locked. Another set of fireworks exploded, the red color dancing over her face. Her nostrils flared, and she rolled her eyes.

  “Alright, alright,” I said, shrugging out of the girl’s hold. I took a few steps, stumbling as I fought to maintain my balance. For a second, I thought I should go after Hannah. Grab her hand and spin her around. Kiss her. Hell, maybe tell her that I hadn’t washed the pillow she slept on because it still smelled like her.

  But I didn’t. I just stared at her until she turned away and headed toward one of the houses.

  I told Hannah when we first met that she would end up hating me, and by the look she’d just given me, I was pretty sure she did.

  38

  Noah

  Fall 2016

  I popped another beer and turned the page:

  I blocked you on Facebook the day after the 4th of July party. The day that you left for Nashville, because I didn’t need the temptation. It was too easy to click on your page and loo
k at your pictures. But It didn’t matter that I blocked you, you were everywhere. Leave it to me to pick the guy from small town USA that would skyrocket to fame. God, I saw you on Good Morning, America and Ellen. Then there were the tabloids at the checkout lines. Anytime there was a picture of you with a supposed fling, my skin heated. I couldn’t help but picture you kissing some other girl, fisting her hair, telling them how good she felt.

  I hated being that girl.

  She was never that girl. Hell, I had only fucked a girl once after her, and even then, all I could think about was Hannah, so what was the point? Having meaningless sex had lost its luster.

  Every song, Noah. Every single song seemed like you wrote it about us. Then again, they could have been written for any girl from Rockford, couldn’t they? I’m sure you took tons of girls out to that pasture, out to the airport. I’m sure plenty of them fell asleep in the bed of your truck. Maybe you climbed every girl’s tree, but one—one song I know is mine because you wrote it for me. Unless that was a lie too.

  What had I lied to her about? I didn’t lie about a damn thing. Not one goddamn thing. I took another gulp before going back to the letter.

  The first time I heard that song on the radio, I wasn’t prepared. Oh, it sent a flood of memories raging through me, churning up emotions I tried so hard to keep locked safely away. I remembered the way you smelled, how warm your skin felt against mine. It was like fifty lashings straight to my heart all while making me feel ashamed. Ashamed that I gave in to all the pretty lies you told me with your kisses. That I believed the way you touched me held any meaning. I’m not sure what bothered me more: that you fooled me, or that I fooled myself.

  Do you know how hard it has been to just get over you when I couldn’t even get away from you? I mean, I cut you out of my life... and every time I see your face, I question whether I did the right thing by never telling you. I feel that twinge of self-doubt, of stupidity for falling so easily for you even though you warned me I would hate you. You knew, didn’t you, Noah? You could tell that I was more into you than you could ever be into me. But you just couldn’t tell me that because you needed the affection. I can’t blame you. You’d felt abandoned most of your life, so as much as I want to, I can’t fault you for letting me love you. I made you feel good. You made me feel safe.