TRAVIS
Sam stepped into the kitchen as I downed the last of a cup of coffee.
“Travis…”
“Hey, Sammy,” I said. I put the mug in the sink.
“You taking a trip?” he asked and pointed to all my stuff on the counter.
“Something like that,” I said.
“Where are you going?”
“Can I borrow your ride?”
“What?”
“I need to go somewhere.”
Sam was groggy as he looked around. “What are you doing? Are you leaving for good, man?”
“I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing,” I said. “I just need a ride.”
“I can drive…”
“No.”
“Travis, you have to tell me what you’re doing.”
“Fine. I saw my mother last night.”
“Shit.”
Sam looked away.
“You knew she was around?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Saw her a month ago at the bar. She bartends there. Lives in the apartment building across the street.”
“So, you talked to my mother and didn’t tell me?”
“There’s nothing to tell, Travis,” Sam said. “She talked to me. I walked away. I want nothing to do with that woman. I know everything she did to you and Julie.”
I jumped forward and put a finger to Sam’s chest. “Don’t ever say that, Sam. Don’t ever say you know everything. You don’t know shit.”
“I know who was there when you needed a hot meal or a warm house to sleep in,” he said, a look of defiance on his face, which surprised me.
I nodded. “I just need your ride for the day.”
“What if I tell you no?”
“I was hoping I could just steal it,” I said. “That was my plan. But you woke up.”
“Great.”
“So now I’m asking.”
“And if I say no?”
“Then I’ll walk.”
“You’re going to walk? With a guitar and some bags?” Sam shook his head. “And why the hell are you taking all your stuff with you?”
“I’m out,” I said. “Okay? I’m not doing some grand gesture of goodbye here. I’m not going to hug everyone and wish them well and lie to say I’ll be in touch.”
“Christ,” Sam said. “You just do whatever you want, Travis.”
“Is there any other way to live?” I asked.
“You’re going to… what… confront your mother and then get on an airplane to go back to the beach?”
“I don’t know where I’m going yet,” I said. “That’s the truth. Things are still heated down there with what happened with the band. But coming here… it’s not good, Sammy. It’s not good for anyone.”
“Why? Because you have to stare at everything that happened? Are you worried about me… with Willow?”
“I don’t give a shit about you and Willow. You screwed that up years ago, man.”
“I told her I cared about her, and she shut me down.”
“Oh… damn…”
I stepped back.
“Yeah,” Sam said. “I know I’ll never have her that way. That’s fine with me. So, if you’re leaving because of that…”
“You sent her to me, Sam,” I said with my lip curling. “If I wanted to fuck her, I would have. I’m not running because of a woman.”
“You’re running because of the past. Because you can’t face everything and deal with it.”
“I’m leaving… I’m not running. I’m leaving because there’s nothing here. It’s all ghosts, Sammy. Shit, you have a good life here? Good for you. Look at Willow. She’s a babysitter for her fucking family.”
“She’s trying her best for everyone.”
“That’s her problem, not mine.”
I was spitting fire. Saying anything to justify the fact that my hands were twitching at the notion that I had a chance last night to be with Willow. I could have taken her to bed several times. I could have been rolling in the sheets with her again right now instead of talking to Sam.
“You’re an asshole, Travis. But I can see through that. You’re scared. You’re hurt. So you’re attacking.”
“Fine. That’s why I’m leaving then. So I don’t finish burning bridges. Okay?”
Sam swallowed hard. He stood like a man, eye to eye with me.
Finally, he nodded. “Yeah. If you end up at the airport, let me know. So I can get my SUV back. Keys are on…”
He looked and pointed to the stupid fucking keyholder he had. It was a giant that held keys. Shit like that pissed me off.
“Where are my fucking keys?” Sam asked.
I slipped my hand into my pocket and took the keys out. I hooked them around my pointer finger and grinned.
“I don’t know how the fuck we ended up as friends,” Sam said. “You’re really…”
“I follow my heart, Sammy.” I gently slapped his face. “I follow my own path. My own light. I trust nobody. Sometimes I don’t trust myself. I’m the same as I’ve ever been.”
“I know,” he said.
I closed my hands around the keys.
I knew Sam wasn’t going to give me shit about taking his SUV. It was Sam. He was a good friend. Somewhere in his heart he thought he could save me. I figured he got that from his mother. She always felt bad for me. She always joked and called me her second son. Which was cute and fun, but when Sam got sick, he went to a nice doctor who helped him. When I got sick, I was on my own to figure out how to get better. Or I had to stand in a line for hours because I had no health insurance.
I patted Sam’s face again. “I’ll take good care of the SUV.”
“Don’t fucking drink and drive with it,” Sam said. “I swear, Travis…”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“You’re going to confront your mother. Anything is possible. Jesus Christ, Travis, please don’t run her over with it either.”
I laughed. “Now you’re just giving me ideas.”
“Give me the keys.”
“Fuck off, Sammy.”
I walked to the counter and got my stuff.
Two bags and a guitar.
I gave a nod over my shoulder at Sam as he stood there in his matching pajamas. A navy-blue buttoned top and pants to match. His normally perfect hair a little messy. The picture-perfect image of domestication. The kind of guy that would worship every piece of Willow’s heart. The kind of guy that would take care of Wren, Max, and her mother. The kind of guy that you trusted to make sure the bills were paid, and everyone had life insurance and that the vehicles always had a full tank of gas.
Not me though. I was forever running on fumes, my insurance policy was taking a deep breath, and my bills were paid whenever the fuck I felt like paying them. And the only matching pajamas I would ever wear would be my goddamn birthday suit.
“Take care of yourself, Travis,” Sam said.
“You too, Sammy. Find yourself a nice woman. You’re a good guy.”
I left the house and got into his SUV with my bags in the back.
I had one more trip to make.
I hadn’t talked to my mother since Julie’s funeral.
There were three cars and two pickup trucks in the parking lot of the bar. I couldn’t imagine the kind of life you lived where sitting at a bar before noon felt right. Then again, I was probably one bad day away from that becoming my reality.
I opened the door with the intention of asking whoever was working the bar where my mother lived. Worst case, I could start knocking on doors across the street until I found what dump of an apartment she called home.
Two steps into the bar and I was eye to eye with my mother.
She had a dirty rag in her hand, wiping the bar, staring right at me. My heart and mind and body did this entire battle thing. The little boy that filled up my memory bank telling me to run toward her. To hug her. Desperate to understand what it was like to have a mother that cared and did that kind of shit. You know, the kind o
f mother who loved her son. Me being the man I was, my feet were planted firmly on the floor, in self-protection mode, damn near ready to put my hand over my heart before she could stab what was left of it.
I took a few more steps and she just remained still, half leaning over the bar, eyes going wider by the second.
There were five guys at the bar, all looking roughed up by life. Three were seated one after another, staring at the TV in the corner. The other two were spread out. They both slowly turned their heads to look at me, finding out what my mother was looking at.
“Karen, what’s got your tongue?” one of them asked.
“That’s…” She let the rag go and covered her mouth with both hands.
I stood just behind a barstool. “How about a cold beer?” I asked.
She lowered her hands. “That’s my son.”
“Hey, Mom,” I said.
She stepped back, the shock written all over her face.
I glanced left to right and saw the two guys looking at me.
“That’s your boy, Karen?” the same guy asked.
“Travis,” Mom said. “Holy fucking shit. Travis!”
She made a run to the side of the bar and came rushing around. She threw her arms out to hug me. She had a bunch of random and nonsense tattoos on her arms. Stupid little pictures and symbols and some of them so smeared you could tell they were homemade tattoos. Her hair was pulled back, that stupid purple streak still visible. She looked like she had ten pounds of makeup on her face, covering up the scars of guilt.
She hugged me, and I smelled makeup, cheap perfume, and stale cigarette smoke.
I shut my eyes for a second and the little boy took over.
I put my right hand to her back.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Travis,” she said. “I can’t believe you’re fucking here.”
She broke away and touched my face.
Her eyes were my eyes.
I had my mother’s eyes. I’d forever look in the mirror and be haunted by the reflection.
“I’m fucking dreaming,” she said. “Hey, Paul, pinch my ass. Make sure I’m not dreaming.”
The guy jumped up off his barstool, smiling.
“You fucking touch her and I’ll break your arm,” I said.
The guy stopped dead in his tracks and showed his hands.
“Jesus, Travis,” Mom said. “I’m playing around. I’m in shock.”
I stepped back. “Yeah. Thought you’d be. Been a while, huh?”
“Too long. How did we let that happen?”
“We… right…”
“Come on,” Mom said. “I’ll get you a drink. You hungry? Pick something out you want to eat. It’s all on me. My treat.”
Decades of neglect and I get a free beer and shitty dive bar wings? That’s a fair trade.
Mom hurried back behind the bar.
“I’m Paul,” the guy I threatened said.
“Travis,” I said.
We shook hands.
“Your mom here is a good one. Nice lady. I’ve been trying to make an honest woman out of her for years now.”
“He just likes me because I serve him beer and food. He thinks that would be the norm if we dated.” Mom laughed as she poured me a beer. “He’d be in for a rude awakening.”
She put the beer down in front of me. “What do you want to eat?”
“Nothing.”
“You have to eat. Right? When did you get into town? I heard you were a famous drummer? A surfer? Yeah?”
“You know about me… but you never called me…”
“Oh, come on now,” she said. “We’re all so busy. You know? It’s hard. I wouldn’t even know how to call you. You’re here now though. So be here.”
I slid my hand around the glass and took a sip.
“What have you been up to?” Mom asked.
She was wide-eyed, smiling. Staring at me with that look that said she loved me. But she really didn’t get it. She never fucking got it.
“You’ve been here long?” I asked, ignoring her question.
“Years. Live right across the street. Short distance, you know? Keeps me out of trouble.”
“Right.”
“What are you doing up here?” she asked.
“Needed to get away.”
“Ah, right. You got yourself into some trouble, huh?”
“Not necessarily.”
“Don’t lie to your mother, Travis.”
I gritted my teeth.
She was fake. And when I saw her, I saw Julie. Julie had our father’s eyes but my mother’s looks. Even though Julie was just a teenager when… you know… she had that look about her. Starting to become a woman, stealing features from Mom. Which wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Mom was a good-looking woman. She just couldn’t keep her life together.
“Look, Travis,” Mom said, “get something to eat. Hang out for a bit. We can talk about anything.”
“Yeah? How about the last time we talked. Remember that?”
She looked away, her eyes almost instantly filling with tears.
I stood up.
I shook my head.
What the fuck was I doing here? I hadn’t seen her in how many years now? And I’m supposed to just sit up at the bar and act like life is good? Fuck that, I knew how many years it had been. Right down to the minute… the second even…
“You look good, Travis,” she said. “You’re exactly what I pictured.”
“What’s that?”
“On your own. Standing tall. Living your life.”
“Right. And you get to take credit for it all, huh?”
Mom looked at me. Her eyes narrowed. “You want to say that again? You know who you’re talking to, right? I’ll come across this bar and slap you.”
“You were never there,” I said. “You fucking floated and put it all on us. You wonder why she did what she did, huh?”
“Goddammit, Travis,” Mom said. She slapped the bar. “That right there. You sound like your goddamn father when you talk like that. Don’t you dare blame me.”
I dove at the bar.
Mom jumped back, scared.
The two guys watching this stood up.
I looked over at Paul. “Try me. I fucking dare you.”
“Hey, try to take it easy here,” Paul said.
I looked to my left at the other guy. “You got something you want to say?”
He showed his hands. “Just making sure… everyone is cool.”
“We’re cool,” Mom said. “Just a mother and son disagreement.”
I put my hands to the bar. “You weren’t there. You know when she got her period the first time… I was out on the roof…”
“Probably getting high, right?” Mom asked. “How do you think that made me feel, Travis? You were always high. Drinking. Smoking. Influencing Julie. She was my little girl. My little peanut. And then…”
“Right. This is on me now. Because I had to self-medicate to survive your bullshit.”
Mom swung her hand and I eased back.
She missed me.
She grabbed the rag and threw that at me instead.
“You don’t like the truth,” I said. “Julie thought she was dying when she got her period. Screaming for me. Scared me half to fucking death. Because the fucking lazy person you put in charge of us couldn’t get her fat ass off the couch and do anything.”
“Don’t you dare-”
“I had to help her,” I said. “I put a towel over her legs to give her some decency. I had to dig through the fucking cabinet and find a tampon for her. I had to explain how to use it. When the fuck did that become my goddamn job?”
“She loved you more than me,” Mom said. “You were her big brother. She looked at you like her father. Her protector.”
“That’s only because she didn’t have a mother around.”
The entire bar fell silent.
All eyes were on us.
Mom stood and swallowed hard. She started to nod. “If you want
something to eat, Travis, please order. Okay? I have to go and make a phone call real quick.”
Her voice cracked. She turned and wiped her eyes.
I stood there, all eyes on me.
I had two choices. I could either tell these guys to fuck off or just fight them.
I took a twenty from my pocket and put it on the bar.
“Next round is on me,” I said.
I moved, and Paul jumped up.
“I know it’s not my business here…”
“Don’t make it,” I said. “Whatever games she plays with you, if you’re dumb enough to fall for them, that’s on you.”
“You’re her son…”
“That’s right. I’m her son. And I’ve seen it all. Those crocodile tears aren’t going to get to me.”
I left the bar and needed the air and the space. I told a lie. The tears were getting to me. My mother knew what she did was wrong. She never played it off that things were okay. But she never stopped either.
Instead of going to Sam’s truck and answering the inevitable question of what now? I ended up walking along the side of the bar to the back. I lit up a smoke on the way to calm my nerves a little.
That’s when I spotted Mom.
Standing at a car.
The window was down, and she was talking to some guy. I hung back a little and made sure she didn’t see me. Part of me wondered if she really had let go of the past and was just living right now. Maybe she had a boyfriend. A simple life. A small apartment. A bartending job. Everything simple and easy. Which was maybe exactly what she needed…
Mom reached into the car. I watched as she awkwardly hugged the guy. He slipped something into her back pocket and she quickly pulled away. She instantly began to play with her fingers as she watched the car drive away. As the car passed by me, I looked at the driver. I curled my lip and side stepped. He hit the gas harder, driving away faster.
I didn’t want to believe what I just saw…
My mother just bought herself some drugs.
I gave her a smoke and lit it.
She took a deep drag.
“Is this going to be us?” she asked, smoke pouring from her mouth.
“You tell me,” I said.
“Meaning what, Travis?”
“You know what you said at Julie’s funeral. What did you think I was going to do?”
Mom looked away. “I was messed up then.”
What You Don't Know (True Hearts Book 6) Page 13
