by Mj Fields
Seven months now seems like a lifetime ago.
When will I stop missing something that is no longer there?
I am shutting off the lights behind the bar when the phone rings. I answer it.
“Keeks?”
I know immediately who it is.
“Logan?”
“Need a favor.” His voice breaks, and he sniffs.
I grip the phone hard and hold it to my ear, ready for him to tell me that something is wrong, that something happened to Trucker.
“I’m in Brooklyn. My sister’s fiancé, Thomas, got hurt really bad—hit by a car. A family friend, Luke, was in an accident, too. And—”
“Oh, Logan, I am so sorry.”
He sniffs and clears his throat. “I need you to go the house and tell Trucker he needs to call me. I’m … I’m … I’m … Fuck.” He sniffs again. “Can you do that? Will you be there with him? I know—”
“Yes, of course,” I answer quickly.
Less than ten minutes later, I am knocking on his door.
When Mitch answers, he looks down at me.
“I’m here to see Trucker.”
“He’s right over there, Keeks.” He nods toward the couch where he’s sitting with a girl on his lap and a beer in his hand.
“You have company, Cohen.”
Trucker looks at me and shakes his head. “Did someone order a bartender?”
The living room erupts in laughter.
I swallow my insecurity. “Mitch, which room is his?”
“End of the hall, on the left.”
“If he gets up off the couch, let him know I’m in there and need to talk.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“I really don’t care what you think.” I push past him and walk down the hall with my head held high.
When I walk into his room, his scent surrounds me as I look around the small bedroom and see pictures of him and Logan, posters with inspirational quotes, and one that says, “If you’re in here, you should be naked or getting that way.” Then I look down and see a wastepaper basket full of empty condom wrappers.
When his door flies open, I look up to see him giving me a disgusted look.
“What the fuck are you doing here? Never mind. I get it. You’ve decided to fuck with my life and—”
“Before you continue being rude and making an ass out of yourself—”
“Who the fuck do you think you are, little liar—”
“Logan needs you to call him!” I bark out, not wanting to be hurt by his hateful words.
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and holds it up. “Bullshit.”
I sigh. “Trucker, he asked that I come here … to be here when you call him.”
“What? You two fucking now?”
“Trucker, stop, okay?” I plead. “Stop and call your best friend, your person. Because, right now, he needs you.”
“Well, I don’t need you,” he snaps.
“It’s his sister, Ava, and Luke?”
He nods, looking nervous now.
“He needs you to call him, and he asked me to be here.”
As he calls, I stand still, watching him absorb the information Logan is giving him.
“I can come. Okay, I can—” He stops and turns his back to me. “Logan, it’s—” He is interrupted again.
“Jesus Christ,” he sighs out. “T’s—”
He listens to Logan.
“No, man. I’ll wait for you. We do this—” He stops and seems to be listening. “I get it. You need me there. I’m—”
Again, a pause.
“I’m so fucking sorry, man. I’m so sorry …” His voice breaks, and he clears it before telling Logan, “I’m here. You call whenever. You need me, you know I’ll be there.”
He sits down with the phone on his ear. “Wasn’t necessary.” Then he clears his throat loudly. “Love you, too, brother. Tell Ava the same. Tell Aunt Jade I’m praying for Luke.”
When he disconnects from the call, he sits down with his back to me.
“I have no idea why he asked you to come. Fucking seventeen-year-old—”
“He knows I know you, the you that no one else does. And he … I think he trusts I want nothing but the best for you.”
I see his shoulders shake as he buries his face in his hands. “You’re seventeen fucking years old.”
I sit down behind him and rub his back. “I’m eighteen now, so no worries about that, okay?”
“Right,” he huffs then sniffs.
“I’m eighteen,” I whisper.
“Truth? Or is that—”
“Truth, Trucker, it’s truth.” I keep rubbing his back.
“Ray—I mean, Keeka—I gotta tell the guys, and—fuck.” He gets up and yells, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Then he hits the wall, punching a hole in it. “Son of a bitch!” He holds his hand to his chest and groans.
His door is opened and the girl who was on his lap earlier comes in. “Trucker, baby—” She stops when she sees me and glares. “You okay?”
“Get her the fuck out of here,” he hisses.
“No problem.” She smirks at me. “Let’s go, bar titties.”
“I was fucking talking about you! Get the fuck out!” When he turns around, his eyes are red, and he’s trembling. “Go!”
“Have fun with that.” She turns and pushes me. “Nothing little whore.”
Trucker flies across the room, and I jump between him and the bitch who just pushed and belittled me.
“She’s not worth it, you hear me?” I grab his shirt and shake him.
“She called you—”
“Do I look bothered?” I force a smile.
He scrunches his eyes shut and shakes his head. “No, Ray. No, you don’t.”
“Let me know how I taste, bar titties.” She laughs maliciously as she leaves.
Kicking the door shut, I pull his head into my neck and hold him while Trucker Cohen, the strongest man I know, falls apart. Then I walk forward until he’s against the bed.
“Sit, okay?”
When he sits, he immediately wraps his arms around me, and I hold him as he silently sobs. I rub my fingers gently across his scalp as he absorbs what he just heard, and my heart breaks for him.
A few minutes later, he looks up at me, and I wipe away his tears.
“I gotta tell the guys.”
I nod. “Okay.”
“He’s gonna stay there. Come back next semester to finish.”
“Won’t his professors let him—”
“He says he’ll finish then.” He stands up then turns around and wipes his face. “I don’t wanna go out there. Fuck, they don’t know him, her, T, Luke. And those holes out there, it’s none of their fucking business.”
I walk out of his room and find Mitch. “Hey, Trucker needs to talk to you and to the guys, not the … holes?”
Mitch smirks and nods.
“Mitch, it’s pretty serious.”
“What’s up, Keeks?”
“Just …” I shrug. “He needs to tell you all something.”
I walk back into Trucker’s room, finding him still standing in the same place.
“Hey.”
He looks over his shoulder.
“The guys are gonna come in here.”
“Thanks, Ray.”
“You need me to stay, or—”
“Nah, I can do this. Gotta do this, you know?”
I nod.
“You gotta ride?”
“Yep, all set,” I lie then turn to walk out the door.
“Ray?”
I look back.
“I’m sorry. Truly.”
“Me, too, Trucker.” I turn back around.
“Thanks, Ray.”
“Anytime.”
Three days later, Trucker walks into the bar smiling. He looks so happy, so very happy that I can’t help getting caught up in it.
When he sits at the bar, I ask, “What can I get you?”
&n
bsp; He looks left, and then right. “Wanted to tell you a secret.”
“Okay.” I lean in.
“An agent called me today. A fucking agent, Ray. Tells me he wants to sign me. I looked him up. He’s good. Lots of NFL greats are with him.”
“I knew it!” I laugh.
“Get this shit. I called him back; told him I’d love to sign with him. He tells me a ticket will be waiting for me at the airport, to get my ass on a plane. The draft starts tomorrow, and he tells me that I need to be there.”
“The draft, which is—”
“It’s fucking big, Ray, really fucking big.”
“Did you call Logan?”
He shakes his head. “Things aren’t good. Really bad, actually. I shouldn’t fucking even do this without him.”
I push his arm. “He’d kick your butt if you didn’t.”
“I know, but—”
“No but’s, Trucker. Go. You deserve this.”
He stares at me. He stares at me like he used to, and I smile.
“Still fucking beautiful, Ray.” He looks down at my boobs, and I can’t help laughing.
“I bought new ones.”
“None of my fucking business, but tell me they’re lace.”
“That would be a tale.”
He looks up at me. “We both fucked up, huh?”
I shrug.
He nods. “Right,” he says then stands up. “Well, I should go get that ticket; go see what the hell is waiting for me. My future.”
“Only great things, Trucker.”
He leans forward and kisses my forehead. “Thanks, Ray. Thanks for everything.”
“Hey, Trucker?”
He steps back. “Yeah?”
“Can we be friends?”
He nods. “Yeah, Ray, we can be friends.”
Lou’s nose is glued to the TV the entire weekend as he watches the draft. I try not to act interested, but when The Giants take him, tears of joy burst from my eyes.
I look at Lou, who’s looking at me, tears rolling down his own cheeks as he laughs.
“Should have been a Buffalo Bill, but look at our boy, Keeka. Look at our Orangeman.”
Look at him, I tell myself. You can never be sad again, because you just witnessed greatness.
The following Wednesday, Logan calls the bar and tells me he needs me to go to Trucker’s again.
“He died, Keeks. He fucking died, and my sister is twenty-five weeks pregnant and giving birth now.”
“I’m so sorry. Is there anything else I can do?”
“Just tell him to call me. And I know it’s fucking hard, Keeks, and that I’m asking a fuck of a lot out of you, but—”
“Logan, we’re friends, right?”
“Yeah.” He huffs out a laugh. “I guess we are.”
“Then you’re asking a friend, and that friend is saying yes.”
When I knock on the door, Mitch answers again.
“Hi, Mitch.”
“Hey.” He eyes me skeptically.
I nod. “I need to see Trucker.”
“Really not a good time for that,” he sighs.
I look past him and watch as not one, but two girls walk into his bedroom with him.
I look back at Mitch. “You think you could go stop that?”
“He’s been a fucking dick lately. I’m not stopping shit, Keeks. Sorry. You wanna come in and wait?”
I don’t have a choice, I think as I nod.
“Could be awhile.”
I’m well-aware of that.
“Does he have plans to go to the gym in the morning?”
“Fuck no.” Mitch laughs. “He’s celebrating.”
“Think I could go hang out in Logan’s room so I don’t have to be part of all this?”
He looks around the room. “Yeah, sure. Don’t blame you one damn bit.”
When he walks away, I realize I didn’t ask him which room is Logan’s. Then, when I see he’s already making out with some girl, I decide it’s best to find it myself.
I wake to my body being dragged out of Logan’s bed.
“The fuck are you doing in his fucking bed?”
“I fell asleep. I have—”
“Shut the fuck up!” Trucker screams as I scamper to my feet after he lets go of me. “I’m gonna fucking kill you, Mitch!”
Mitch?
I turn around and see Mitch jump up. “Dude, chill the fuck out.”
I jump back on the bed and run across it to get between them. “Trucker, no!”
“Do you fucking think I’m even going to listen to a fucking word you say to me ever again, friend?”
“Truth!” I yell.
He looks at me in confusion then with a pissed off look as he steps toward Mitch again.
“Mitch, get out!” I yell, grabbing Trucker’s face.
“It’s my damn room,” he sputters.
“It’s Logan’s,” I argue.
“No, it’s Mitch’s fucking room, Keeka! Don’t play dumb with me!” He pulls away from me and heads for the door.
I get between him and it. “I came here last night, and you were walking into your room with two girls, Trucker, two!”
“So fucking what? You wanted friends! That’s what you fucking said! You said you wanted friends, and fuck if I’m going to … Why the fuck did you come?”
Tears immediately fall. “I-I-I—”
“We back to that, friend! Spit it fucking out, and then get the fuck out of my house.”
I shake my head. “Logan, he needs you to call him. He asked.”
He stumbles back a couple steps and shakes his head.
“Mitch didn’t want me to go in your room, and I sure as hell didn’t want to see you with two women, friends or not, so I fell asleep. Now Logan, your friend, your only true friend, the only person you respect and will probably ever trust, needs you to call him now.”
“Why were you in his fucking room?” he yells.
“I went into an empty room to wait for you.” I poke him in the chest. “Now call your friend so I can get the hell out of here.”
He grabs my wrist and pulls me behind him and out the door, but then he stops when he sees Mitch.
“You fuck her?”
“Dude, what the hell?” Mitch laughs.
“I asked you a fucking question!”
“I was so fucked up I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have been able to get it up. And chances are, if I wasn’t facedown between her legs, not a damn thing happened, so fuck you, big shot!”
Downs comes in and stands in front of Mitch. “Dude, he’s gone in a few days.”
“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Trucker screams at him.
Downs looks at him. “We fuckin’ get you’re stressed, Cohen, but the bullshit you’ve been pulling, we’re done with it. You’ve been a fucking dick!”
“Fuck you all!” he snaps as he pulls me behind him and into his room.
He points the bed. “Sit.”
“No, absolutely not.” I cross my arms in front of me.
“Sit the fuck down!” His eyes are blaring red and misting over as he grabs his phone. “Just sit!”
“I’m right here, Trucker, but I will not sit on that bed where two women slept with you last night. No way in hell.”
He sits on the edge of his bed with his phone in his hand as he rubs the other back and forth over his head. “Can’t fucking do it.” He drops the phone and runs both hands over his face.
I walk over and pick it up. “Suck it up, Trucker. I certainly have.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Did you …? Did you suck his …?”
“Call your friend, my friend; he’d like to talk to you.”
I can’t even look at him while Logan and he speak. I can hear Logan’s tone, but not his words, while Trucker’s words are broken and filled with pain.
When he ends the call, I keep my back to him.
“Ray?” he whispers, and my chest feels like it’s crushing my heart. “T
hanks.”
I nod as I walk toward the door, hearing him get up before he walks quickly in front of me.
“Don’t fucking go.” He sinks to his knees and hugs me. “Tell me what to do?”
“Be there for him.”
“About you. I can’t see that again, Ray, not ever.”
“I guess it’s a good thing you’re leaving soon then, huh?”
He looks up at me and shakes his head. “You said friends.”
“Truth, Trucker?”
He nods quickly.
“I fell in love with you. But we can never be friends, because you’ll never trust me.”
He looks shocked.
“I’ll always wish you the best.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“There’s nothing to say. But I need you to give me back my keys, because I have fallen to sleep every night praying to a God who’s never heard my prayers—your God—that you felt the same. That you would understand I never lied to you. That somehow a shitty past didn’t really matter, and that two people who have overcome it could truly be happy.
“But I will never be able to forget last night, or this morning, or the fact that you will never trust a female. I just want my keys back, Trucker, and for you to go on and live your dream. All I want to do is be happy, and I need to get my keys back so that I can do that.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
How could it happen
Trucker
Can’t fucking breathe.
I look at my phone, seeing it’s been two hours since she left here, and I can’t fucking breathe.
I gave her back her keys. Tried to tell her all I want is for her to be happy, too. Wanted to tell her the damn truth, that I loved her and lost her so many fucking times in the past couple months that nothing makes sense. Not a damn thing.
Logan, Ava, two babies born too soon and probably won’t live. Thomas is gone, Luke is in serious condition, and all I can do is pray for her to forgive me.
My heart, my pride, both fucking shattered, and probably of my own doing.
Shut it the fuck off! I scream at myself over and over.
I grab my phone and look at Twitter, at all the “Congratulations, Trucker’s” in the world don’t mean dick right now.
