Never Look Back (Coming Home Book 2)

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Never Look Back (Coming Home Book 2) Page 6

by Stephens, Amy


  While I had been out, I stopped by a few fast food places and inquired about a job. Yes, I actually put forth an effort to find employment. It’s not exactly the type of work I want to do, but at this point, I really need to find something. Money just isn’t going to fall from the sky and land in my lap. I’ve discovered no one does paper applications anymore which sucks for me since I don’t have a computer. I could use my phone to access the job websites to apply but it’s almost impossible to read the small print and fill in all of the information. I’ve been pretty lucky to keep my phone charged using an outlet in the hallway of the apartment breezeway. But even being on the internet has started to bore me. I’ll just keep looking for some other opportunity to open up. There’s bound to be a better job for me.

  Today, I decide to get out of the apartment and do something different rather than sit and stare at the walls. I throw on a cap to cover up my hair that is now in desperate need of a cut. I’ve considered taking the scissors to it myself but since losing power, there’s simply not enough light in the apartment to see to do it myself. Right now, it’s not that big of a deal and I’ll figure something out later.

  I make the short drive down to the local library and browse through a couple of magazines. I used to think Jennifer was crazy for reading so much. She’d come home with a stack of romance books and have them all read in a few days. Sort of disappointed there aren’t more sports magazines here, I start to browse some of the bookshelves and come across a section of mysteries and thrillers. A couple of the titles sound intriguing so I pull a few from the shelf and bring them over to one of the tables in the back corner. I’ve never cared much for reading but there’s nothing else for me to really do. After an hour or so I get pretty engrossed in this particular book and I am curious to find out how it ends. I notice someone shelving books and inquire about how to go about getting a library card. In a matter of minutes, I’m hooked up with a library card and I decide to check out a couple of books by the same author. The cute young girl working the desk tosses in a bookmark and I smile and thank her.

  As I walk back out to my car, I notice the darkened sky is threatening rain. Even though I’m eager to read more of my new book, I figure if it starts to rain, the apartment will be too dim to read from lack of daylight and I’ll probably end up out on the porch as long as the wind doesn’t blow any rain in on me. There’s still a couple hours left of daylight but without the sun shining, I won’t have as much time as a normal day. On a brighter note, maybe if it does rain, the apartment might cool off a bit and not be so unbearably uncomfortable this evening.

  I toss the books over in the passenger seat and crank the car. The wind has picked up and the trees are swaying back and forth. Hopefully, I’ll make if home before the rain. I blast the air conditioning on high and change radio stations before shifting the car in reverse. Stupidly, I back from the parking spot slowly, not bothering to look in both directions. I guess I just assumed it would be clear and the next thing I know, I’m feeling a sudden jolt from the impact and my body jerks forward. Shit!

  I shift the car back into park and immediately open the car door to step out so I can see what I’ve hit. Parked just off the side shoulder of the road is a truck with a small pull-behind trailer that’s loaded down with lawn equipment. Apparently the owner of the truck had been doing some yard work and had pulled off the side of the road before leaving the property. Hearing the impact, the owner of the truck comes running from the front porch of the house to find out where the noise was coming from. When he sees my car in the middle of the street, he comes over to me first to see if I’m hurt.

  “You okay?” He asks.

  “Yeah, I think so.” I tell him, trying not to reveal how mad I am at myself for doing something so stupid like backing out into a street without looking.

  Both of us inspect his trailer where my car made contact with it and it appears to be okay. My car, on the other hand, has a deep gash in the back side panel on the right hand side. There’s a dent to go with it and the paint looks to be chipped somewhat, but other than that, there doesn’t appear to be anything impending me from driving it. Still, I’m angry at my carelessness.

  “Well, look. I know your car suffered more damage than my trailer, but I’m good with not calling the cops if you are.” The driver of the truck suggests.

  I pull the ball cap off and run my fingers through my hair. “Hey, man. That sounds pretty damn good to me.” There’s nothing worse than having a wrecked new car, but I’m lucky is wasn’t any worse. “I’m, uh, sort of in between jobs right now and I’m afraid my insurance may have lapsed. You’d be doing me a favor if we could take care of this ourselves.”

  “I understand. I hate to hear you don’t have any insurance but maybe someone can cut you a deal for repairs. It’s really not that bad.” The man tells me.

  “Yea, but I’ve only had the car a couple of months. It stinks, you know. You’re proud of your ride and don’t like seeing it all banged up.” I share with him but I know he’s probably not as sympathetic since his trailer doesn’t have any significant damage.

  “You said you were in between jobs, huh? What kind of work you looking for?” He inquires. “My brother and I have our own lawn care business but he’s been having to take off a lot to tend to his sick wife. Think you might be interested in helping out? We’ve got a pretty good client base but it’s tough trying to keep up with everything all by myself.”

  “Other than having to do the normal yard work back home, that’s all I’ve ever done when it comes to lawn cutting devices. I’m sure it’s not that hard to learn though.” I tell him. “Are you offering me a job?”

  Great, here I am talking to this man about a job that involves being out in the hot sun all day long. This could bring me a little bit of money, but do I really want to get hot and dirty cutting grass all day? But honestly, how could I not take him up on his offer? If he’d be willing to pay me under the table, that would be even better and it just might convince me to take the job.

  “Tell you what. If you think you might be interested, take my card. I like to get started as early as possible in the mornings to beat the heat. I’ve got three jobs lined up for tomorrow. My address is on the card. If you show up at six-thirty, I’ll know you are willing to work. Otherwise, we’ll just let this little incident go and not hold anyone responsible. Deal?”

  I take the card from him and glance down at it. Doug and Gene’s Lawn Care.

  “So, are you Doug or Gene?” I ask.

  “I’m Doug. Doug Young.” He extends his hand and I return the shake.

  “Well Doug, since you are in need of some help, and I’m in need of a job, looks like I’ll be seeing you in the morning.”

  No sooner than I get back in my car and Doug makes it back to his truck, a bolt of lightning fills the sky and thunder rumbles. In just seconds, rain begins to pour down in torrential sheets. The rain is coming down so hard, I’m hardly able to see in front of me. I let Doug go ahead and pull away before I attempt to back out again. This time, I make sure to look both ways. I pull up to the stop sign and smack my hand up against my forehead disgusted I could be so irresponsible.

  Well, one good thing did come about though. I did manage to find a job. Even though we didn’t discuss pay I’m pretty sure it’s not going to be much more than minimum wage. I tuck the business card up on the visor and drive towards the apartment.

  The rain is still coming down pretty good when I get back and I’m a little disappointed the rain may settle in for the night. I thought more about my library book on the drive home and I’m really looking forward to picking up where I left off.

  I sit in the parking spot for several minutes hoping the rain will subside enough for me to make it inside without getting drenched. When it doesn’t appear to be letting up after several minutes or so, I grab a plastic bag from the floorboard and dump the contents out. An empty twenty ounce plastic bottle and a bag of half eaten chips fall to the floor. Right now I would
love to be able to snack on some salty chips and my mouth waters just thinking about it, but there’s no telling how long I’ve been riding this half eaten bag around in the floorboard. I promised myself I would take better care of this car and keep the inside clean, but it didn’t take me long to resort back to my old habits. I should be ashamed at the amount of trash that has accumulated. Instead of putting the plastic bag over my head, I drop my books in the bag and make a mad dash for the breezeway leading down to the apartment.

  I shake off the rainwater from the bag and sit it on the ground next to the door. I fish around in my pocket for the keys and at the same time I notice a piece of paper tucked in the side of the door. I unfold it and realize a deputy sheriff has been by looking for me. There’s a phone number on the paper with a brief message for me to call at my earliest convenience. Shit! What now?

  I drop the bag of books down on the couch and slide open the sliding doors to let in some fresh air. I glance down at the paper again and figure I might as well find out what’s going on that would cause a sheriff to come looking for me. It’s probably better to call them now rather than someone show up at the apartment again and realize I’m here without any electricity.

  I dial the number and realize I’m somewhat nervous. I can’t imagine what a deputy sheriff would want from me. Hopefully Doug didn’t change his mind about the accident and decide to report me for not having insurance. Then I realize I’m just jumping the gun—there’s no way the sheriff would have had time to talk to him, make a report, then drive all the way over here to talk to me.

  “Deputy Jones speaking.” The voice on the other end is loud and sounds like a military drill sergeant.

  “Yes, I, uh, had a note left on my door stating I needed to call this number. Can you tell me what this pertains to?”

  Once we have verified I am the person of interest, the deputy informs me he has important paperwork that needs to be hand delivered to me. My body tenses and a sheen of sweat covers my body. I can’t imagine who would be sending me paperwork that has to be delivered by a sheriff. I’m not looking forward to finding out what it is and who it’s from, but I figure it must be important.

  Since Deputy Jones is getting off work within the hour, he suggests bringing the paperwork over to me on his way home. I might as well deal with it and face whatever trouble lies ahead.

  After disconnecting the phone call, I walk over and stand at the patio doorway. My mind is reeling ninety miles an hour. I’ve gotten myself into some pretty crazy situations before, but being alone now in my wife’s apartment without her, without any electricity and without knowing what tomorrow holds is about the most absurd thing I can think of. Within a matter of minutes, a knock at the door startles me and takes me away from whatever planet I was visiting.

  I look through the peephole and see it’s the deputy. He wasn’t lying when he said he was about to head home. I open the door and stare face to face with him.

  “Brian Collins?” He asks.

  “Yes sir. That’s me.”

  “I need you to sign right here and right here.” He tells me as he passes his clipboard and a pen over to me. The lines I need to sign are highlighted so I can’t sign in the wrong spot. I assume my signature just verifies I’m receiving the documents just like the mail carriers gets signatures before leaving certain packages.

  “That’s all?” I ask as I pass the clipboard back to him and in return, he passes me an envelope.

  “Have a good evening.” He turns to walk away not bothering to answer my question. Wow, so much for conversation.

  Well screw him and the broom he flew in on. Personality is surely not a requirement for his job. Yep, he’s just like any other person of authority who wears a uniform, arrogant and stuck on themselves. I slam the door aggravated by his cockiness.

  I turn the envelope over and see in the upper left hand corner the name of a law firm. Of course, not being from here, the name doesn’t sound familiar. I hesitate at first before I rip open the envelope and pull out the folded papers.

  As I slowly unfold the documents, my body becomes completely numb. I’m instantly terrified of what I’m about to discover. Before I glance at any of the wording, my fingers rub across the raised embossing on the back page signifying the paperwork is legally endorsed and notarized. What is this all about?

  Then, I see it all. In black and white letters, Jennifer Davis Collins plaintiff vs. Brian Collins defendant. I am staring at my divorce papers and there’s nothing I can do about it.

  The legal terminology doesn’t mean much to me and I end up scanning over most of the words not caring what any of them mean. I did not see this coming at all.

  I drop my head down, ashamed that I’ve turned out to be the biggest flop in life. It’s no wonder my parents, especially my dad, have given up on me. I’m an embarrassment to them and to myself.

  Fuck!

  As I stare at the pages, I wonder what rights I have, if any, since there is a baby on the way. I have nothing to offer. I have no money, no job, no future. What kind of father could I possibly be to my baby?

  And the worst part of all, I have to wonder is it even worth fighting? I can’t even hire a lawyer to defend me. And even if I did have the money, what judge would grant me anything based on my history. If I don’t sign these papers and pretend as though I never received them, how long can I stay legally married to Jennifer? I still love her and our baby but I don’t know how to give them everything they need.

  I crumble the pages up in a ball and throw them across the room. They land in the middle of the living room floor without making so much as a sound. I stare at the crushed pages as though it’s the plague and I’m going to catch a disease if I go near it.

  I lean back against the wall while my body slides down to meet the floor. My eyes pool with tears but I don’t allow them to fall. I will not give up.

  I have no idea what time it is now but I feel like I’ve stared at the same spot in the middle of the living room floor for hours. The ball of papers is still there. Those papers can significantly have a huge impact on my future. I rub the palms of my hands in circles over my eyes and make an attempt to stand.

  Suddenly, an idea comes to mind and I waste no time grabbing my keys from the kitchen table and walking out the door. I don’t even think I bother to lock up.

  Not wanting to be noticed, I pull into a parking spot close to the edge of the hotel property. The rain has stopped and there are puddles of water scattered across the parking lot. I scan the area until I see what I’m looking for—Rebecca’s car. I think about what I’m going to say and how I’m going to approach her, but tonight, she’s going to give me some answers.

  Rather than wait until there are no customers, I do just the opposite. I wait until several people have entered the lobby and Rebecca is obviously busy dealing with getting them checked in. I walk up to the front sidewalk staying hidden from anyone who might be waiting in the lobby area. I watch from around the concrete pole as one family piles back into their car after checking in. The car pulls down a little ways to park just outside a bottom level room and the family immediately begin to unload their luggage.

  I take my chances and walk inside the lobby ready to face Rebecca. To my surprise though, there’s no one behind the counter or in the lobby anymore. Other than the soft hum of the ceiling fan and a television that’s on low in the breakfast area, the room is quiet.

  Suddenly, I jump as the sound of a nearby slamming door fills the room. In a matter of seconds, Rebecca comes walking around the corner with her arms loaded down with clean towels. She stops dead in her tracks once she lays eyes on me. All of the towels fall to the floor.

  I instantly step closer to help her pick them up. “Here, let me give you a hand with those.”

  Her gaze is cold as ice. “What the hell do you want?”

  “Rebecca, we need to talk.” I do my best to keep my voice calm even though I’d like to get up in her face and tell her what I really think about her.
“I really need to talk to you.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t know where Jennifer is and even if I did, you would be the last person I would tell.” Her tone is filled with anger in her defense. There’s no doubt, she is doing her best to protect Jennifer.

  Just when I think I’m fighting a losing battle, a new idea quickly comes to mind. Rather than try to talk to Rebecca about the papers I received, I take a different approach and try to catch her off guard.

  “I thought you knew, Rebecca. Jennifer hasn’t called you?” I look her dead in the eyes trying to sound as believable as possible. “Jennifer came home this morning.”

  The look on Rebecca’s face is priceless. My plan is working beautifully.

  “She and I are going to give our marriage another shot. I can’t believe she didn’t call you.”

  “So where is she now?” Rebecca asks still not sure whether to believe my story or not.

  “She was so exhausted from everything, she fell asleep on the couch. She looked so peaceful and at ease, I couldn’t wake her. I just needed to talk to you to see if you could offer me some advice so I don’t screw up again.”

  The phone behind the front desk beeps indicating someone is calling for room service. Rebecca takes a step towards the counter then stops to look back at me. I can tell she’s still not convinced of my recent announcement. The phone continues to beep until finally she drops the disheveled towels down in the chair and answers the phone.

  “Front desk, this is Rebecca speaking.”

  I don’t know what the conversation pertains to, but I can tell the person on the other end of the phone call must be getting a little aggravated about something judging by the tone Rebecca has taken with them. I’m sure my news doesn’t help with her mood either.

  “Yes, I have your towels.” She snaps. “I’ll be right there with them in just a few minutes.”

  Rebecca looks back towards me. I just need to say a little more to have her convinced.

 

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