Christmas Cowboy

by Claire Adams

  “No, I didn’t think of any of that,” I admitted as I felt the flush of shame rising in my cheeks. “I just thought you were uptight and boring and you didn’t want me to have any fun. I mean, you didn’t even have one beer!”

  “I can’t have one beer!” he roared.

  “Of course you can!” I yelled back in exasperation. “Good lord, it’s just one beer, not a whole brewery!”

  “I can’t have even one beer because I’m an alcoholic!” he blurted. “There, are you happy now?”

  We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity as I considered what to say. I owed him an apology, for sure, but he owed me one for keeping such a huge secret. I was certain of that, but I didn’t know how to say it so that he wouldn’t start yelling again.

  “I’m sorry, Brian,” I offered. “I had no idea.”

  “Why would you?” he asked defensively. “I’m your employee, not your friend. You know nothing about me.”

  “Now that’s not fair!” I cried. “I think we’ve crossed over the employee/employer boundary and are something a bit more than that, don’t you think?”

  “Whatever,” he grumbled as he resumed his pacing.

  “And if I know nothing about you, then that’s your fault,” I asserted.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” he asked incredulously. “You don’t ask me any questions about myself!”

  “Well, that’s because you’re not particularly inviting, now are you?” I said flippantly. “Not exactly the warm and fuzzy guy who invites people to get all cozy and engage in chit chat, are you?”

  “I have my reasons,” he grumbled.

  “I’m sure you do,” I replied. “But it still doesn’t make you easy to get to know, now does it? And if I don’t know you because you choose not to let me in, then it’s really not my fault, now is it?”

  He shrugged and walked toward the window. He pushed back the curtains and stood staring out the window for a long time. I said nothing, partly because I had no idea what to say, but also because I figured that if we were going to change the course of this relationship, right now was as good a time as any to begin.

  PROTECTOR #3

  “So, what made you stop drinking?” I asked.

  “Long story,” he mumbled.

  “Well, it seems I’ve got nothing but time,” I replied in a slightly sassy tone. Brian smiled a little and then shrugged. “Seriously, I’ve told you all kinds of messed up stuff about me, now it’s your turn. I’m sincerely asking to know more about you.”

  “You really want to know?” he asked.

  “Yes, I really do want to know,” I replied, smiling.

  “It wasn’t hard to decide that I wanted to quit drinking,” he began. “It’s just that it took a lot longer to get to the point where I could stop.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because by then it was both a part of who I was and a way of dealing with all of the horrible stuff I’d seen,” he admitted. “Drinking is a part of Navy culture. It’s what you do to bond with other sailors, it’s how you spend your down time, and it’s what we did in the war zone to help us forget what we’d seen and, sometimes, what we’d done.”

  “So, when did you start drinking?” I asked as I sat up, pulled my knees to my chest and rested my chin on one as I watched him talk.

  “Oh, I started that when I was young,” he waved a hand dismissively as he chuckled. “My whole family was a bunch of drinkers who were into working hard and playing harder. The Navy was a tame version of what I’d grown up with, so I fit right in. And I could usually outdrink everyone. The problem was that in my family there was a strict line between work and play, and you knew when to stop playing and start working. In the Navy, that line got blurred after boot camp, and I watched a lot of really good sailors get sucked under when they couldn’t figure out where to draw it.”

  “What do you mean? I thought you guys were under strict orders and that you couldn’t get away with stuff or you’d be kicked out.” I was confused, but intrigued at this inside look into his life.

  “It’s not like the movies, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said with a wry look. “We don’t have drill sergeants barking at us 24/7, and while we’re expected to keep things in tip-top shape, there’s a whole lot of leeway once you’re out of basic training. It’s like with anything, really. The rules start out super strict and then kind of lose their grip the more you know how to circumvent them.”

  “Oh, I get it,” I said. “It’s like boarding school. They crack down on the first years and then ease up when they know you know the rules, and you figure out how to work around them without totally flaunting that you’re breaking them.”

  “Yeah, kind of like that,” he said with an eye roll. “The Navy is totally like a rich boarding school.”

  “You know what I mean!” I laughed as I tossed a pillow at his head and narrowly missed.

  “That aim might be good enough for boarding school, but you’d never make it in the Navy,” he laughed as he picked up the pillow and tossed it back at me, hitting me squarely in the face.

  “Well, I’m not a trained assassin!” I laughed harder. Brian stopped laughing and looked away. I waited for a moment and then offered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “I know,” he said. “Just hit a little too close to home.”

  “So, you were telling me about how you stopped drinking,” I reminded him.

  “A lot of the story is about how I started,” he said as he picked at the hem of my bedspread. “It became a habit while I was over here in the States, and then once we were deployed to Iraq, it became a necessity. It’s boring over there, a lot of sand and heat and not a lot to do when you’re not out on a mission. So, we lifted weights, played video games, and drank.”

  “So it was the habit that made you stop?” I asked.

  “No, it was the nightmares,” he said as he stood up and walked over to the window. “I couldn’t control the nightmares when I drank, so I saw a shrink and he told me to stop drinking.”

  “And you did? Just like that?”

  “No, not ‘just like that’” he laughed sadly. “It took a stint in rehab to get dried out and then they tried to send me to a shrink to make sure it stuck, but I said no thanks. I’m fine with just not being drunk, I don’t need some doctor picking at my brain to find out why I’m drinking. I already know why.”

  “So, you went to rehab?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I had to get out of the environment I was in so that I had a fighting chance of quitting,” he watched me as he explained. “After I was discharged, I didn’t have a job lined up or anything, so I had to go back home for a while, but home is where the whole thing got worse.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, like I said, they’re hard workers and hard drinkers, so I fit right in,” he stopped and looked away for a long while before turning back to face me. “They didn’t understand what had happened to me in Iraq. Hell, I don’t think I understood what had happened to me, but the nightmares got worse when I was home. I knew there was a problem, but I didn’t want to talk about it with anyone. All I wanted to do was drink it away.”

  “But if the drinking was making it worse, why did you keep doing it?” I asked.

  “My life isn’t like yours, Ava,” he explained. “I don’t have a whole lot of options, you know? The VA makes you wait for everything, so even if I’d wanted treatment, I couldn’t have gotten it for months, but at that point, I didn’t even want it. I hadn’t hit bottom yet.”

  Not knowing what to say, I simply nodded as I listened. I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant when he said that his life wasn’t like mine, but I knew if I listened, he’d explain.

  “It wasn’t until the night that I wrapped my car around a utility pole on a dark county road and walked away without a scratch that I realized I had a real problem.” He took a deep breath. “I could have died, or worse, killed someone else, and, at that moment, I knew that
if I didn’t get my drinking under control I most likely would.”

  “It’s a miracle that you weren’t killed,” I whispered.

  “Don’t think I don’t know that,” he said. “I thank the higher power every single day that I wake up!”

  “So if you’re sober, then why were you so mad about what happened last night?” I asked.

  “Look Ava, I know it’s hard for someone who has never had a problem with alcohol to understand, but it’s not something that ever goes away,” he turned and stared at me as he talked. “I haven’t lost the urge to drink, I’ve just gotten better at managing it, but last night reminded me how little it would take for me to tip it back over to the other side, and I just don’t want to find myself in the position of having to make that choice.”

  “I’m so sorry, Brian,” I apologized. “I had no idea. I’m sorry that I took you to that party and I’m sorry I put you in that position.”

  “No apology necessary,” he waved me off. “You didn’t know.”

  “Yes, but now that I do, I promise not to do that again,” I vowed.

  “It’s not a crisis. I just don’t want to be tempted and find out that I’m not strong enough to resist temptation.” He smiled a little as he turned and walked toward the door. “Now, don’t you think you’ve stayed in bed long enough for one day? Get up and let’s get going!”

  “Yes, sir!” I laughed as I saluted.

  “Klein, your salute still sucks,” he threw over his shoulder as he walked out the door and left me to get dressed.

  “Hey, do you want to grab some breakfast and go take it out by the lake?” I yelled as I pulled on my clothes.

  “Up to you,” came the response.

  “No, I’m giving you a choice!” I laughed.

  “I’m serious, it’s up to you, Ava,” he replied. “But it’s pretty nice outside today.”

  “Then all you had to do was say yes!” I shot back as I continued laughing. “You’re so frustrating sometimes!”

  “Yes. Yes I am,” he yelled back. “But then so are you, Ms. Klein. So. Are. You.”

  I laughed harder as I finished lacing up my shoes, then pulled my hair into a ponytail and grabbed my wallet and sunglasses. I looked around the room to make sure I hadn’t missed anything, and then, feeling guilty, I walked over and quickly made the bed. I rolled my eyes as I realized that Brian’s orderly ways were rubbing off on me, but then I smiled because it felt kind of nice to have a made bed for a change. As I walked out into the front room, Brian quickly put down his phone and stood up.

  “Who was that?” I asked.

  “Oh, it’s nothing, just work,” he replied as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. “Ready to go? Um, you might want to take a jacket, it’s a little chilly out there.”

  “Uh, okay, Mom,” I laughed as I grabbed my jacket and exited through the door he held open.

  “Hey! I’m just trying to be thoughtful!” he protested.

  “Yeah, I know, and it’s all sarcasm anyway. My mother would never remind me to take a jacket,” I said. “In fact, she would be more likely to tell me to leave it behind because it ruined the line of my dress or something.”

  Brian nodded as he closed the door and headed down the hallway. It was moments like these when I wasn’t sure if he wanted to comfort me or mock me, so I followed behind him and headed out into the sunshine. My head was still aching from all the alcohol, but the warm sun helped ease some of the pain while simply being able to move helped my queasy stomach. When I suggested we stop by the corner fruit market and pick up something for our breakfast picnic, Brian nodded and led the way.

  We wandered the aisles of the market choosing bread, cheese, fruit, and two huge cups of coffee to top it off. At the register, I swiped my card and smiled at the cashier as Brian grabbed the bag, and for a moment, it felt like my life was entirely normal. I was a normal college girl here at the store with her normal boyfriend getting some food for a normal picnic on a normal Saturday morning, but as the reality set in, I felt deflated. My life was anything but normal, and Brian wasn’t my boyfriend. He was only here to protect me from my psychotic ex-boyfriend who wanted me back. I shook my head to try and rid myself of the thoughts that were spinning in my mind.

  “You okay?” Brian asked.

  “Yeah, I’m fine, just…” I trailed off as we walked toward the river looking for a nice spot to lay out our meal.

  “Just what?” he asked curiously.

  “I’m just thinking about how normal this all looks and how not normal it is,” I replied.

  “Ah, yes. Psychological dissonance, a good friend of mine,” he smiled as he reached up and patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry, it’ll all be okay in the end, and if it’s not okay, then it’s not the end!”

  “Oh my God, you did not just say that,” I blurted.

  “Yep, I sure did!” he chuckled. “I thought you might appreciate the humor.”

  “I appreciate your attempt at humor,” I said dryly as I raised an eyebrow behind my sunglasses.

  “Oooh, harsh! You’re a tough audience!” he laughed harder at my feeble attempt to maintain a straight face, and soon I, too, was laughing as we walked.

  As we walked along the river in silence, I thought about how much had changed in the past several days, and how grateful I was to have Brian around to help me through it. I’d been really angry at my father for going behind my back and hiring Brian, but I had to grudgingly admit that it had been a good choice, and not just because he and I had chemistry. I actually found myself enjoying being around him. There was a comfortable sense of familiarity in our pairing, and I liked the fact that even though I enjoyed talking with him, I didn’t feel like I had to always be talking.

  I snuck a peek at him in my peripheral sight and thought about how handsome he was. Tall and broad-shouldered, he walked like a man who had a clear sense of purpose and didn’t seem to be afraid of anything – not even talking about the difficult parts of his recovery process. Although, there was more to that, I knew, and I wanted to hear about the whole thing, but right now didn’t seem like the time to continue the conversation. Plus, I was enjoying the companionable silence.

  “You’re quiet,” I said softly as we walked.

  “Just thinking,” he replied.

  “Dare I ask what about?”

  “Dunno,” he shrugged. “Lots of things; how nice the sunshine feels on my face, how the water sparkles when the light hits it, how nice it is to be able to walk along in silence and not feel awkward. It’s nice.” Afraid to continue interrupting the silence, I simply nodded in agreement and earned a wide smile from Brian.

  We walked for a few more minutes until I spotted the perfect place for our picnic. “Oooooh, c’mon!” I shouted as I took off running towards a place next to the river that was covered in clean, green moss; almost as if someone had laid down a blanket for us on the green. Brian smiled again as he followed with the bag of goodies, and, once he reached my chosen spot, began methodically unpacking it. After he’d finished setting out the food, he leaned back on his elbows and watched me, or at least I thought he was watching me—it was hard to tell when he was wearing his sunglasses.

  *****

  “How’s your breakfast?” Brian asked as he popped a ripe, red strawberry into his mouth.

  “It’s helping,” I smiled as I took another bite of my bread and cheese. My stomach was still queasy from the night before, but breakfast and the fresh air were helping calm it.

  “Laying off the partying might also help,” he said in a mock-fatherly tone that caused me to do a double take.

  “Yeah, well…” I hesitated. “It’s not like I party every night. I mean, some people around here are out of control. I just let loose on the weekends.”

  “So this is how you spend all of your Saturdays?” he asked.

  “No!” I objected. “Well, kind of…”

  “I see.”

  “What? Are you saying I have a problem?” I felt defensive a
nd resented his insinuation. “I don’t, you know. I don’t have a problem.”

  “Uh huh,” he nodded without saying anything.

  “I don’t!” I protested. “I party on the weekends and I attend class and get good grades! I’m not a screw-up who can’t control herself.”

  From behind his dark glasses, Brian looked at me without saying a word.

  “Oh, shit. I’m sorry,” I quickly apologized. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Of course you did,” he said with a shrug. “But you’re not talking about me, you’re talking about you.”

  “I just meant that I have a handle on what I’m doing and it’s not getting in the way of my classes,” I explained. “But I can see where it might be a good idea not to do this every weekend.”

  “Your call,” he said as he sipped from his steaming Styrofoam cup. “I mean, it’s not like I don’t wish I could party sometimes. I do. It’s just that the consequences are so awful that I know that if I did, I’d probably wind up in jail—or worse.”

  “It’s that bad for you?” I asked as I reached for a berry.

  “It’s that bad,” he affirmed.

  “Well, it’s not that bad for me,” I said. “I don’t drink to avoid anything, it’s more like…”

  “Like you use it to become someone else when being plain old you isn’t good enough?” he finished.

  “Yeah, it’s a lot like that,” I admitted. “Sometimes I just want to escape from my own skin and be someone else. Someone who is totally not me.”

  “I get it,” he affirmed. “My problem was that I drank because I never wanted to be myself and alcohol was the only way to avoid being me.”

  “I don’t want to avoid being me all the time, I just drink when I feel like I’m becoming the me I used to be,” I admitted.

  “Either way, there are days I still have to fight to hold on and accept that I’m the me that I am right now—even when I don’t like that me,” he said.

  “Well, I can assure you that the you that you’ve become is still not missing out on much in terms of the aftereffects,” I said with a grim look.