Infinite Loop

by Meghan O'Brien

  Mel held her breath, praying that her father wouldn’t push this. I never come around? The last thing he ever said to my face was that I was a goddamn queer who he never wanted in his house again.

  “Are you coming for a visit?” he demanded.

  Mel couldn’t lie. “I’m driving through Oklahoma. I thought that I might try and see Mikey, since I haven’t been able to reach him by phone.”

  “Were you planning on mentioning this to me?” His voice was softer now, less slurred, and Mel shivered at the familiar anger roiling just below the surface. “What, your old man doesn’t rate a visit?”

  Mel turned even further in her seat, away from the quick look she got from Regan. She sensed her lover turning her attention back to the road, and she relaxed a little. “I wasn’t sure you’d even want to see me. And I’m really just passing through, with a friend—”

  “Friend, huh?” Her father’s voice rang with disdain. “What kind of friend?”

  Mel’s throat went dry and she shivered. She had never come close to discussing her sexuality with him since that day when she was seventeen. He had made it pretty clear that he didn’t want to know. After a slight hesitation, she said, “The kind I don’t think you want to meet.”

  Her father was silent for countless breaths, and Mel simply sat with the phone to her ear, wishing like hell that she could hang up. When she found Mike, she was going to kick his ass for getting her into this phone call.

  She was startled when her father chuckled. “Laney, you don’t know what I want. I want to see you, girl! It’s been so long.”

  Mel opened her mouth, but the words caught in her throat. There was so much she wanted to say to him: that he was the one who pushed her away, he was the one who never wanted to deal with her. “Seven years,” she said instead, her voice cracking.

  “I miss you, Laney, and I’m sick. I told you. Come on, you won’t come and see your sick old man?”

  “I—” She closed her eyes, her whole body tensing at the idea of seeing her father again. She dimly felt Regan’s hand seek her own, but she pulled away on reflex. She didn’t know what to make of her father’s request. Did he really want to see her? Or was he just old and sick and scared? “I don’t know if we’ll have time, Dad, but we’ll try.”

  It was like someone else was talking. Self-loathing consumed Mel at her instinctive, child-like response to her father’s words. All he had to do was pretend to care for her, and she came running.

  “Please do try.” He spoke to her like she couldn’t remember him speaking to her since her mother died, calmly, gently. “I really would like to see you, Laney. I do miss you.”

  Mel felt tears sting her eyes, and she blinked them back with an angry scowl. She swiped at her face with the back of one hand. “Could I get that address, Dad?” Her voice sounded hoarse to her ears, and she cringed knowing that her father could hear that weakness, too. “I promise I’ll try.”

  He gave her the address without another word, and wished her a cheerful goodbye that made her heart hurt. Mel hung up the cell phone and sat, staring out the passenger-side window with shining eyes.

  “Mel?”

  Regan’s concerned whisper loosed sorrowful tears from Mel’s eyes. The outpouring angered her, and she refused to turn to face her lover knowing the evidence of her turmoil was painting her cheeks. It would be so easy to let Regan make her feel better. She could do it with one word, one hug; Mel knew she could.

  “Baby, are you…are you all right?”

  She was a mess. Ten minutes on the phone with her father and she was a fucking mess. And there was Regan sitting next to her, so beautiful and kind and loving. How could she accept what Regan offered when she was this fucked up? One day, Regan would know exactly how fucked up she really was. And what then?

  “Mel?”

  With some effort, Mel hardened her heart and stilled her tears. She wiped her face with her hand once more, and turned to give Regan a tight smile. “I got Mike’s address. Do you think we could…maybe we could go see him tomorrow?”

  “Sure, baby.”

  Mel blinked at the affection in Regan’s voice. Why did she have to be so perfect? Her hands tightened into fists at her sides, and she was immediately filled with self-loathing. She was an asshole to get pissed at her for being someone she was growing to need. “Thanks,” she said.

  “Are you…are you okay, Mel?”

  Regan’s obvious hesitation tore further into Mel’s heart, and she felt like she would choke on the fear and anger and guilt that swirled around her belly. It had been a really bad day. Not once when she imagined this road trip had she allowed herself to think about the obvious route it would take. She was back in Oklahoma after swearing never to return, and she was confronting things she had never intended to face again. She wanted so badly to let Regan make it all better, but she couldn’t expose her need.

  “I’m fine,” she lied. “I just haven’t been to Lawton in a long time. I wonder if it’s changed.”

  “Well, you’ve changed,” Regan said. “So I’m sure you’ll find things are different there, too.”

  The cautious comment unleashed a wave of emotion in Mel, and she squeezed her eyes tightly shut in an effort to stop thinking. Tomorrow they would go to Lawton. Tonight she wanted only to forget. She opened her eyes and glanced at a passing highway sign. “We’re almost to Tulsa.” She turned to Regan, now under control. “Is it okay if we stop there tonight?”

  Regan gave her a cautious smile. “Sure.”

  “Thanks,” Mel said. “What do you think about hitting a bar? I wouldn’t mind unwinding a little.”

  “Um. Do you know of any gay bars in Tulsa?”

  “Gay, straight, I just want a drink. We won’t stay long.” Mel tried hard not to draw the obvious parallel between this escape and the one her father had always chosen to take. Her headache threatened to intensify.

  “Well, how about we find a hotel and have a drink there? I mean, I really don’t like bars much. Especially straight bars.”

  Mel suppressed a sigh of frustration and instead gave Regan a wry little smile. “You met me in a straight bar, though.” She reached over and stroked her fingers across a pale cheek. “And look what that’s gotten you—stuck in a truck with a moody bitch for hours.”

  Regan snorted and shook her head. “You’re not a moody bitch.”

  “Yes, I am,” Mel said apologetically. “But I really would like to go get a drink somewhere. I swear we won’t stay long.”

  “No problem.” Regan gave a nervous nod. “I know you had a hard day.”

  Mel immediately felt a pang in her heart. What the hell was wrong with her, manipulating her lover into going to a bar when she obviously didn’t want to? Guilt consumed her, and the searing emotion only fueled her anger and inner turmoil. Regan glanced over with such concern that Mel could only look away in discomfort. A warm hand crept over to Mel’s lap and captured her fingers. Mel turned her face toward the window and blinked her eyes shut hard, holding back her emotion. Face it, Laney. You don’t deserve her. More importantly, she doesn’t deserve you.

  *

  Mel rolled the bottom of her half-empty beer bottle across the sticky tabletop in front of her, staring at the condensation left by the drink she had insisted she needed. Regan sat across from her, but Mel couldn’t meet her eyes. She knew her lover was miserable sitting in the seedy country-and-western bar they’d found downtown. She wasn’t feeling much better herself. I guess I forgot that what I always liked about bars was who I could take home with me.

  “I’m sorry,” she shouted over the din of the honky-tonk crowd. “This was a mistake. We should go.”

  Regan blinked at Mel’s sudden voice, dragging her gaze from two men arguing by the blaring jukebox. “Are you sure? Do you feel better?”

  How could she feel better when she knew that she had dragged Regan to this awful place? If she truly wanted to feel better, Regan was what she needed. Not a drink. “I’ll feel better when
we get back to the hotel. This sucks.”

  Regan relaxed into a relieved smile. “This place does kinda suck.”

  Almost as much as me. “I’m sorry I made us come.”

  “It’s okay. You’ve had a pretty fucked-up last couple weeks.”

  Mel met Regan’s eyes over the table and wondered how much longer it would be before this incredible woman got sick of all this drama. “That doesn’t excuse bringing you here for a night at the shallow end of the gene pool.”

  Regan laughed long and loud at that, giving Mel a fond shake of her head. “How about I hit the bathroom, then we can get out of here?”

  Mel gave her a silent nod, and followed her with her eyes as she stood.

  Regan bent down, bringing her lips close to Mel’s ear. “Why don’t you start thinking about what’s going to make you feel good tonight? So you can let me know.”

  “Will do,” Mel watched Regan walk to the bathroom with a reluctant smile tugging on her lips. Damn her for being so amazing, anyway.

  Mel was deeply involved in her consideration of what exactly she wanted to do to Regan back in their room when a rangy man in a cowboy hat stepped up to her table with a wide smile. He tipped his hat in greeting and gave her a friendly nod. He wore faded Levis and a T-shirt that emphasized his muscular body.

  “Interested in a dance, darlin’?” he asked.

  Mel gave the cowboy a polite smile. “No, thanks. I’m just leaving when my friend gets back from the bathroom.”

  The man lifted his eyes from Mel’s face to look over her head, and nodded in the direction of the restroom. “You might want to check on your friend, sweetheart. Looks like she’s not appreciating the attention she’s getting.”

  Mel stood up so fast that her chair threatened to topple. She pivoted where she stood and saw that Regan was standing next to a table near the ladies room, trying to pull away from a bearded man who was holding her arm. Mel’s fists tightened at her sides as she took in the fearful expression on Regan’s face, the leering grin on the stranger’s, and the tense set of Regan’s body as she leaned away from the unwelcome contact. Anger surged through her. That fucking son of a bitch. She was striding across the bar before she had a chance to think about it.

  This was her fault. She’d brought Regan here, and after being moody and sullen all day. Overcome by rage and deep guilt, Mel reached the table just as the bearded man laughed with his buddies.

  “Oh, come on, honey,” he slurred. “Sit down with us for a while. I promise you’ll have a good time.”

  Mel stepped to Regan’s side and placed a possessive hand on the small of her back. Eyes narrowed, she grabbed the man’s wrist and squeezed hard. “Take your fucking hand off my friend,” she said, her voice cold and dangerous.

  The man let go of Regan slowly before standing up to tower over Mel, reminding her of her father on a bad day. Her lips curled into a cruel grin at the trace fear in his eyes that vied with the anger she could plainly see directed at her for the interruption. He was begging her to throw a punch, and he had no idea how much she wanted to do just that. Mel knew that if she didn’t walk away right now, she was likely heading for a hell of a fight.

  Regan slumped against her in relief and grabbed her wrist, trying to pull her away from the confrontation. “Please, Mel,” she whispered, tugging her away a couple of steps. “It’s not worth it. Let’s just go.”

  “Yeah, listen to your girlfriend,” the man taunted, seemingly emboldened by his friends’ amusement. “Fuckin’ ugly dyke, anyway.”

  Mel couldn’t have stopped herself even if she’d tried. She spun on her heel and swung her fist without thought, connecting solidly with the bearded man’s grinning face. He fell backward against the table, sending glasses and bottles crashing to the floor. His two buddies knocked over their own chairs as they leapt to their feet in shock.

  Mel heard Regan gasp her name and she spared a sideways glance at her horrified face. The momentary distraction cost her. A blow caught her across the shoulder and glanced off her jaw, snapping her head back.

  With an angry growl, she lunged forward again and her fist connected with the bearded man’s face. They landed hard amidst spilled beer and broken glass. White noise pounded through her head, but she could hear Regan screaming. That sound filled her with hot guilt and reinforced her blind wrath against the man who squirmed beneath her body. Flailing fists connected with her chest a couple more times, each blow satisfying in its pain somehow, and she returned the punches eagerly.

  All of a sudden Mel felt strong hands grab her arms and shoulders and she was pulled off the man, who immediately scrambled up. His friends restrained him from coming after her, their faces tense with the effort of holding him back. Mel struggled within the grasp of the hands that held her, cold fury still pumping through her veins. The hands that held her tightened until her movement was almost totally restricted, and she released her abating rage in a long, angry breath.

  “Calm down, girl!” Someone squeezed her arms painfully. “Calm down before you get yourself in real trouble!”

  Mel obeyed the hissed command, willing her body to relax. The moment she let go of her anger, it died a painful death, leaving in its wake sudden shame. Mel turned her head and met horrified green eyes. Oh, God. What had she just done?

  Regan’s mouth hung open and her eyes were glassy with fear. She took a nervous step away from the scene, looking like she wanted to disappear.

  Mel kept her head down as she was led away from the scene of the fight, her eyes on her own feet and on the feet of her lover walking beside her. Her stomach ached with the sudden, sick knowledge that she had blown it.

  Regan didn’t speak to her as they returned to their table and gathered their things. The two men who had broken up the fight stayed with Mel until she made it to the front door, casting frequent glances at the angry, drunken shouting that still echoed throughout the bar from the beaten man and his friends. They looked on edge, prepared to break up another struggle at any moment.

  Mel could only offer a grateful nod when they held the door open for her and Regan. “Sorry,” she said.

  “Don’t be.” One of the men jerked his balding head back toward the drunken man’s table. “Asshole got what was coming.”

  *

  Regan didn’t speak to her until they reached their hotel room. Mel walked in and stood with her head against the door, mourning the loss of what could have been.

  “Are you all right?” A hesitant question.

  Mel lacked the courage to turn around and look her lover in the eye. “Yeah,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  “Look at me, honey. I need to see if you’re okay.”

  Tears fell from Mel’s eyes without warning. “Fuck,” she cursed, and swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. She allowed Regan to turn her around. It took every ounce of her courage to raise her eyes from the ugly blue carpet to her lover’s face.

  Regan sucked in a harsh breath. “Come on.” She took Mel’s hand. “Let me get you cleaned up.”

  Mel followed her to the bathroom, hot with shame over everything: her face, her anger, and her weakness.

  Regan soaked a hotel washcloth and pressed the wet towel against Mel’s battered face. “Do you want to tell me what that was about?” Her voice was calm and controlled.

  Mel dropped her gaze to bruised and bloody hands. “He touched you.”

  “I appreciate that you made him let go of me,” Regan said in a careful voice. “But it didn’t have to go that far.”

  “He hurt you,” Mel said. “I can’t just let someone hurt you.”

  “And you think seeing you get hurt makes me feel better? You don’t think it hurts me to see you snap like that?”

  A choked sob escaped Mel, and she lowered her eyes as her face flushed in horror. She’d never heard Regan so upset before. She couldn’t believe what she had caused.

  Immediately Regan’s arms were around her, holding her close. Mel squirmed within the embr
ace, so full of self-loathing that she couldn’t stand to accept any of the comfort Regan offered so freely. But every time she moved as if to pull away, Regan simply tightened her arms and pulled her deeper and deeper into a desperate hug, until she surrendered with a defeated sigh.

  “I’m a moron, Regan,” she said. “You deserve so much better than me.”

  There. It was out in the open now.

  “Why would you say something like that?” Regan pulled back and forced Mel’s eyes to her own. “You’re not responsible for what that guy did. Only for the way you chose to handle it. And as far as that goes, you’re human.” Regan cradled Mel’s bruised face in tender hands. “Deal with it.”

  Mel shook her head. She refused to let Regan excuse her so easily. “You don’t understand, Regan. This is how I am. And you deserve better. I’m weak and I’m fucked-up. I’m just going to hurt you.”

  “You sound like you’re trying pretty hard to convince me. Or yourself.” Regan released Mel’s face and folded her arms over her chest. “I happen to think you’re very good at this. When you’re not busy telling yourself that you’re not, so there’s a ready-made excuse to walk away, that is.”

  Mel snorted and stood up. She took the bloodstained washcloth from Regan’s hands and tossed it into the sink with an unceremonious flick of the wrist. She couldn’t do this, not right now. Without saying a word, she turned and strode out of the bathroom. She needed space. It was only when she reached the bed that she realized the obvious.

  There was nowhere for her to go.

  *

  Regan rose from where she knelt on the bathroom floor, then dropped down onto the toilet cover with a shaky exhalation.

  We’ve gone from quiet and brooding, to obviously upset, to beating the shit out of some redneck…and now she’s ready to end this relationship before it begins. And that’s just in one day. This wasn’t just about the bar fight. Mel truly thought she wasn’t good enough for Regan, and it had all started with Oklahoma and her family. Regan clenched her fists on her lap. She almost acts like she’s trying to beat me to the punch.