I Stand Before You (Judge Me Not #2)(92)

“But you didn’t do it, so that’s good, right?”

Baby girl appears so hopeful. She’s always trying to find the bright side of a situation when it comes to me, no matter how f*cked up that situation may be, yet another reason why I need to stay clean.

But my girl needs to know how close I came, so I am truthful. “No, I didn’t use, that’s true. But I wanted to, Kay. I wanted to…like, a lot.”

“What stopped you, then?” she whispers.

I remove my hand from her leg and scrub it down my face. “I thought about how drugs overtook my life before. And the possibility of starting down that path again kept me straight. At least, it did that night.” In an effort to put things in perspective for her, I add, “I can’t promise I’ll always be that strong, Kay. I intend to keep trying, but I may one day falter. You should know that, okay?”

Kay just nods and peers down at the hands she has clasped in her lap.

The rest of the ride is quiet and neither of us says much more. When we reach the farmhouse my girl tells me she’s going to sleep up in her apartment…alone. I expected as much. It will take more time than the short ride from the church for Kay to forgive me for keeping her in the dark about Missy.

That’s okay, I can be patient. I’ll wait forever for my girl if that’s what it takes for her to absolve me of my sin.




The next day I see very little of Kay. She leaves for work before I do, and when I text her, asking what time she wants to meet for lunch, she responds back to go ahead without her, she’s eating in today.

It’s pretty obvious my still-angry girl doesn’t care to see me this afternoon. And who can blame her? I did something stupid that night, but worse, I kept it a secret. Not sharing it with Kay was a mistake I’m now paying for.

When it’s time to leave, I catch up to Kay as she’s settling into her car.

“Hey,” I call out.

She turns her head away and snaps her seatbelt into place.

“Are we not talking now?” I ask, placing my hand on the top of the door so she can’t close it and shut me out completely.

Kay avoids my gaze and stares at the steering wheel. “No, we’re talking.”

I had originally planned on doing something nice for Kay this upcoming weekend—setting up my grandmother’s old record player out on the back porch and finding some classic ballad-type songs, so we could dance under the stars at night. But I’m thinking now that maybe I should move my plan up to tonight. The best thing for me and my girl is to get back to having fun. Even though it’s looking like sweet girl won’t be getting near me anytime soon. I still have to try.

“Why don’t you come over tonight?” I throw out. “We can listen to old records out on the back porch. Maybe dance under the stars?”

Kay glances up and I raise an eyebrow. She sort of scoffs and tries to close her door, but my hand is still holding it open. “Chase…please.” She sounds exasperated.

“Fine,” I breathe out. I move my hand and take a step back.

Kay gives me no answer—not that I deserve one. She just slams the car door and drives away.




A few hours later, darkness has fallen and I am out on my back porch, alone, drinking a cold beer. I lie sprawled across the porch swing, one foot up and the other keeping the creaky swing rocking. Music plays from the old record player I did indeed drag out to the back porch. The hope is to lure Kay over from her apartment, and I am thinking this loud Led Zeppelin song just may do the trick.

Jimmy Page is jamming on his guitar as I glance over at the apartment above the garage. Kay is definitely home, the lights inside burn brightly. I take a swig from the bottle. Mad-at-me girl surely hears this music. Any louder and it’s sure to be heard all the way down at the church. Well, that may be an exaggeration, but still.

Damn, my hope that Kay would change her mind and join me is diminishing. I finish my beer, sigh, and slide the empty bottle under the swing. Sitting upright I begin to sort through the pile of old albums I brought out with the record player. I’m in the mood for something melodic, something that better fits how I am feeling.

At last I find what I want, a great Motown tune I remember hearing my grandmother play often. Maybe this was her album, not Dad’s, I consider, album in hand. In any case, I slide vinyl from the cover and swap out Led Zeppelin for some Otis Redding.

The opening chords of “My Lover’s Prayer” fill the air. I remain at the turntable, where I’m standing. I close my eyes and listen to the opening verse. As I do, I hear someone say my name. I spin around and discover Kay has made her way over, after all.

I can’t suppress my smile, but I don’t utter a word. I just go down the wooden steps and hold out my hand to the beautiful woman I love so much.

Kay slips her hand in mine and I tentatively draw her near. I try to assess her expression, but have no luck figuring much of anything out. My girl’s face gives nothing away. “Am I forgiven?” I venture.

She bites her lip. “Yeah, you’re forgiven.” She touches her forehead to my chest.

My arms instinctively wrap around her, but I’m careful to hold her like she’s made of eggshells. Kay has come to me, willing to give me another chance. I sure don’t want to f*ck it up by overreacting.

Otis croons out the next verse, and I ask Kay if she’d like to dance. Sweet girl nods and places her hands at my shoulders. We begin to move slowly, just kind of easy swaying. My girl tenses at first, but by the middle of the song she’s relaxed into me.