In the Stillness(58)

“You’ve never seen her before?” A tired looking hippie with a grey ponytail shakes his head. Leave it to the hippie to start asking questions.

“Never. I mean, maybe she was at one of the, like, five functions I attended with him over the last few years but . . . psh . . .I spent most of those watching the clock, waiting to go home. I certainly wasn’t on the lookout for the woman my husband might fool around with. Oh, and to top it all off,” I slam my hand at the bar, commanding the attention I already have, “I ran into my ex-boyfriend last week. I haven’t seen him in, what’d I say? Ten years? And, you know what? He looks great. Just. Fucking. Great.”

Their sudden silence when I sniff away impending tears makes me uncomfortable. It occurs to me that maybe they’ve cheated on their wives, too, which is why they find themselves alone at a bar on a Sunday evening. Or, they’ve been cheated on. Either way, I don’t want them looking at me anymore.

“I’m going back to my dark and dreary corner. Thanks for listening, guys.” I slide with what I hope looks like grace off the stool and sway a bit with my 1/4-full pitcher back to my booth. Yeah, it’s my booth now. I’ve decided.

As soon as I sit again, I feel incredibly dizzy, and am thankful I made it to the booth before falling over. I’d hate to waste so much tequila. Biting down on my tongue, I find it completely devoid of feeling.

Great, now I have to stay here long enough to sober up to drive home. Or to Tosha’s. Or wherever the f*ck it is I’m supposed to go.

A few more people enter the bar, and maybe some leave, but I can’t tell because I’ve put my back to the door and the bar. It’s a habit I got into quickly when Ryker got home. He always had to face the door, for reasons I never asked about. So, I just sit this way. Always. The conversation around the bartender is quiet, while the voices in my head are screaming as I finish the last of my pitcher an hour later. Deciding it’s time to start drinking some water if I have plans of ever leaving here tonight, I slowly stand and start my hike to the bar.

There are quite a few more men at the bar, and one woman, most of whom have their backs to me as the bartender catches my eye.

“Anything else, Sweetheart?” he asks with a look of caution.

“Just fill this up with water, please.”

A couple of people jump and turn their heads in my direction. They clearly didn’t see me when they’d walked in, which was my intention. Trying to force a semi-sober smile, I slide between two patrons and hand the bartender my pitcher.

“Natalie?” a voice comes from my right. Directly to my right. Like, our shoulders are touching to my right.

Turning, I pray that was just a voice in my head. No luck. I’m face-to-face and shoulder-to-shoulder with Ryker f*cking Manning.

“Oh, come on! You’ve got to be f*cking kidding me!” Tears pool in my eyes as I make a hasty break for my booth to collect my wallet and car keys, picking up the bottom of my summer dress so I don’t fall flat on my face.

“Miss, you really shouldn’t be driving . . .” the bartender calls after me as I reach for the door handle. I ignore him.

“It’s okay, Mike, I got this,” Ryker says as I watch him leap from his barstool.

With any luck, I’ll make it to my car and lock my doors before he catches up to me. Or, I could trip on the last stair and land on my hands and knees on the fresh crusher run, slicing my arm open on a broken beer bottle.

Sweet irony.

“Fuck my life,” I groan as I collect myself enough to sit upright and lean against the bottom stair. “Dammit!” I yell as I instinctively pull the bottom of my dress to my arm to stop the bleeding, where I find my knees are scraped pretty good, too.

“Shit,” Ryker huffs as he jogs down the stairs and kneels in front of me. “Let me see,” he asks, reaching for my arm.

“I’m fine, just leave me alone,” I barely make out as I start sobbing with my forehead on my knees.

It’s the single biggest lie I’ve ever told.

“Nat . . .” It’s like he finally realizes he’s dealing with an incredibly drunk person, so he just takes my arm into his hands and sighs. “We’ve gotta get this cleaned up, come inside.”

“I’m not going back in there.”

. . . Because now is the time to be stubborn.

“I’ll drive you home.”

I sob harder. “I don’t have a home. I’m staying at Tosha’s in Northampton.”

His voice remains calm. “Well, I’ll take you to my house, then. Come on, it’s not far.” He stands, leading me up with my arm.

I can barely pick my head up, let alone stand straight, and I find myself leaning all of my weight onto him. The muscles in his shoulders and chest tense for a minute before he relaxes and leads me to his car.

“My car . . .” I point weakly to my shiny Mom-U-V.

“It’ll be fine here. Get in. Sorry about your dress, but leave it on your arm, K?” I nod as he shuts the door.

“Wait, I can’t be here. I can’t . . . you’ve got to let me out, Ryker.” My fight-or-flight mechanism is misfiring as he gets in and starts his car. Panicked, I search for the easiest escape.

“Natalie, I’m not going to let you drive anywhere this drunk, or that bloody.” He nods to my arm. “Wait,” he starts as he stares at my surely horrified face, “I’m not . . .” He sighs. “I’m not going to hurt you, Natalie. I want to get a look at your arm. If you’d rather, I can drive you to the hospital.” His jaw clenches as he pulls his eyes away from me and faces the windshield.