Page 23 of Wasted Memories
He was knocking back whiskeys like they were water. After what was probably his sixth drink, he had wandered over to a group of college kids. I kept an eye on him from my spot by the pool table. When people drank like that, they meant trouble.
He was showing them something on his phone in their little huddle when all of a sudden, his mood switched and he started yelling at them to get out. It went downhill from there. One of the guys stood up to him, then fists started swinging. I stayed out of it - bar fights were not my scene. I wasn’t here for trouble and I didn’t want to give Jett a reason to put me on his bad side.
The bartender and some shaggy haired guy pulled them apart and the group of kids left. After that, Craig cut him off. I watched him go from person to person in the bar, trying to get someone else to order him a drink.
Shortly after the fight, Emerson walked through the door wearing a crewneck that swallowed her petite frame and leggings that hugged her heart shaped ass. No matter what she wore, the attention was always on her. She could come in after a 5k run through the mud and heads would still swivel her way.
When she saw me standing there, her expression quickly turned to something like embarrassment, like she wanted to shrink into herself and disappear. She was ashamed of the situation, of her boyfriend, that she was here to drag his ass home because he didn’t know his limits.
When Jett put his hands on her, it took all I had in me not to cut his fucking hands off. That look on her face broke me into a million pieces and all I wanted to do was wrap her in my arms instead of hold her batshit crazy boyfriend against a fucking wall.
I wish I had asked for her number instead of just giving her mine. I wanted to make sure she was okay.
I got off the couch to make way into the kitchen when my phone started ringing. Alarms went off in my head as I grabbed for it, my heart pounding out of my chest at the thought it might be Emerson.
I really needed to get better control of myself. I just met the damn woman.
I checked the screen and saw it was my mother calling. Sighing, I debated letting it go to voicemail. It was too early to go through the same old questions she asked every time we spoke on the phone.
How are you?
Fine.
Are you eating?
Yes, mom.
Have you been flossing?
Yes, mom.
Are you folding your laundry or leaving it in the basket?
Obviously I’m folding it.
She didn’t need to know it sat piled in my closet. To be fair, I’d just done laundry yesterday. I’d get to it at some point.
The questions were an excuse to call me. She'd been doing it ever since I moved out years ago. But our relationship was different now. Everything was different. Answering the call, I pressed the speaker button and set it on the kitchen counter.
“Hey, mom.” I tried my best to sound cheery as I grabbed the carton of eggs from the fridge.
“Don’t you ‘hey mom’ me, Wesley Barton. Where the hell did you go?” She sounded frantic.
“I drove west, ended up in some town on the coast.” I waited a beat, then added, “And before you ask, I’m fine. I’m renting a house.”
“Renting a house? So you’re staying there?”
“I don’t know, mom. I needed to get out of there for a bit.”
She sighed into the phone. I didn’t want her to feel like it was solely her fault that I’d left. There were a bunch of things that factored into my decision.
“Well, I’ll support whatever you decide, honey. Just know that I miss you.” I tried to ignore the choke I heard in her voice as she said the words.
“I miss you, too, mom.”
“So, what made you decide to stay wherever you ended up at?” Thank God she changed the subject before this got too sentimental.
“Oldport. I decided to give living on the coast a shot. Thought a change of scenery would be nice.” That was a lie. I’d been driving so long that night, I had to find somewhere before I passed out behind the wheel. This was the first place I happened upon that wasn’t a major city or completely run down.
