Page 42 of Brews & Bartenders

My mom is quiet for a moment, probably waiting for my sisters to leave the room. “Good luck, mijito. I hope it works out. And I can’t wait to meet the woman who has stolen your heart.”

“Goodnight, Mom.”

It looks like I have a few stops to make.

I dress down to go to her house, sweats and a t-shirt. I don’t want her to think I’ve planned this, even though I have. More like agonized over it the past few hours. She doesn’t need to know that.

Pulling open a drawer, silverware clacks against each other until I have two spoons in hand. I guess I could buy plastic ones, but I would have to get a whole box and they’d sit there unused for a very long time. I grab my keys off the counter and walk out the door, locking it behind me.

There’s a gas station on the way to her house and it’s my first stop. The flowers look sad as they sit in the empty store, and I’m not taking her subpar plants. Besides, she probably gets tired of looking at them. I know I would if I worked in a flower shop. Though the same doesn’t apply to beer, or liquor. I keep those in stock at home.

There’s a small freezer next to the counter, and I look through the options. Most of them are ice creams on a stick, and I don’t want those to melt on the way over. Not that the other won’t, but at least it’s contained.

I finally spot the ice cream my sister suggested and grab two of them. If she’s anything like Marisol, she won’t be keen on sharing with me. I debate getting another six pack of beer, but the sound of that and ice cream isn’t appealing.

I set the pints on the counter and almost have a heart attack when the cashier gives me the price. I could have gotten a bigger size at the grocery store for what I’m paying here. It’s worth it, though. If this small gesture manages to put a smile on Caroline’s face, I’ll consider it a win.

The sky is pitch black as I drive to the outskirts of Asheville. Her house is in the country, and I never realized how creepy it is when you’re the only person on the road.

Her driveway is coming up, and I turn off my high beams so I don’t blind her when I pull up. With the car in park, I debate how to go about this. Do I knock on the door? Call her?

In the end I settle on a simple text. This will either be an epic fail; or it won’t. There’s only one way to find out.

Carlos: Come outside.

19

Caroline

I will never understandwhy Nathan can’t just go on living his life without a thought of what I’m doing. He hasn’t been around for literal months and now…because he sees me with someone, he feels the need to be involved in David’s life. He’s using our child to get to me. To make me feel like shit, and I don’t know what to do.

But this right here is exactly what he wants. Me sitting on my couch once David is in bed, crying into my glass of wine, questioning if dating someone makes me a bad mother.

The double standard is such bullshit. He has been with so many women since we split up. Taken David around them when he actually decides he wants to show him off as if he’s some sort of trophy. That being there for him, when it suits his own agenda, makes him an amazing father.

I’m so tired of all of it. Having to be strong for my son when all I want to do is sit in my closet to catch my breath. Having to come up with lies as to why his dad can’t make it to this thing or that. Or even simply show up to pick him up when he’s supposed to have him.

But the last straw was Nathan asking him what he thought about my new boyfriend after football practice. Seeing the confusion cross my son’s face and looking at me as if I’m the liar. That was too much to bear. That was the breaking point, and why I’m a bottle into my wine stash. Why I’ll have a hell of a hangover tomorrow and suffer through it because I deserve it.

My phone vibrates on the table, and I debate whether or not to answer it. I’m sure it’s my friends, or mom, calling to check in on me. But the sound of a car in my driveway has me second guessing. It could be Nathan here to pour more alcohol into the wound. If that’s the case, I’ll call the cops and have them make him leave. He has no right being here on when it’s not his day to pick up David.

It’s not, though. It’s from Carlos.

Carlos: Come outside.

No, he can’t be here. Not only because of David. I’m an absolute mess. I swipe until the camera on my phone comes up and check my reflection. Mascara is dried under my puffy eyes and the bun I put my hair in earlier has fallen to the side. It reminds me of those first few months after David was born and this was the best I could do.

Caroline: Be there in a min

I don’t know why I responded. Hell, I don’t know if I’m ready to have this conversation. But he came all this way, and I feel like I owe him something after running out on him yet again.

Rushing to the bathroom, I grab a hand towel, put it under the faucet to wet it, and scrub under my eyes. This is probably going to look worse, but I don’t care. I need to get the mascara off my face. As broken down as I feel right now, I don’t want Carlos knowing how Nathan’s actions affect me.

A quick glance in the mirror, and it’s good enough. Besides, it’s dark and he won’t be able to see my face all that well. I turn off the light and head toward the front door. Shit, I need my wine. I’m not sure what the rest of the night will consist of, but emergency wine is always a good call. I run to the kitchen and grab a bottle, the corkscrew and go back to the front door.

Inhale, exhale. There’s no need to be nervous. Opening the door, I walk onto the porch, except his car isn’t running anymore. “That was more than a minute.”

It takes everything in me not to shriek because I don’t want to wake David, but the corkscrew flies out of my hand. At least it’s not the wine. “Why are you sitting in the dark like a creeper?”

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