Chapter 8

“I need to tell you something,” Sandy stated, after a long pause. All the noise in Verna’s Café had gone away, blocked out. “I really don’t know how to say it.”

She never had any problem saying what was on her mind before, one of the many things I always liked about her. I was the exact opposite, especially when it came to relationships.

“Go ahead,” I urged. She already had me on the edge and was now pulling me over in anticipation.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s okay, Sandy. It’s just you and me, just like the old times.”

She let that comment settle in for a few seconds. Sandy took a drink and spent too much time staring at me.

“No, it’s not like the old times,” she informed me. “That was over twenty years ago. We don’t know each other anymore.”

She did have a point. But I knew Sandy was still the one person I could trust with anything and hoped she felt the same way about me.

“You’ve changed so much,” Sandy added. “You’re big time, working at a newspaper in Tulsa and I'm still here in Heavener.”

“That’s no big deal,” I argued. The newspaper where I worked has never been considered “big time” by the serious and good journalists. It’s a good newspaper, but isn’t exactly battling for Pulitzers every year.

“It is to me. I read your stories and wonder how you’re doing.”

“I get by.”

“You should do more than ‘get by’,” she admonished me. “You’ve escaped Heavener and your father. I guess you’ve got everything you ever wanted.”

It was my time to let something settle before I tested the waters.

“Not everything,” I countered, wishing it could be left at that.

“There’s something I’ve wanted to say for twenty years…”

She was interrupted by a loud commotion near the front door. The noise in Verna’s had risen considerably. I turned around and saw a man about our age talking and laughing with all the regulars. He appeared to be popular as they all turned their attention to him and laughed at whatever the man was saying.

Sandy saw him and leaned closer, needing to tell me quickly for some reason.

“I’m sorry for what happened between us,” she said. “I got scared and ran you off.”

I couldn’t believe Sandy would feel bad about what happened so long ago. It certainly wasn’t her fault and she didn’t run me off. My dad contributed mightily to that cause, along with this little town. A lot of people got trapped here and don’t escape, stuck in a life that never changes.

There would be a spouse, or two, kids and a job that never paid enough to meet their basic needs. But they could hunt, fish and hang out at the local watering hole and drink beer, telling each other lies that were repeated enough that they eventually believed them.

“Sandy, you have nothing to apologize about,” I argued. “You didn’t run me off. I went away to school and…”

“I’m talking about before that,” she countered, interrupting me. “After graduation night, we both felt different about each other. I’ve never been happier than I was when you were holding me and that first kiss. All my nerves were on end and I’ve never felt so, I don’t know, alive, I guess.”

“It wasn’t just you.”

“Most of it was. You kept coming around for a while then I ran you off. I got scared. We had always been close, but nothing compared to how I felt after that night. I would be rude to you until you went away then feel awful about it.”

“I can’t tell you how many times I wish that night never happened.”

“Why?”

“Because it changed things between us. We were never the same after that.”

“You didn’t feel the way I did that night?”

If only she knew. I had been looking to recapture the passion I felt that night ever since, never getting close.

“Yeah, but maybe it’s good that it didn’t go past that point. I’m apparently not good at relationships.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Sandy, I’ve been in three marriages that were disasters. I can guarantee you that the third time is not any more charming than the first two.”

“It takes two to tango,” she argued, something I’ve thought many times but never been able to convince myself.

“Yeah, but they didn’t work. You’re lucky you’ve never gone through it.”

Sandy stared at me intently before responding.

“I’ve been through a lot,” she added. “But nothing hurt as bad as losing you.”

“You didn’t lose me,” I argued. “I guess it wasn’t meant to be.”

I had laid my cell phone on the table when we sat down and it started ringing. Everybody turned and sneered at me as the ringing took away their idol worship from the guy moving in between them, shaking hands and smiling, looking a lot like a politician.

The caller ID showed it was the newspaper, not that it was a surprise. Brewster had already called three times during my drive to Heavener. I had answered those calls, but nothing could drag me away from this now.

I set the phone back on the table. It kept ringing and everybody in Verna’s was staring at me. I don’t have one of the fancy ring tones that so many people use, just a simple ring to tell me somebody is calling.

“Ain’t you gonna get that?” asked an old man sitting a couple of tables away. He was an older guy, a little squirt. His hair was trimmed in what used to be considered a crewcut. He wore a cheap pair of jeans and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Half his shirt was unbuttoned, either because he thought it was sexy or they wouldn’t button any more. The man had developed a pretty impressive roll, but was obviously still trying to wear the same pants from when he was smaller.

“Naw, it’s my boss,” I said.

Several people heard my response and nodded in either satisfaction or appreciation. They didn’t seem to be the type to want to talk to their bosses either, not that many of the people in Verna’s seemed to have jobs or bosses to worry about.

The ringing finally stopped and I knew there was going to be some urgent message left on my voice mail.

Sandy watched the man as he circulated through the room. She leaned a little closer so nobody could hear.

“No, I lost you and have regretted it ever since then. Maybe it was meant to be and that’s why our lives have been such a mess.”

She made a good point, but I didn’t understand why we were even talking about it. I was okay with being single and never thought she wanted a serious relationship or marriage.

“I didn’t realize you were having problems.”

“You’ve been gone a long time,” Sandy pointed out, not that it was needed. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

“I’m sorry if you’ve had a tough time. I’d always heard how you were doing so good at selling houses and everything else.”

“Selling real estate is my job,” she replied. “It’s not my life. My life is what it is. There are good days and bad days. But I mainly just wanted to tell you how sorry I am. I’ve needed to say that for a long time.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” I argued. Heck, I was beginning to think Sandy wanted us to get together and give it a whirl. Not a bad idea, as far as I was concerned. I had pretty much sworn off all relationships, but was willing to make an exception for her.

She clammed up and leaned back in her chair. Sandy watched the man approach us until he stood next to us. I wished he would go politic somewhere else and let us get back to talking.

Myrtle was watching the man eagerly, ready to pounce whenever he sat down. Apparently she must have a crush on him or he was a good tipper.

“You must be Mike,” the man said, smiling in the way only a man who knows he is handsome can. He held out his hand and I took it, hoping it would send him on his way.

“Michael Hunt,” I countered.

“Don’t blame you for using that name,” he said. “Were your parents mad at you?”

“Not when I was born. Why do you ask?”

“They named you ‘Mike Hunt’,” the man said. “Isn’t it embarrassing?”

What a clever guy. Hitting me with the old “Mike Hunt” line. Damn the writers of the movie "Porky's". Yes, I do know how it sounds when people say my name. In fact, after I got old enough to get it, I found it mildly amusing the first few hundred times I heard it. The thousands since then were not the least bit funny.

“Not really,” I answered, wanting to ask him if he was embarrassed to be living in Langford, but letting it pass. “And you are?”

"Trevor Adams,” the man offered. I had heard that name somewhere but could not place it. He squeezed my hand too hard before letting go. Trevor had obviously lifted a lot of weights in his life and was all buffed up.

“Glad to meet you,” I lied, wishing he would go his merry way.

“You, too,” he added, but had turned away from me. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Hope it was good.”

He turned to look back at me. The smile slipped away.

“Some was,” he added. “some wasn’t.”

I turned to stare at him. Right before I counterattacked, he sat down in a chair at our table. I was about to tell him to go bug somebody else when he leaned over to Sandy. She turned to face him and got kissed on the lips.

“Hey baby,” Trevor said, but looked at me for my reaction.

“Hello Trevor,” Sandy replied. She was smiling at him, but it looked forced.

“Did she tell you the big news?” Trevor asked.

“I don’t guess so,” I answered, turning to look at Sandy.

“Trevor,” she protested and the forced smile was fading fast.

“Tell him,” he said. It was more than a suggestion, almost an order.

It was obvious Sandy didn’t want to tell me whatever it was that Trevor wanted to share.

“Go ahead,” Trevor added, with much more insistence.

Sandy faked a smile as she looked at me.

“We’re getting married,” she said, and it felt like the roof was falling down on me.


Chapter 9