Page 104 of Possibly Texas

“And I hoped that we could get over our fight,” I said.

Auggie’s uncaring eyes didn’t change.

“You’ve apologized. I don’t have anything to say,” Auggie said, his voice flat, his eyes just as empty as when he first spotted me.

“Seriously, man?” I sighed.

Auggie turned back to his worktable, ignoring me, and picked up his hammer. Once he had slung the hammer down against whatever he was working on, but before he could repeat the action, anger rushed through me, and I found myself barreling into the barn. Auggie continued his hammering as I stormed across the barn, aimed for the worktable. When I marched up to his side, anger rolling off of me, Auggie didn’t even seem to notice. He just went about his business as though a pissed off guy wasn’t bearing down on him.

“You know what?” I growled; my fists clenched at my sides. “You are really unforgiving for someone who didn’t mind taking me to that weird shit at the church—The Pueblo!”

Auggie continued to hammer.

“You asked me to go to The Pueblo and didn’t even warn me that it was going to be wild, but I didn’t stop talking to you. I didn’t give you the cold shoulder. I talked to you about it. And I forgave you. I may not be perfect, Auggie, and yeah, I said some mean stuff to you, but I’m trying to be the bigger person here. I came to apologize for being a jerk to you and you won’t even look at me.”

More hammering reached my ears.

Anger continued to boil up inside me as Auggie refused to acknowledge my presence, instead preferring to focus his energy on the roll of metal on the table. My fuse was lit. I wasn’t lying to Auggie. I’d had reasons before to be mad at him, but I’d given him a chance to explain himself. I hadn’t just brushed him off and pretended he wasn’t even a person. I’d tried to be understanding. I tried to comprehend that Possibly was a different place and the customs might be different.

Auggie hadn’t even considered that the change to my life—moving to Possibly—might have jolted my system. It hadn’t been an easy adjustment for me. I was still going through it.

But he didn’t care.

“You know what?” I asked, throwing my hands up angrily. “Starbuck was the name of the first mate on the Pequod in Moby Dick. It’s not the name of the ship.”

Auggie hammered harder.

“And it was a whaling boat—not a pirate ship.”

His hammering got louder.

“Do you know what a pueblo actually looks like, Auggie?” I seethed. “Did you know The Pueblo doesn’t look like a freaking pueblo?”

The hammer came down faster and more violently against the table and metal.

“Did you know radio stations all over this country play a variety of songs by a variety of artists?” I asked. “They don’t just play one song all day long for twelve hours until the town’s residents start to go batshit crazy?”

Auggie’s hammer was so loud against the table I was having to scream over it to be heard.

“Any other place in America?” I asked, chuckling angrily. “Wyatt would be in a home. He’d be locked away. So would Grandy. So would half of this damn town because everyone is batshit crazy. Everyone here is psychotic. No one anywhere in America acts like the people of this town—and if they do, they’re locked up.”

The hammering stopped and Auggie threw it against the wall of the barn behind the table, spinning to face me. Red was creeping up his neck into his face and his hands were rolling up into fists at his side.

“Yeah!” I screamed. “This town is stupid! The people are stupid! You! You’re…you’re…”

I couldn’t say it.

“What am I Jordan?” Auggie demanded, his eyes no longer empty, but fiery with rage. “Tell me what I am, Jordan!”

We stared into each other’s eyes, anger rolling off of both of us as Pale Blue Eyes played softly in the background. I twitched, wondering if I was going to throw a swing at Auggie. However, when I considered the thought, I felt my stomach sink. I didn’t want to hit Auggie. I wanted to grab him by his shoulders, pull him into me violently, and put my mouth on his. The redness of his face. His anger. Everything about his body language. The fact that I had stirred up such passion in him made me want to press my mouth to his.

My hands immediately unclenched and I felt every ounce of blood drain from my face. Subconsciously, I stepped back.

Reality punched me in the chest.

What was it that I had been adjusting to—what I was trying to understand—that had frustrated me so much over the last two months?

Was it Possibly? A change in scenery? Or…was it something else?