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Snapping back to the present,I wipe my tears and walk towards the entrance of the bar. Creaking open the door, I immediately wrinkle my nose at the smell of stale beer and desperation.
I haven’t spoken to Jackson since that night, and although I want to slug back home and wallow in self-pity, I refuse to let myself go back to that person my stepdad made me into. I’m no longer going to sit in my darkened room and cry.
My first step is to confront my mom. But not only confront her, I also need her advice. I still haven’t decided if I want to keep this baby, and although I’ve told Rose I keep saying I don’t want it, a part of me can’t help but want to keep it. I want to hold this thing I made and smell its new scent and kiss and protect it from the craziness of the world.
My skin prickles with nerves as I see a group of men standing around the bar. I don’t recognize any of them besides the man standing behind the bar. Lewis, the bar owner, glances up as I walk towards them. Gray hair that falls around his chin in thin waves. His beer gut has been present since I met him when I was a child. It’s grown over the years, practically busting out of his jeans now. The bar has been his life, and he’s always been friendly. Not because he likes me, per se, but more so because living your life as a bar owner you kind of turn into a psychologist at some point. You have a little sympathy for everyone.
“Look what the cat dragged in.” He lifts his bushy eyebrow my way.
“Hi, Lewis. Is my mom upstairs?”
“Last time I seen her she was.”
I nod and start making my way towards the stairs.
“Cara.” He barks at me. Turning around, I notice the group of men have turned around to tune into our conversation. They’re all old, retired men who live in town. Probably nothing better to do than drink their lives away.
“Hmm?”
“You doin’ okay? You don’t look too good.” He frowns at me, his wrinkled face sagging in worry. He can probably smell problems from a mile away. As much as I want to cry on the shoulder of someone older than me, Lewis can’t be that guy. I know he’d gladly step in as a temporary parent for an hour, but some way or another my mom would find out and figure out some way to make me miserable about it.
I force a smile. “I’m good.”
He walks around the bar and away from the nosy drunks. “You know, Cara. I know your mom hasn’t been home in quite some time. You need anything, you can always come to me, yeah? I don’t give a shit what your mom or Jed has to say about it.”
My chest shakes with restrained emotion. I hate when people show that they care. That either means they’ll let me down or they’re just fucking with me in the first place.
Lewis has never been a bullshitter, though.
“Thanks, Lewis.”
I think he can tell that I’m about to cry, and that usually draws the line at his kindness. “Okay, then. Get out of here kid, your mom should be upstairs.” He waves me off and heads back to the bar.
I head towards the back where the stairs lead to the upstairs apartment. I’m not sure what Lewis is getting out of letting Jed and my mom stay up here. I know Lewis lives across the street, but he could probably get a decent tenant that actually pays rent if he tried.
Across from the stairs are a set of bathrooms. When the toilet flushes in the men’s bathroom, I quicken my pace. I hate getting stuck back here when there are other guys around, mostly if they’ve been drinking. That means they’re handsy and apparently turn deaf when the wordnois spoken.
I make it to the door where the stairs are, and as I’m walking through it the bathroom door behind me swings open.
I squeeze my eyes shut, hating that my legs weren’t just a few inches longer. If that were the case, I would have made it through the door unscathed. Hopefully it’s just one of the harmless old men from the bar.
“Well, look-ee here.”
No such luck.
I don’t release the door handle. Instead, I grip it tightly as I look over my shoulder. “Hi, Jed.” I can’t stop the frown that takes over my face. This son-of-a-bitch has hurt me more times than I can count. Bruising my ass and turning me into a shell of a person.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” He growls. He’s grown a gray beard and it matches his tired skin. His brown eyes flare with anger as he looks me over, probably remembering all the reasons why he hates me.
None of which I understand.
“Looking for Mom.” I grit through my teeth. I want to run for my life, but I feel like that’s the worst thing to do. Almost like a bear. Stand your ground. Once you run, you’re fucking dead.
“What for?” He narrows his eyes at me.
“It’s none of your business.”
He smiles at me, his crooked, yellowed teeth making an appearance. “Yeah, well you walkin’ in my house is sure as fuck my business.”
