Random Acts of Love (Random #5) (28 page)

“No, it’s not. We’re here to talk to her. Convince her to come home.”

“Trevor! You fucking idiot! She’s not coming back to us. You don’t get that? You really don’t fucking get that, do you?” With savage grace, Joe ripped the car door open and climbed out. He started kicking his own car.

I jumped out and ran around to him. “I get that we lost her! I get that she left us because we were ashamed of her. But we’re not ashamed of Darla. Not one bit.”

“Not one bit?” he growled.
Kick
. “Not one fucking bit?”
Kick
.

I grabbed him by the shoulders. He tensed, fists tight. I’d take a punch if I had to, in order to make him hear this.

“No, you fucking tool. We’re ashamed of ourselves.”

“Damn right!” His eyes glittered in the night, filled with total hatred for me. I was the messenger and he knew what I was saying was true. “We should never have tried this kinky-ass experiment.”

“Experiment!” I choked out. “That’s all this has been to you? A fucking experiment? Don’t you realize that isn’t it at all?”

“Then what is it, Trev?”

“It’s
love
.”

The door to Jerry’s Bar opened and a very drunk old dude poured out of it like a bartender pouring a drink. He just slithered out the door and fell onto the ground with a ribbon-like grace that was almost artistic.

Joe’s jaw was on the ground already from my words. I could feel the heat radiating off him, even from three feet away. He was corded muscles and tight anger and nothing but.

We looked at the dude on the ground, his face inches from a small puddle, and looked back at each other.

He gave me a cocky stare. Not a concession, because Joe would never crack like that. But as close as I could expect.

“We are definitely in Darla’s hometown.” A small puddle of piss formed at the prone dude’s crotch.

“Yes.”

He sighed, a heavy sound of resignation. “Let’s go ask for directions to her mom’s trailer.”

As we reached the main door, Joe bent down and checked for a pulse in the guy’s neck, careful to avoid the urine. “He’s alive.” Joe wiped his hand on his jeans. “Disgusting, but fine.”

“No worse than anything we see in Boston.” 

The man moaned, opened his mouth, and a set of upper teeth fell out onto the asphalt.

“I take that back,” I said.

The door opened wider and a vaguely familiar form filled the space, hogging most of the light. Wider than one of the split doors, the body was that of a man, dressed in an enormous flannel shirt and sagging jeans.

“Did Jack pass out again and piss himself? You can set your clock to it.” He looked at me and shifted his weight just enough that a parking lot light lit up his face.

Darla’s Uncle Mike.

“It’s the chicken fucker!” Mike said in a booming voice.

Oh, yes. We were definitely in Darla’s hometown.

Uncle Mike opened the door wider. “Good to see you wearing clothes, Trevor.” He reached out to shake my hand, his bear paw covering my hand completely. He shook me like a rag doll. “You here for the bachelor party?”

Darla clearly hadn’t said a word about dumping us. Had she said a word about...us? I assumed Mike would be cold and angry, but this warm reception was confusing. Welcome, but confusing. I’d rather there be a misunderstanding out of ignorance than be dumped in the bar’s trash can by a group of angry rural citizens outraged on the behalf of one of their own.

I imagined it worked something like that. It wasn’t vigilantism out here to just take care of things.

It was justice. But then what did I know?  

“Bachelor party?” Joe squeaked.

“Who’s this?” Mike’s voice went cold and suspicious, the tone exactly what I’d expected of him earlier.

“This is my friend Joe,” I explained quickly. “He’s part of the band I’m in. Remember? He was here before. With me.”

“The one Darla manages? Oh, yeah...I remember you. We made fun of Chicken Fucker here.” Present tense. Darla manages. He spoke in present tense. My eyes narrowed in thought. Darla hadn’t said a word to anyone, had she?

Joe’s eyes flickered in my direction. He was thinking the same thing.

“Right.”

Mikes entire countenance changed. Softened. He stuck a paw out for Joe and gave him the same handshake treatment. I could hear Joe’s teeth rattle, but he maintained his grip.

“Nice to see you again,” Joe said politely, but I could hear the
What the Fuck?
 

“Come in. Have a beer. You need to meet Darla’s new stepdaddy. Plus, a friend of yours is here already.”

I stopped cold. Joe slammed into me from behind. A friend? We didn’t have any friends out here. What the hell was Mike talking about?

“Cut it out,” Joe hissed in my ear.

“Are you as freaked out as I am?” I hissed back.

“More.”

“Impossible.”

“This is not a contest,” he muttered back as we walked into the bar.

Six guys dotted the stools at the bar counter. No one was at the tables. Nine televisions were blaring. That was an upgrade. Last time we were here there were more like six. The bar was exactly the same otherwise. Neon beer logo lights dotted the back wall behind the bar, among pennants from Cleveland and Ohio sports teams, their three points of felt curling noticeably and the once-white strips at the flat, left hand sides yellowed with age. This was a place where old friends came to drink, hang out and play pool.  

My eyes sought out the cigarette machine. I walked closer to the hallways where the bathrooms were, waiting until I could crane my neck a bit and see it. A wistful smile stretched my face. In the periphery, I could see Joe watching me. He had a matching smile.

All the men were turned away from us, sucking on various glasses and watching a hockey game.

“CALVIN!” Mike boomed. A man turned and climbed off the stool as he saw us. He was tall and willowy, taller than me and probably fifty pounds lighter. His face was sunken in and bony, half his hair gone, and he wore glasses. He looked like a younger version of the old man in the American Gothic painting. If he wore the same outfit and held a pitch fork, he’d be a twin.

“Calvin McMasterson, meet Trevor and Joe. Darla’s friends from back in Boston. Boys, this is Calvin. Darla’s new stepdaddy.” 

“Nice to meet you,” he said with a slur. I couldn’t tell if it was from being drunk or something else, but his smile was gentle and friendly, his head sloping down just slightly as he pumped my hand. I liked him instantly.

Joe exchanged handshakes and turned to Mike. “Any decent foreign beers in this place?”

“Rolling Rock.”

“Jesus.”

Mike just rolled his eyes and said,“You drink enough Rolling Rock, you see Jesus.”

“You drink enough of that shit and you pray to him the next morning while you’re tithing to the porcelain god,” Joe shot back.

Mike howled with laughter, and the other men at the bar turned to watch. Until that moment, they’d ignored us, but Mike’s laugh seemed to signal acceptance. That we were worthy of attention.

That we were part of the pack.

The televisions went silent for a second, between game and commercial, and a toilet flushed loudly. The rush of running water was a backdrop to all the handshakes and names flying past as Mike introduced us to the other five men. The names escaped me, but I was dutiful, shaking and talking and trying to make sense of what we’d stumbled across. 

This was a bachelor party? Seemed more like a wake.

Heavy footsteps came at a fast clip from the bathroom hallway, and then:

“Trevor? Joe?” A very familiar voice. We turned and saw the last person we’d imagine seeing here in bumfuck Ohio.

“Alex?”

“Hey!” His face lit up and he walked faster to us, swapping a handshake for a hug. He was Darla’s aunt’s fiancé, and we’d rescued him (sort of) when he’d run face-first into a parking sign way back when, but other than seeing him socially here and there, we weren’t best buddies or anything.

His hug was a little too long. His smile was a little too eager.

Oh, man.

“You okay?” I asked, concerned for him.

“I’m just relieved to see someone I know,” he said in a low voice, clapping my shoulder. But his eyes held a kind of alarm in them that I would imagine most physicians—especially obstetricians—don’t generally possess. The man worked in emergency room rotations, from what Darla had told us. He was unflappable.

“All right,” Joe said, giving me a look. He caught it, too.

“You all know each other?” Mike said, letting out a giant belch and motioning to the bartender for another beer. He laughed. “Of course you do! Josie’s fiancé and Darla’s boyfriend...” His voice tapered off as his eyes flickered from me to Joe over and over.

The skin on the back of my neck prickled.

And that look of alarm sharpened in Alex’s eyes.

“We’re all with the band, remember?” I said to Mike, as if nothing was weird. Play nice. Pretend. It was just like being at home at my mom’s house, and that dinner party. 

Everybody wanted the lie, as long as it came with a smile.

Darla

Mama didn’t want no bachelorette party, but Aunt Marlene insisted. Said it was time for Mama to let loose for once in her life and have some fun, and besides, with Josie and me there, we could all have ourselves some adult action and get down.

I wasn’t sure what all that old-fashioned slang meant, but my takeaway was that Aunt Marlene figured me and Josie were paying for the big ass tab she was planning on building. 

“Mom, I don’t really think—I mean, if Aunt Cathy doesn’t want...” Josie’s voice trailed off. This was fucking weird, because she became so...
mousy
around Aunt Marlene. Tentative and worried, like a scared little kid. Then again, what did I know? I’m the one who thought I couldn’t tell my mama the truth about my threesome and it turned out she was more offended that I didn’t trust her than by the fact that—her words!—I found room in my hoohaw for two men at once.

Clearly Mama wasn’t up to date on the mechanics of how this all worked. I wasn’t about to educate her, either. I have limits. I’d shit in a bag by the side of the road before I’d explain how double penetration worked to my own mother.

“Shut up, Josie. You’re so boring. Besides, you got that seven-foot-tall piece of hot meat you’re engaged to. Some of us don’t got that in our lives and need to find fun where we can,” Marlene answered, glaring at Josie like she was the sexual antichrist.

Josie just rolled her eyes and went back to stuffing gummy bears into jars. Hard. 

Mama put her foot down. Seeing as she only had one foot, that meant something profound.

“Marlene, honey, you go off and have some fun if that’s what you want, but I’m tired. I just want to spend my last night as a single woman making my wedding favors and checking all my lists to be sure nothing’s getting missed for tomorrow.” She reached for another pint Mason jar and filled it with gummy bears, closed it, then pasted a bow with a ribbon on top that said
Cathy and Calvin Forever
on it.

“Besides, these party favors ain’t gonna make themselves,” Mama muttered. “We need to be at the church tomorrow by ten a.m., and this is the last thing on my list.” 

Six down, ninety-four more to go. Mama and Calvin were expecting about a hundred people and they’d all come with food, eat cake, drink beer and whatever else was cheap at the bar, and the town would party. I, for one, looked forward to watching Alex do the funky chicken dance.

On video.

With Josie.

“Fine. Killjoy,” Marlene muttered, walking out the door in a huff.

I sat down and grabbed one of the bags of gummy bears and an empty glass jar. If this was how Mama wanted to spend her last night as a single woman, I wasn’t gonna begrudge her. We spent the next thirty minutes packing those little bears in nice and tight, finishing sixty of them real quick. 

“Break?” I said. They all nodded.

Josie rummaged around in the fridge and came over with three cans of beer. “Shall we have a toast?” she said in a fake British accent.

Mama laughed as she popped the top of her beer, smiling and waggling her eyebrows. “To the blushing bride?”

“If anyone’s blushing, it’s Calvin. He’s so shy,” I said.

“He’s sweet,” Mama answered.

Josie grinned. “To...marriage. To love.”

Mama gave me a side glance. “In all its many forms.”

“I’ll drink to that,” I choked out. And then I did.

I drank the entire fucking can in a series of about eight gulps.

“To my mama,” I said, then belched. “Who will love, honor and obey—” 

“Obey?” she hooted. “He can just suck a bag of roosters if he thinks I’m gonna do that,” Mama said. 

I shook my head. “Huh? What did you say, Mama?” She did not just say—

“I said ‘suck a bag of roosters.”

Huh. She
did
say that.

“What does that mean?”

“Well, I was gonna say ‘suck a bag of cocks’, but I don’t wanna be a bad influence on you.”

We all laughed. “No ‘obey’ in the vows tomorrow?”

Mama went pale. “Vows,” she whispered. “Darla, get me another beer.” 

I did as told, suddenly worried about her. “Mama?” I asked as she popped the can open, “You okay?”

She laughed nervously, her eyes swallowed by her cheeks. “I’m fine, baby girl. Just...realizing I’m gettin’ married tomorrow. That it’s all really happening. And my life is changing even more.” She took a long sip of beer, her eyes on me the whole time. “I have you to thank.”

“Me?”

“If you hadn’ta gone and left and moved to Boston with that giant stubborn streak of yours, I’d have never needed Jane’s help. Never have gone to that festival. Never have run into Calvin. But most of all, never have changed from being sad all the time and thinking that being sad was the best way to honor Charlie’s memory.”

All our eyes filled with tears.

“Oh, Mama.”

“This don’t mean I didn’t love him,” she said with a small sob. “It just means...well, I don’t know.”

Josie stopped shoving gummy bears in the jar and came over to put her hand on Mama’s shoulder. “Twenty years is enough time to mourn,” she said.