“I’m sorry you had to hear that Dee’s moved on from a Facebook post.”
“That was more than she got from me when I married someone else.”
“True. That wasn’t your finest hour.”
She’s cute, funny, intelligent and insightful. If things were different, I’d want to sit here all day and talk to her about anything and everything.
“I know you’re beating yourself up over everything that went down, and while you should feel bad about what happened with Dee, you don’t need to carry that around with you for the rest of your life. It happened. It’s over. She’s moved on. You’re moving on. Life goes on. You need to work on forgiving yourself for things that happened when you were dealing with an illness.”
“I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive myself for what I did to her.”
“You have to, Marcus.”
“I feel like I need to see her for that to happen.”
Tara shakes her head. “No, you don’t. That’s not what she needs. She’s moved on. Seeing you wouldn’t be good for her.”
I blow out a deep breath as it finally registers with me that there’s nothing I can do where Dee is concerned besides leave her alone and wish her well. My phone rings with yet another call from the rehab. I decide to take this one.
“Hello.”
“Marcus, this is Dr. Stern. We’ve been trying to reach you.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I had some stuff to take care of.”
“We’d like you to come back to the facility. Do you have a means of transportation?”
I look at Tara when I say, “Yeah, I do.”
“Can we expect you back today, then?”
I take a deep breath and release it. “Yes, I’ll be there.”
“I’ll look forward to seeing you soon.”
After we end the call, I put the phone on the counter.
“You’re doing the right thing,” Tara says. “You can’t worry about anything else until you’re healthy again.”
“That’s easier said than done.” I glance at her. “We’d probably better go before I make another bad decision and talk myself out of going back.”
“I won’t let you do that.” She clears the plates and puts them in the sink. “I’ll be ready in a minute.”
After she disappears into the other bedroom, I force myself to sit there and wait for her when everything in me wants to bolt. For whatever reason, I feel like that would disappoint Tara, and I don’t want to disappoint her or anyone else. I’ve done enough of that.
Tara comes out wearing leggings and a tank that clings to her full breasts. She blossomed from an awkward girl to a gorgeous woman since I saw her last. And the best part is she’s beautiful on the inside, too.
As she drives me to the rehab facility in her silver Hyundai Sonata, we’re both quiet.
I watch the scenery go by—palm trees, strip malls, colorful flowers and ponds with fountains in front of apartment complexes. It’s all so familiar and yet so foreign, too. When was the last time I bothered to pay attention to the scenery? When was the last time I had the bandwidth to think about anything other than getting drunk or fixing things with Dee? It’s been a long, long time.
Tara pulls up to the main door at the rehab and puts the car in park. “Unlock your phone and let me see it.”
I do as she asks, even if I’m not sure why.
She taps at the screen and then hands it back to me. “I programmed in my number. If you need a visit or a care package or a friend to talk to, call or send a text.”
“Thank you, Tara. You’ll never know what you did for me just by listening.”
“I’m glad I was there when you needed a friend.”
I eye the main doors apprehensively. “Well, here goes nothing.”
“No, Marcus.” She puts her hand on my arm and looks at me with warm, hazel eyes. “Here goes everything.”
She puts a huge lump in my throat with that.
“Thanks again,” I manage to say before I get out of the car and head inside without looking back. If I look back, I suspect she’ll still be there, making sure I’m inside before she leaves.
It’s the strangest thing. Yesterday, I found out Dee had someone else and nearly lost my mind. I ran from rehab, landed at my sister’s and found an old friend who provided just the support and comfort I needed. Today, I find myself wondering when or if I’ll get to see Tara again.
I really hope I do.
Chapter 26
DEE
Since we get a late start, we drive six hours to Albuquerque the first day and arrive around nine p.m. And yes, we know Albuquerque is out of the way, but neither of us has ever been there, so we take a detour to the north to check it off the bucket list of all the places we want to go together that we made during the ride. We hold out for dinner at a local restaurant and stumble into a hole-in-the-wall place next door to our hotel that has some of the best food I’ve ever tasted outside of Giordino’s. We walk back to the hotel and fall into bed, exhausted from the long day.
In the morning, we take a couple of hours to explore Albuquerque. We wander around Old Town, and Wyatt buys me a gorgeous bowl from one of the galleries we visit and two small cacti for our new home. However, I take a pass on his suggestion to check out the Rattlesnake Museum.
“I can’t believe you don’t want to learn about rattlesnakes,” he says with a playful pout.
“I’d have nightmares for days if we went there, especially when we’re driving through rattlesnake country.”
“If you’re gonna be that way about it.”
“I’m gonna be that way about it.”
Since our goal today is to make it to Austin, Texas, we don’t linger for long in Old Town and hit the road shortly before ten for the eleven-hour drive to Austin.
Wyatt seems tired after doing all the driving yesterday, so I insist on taking the first shift.
We have the windows down and sing along to the eclectic selection of music he plays on the Bluetooth. Everything from Lil Wayne to CCR to Eminem to Tim McGraw to Selena. He’s impressed when I sing the Selena song to him in Spanish.
“Your musical taste is all over the place,” I tell him.
“I like songs, not genres. If a song speaks to me, I add it to my playlist. I don’t care who sings it or whether someone my age ought to like it. My grandfather is a huge Rat Pack fan. He had me listening to Sinatra and Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr. when I was a little kid. I knew all the words to their songs by the time I was eight.”
“That’s very sweet.”
“This is his favorite.” He plays “My Way” and sings along.
He’s got a great voice, which I learned about him that night in Miami when we stayed up all night listening to music. Since we left Phoenix, I’ve also learned he wants to stop at every cheesy tourist trap we pass on the road, which has me calling him Clark W. Griswold.
“If you don’t want to see the world’s largest mud hut, I’m not sure we can make this relationship work.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
We laugh and joke and tease and sing and eat the healthy trail mix he buys from the convenience store when I would’ve gone for chocolate and chips. I can already see his influence is going to be good for me.