Settling Down, Part 6
May. 24th, 2009 08:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fleurlbOn Wednesday night, Tim drank several glasses of water and went to bed before sunrise for the first time since he arrived at South Padre. As a result, he woke up before noon on Thursday, feeling more clear-headed than he had in days. He was even able to get some breakfast in the motel's diner, which was his first hot meal in a week.
Energized by a hearty breakfast of pancakes and the good weather, he took George for a long walk on the beach. The waves were working their magic on his mind and he was able to just be for a while, without thinking about anything much at all.
Tim was looking out across the water when George suddenly leaped forward and grabbed a bright blue Frisbee off the sand. A small tan and white dog danced in front of them, yipping and yapping, clearly upset that his Frisbee had been stolen. Tim had to smile – the Frisbee was nearly bigger than the other dog after all.
He could hear a voice calling for the dog and a woman scrambled over a sand dune and slid down the other side.
“Boomer! Come here, Boomer.”
The dog snarled one last time and then trotted over to the woman, who was rapidly making her way toward Tim. She had short, spiky red hair and was wearing a loose, flowing dress thing. Sort of like a hippie, Tim thought. She walked up to him and smiled, her hand held out in greeting.
“Hi, I'm Megan.”
“Tim.” He shook her hand, nearly squeezing too hard out of habit, but he caught himself just in time.
“Why don't you let your dog off the leash so he can run around with Boomer?”
Tim hesitated. “We've just started obedience school – his recall isn't great, to be honest with you.”
“He'll be fine – he'll be so busy chasing Boomer that when I call Boomer in, he'll be right behind.”
Tim still looked skeptical.
“C'mon. I've been throwing that damn Frisbee for ages. I need a break.” Her smile was warm and inviting.
He crouched down and unclipped the leash, then watched George race off after the little dog.
Megan sat down in the sand, her knees up so she could rest her elbows on them. Tim followed suit, watching in amusement as the dogs frolicked near the water's edge.
“So, how long you been here?” asked Megan.
“What's today?”
“Uh-oh, if you don't know what day it is, then you've been here too long.”
Tim grinned. “They all just run together.”
“This is a vacation for you then?”
He shrugged. “Something like that. I just needed some time away. How about you?”
“Been here two weeks, got a job at one of the hotels. Going to be here for the whole summer.”
“You live in the hotel then?”
“God no. I'm staying at the campground. Got an Airstream – not much space, but it's all mine.”
Tim nodded and looked away from her. He was finding that talking to her was easy. This was the longest conversation he'd had in a week. He asked her what it was like, working in the hotel, and she entertained him with a few amusing stories of unruly guests.
“Hey, if you don't have any plans, you want to come over for dinner tonight?” Her smile lit up her whole face and Tim felt his breath catch in his throat. He'd always been a sucker for beautiful, genuine smiles.
“Yeah, that sounds nice.” He turned his head and looked at her through his hair, which the strong Gulf breeze was blowing into his face.
The dogs returned, racing up the beach. George flopped down in front of Megan for belly scratches.
“He's a great dog,” said Megan. “Young Irish Wolfhound, right?”
“Yeah. How'd you know? Most people think he's some sort of fully-grown mix.”
“My brother had one years ago. This guy must be what, about a year old?”
“No, he's only about 7 months.”
She whistled. “He is going to be enormous. Where'd you get him?”
“He was a Christmas present.”
“Wow,” said Megan with a grin. “Someone must really love you.”
Tim looked down. His shoulders hunched as he realized why he was so comfortable with Megan. She had the same easy-going, joking manner as Al.
“Shit.” Megan drew the word out into two syllables. “You're taken, aren't you?”
He nodded and looked up. The way she was still leaning toward him, her gaze tracking to his mouth, made him think that his being taken probably wasn't a deal-breaker for her.
“You know, about dinner, now that I think about it....” Tim stumbled over the words, trying but failing to find a graceful way to back out. He let the sentence hang unfinished in the air.
She sighed and stood up. “Look, Isla Blanca, site C171. Blue pickup with an Airstream. Say, 7 or 8, if you change your mind. And you can bring your dog.”
Tim laid down in the sand and just stared at the sky for awhile, then returned with George to his room. He picked up his phone and tried to write a text message to Al.
“Al, Just wanted to let you know that I...”
What, though? What was he? How did he finish that statement?
...am still alive...but so drunk most of the time that I can barely feel it.
...am so sorry...for leaving because I miss you so much I can't breathe.
...haven't cheated on you....yet.
In the end, he canceled out of the message, put his phone on the table, and turned the television back on. He looked up at the clock when his stomach rumbled around eight o'clock and thought of Megan's offer. Then he opened another beer and changed the channel.
*** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** ****
After Billy had interviewed the intern finalists on Friday afternoon, he and Al met to discuss which of them would receive offers. They agreed on Carlos and Jake, two sophomores. They were in disagreement on the third one, but Al eventually swayed Billy into accepting Lauren, a freshman. Billy had been reluctant to let a girl into the program, but Al had pointed out that he was being a sexist pig and she was, after all, a girl herself and Billy'd never had a problem with her work.
After the decision was made, Billy stood up and stretched. “Hey, you want to go get a drink or something tonight? Mindy and Amber are in Austin with Tyra this weekend and TJ's sleeping over at Angela's, so I'm all on my own.”
“I've got a better idea,” said Al. She ushered Billy into her truck and drove them over to a miniature golf place in the next town over.
“You're kidding, right?” asked Billy, looking around in disgust.
Al ignored him and he followed her out of the truck, muttering complaints the whole way. But instead of going to the front desk, Al went around the back, bought tokens from a second desk and selected a few bats from cubbyholes in the wall. She picked up a batting helmet and then tossed one to Billy, who was looking at the batting cages skeptically. She handed him a bat and several tokens, then set off toward the batting cages.
Billy followed her, watching as she passed up the softball batting cages and got into the 45 mph baseball cage. He put his fingers through the wire fencing and watched as she went through two rounds of pitches, hitting 80% of the pitches, most of them solid, soaring hits.
She switched to the 60 mph baseball cage, pausing to ask Billy if he was going to just stand there all night.
“Not really a baseball kind of guy,” mumbled Billy, who hadn't played baseball since he was about twelve and didn't want to embarrass himself by flailing around wildly.
Al shrugged and dropped two tokens into the machine, then started hitting, again connecting with most of the pitches quite solidly.
“Damn Al....hitting fastballs, handling yourself in fist fights, fixing cars, playing football and Timmy tells me you can cook too. Is there anything you can't do?”
Al swung and hit the ball straight up the middle. “Yeah.”
“I hate golf.” She paused to hit another ball.
“I never play poker unless I want to lose all my money.” Swing and a rare miss.
“Couldn't carry a tune if it was stapled to my hands.” She laid down a perfect bunt, the ball dribbling two feet up the third baseline.
“And I can't let go of the people I love.” Another base hit. She brought the bat back quickly and waited for the next pitch.
“Even if they've already let go of me.” She put all her power into the bat, getting up under the ball and driving it past the sign marked 300 feet.
“He hasn't let go of you,” said Billy.
Al shrugged and focused on the next pitch, glad that Billy couldn't see her face.
“Seriously. If he was done with you, he woulda come back to live at our place or found another place in Dillon.”
Al swung and missed.
“I know it feels like shit right now, but his disappearing is maybe a good sign.”
Al hit another ball hard. “Why hasn't he called? Jesus, Billy, how do we know that he's not hurt or in trouble some place? You know I spent last night calling hospitals? Started in Dillon, worked my way out to Midland, then tried Austin and Galveston.”
Billy sighed. “You'll drive yourself crazy thinking that way.”
Al turned her head and smiled. “I already am crazy.”
The pitch flew past her and hit the fence near Billy's head, causing him to jump back.
Al hit the next few pitches in silence, then spoke.
“The wedding's supposed to be in five weeks. I got Tyra freaking out at me because the DJ just got arrested for having a box of E in his truck and she's having a hard time finding a replacement. I don't care. Wedding can go on without a DJ. But it can't happen without Tim.”
Billy was reminded of a Catholic confession he'd seen in a movie once. The person sat in a box behind a screen, telling his secrets and sins to a priest. It stuck with Billy because he appreciated the idea of talking to someone without the pressure of eye contact or worrying about judgemental looks.
“He'll be back soon,” said Billy, trying to be reassuring because he didn't know what else to say.
“I hope you're right. Because seriously, I don't know what I' going to do otherwise.”
Al hit the last pitch then went into the 90mph cage. Billy was relieved to see that her average dropped to about .250 against these fast balls. She hit three rounds and then came out, stretching her arms high above her head.
“Go on then,” she told Billy.
“No, I'm good.”
“Billy.” He didn't know how she did that. How she put all kinds of words into a single word and then got him to do what she wanted. Tim called it her Jedi Mind Trick. He sighed and went into the 45mph cage, hoping he wouldn't embarrass himself.
Al stood outside the fence, watching and giving quiet instructions. “Elbow up. Watch it there. Swinging too early, slow down a little.”
Billy missed the first few, then sent one straight back on a foul tip.
“OK, swung a little late on that one.”
Billy took a deep breath and concentrated, then swung hard. The bat connected with the ball and send it flying to the outfield. He looked back at Al and grinned.
“Don't get cocky. Heads up!”
Billy looked back just in time to lean away before the next pitch hit him. He refocused on hitting, getting into an easy rhythm. He spent three rounds in that cage before moving up to the 60mph. It took him a round to adjust to the increase in speed, but then he was on a roll.
“This is it, Al. I ain't going any faster than this.”
“That's fine. You're doing pretty good for a non-baseball guy.”
Billy smiled. “Hey, Al, Mindy and I've been meanin' to talk to you and Tim about something. I know this isn't great timing, but Mindy's on my ass about it because I shoulda done it weeks ago.”
“You're leaning forward, put your weight on your back foot.”
Billy did as she instructed and hit the next ball.
“It's just, well, when Tim comes back, you think you two could maybe think about agreeing to be the kids' legal guardians if...god forbid, anything happens to me and Mindy?”
He hit the next three pitches and Al still hadn't said anything. He stopped swinging and looked back to the fence, where she was standing with her head down, not even flinching as the pitches hit near her.
Billy went out of the cage and put his hands on Al's shoulders, turning her around to face him. She looked up, and Billy was ashamed to admit that he was relieved she wasn't crying. He could never handle crying girls and seeing someone like Al cry would have somehow been worse.
“That will mean so much to Tim,” Al whispered.
“He's coming back. Just keep telling yourself that.” Billy felt so damn helpless. He put an arm around Al and hugged her.
“You know, Billy, I got seven brothers and never thought I'd want another, but I think you'd make a great eighth brother,” Al said as she pulled away from him.
Billy smiled. “C'mon, let's go get a drink now.”
*** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** ****
Friday night and South Padre Island was getting busy. Tim had a nice buzz going but he wasn't completely blitzed. He was enjoying being out of his room, although he still wasn't feeling much like having company. So when the beach-front bar got too busy, he took George and headed out for another walk on the beach.
The sun had just set but the air was still hot and humid. Tim found a bench and sat down in the middle. George jumped up and flopped down next to him, resting his head on Tim's leg and looking up at him with hopeful amber eyes.
Tim rubbed George's ears, running his fingers over the soft fur. Like velvet. Like that blue dress Al wore to Mindy's birthday party. He sighed and shook his head. If he had to pinpoint the moment it all started to unravel, it would have been that night, after Walt had arrived at the door.
If Tim could change anything, it would be how he handled things that night. Instead of retreating inside of himself, he should have talked to Al. Maybe if he'd done that, everything would have been different.
“Cute dog,” said a woman as she sat down next to Tim.
She had Tyra's body, tall and lean with legs that seemed to go on forever, and Lyla's big brown doe eyes. Her hair, a shade darker than Lyla's, fell loose around her shoulders. Her mouth, with its full lips and playful smile, was all Al. She was wearing a bikini and cotton wrap that was translucent enough to be practically invisible.
She introduced herself, but her name, something girly that ended in an -eee sound, was instantly forgotten. Then she made small talk awhile, mostly asking questions about George.
“So he's friendly then?” she asked with a flirty smile.
“Very.”
She leaned across Tim and rubbed George's side lightly. When she pulled her hand back, she let it rest on Tim's upper thigh. He looked down at her hand, then up at her eyes. He could see the rest of his evening unfolding in those eyes and knew it was all there for the taking.
He felt hypnotized. His defenses had been worn down to the point where he could no longer resist temptation. It had just been getting easier and easier to say yes, especially since it had been so long since he'd had these random hook-ups. Just like falling back into drinking had been effortless, it was easy to fall into this pattern with women, returning to his old vices like they were long-lost friends.
His body seemed disconnected from his mind as he kissed her. He grabbed her shoulders, her skin still hot from being in the sun all day. She used both of her hands to push the hair off of his face and then pulled him closer, kissing him more insistently. His hands slid down her back, so much hot skin, it was even more intoxicating that beer or whiskey.
Tim broke off the kiss and stood up, a little unsteady on his feet. The girl stood up too.
“You want to go for a walk or a swim or something?” she said in a throaty voice.
Tim nodded, then looked at George. “I've just got to put the dog in my room real quick.”
“I can go with you,” she offered.
Tim shook his head. The last thing he wanted was a girl in his room. Experience had taught him it was better to be able to leave afterwards, than to have to wait for someone else to leave.
“That's okay. I'll be right back.”
The girl leaned forward and kissed him, one finger tracing the waistband of his shorts in a way that made him shiver.
“Don't leave me waiting too long,” she said.
“I won't.”
Tim headed back to his room in long strides. He loaded George into his crate, turned on the TV to give the dog some company, and then went to the door.
He put his hand on the doorknob and open the door, then closed it. He kept his hand on the doorknob, one part of his mind willing him to open the door again while the other part told him to stay where he was. He knew what would happen if he walked out that door. He'd be taking a bad decision and making it a thousand times worse, which had always been his speciality.
Tim leaned his forehead against the door, pressing it into the rough wood. The weight of what he had done and what he was considering doing crashed down on him. He felt like he might just finally lose it, might completely break down.
He stood at the door until his legs grew tired. Finally, his decision became clear. He couldn't do it. He just couldn't walk out that door. He sighed, let George out of the crate and then sat down on the edge of the bed.
He picked up his phone and turned it over in his hands, preparing himself for the call that he knew he should have made a week ago.
