Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 107673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
But that wasn’t the phone that dinged. It was my other one. The one that connected me to Dash. When I opened it, I saw a series of texts from him. Man, he was a dog with a bone, never giving up after all these years.
I started from the bottom and read up.
“I wish you’d text me back. Let me know you see my messages.”
“You had to have graduated this year. I celebrated for you.”
“I’m having a weak moment. I’m lonely. Am I waiting for you by myself?”
“I’ve never been with anyone but you, but it’s getting harder.”
Jealousy struck hard and fast, momentarily blinding me. He better not be with anyone else with all the waiting he said he was doing. After a moment of fire building up from my soul, I continued to open his messages.
“Please let me know if you see this.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve had a little bit to drink. My roommate goes at life hard. People are in my house all the time. It’s tough to stay detached.”
“I’m still waiting. No pressure.”
As I stared at the phone, an overwhelming need had me slowly creating a text back. He had to move on and let me go. What we shared wasn’t real. Only the lovestruck feelings of two adolescent boys. After all these years, and everything I’d been through, I didn’t know who I was anymore.
“I get your messages. It’s helped me knowing you’re there but now you need to hear me. Move on with your life. I’m not the person you knew. No one likes me anymore. I don’t like myself. Go on without me.”
I pressed send, mainly due to the frustration of having to use the number keys to slowly create the message.
As I sat there, pondering the emptiness inside me that kept me from feeling much of anything, a small spark of love ignited in the tiniest of flames. Another message appeared as if Dash felt it with me too. “I needed your message. You’re wrong. Take your time. I’ll always want you. I’m waiting. It can’t be much longer.”
I marveled at his unwavering devotion with me being just as determined to stay away from him. I’d ruin his life and ruin the happy memories I still clung to.
“I’m gonna go work out.” I dropped the book and phone to my mattress as I rolled from my bed.
At the door, my roommate’s newest girlfriend was standing there, hand poised to knock. “Omigod, you’re huge. How tall are you?”
I didn’t answer. Instead I twisted to let her in as I stepped out.
“Nah, I’m good. I’ll catch you next time,” Brock called out as the door closed behind me.
See? I’d been rude. I’d lost myself with no chance of learning to live properly again.
July 4, 2005
Sea Spring, Texas
“Dude, come on,” Chandler’s voice echoed from somewhere inside our hotel suite.
Sitting on the bed’s edge, I took a moment to get my anniversary text out of the way.
“It was your idea to take a charter out. Everybody’s waiting for us,” Chandler said closer to the door. “Apparently the fish guys don’t like to be late on the water.”
“Go. I’ll catch up with you,” I mumbled and began to type. “Happy anniversary. This is year five. I love you. I’m waiting.”
Short, sweet, and to my point. I tapped the send button. I was going fishing for my birthday. A burst of laughter slipped free as I opened the door to an antsy Chandler. He’d probably die where he stood if he had any idea this was Beau’s thing.
“Why’re you laughing?” he asked defensively and glanced down at my fishing attire.
“Get going,” I said, nodding him toward the door. “We’re late, remember?” I squeezed past him and started out of the suite. We had a birthday to celebrate and fish to catch.
January 2006
Mobile, Alabama
The pace of the procession from the burial site to the reception area slowed as my mom’s high-heeled shoes sank in the damp grass with each step she took. We lagged behind the crowd of mourners who’d gathered to bid their final goodbyes. There had to be a thousand people in attendance today.
In the midst of them were both the young and older men who had learned to play football under my father’s tutelage. They ambled past us, quietly offering their sincere condolences at my shitty old man’s untimely passing.
I’d offer the appropriate nod of appreciation or acceptance, not that I meant either. But it was the only gesture I felt comfortable enough to give since I’d spent some part of everyday begging the universe to end the old bastard’s life as brutally as possible. Seemed my requests were heard.
Fortunately, no one else was injured when my father blew through a red light, clipping the back end of a supersized Dodge pickup truck. My father had no chance, driving at full speed in his beater SUV. He was propelled airborne, flipping over and again, out of control, until a closed Starbucks got in his way.