19. Reed

19

REED

“LET YOU DOWN” – ZACH brYAN

T he next morning—just a few hours later—I stir in our hotel room. It seems I passed out on the couch. Luna’s black hair is draped over my chest, and my arm is wrapped around her. My heart starts to pound furiously, and all I can think about is Samantha.

When she and I were seniors in college, I was attending DePauw, and she was at Purdue. One day she drove to see me on a Tuesday, which was random, and confessed to me that she’d kissed someone the night before. “ A peck ,” she’d said.

“ Okay ,” I’d answered. “ Were there feelings involved ?”

“ No ,” she’d said. “ I was drunk .”

I forgave her, we’d moved on, and neither of us had mentioned the incident again.

The way I see it, either you forgive someone fully or you don’t, and I didn’t intend to hold that against her. After all, she’d confessed.

But as Luna sleeps softly on top of me, I wonder about that incident. Was it really just a peck Samantha had that night? Or maybe I’m just projecting. Because what I did with Luna last night was definitely not just a peck.

The guilt sets in, and my mind wanders to self-loathing. My inner voice tells me how badly I’ve fucked up. Whether it was the drugs, the booze, or the general high coming off yesterday’s unreal performances, that’s no excuse.

Luna makes a noise and flutters her eyes open.

“Hey,” she mutters.

“Hey.”

She sits up, rubs her eyes, and we make eye contact.

“Oh my God,” she says. “I didn’t mean to?—”

“You didn’t do anything,” I tell her.

“I didn’t tell you no.” She looks away. “I need a hot shower before we hit the road.” She gets up. “I can’t believe I’m still wearing yesterday’s clothes.

She disappears into the bathroom, and I use that as my cue to shake Dunn awake. I find him in the bedroom. “Dunn, you ready to leave?”

“Sleep, man. I did, like, ten shots of whiskey with Randy last night.”

“I think we’re ready to go.”

He sits up, scratches his face, and blinks himself awake. “When did you guys get back?”

“Late last night.”

“Why are you all wet?”

“Stormed on our walk home.”

“Oh. Wild. All right. Let’s roll, then.”

Luna takes the backseat in the Firebird for the ride this time, which is much quieter than the drive here.

Dunn cranks Zach Bryan, and I’m staring at Samantha’s text from this morning, which I have yet to respond to.

Samantha: How was the concert, babe? Miss you

“How ya feeling?” Dunn asks. “Any hangover? That was crazy that we tripped on LSD. Whooo. Haven’t done that since prisoner-of-war training.”

“Yeah, I don’t feel so good,” I admit. “I feel like complete shit.”

“Shouldn’t have had those extra beers to end the night,” he says.

“Yeah, could be the beers.”

Or it could be the fact that I feel like I’ve taken a hatchet to my own heart, and I’m bleeding out. I bought a ring for one girl last week, then kissed another. It’s three more hours to Chicago, and the end to this drive can’t come soon enough. I want to jump out of the car and throw myself in front of one of the oncoming semi-trucks.

As we’re driving through some nondescript countryside in Indiana, the Zach Bryan mix changes to a song called “Let You Down.”

I listen to the lyrics of the whole song, and I utterly get it—I mean, I get the Zach Bryan hype. Sure, he might be known for his bangers, but the man is a lyrical genius. The lyrics of this song are like poetry. Currently, it’s like he’s packaged up my mental state and thrown it in a country song.

As the song ends, nerves crop up in my throat, like I’m going to puke.

Nope. This isn’t nerves.

This is actual puke.

“Dunn.” I slam my hand on the dashboard. “Pull over.”

“Bro, we’re only three hours out. We just stopped for gas. You have to pee again? Just hold it.”

“Nah, it’s not pee.”

Finally recognizing the seriousness of my tone, he pulls over to the shoulder. I run out and puke my guts into the ditch next to some midwestern forest, and now I’ve got grass and trees to apologize to as well.

“Hey…” I hear Luna’s soft voice behind me. “I’m really sorry about last night. That was my fault. I should have never?—”

“It’s not your fault,” I say, wiping my mouth. “It’s not your fault.”

I straighten to look at her, and she nods gently.

I pull a breath in and blow it out. “I’m feeling a little better now. Let’s go.”

When we get back to the city, Luna gives us an address, and eventually we pull up in front of a big van parked on someone’s property on the north side.

“This is where you live,” I say as we open the trunk to get Luna’s stuff. It’s more of a statement than a question.

“For now. I might be moving somewhere else soon. We’ll see,” she says.

“Let me carry this to your house—I mean, your van—for you,” I say.

We walk over, and she unlocks and opens the door. I heave her bag onto the passenger seat. “Well, I guess this is goodbye.”

“Guess so. It was a fun weekend.”

I nod, not sure what else to say.

Luna turns, and I think I hear her sniffle, but I’m not sure.

I walk back to the car, and Dunn looks over at me once we’ve pulled away.

“Okay. What the fuck happened last night, Walker?” he asks.

“I made out with Luna.”

“I knew there was something going on there.”

“Yeah. There was.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“Mostly I feel like shit for cheating on Samantha.”

“So what are you gonna do?”

“My mind’s a mess, man. I have the ring at home. My whole life is planned around Samantha. Around us. This is a major fuck up.” I swallow. “I ruined my life.” I pound the dashboard. “Fuck, man!”

“Well, you have two options,” Dunn says calmly as he turns onto the highway. “You’ve either got some self-loathing to do, or a stand to take. The second option involves you telling Samantha and living with the consequences.”

“What do you think I should do?”

“That’s your decision, my friend.”

Typical, fatherly Charlie Dunn advice.

Ten minutes later, we pull up in front of my apartment.

“Well, man, it’s been one for the books,” I say.

“Definitely for the books. Thanks for coming. Sorry if I fucked up your life by bringing that girl along,” Dunn says with nonchalant, black humor only he can pull off.

“I had a good time, man.”

“You played with the fucking Red Lemons , bro! That was epic.”

We hug, say goodbye, and I head up the stairs to my place.

When I open the door, Mason is inside, sitting at his computer playing video games and watching baseball on the living room TV.

“Yo yo,” he says. “Good weekend?”

I set my guitar and things down and collapse on the couch. “Eh. It was good until I made out with this girl,” I confess.

“No shit?! Damn, Walker. I didn’t think you had that in you.”

“Me neither.”

“Hottie?”

“Not that it matters, but yes.”

“Picture?”

I chuckle. “Funny enough, we didn’t take a single photo all weekend. It’s a little remarkable, actually.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I texted Samantha and said I’d call her tonight.”

“Who cares, man? It’s no big deal.”

“Not a big deal? Come on, man.”

“Nah.” Mason waves a dismissive hand. “Just pretend it never happened. Problem solved.”

“Is that what you do?”

“I don’t really think too hard about things.”

I sigh. I’m jealous of Mason in a way. He’s able to be so easygoing about everything. On the other hand, I don’t really see how that’s possible. “How many of these girls you date think you’re exclusive?” I ask, irritated.

“I don’t know…” He laughs. “All of them?”

“Don’t you ever feel bad about that?”

“Dude, who cares? Their fault for not figuring it out.”

“Well, it’s tough to figure out when you lie to them.”

“Man, stop taking everything so seriously. You need to chill. You left the butter out before you left, by the way.”

“Man, fuck you,” I say with a laugh.

“Butter goes in the fridge. We’re not ten years old.”

I get up from the couch and take my guitar to my room. I look at the ring for Sam on my dresser, the photo of us. Grabbing my shoes and changing into jogging clothes, I lace up for a run to the lake.

It’s a gorgeous, smoldering, sunny afternoon, and the lakeshore path is packed with bikers, joggers, walkers, dogs, and a couple of pot smokers. I pass Castaways and the big boat, where this whole adventure began last Thursday night.

Dunn’s words ring in my ear. “You’ve either got some self-loathing to do, or a stand to take.”

And then Mason’s advice comes, more like a devil my ear. “Who cares? Just pretend it never happened.”

I increase my jogging to a pace faster than normal.

Fuck me . You’re such a goddamn idiot , a voice reminds me.

And then I think about Sam’s kiss in college. We’re all human.

Luna and I were not just a random, drunken make-out, though. If I’m being honest, I enjoyed the hell out of our time together. I didn’t want the night with her to end. Regret is not what I’m feeling.

The girl with no name cast a spell on me, and I enjoyed it.

I laugh, wondering how on earth we went a full weekend together and I still don’t know her name, yet I felt so much with her.

Faster.

My telltale heart pounds heavily in my chest as my shoes pound the pavement.

Maybe this is good. This is a wake-up call. I don’t think I was being totally honest with myself about how much of a rough patch Sam and I have been going through. Her “not in the mood” turndowns over the past month have been adding up. The sparseness of her texts is nipping at me.

Still, that’s no excuse.

Sam and I have history. We know each other so well. She’s the bubbly sorority girl; I’m the do-gooder frat boy college athlete turned Peace Corps volunteer. She knew me in my youth. She saw me set a track record in college for the 400m dash.

Who am I, if I’m not with her? She’s such a central part of my identity, and future. The beauty of a long-term relationship is the way you hold a younger version of one another in your shared memory. And I’m just going to throw that away?

Faster.

My breath increases. I invite the pain in. It feels strangely good to hurt. I’m a disgrace. I deserve to feel bad.

I pass a cute couple running together, in visors and matching gear, just like Sam and I used to do—still do when we’re physically together.

I run all the way to Ohio Street Beach, then turn in to Milton L. Olive Park, the boardwalk on the lake that parallels Navy Pier. As I pass some park benches, I flash back to Dunn and Wendy’s wedding last summer. The wedding party came out here for photos. I sprint to the end of the pier, pushing myself to the point where I can’t breathe anymore.

You’ll never be like that happy couple.

A rush of emotion surges through me. Sadness, nostalgia, the possibilities of the future. Despite any disconnect Sam and I are going through right now, we’ve planned a life together. That means something to me.

When I get back to my place, Mason is sitting at his desk in the same position I left him, playing video games. “Yo yo. How was the run?”

“Felt good.”

“So what are you gonna do?”

I pull out my phone and check for flights. “There’s a flight to San Francisco at seven p.m. out of O’Hare.”

“Oh, nice.”

“Can you drive me?”

Mason sighs. “I don’t know. I have a big night planned here.”

“Bro, how long have you been playing video games today? Ten hours already?”

“All right, all right. I guess I can pull myself away.”