Chapter Three - No Harm in Making a Friend
Three hours.
It'd been three hours since Phillip left for work this morning. Three hours since I'd peeled myself out of bed and began brewing a pot of coffee. Three hours I'd sat on the couch going over my very limited notes and observations from the day before. Three hours since I'd gotten nowhere. Three hours I couldn't stop thinking about the note. Three hours I couldn't stop thinking about the little warm cabin in the North Georgia Hills. Three hours I couldn't stop thinking about him.
I didn't know what was wrong with me, what had come over me, and why I was even thinking about it all. I felt wrong for still having the note in my bag, for thinking about it; hell, I felt horrible for even wanting to think about it. I was married. End of story.
It didn't matter whether or not Daryl had been one of the nicest men I'd met in a long time, and it didn't matter whether or not the outlines of his captivating and highly stimulating triceps lingered in the back of my mind like an infectious plague I couldn't seem to divest from. All of it, every single bit of it was unacceptable.
Yet, there I was. Sitting in that same place for three hours, staring down at the sloppy handwritten notes and never once actually reading them. I would stare at them and I could feel my eyes scanning the lines, but once I reached the end of the page I had absolutely no idea what it was I read. I can't even remember how many times I tried with no luck. It was nearly impossible, and I was becoming more and more irritated with myself by the minute. I had to do something to distract myself; to rid these horrible, horrible thoughts from my mind.
I tossed the notebook to the side of the couch and grabbed the newspaper sitting on the coffee table in front of me. Maybe there would be something I could read, something interesting, something that could occupy my mind.
As I flipped through the pages, completely uninterested with the usual headlines, my heart almost stopped when I caught sight of a horrible picture of myself, there, right on page four.
'Hopeful Governors' Wife Returns Home with Injured Foot'
Seriously? This was less than twelve hours ago, and I was already in the paper?!
Ugh, the anger and humiliation spread through me like wildfire. A news reporter went so far as to hide outside my building in the middle of the night to capture a picture of me and have it posted in the local newspaper the very next morning?
This was getting out of hand.
I wanted nothing more than to find Mr. James B. Andrew, the photographers' name printed on the bottom of the photo, and ring his damn neck!
There I was, limping and caught mid-waddle, with tired eyes, messy hair and expression on my face that only a mother could love.
I slammed the newspaper down on coffee table in front of me. Now I was pissed. If there was anything I wanted to think about now, it was now that secluded little cabin.
God I wished I could just escape it all, and not have to worry that there may be a picture of me picking a wedgie or adjusting my bra strap the next day.
Ugh, it was so frustrating to deal with and it was only becoming worse as the election dragged on.
I loved Phillip, I really did; but sometimes I wished I could just run away from it all. Run away from all the press, all the flashing lights, all the questions. I mean, I couldn't even walk to my apartment in the middle of the night without being photographed. It was becoming ridiculous.
My fingers sought the temples of my forehead, slowly circulating them as if it would really relieve the tension headache that was forming.
As I slowly rolled my neck around, I took in a deep breathed sigh. My head slowly circulated until my eyes settled on my bag, which was leaning up against my injured foot.
I stared at it for a while, as if I could burn a hole right through it. I reached down and pulled it to my lap, opening it and searching until my hand grabbed a hold of the small folded piece of paper.
Pulling it out, I re-read it close to six times. Back and forth, almost permanently making an image of it in my mind.
I slowly grabbed my cellphone and contemplated dialing the numbers. My thumb waved nervously above the screen as it fought with my mind on actually doing it. I wanted to call so bad; but instead, I dropped the phone back onto the couch and quickly crumbled the paper up in my hand.
No. There was no way I was going to call him. I couldn't, and I mentally began scolding myself for even attempting it. What was wrong with me?
I pealed myself off the couch and decided that I needed to jump in the shower and then maybe take a nap or something. I was still tired from getting home late the night before, and maybe I just needed to get some rest. Yep, that was it. I needed sleep, than my mind would go back to normal and I'd stop thinking all these crazy thoughts.
As I made my way through the kitchen and towards the bathroom, I effortlessly kicked open the lid on the garbage pail and dropped the crumbled note into it, without even so much as a second thought.
That's it, problem solved. If it was no longer there, than I wouldn't even have the option to use it anymore.
Following a long hot and relaxing shower, I dressed myself in a clean and comfy pair of sweats and a t-shirt, and collapsed on the bed. I cuddled up under the blankets, making sure to sink myself as far into them as possible, and closed my eyes waiting for nirvana to take over.
It mustn't have taken very long, and I must have been as tired as I felt, because before I knew it, I was waking up to a soft kiss against my forehead.
"Good Mornin' sunshine" Phillips' voice swept into my ear, and I opened my eyes, immediately noticing that there was no longer any sunlight peeking through the window.
"What time is it?" I muttered, pulling myself to a sitting position and allowing a yawn to escape my mouth.
"8:00" he chuckled a bit as he removed his button down shirt and suit pants, eventually slipping into a pair of pajamas, "I picked up some Chinese food, it's in the kitchen. I didn't want to wake you, you looked so peaceful"
"Thanks" I whispered, still trying to comprehend that I'd slept away the entire day.
"I'd stay up with you; but I have a meeting at 6am tomorrow morning, so I really need to get some sleep" he said as he crawled into bed and quickly placed another kiss on my cheek before settling under the blankets.
I felt my stomach growl and suddenly the thought of eating the Chinese food he spoke about, was extremely appealing.
"By the way, nice picture in the paper today" he joked, opening his eyes for a second and giving me a sarcastic smirk.
Ugh. And the one thing I didn't want to be reminded of again was suddenly causing my tension to rise once more.
"Shut up that was a horrible picture" I nudged him playfully; but honestly, I didn't think it was very funny at all. "Ya' know, I been meanin' to mention something to you" I said with a very convincing tone, ready to beg if needed.
"Oh yeah? And what's that?" He mumbled, his eyes closed and his voice very tired.
"I've been thinkin' and I think we should maybe invest in a cabin somewhere up north or down in Senoia or somethin'… like a little getaway from the city that we could go to every other weekend, or whenever we wanted"
I anxiously awaited his response, but he said nothing.
"Hunny, did ya' hear me?" I asked, almost pleading for an answer.
"Yeah, yeah I heard" he mumbled through a yawn, "Can we talk about it some other time? I really need to get some sleep."
I knew he was tired, I did; but he could have at least heard me out real quick. Just gave me some input at least on the thought. I wasn't even sure he'd really known what I said at all. However, I just nodded, planted a gentle kiss on the temple of his head, and quietly escaped the bedroom.
I don't exactly know what I was feeling, but happy definitely wasn't an adjective I woulda' used. But nonetheless, there was nothing I could do.
As I made my way into the kitchen and opened up the container of chicken Lo-Mein, I didn't even bother to put it into a bowl. Instead I just grabbed a fork, pulled up a chair at the counter and ate from the little white folded box.
It was quiet. So quiet I could hear my own thoughts.
There was an overwhelming sadness pouring over me and I couldn't exactly explain why. All I knew was that I wasn't feeling like myself.
I wasn't sure I really had been for quite some time.
It was like the world was just spinning all around me, at lightning speed, and there I was… sitting there, in my high story apartment watching the world fly on by.
I'd given up everything. I'd given up my dreams, my aspirations, my desires, and not once had I complained. Not once had I tried to convince my husband that my dreams were more important than his.
But at that moment, it almost felt as if mine didn't matter at all.
Continuing to think about everything, and aimlessly swirling the noodles around my fork, never actually taking one bite, something inside of me was making me extremely angry. It wasn't even about the fact that I hadn't done much of what I wanted to do, and it wasn't that I had to deal with harassing journalists and reporters on a daily basis.
No it wasn't that at all.
It was the fact that when I finally wanted to say something to my husband, to express my interest in finally doing something that I'd always wanted to do, he just shut me down. Didn't even give me two seconds of his time. Didn't even try to hear me out, even just a little bit.
Did I not deserve five minutes? Did I not deserve just one ounce of the same respect I'd always given to him?
I'd sat around and listened to him rehearse his speeches over and over, reciting the words I had no interest in at all, to the point that I would have liked to shoot myself dead; but yet, I never once brushed him off or told him I didn't want to hear it. I always kept that proud smile on my face, and nodded at him to continue when he would look at me for approval. I never let him feel like I didn't care, I never allowed him to feel as if he wasn't important and I didn't support him. Never.
So why did he think it was okay for him to do it to me?
Suddenly I no longer had the urge to eat anymore. Any feeling of hunger completely vanished and replaced itself with annoyance.
A part of me wanted a cigarette, and a part of me wanted one bad.
I hadn't even so much as picked one up since my senior year of grad school, yet another thing I basically gave up for Phillip.
Not that smoking was something I should have been proud of; but still, he didn't like the smell of it, or the taste it would leave in his mouth when he kissed me, so I quit. Cold turkey. And I never lit one again.
When we first moved to Atlanta, the first couple weeks away from my family were really hard. At one point I snuck down to a nearby gas station and picked up a pack. I brought them back to the apartment, and while Phillip was at work I contemplated having one. Me and that pack of cigarettes, we stared at each other for hours. I never lit one up though. I didn't want to lie to my husband, so I took the pack and I slipped it in between one of the wood panels that formed the living room floor. I figured I'd keep em', just in case. That was years now; but suddenly, the urge was taking over me like a bat out of hell.
My leg began shaking, my tell-tale sign that I was fighting back a craving, and as all the thoughts running through my head angered me even more, my eyes zoomed in and focused on the metal garbage pail in the corner. The same pail I'd thrown the crumpled note into earlier.
My thoughts went into overload.
Maybe making a friend wasn't so bad after all. I mean, really, that's all I would make of it anyway. He'd just be a friend. A friend with a nice quiet cabin in the middle of nowhere that I could escape to every once and a while.
A friend that could show me around the hills and point me in the right direction to get some real good information on my studies. Yeah, that's it, no harm in that right?
My feet sprung up without any sense of regret and immediately I walked over to the metal can, opening it and searching through the pile of garbage until my hand recovered the crumple up note.
I grabbed it with confidence. With a certainty that what I was about to do was in fact harmless. Like there was nothing wrong with my decision at all. Nothing whatsoever.
I placed the note onto the corner, washed my hands, picked it back up along with my cell phone and then very cautiously made my way into the living room, leaning down and pulling out my secret pack of cigarettes from the hidden floorboard without even hesitating.
I swiped the box of matches from the top of the fireplace, and then quietly unlocked the patio door, eventually slipping outside and taking a seat on the wooden bench, that was positioned perfectly in front of the Atlanta skyline.
I sat there for a few minutes, holding the note and my cellphone in my left hand, and slipping out a cigarette from the box with my right hand.
I slid the match against the box until it lit up with a small flame, eventually placing it to the end of the cigarette and taking in that familiar drag I'd longed for.
It felt so good. Almost too good.
After taking in the slick menthol taste, which had a mixture of stale tobacco in it as well, I finally swiped the screen on my cellphone and began dialing the phone number I'd fought so hard not to call.
As I hit the 'send' button and slowly brought the phone to my ear, I took another long drag of my cigarette, hoping it would help feed the nerves that were beginning to rise with every ring.
After a long four or five rings and me thinking that he wasn't even going to answer, finally that memorable voice picked up and I suddenly felt as if I might puke.
"Hello?" he said with a low and growlish sound.
I honestly almost hung up. It was as if I couldn't find my voice all of a sudden, like I had gone mute.
"Hello?" he said again, this time with a slight annoyance.
Finally the words came spitting out of me, "Daryl? It's Beth… Ya' know, the girl that got her foot caught in that trap yesterday"
He didn't respond at first, which didn't sit very well with me.
Great. He obviously didn't want to hear from me at all. Stupid Beth… Stupid, stupid Beth.
"I'm sorry, is it a bad time?" I said, my voice sounding ashamed, as if I should have known better.
"Nah Beth" he finally spoke up, "Not at all… I was jus' surprised you called, thas'all"
Thank god.
I didn't feel as thoughtless anymore; at least he wasn't annoyed by my call.
"Yeah, I-uh, I jus' wanted ta' say thank you… ya' know, for all you did to help me out yesterday" it was the only thing I could think of to say, my stomach was still in knots, and my lips held on to my cigarette like it was keeping me alive.
"S' nothin'" he said simply, "So ya' comin' back out here ta' see me or somethin'?"
My heart froze for a second. Oh god, two seconds into the conversation and he already had the wrong idea.
Suddenly I heard a laugh flood through the phone, "M' jus' messin' with ya Beth, sorry I didn't mean ta' make you uncomfortable"
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, and let a small chuckle escape my mouth, but really it was more of a relief filled laugh.
"I- uh, I jus' actually wanted ta' ask you if you'd be around tomorrow? I was thinkin' about drivin' up there again and tryin' ta get some more observations done of the area, and being that you know your way around and all, I figured maybe you could help me out? Show me the right paths ta' take and stuff?"
"Uh, yeah… I'll be around" he said and I couldn't help but feel a little sense of excitement, for reasons I was unsure of.
"Great" was the only thing I could think of to say, followed by a very awkward silence.
"Uh, aright then… I'll see ya tomorrow?" he asked a little questionably, as if he could feel my awkwardness through the phone somehow.
"Yes, yeah, and uh Daryl? Thanks again"
"Don't mention it" he said and I felt a smile appear on my face. He was so simple, so easy to talk to. "Call me when ya' close Beth, have a goodnight"
"Okay" I answered, my voice going completely soft, "Goodnight"
As I hung up the phone I couldn't help the butterfly feeling swarming through my stomach, as I flicked the butt of my cigarette off the balcony, sure to leave no evidence of it.
It was a short and cut to the chase kind of conversation that's for sure, but still, it was nice. It was natural, like I'd know him for years.
Daryl was going to be a good friend, I kept telling myself.
It wasn't anything more than just that. I just needed a friend that was all.
And with that thought I completely convinced myself that it was true.
God, was I oblivious.
Hey everyone! Thank you all so much for the wonderful response this story has received so far. It is so flattering to know that people are enjoying my work, so really, thank you.
So, this chapter starts to change things up a bit, and as you can see, Beth isn't really being honest with herself about how happy she is in Atlanta, or with her marriage even. Beth's struggling with her inner feelings is going to play a major role in the course of this story, and there will be a great deal of meaning to the feelings she keeps juggling back and forth with.
So, as always, I am curious to know your thoughts, predictions, suggestions, etc. So please leave a note or PM me :) Believe it or not, your encouragement is what keeps me inspired so please continue to express your thoughts!
Also, real quick, if you guys haven't checked out "Georgia Blue" by K. Lynn Perks, you totally need to do so! It is simply amazing and I am totally hooked on it. The writing is awesome, and BONUS, it's a Bethyl Fic! LOL Go check it out, you won't regret it!
So, until next update Xo…