A Lover's Lament

My breathing is ragged and my heart is racing at a pace that seems inhuman. My fingers grip the letter tightly as if the longer and tighter I hold it, the kinder the words will become. Her letter absolutely gutted me, but I shouldn’t be surprised. Maybe leaving her without a word was a dick move, but she had no idea what I saw … the way she looked at Wyatt, the way she turned to him with her problems. I would never be able to compete with the likes of him. I could feel it in my bones, even before talking to her dad, that Wyatt would be her knight in shining armor. Sure, at the time I didn’t want to believe it, but I could feel it.

Katie may have loved me then—fuck, I know she did—but I had every reason to believe that my love for her wouldn’t be enough.

Without permission, my mind drifts to the last night I saw Katie. The night I promised her we’d find a way to make it work. The night I ultimately walked away, shredding both her heart and mine in the process.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” She giggles when I cup the back of her neck and bring her mouth to mine. Reluctantly, I let go, and with a smirk, she walks away, only looking back once to give me a little wave. My eyes stay fixed on her until I know she’s safe inside the house.

Katie lives out in the country, and it’s much darker out here than in town. So dark, in fact, that a light tap against my passenger-side window causes me to instantly go into panic mode. Spinning around, I pin myself against the driver’s side door. Mr. Devora’s enormous frame comes into view, but even after I realize it’s Katie’s dad and not some masked murderer, it still takes several moments to collect myself.

He throws a hand up in apology and then motions for me to get out of my car. My eyes dart to the door Katie just walked in and then back to Mr. Devora before I finally do as I’m asked and climb out. He walks around the car and puts a hand on my shoulder; I feel like if he applied any pressure at all it would rip my arm right off. The strength he’s acquired from working on a farm has never been more apparent than now as my teenage arm disappears under the grip of his hand. He flashes a bright white smile beneath a thick brown mustache that even Tom Selleck would be proud of.

“Sorry, buddy, did I scare you?” His voice comes off much softer than you’d expect from such an intimidating figure. He always has a way of instantly making me feel comfortable, though a quick change in facial expressions and I’d be back to cowering like I’m fourteen again.

Mr. Devora and I have always had a pretty good relationship. He knows how I feel about Katie, and for years I’ve helped them both around the farm. He also knows about my home life and has often made a point to act as father figure toward me. I’ve always appreciated him for that.

“No, it’s okay, I just didn’t see you. It’s dark out here in the country.” I try my best to not sound like a child, but I can’t help but think I do anyway. I guess that’s just a repercussion of knowing him since I was a toothless little boy. He’ll always be Katie’s scary dad to me.

“I just wanted to talk with you real quick. Do you have a few minutes?” My mind runs through all the things he could want to talk to me about, and I come to the same conclusion each time—he knows I just had sex with his daughter!

Chills rack my body when I remember just how man

y guns this man owns, and for a split second I considering jumping in my car and taking off because I’m sure that this will be the end of me. I’m going to die at the hands of Katie’s dad, and he’s gonna bury me in some secluded spot on his property, never to be heard from again. Well, fuck, it was a fun ride, I guess.

“Yeah.” My voice squeaks and I swallow hard, hoping he didn’t hear it. “That’d be fine, Mr. Devora. What’s going on?”

“Head over to the fire pit, and I’ll go grab a couple of Buds.” I clear my throat and can only manage to nod my head as I make my way to the side of the house where the fire pit sits, four chairs surrounding it, with only a few embers still smoldering. He makes his way inside and I grab a seat, my entire life running through my head. I wonder how long it’ll take my mom to notice I’m gone … and how long it’ll take her to sell all of my shit.

The back door slams shut and the soft glow of the fire casts a massive shadow as Mr. Devora approaches. In my head, I’m saying as many Hail Marys as I can, but I’m messing up half the words. I’m thinking right about now that this is going to get me a first-class flight to hell. Leave it to me to try and find religion just seconds before my life ceases to be.

I see his hand lift amongst the shadows and I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the bullet to pierce my skin and leave me bleeding to death in the dirt. “Well, you gonna take it, or you gonna make me drink ‘em both?”

His voice with its slight drawl forces my eyes open, and I see he’s holding a Bud Light out for me to take. I immediately relax and accept it from him. Popping the top off, I toss it back, hoping the alcohol will calm my nerves. I down about half the bottle before noticing him looking at me as if to say, ‘you better slow it down, boy.’ I’ve always loved that Katie’s dad would give me beers from time to time, and I have his old-school cowboy ways to thank for that. But he’s never been a fan of my tendency to drink them entirely too fast. Little does he know, it’s my fear of him that makes me guzzle it in the first place.

Mr. Devora pulls out a chair, plops down next to me and takes a swig of beer. “You’ve known my princess for a long time now, and you guys have gotten pretty close,” he says, matter of fact.

“Yes sir, we have.” I’m instantly taken back to just a few hours earlier when I was buried deep inside his princess, and as wonderful as it was, I’m coming to terms with the fact that I may have been jeopardizing my mortality by doing so. This man could crush me with his bare hands, and I’m just waiting for it to happen. Well, at least I’ll have had one last beer before I go.

I take another long swig and place the bottle between my thighs. “Is that what you needed to talk to me about, sir?”

“Well, kind of. I also wanted to talk to you about your future. Where you’re headed. Your plans after school.” He waits for a moment as if trying to find the right words and an acceptable way to present them to me. “I know all about your home life, Devin, and what I haven’t learned from Katie, I hear from Brenda. She and your mom used to be very good friends. Do you remember that?”

I nod my head. “Yes, I remember. Not a whole lot, but I remember our families hanging out when I was little … before everything happened.” I drop my eyes to the ground and start fumbling with the pocket of my jeans. It’s not a part of my life I’m particularly proud of.

“That’s right. Your father and I used to be pretty good friends too. After he took off, I looked after your mom the best I could. Brenda and I both did. We would stop over all the time with meals and stuff for you. Do you remember that?”

“Yes, I do.” Come on, how could I forget Brenda’s pot roast?

“You were a good kid. Incredibly resilient considering everything you went through.” The fact that he used past tense to describe me as ‘a good kid’ further convinces me that tonight will end differently than I had originally planned. “After a few months of that, when things got really bad, your mom got very angry with us. She told us to never come back. We’ve always wanted to continue helping, but we also wanted to respect her wishes.” I nod, unsure of what to say. I’m not certain where he’s going with this at all, unless he’s just allowing me to reflect on my life before he takes it. But what I do know is that I don’t need him to remind me of the choices my mom has made.

I think back to that night, seven years ago, when Mom, all messed up on Percocet and cocaine, completely lost it on the Devoras. She destroyed half of the breakables in our house as they stood shocked in the doorway with freshly made lasagna in one hand and a new book bag for me in the other. She screamed about them taking pity on her… saying that they were trying to prove they were better parents than she was. They reluctantly left me there with her as she continued destroying the rest of the house and subsequently went on a two-week bender. When she came out of it, she ordered me never to see the Devoras again. Seeing as I am head over heels in love with their daughter and always have been, that was never an option. I got pretty good at sneaking around, and my mom was usually too fucked up to know what was happening anyway.

“So, do you know what I’m trying to say?” Mr. Devora’s words tear into my thoughts, and I realize I’ve missed the last part of what he said.

“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t really.” My words are barely audible and I avoid making eye contact with him.

“What I’m saying is, I understand your situation isn’t ideal. Shit, to be perfectly honest, it sucks. You weren’t dealt the best hand in life, but I just want to make sure you never let that dictate your future. It’s easy to fall into a familiar cycle.” I cock my head and do my best to interpret his last words. In my understanding, he just said ‘don’t be a fuck-up like your mom.’ I try my absolute hardest to keep my face from showing how offended I really am, especially coming from him. “There are a lot of good schools in the area and a lot of good programs. Have you thought much about what you’d like to do next?” he asks.