Blind Date A Book 2020 – Book #30
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Chapter 1
The world is a big place, gigantic actually, but most people don’t realize it. Most people stay close to what’s comfortable and just visit other places once in a while, but they’re never brave enough to make real changes in their lives that expand their world.
I’m never going to be one of those people. I’ve already escaped the small town where I was born and grew up…even though everyone and everything tried to keep me there. I’ve expanded my world to make it bigger than most people, and I’m still stretching it further. I travel when I can, visit every restaurant and bar in town, as well as visit any museum, art gallery, or any other attraction that’s near enough to school that the trip doesn’t risk or hinder my education.
Education is important. Most people would say one of the most important things. Not my father… To him, the farm and farm life was the most important thing. He has never understood me or my brain. I think because thought and knowledge are something invisible, he doesn’t know how to handle them. He’s a man of tangible things. He likes things you can see and touch. He likes things in this world that can be weighed and measured.
I was never one of those things, other than that I was a warm body that had to do his bidding—albeit reluctantly as I grew older—until I was able to escape my father’s farm with my full scholarship. My IQ is off the charts, or so the results of tests tell me. Even through that had been a measure of sorts, my father still didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand why I would want to learn and grow and acquire knowledge when I could have my hands in the dirt…or on the goats he raised. And he seemed to take it personally that I didn’t want to be exactly like him.
I’ll never understand why parents expect their children to be just like them. Just because another human being shares your DNA, it doesn’t mean they’ll be anything like you in anything but appearance. Even then, it’s just a hope. God is the only one who can decide such things, and He made me nothing like my father.
Even my mother doesn’t understand me. She struggled just to make it through high school. But, at least she seemed pleased that I had an expansive intellect. She bought me books and would encourage me even as my father was being hard on me. I don’t know that she did it to encourage my mind… I believe she gave me books because I asked for them and she loved me and wanted me to be happy. So, therefore she gave me the things that made me happy. And no matter our disagreements, I’ll always love her for that.
“Do you want another?” the bartender asked me.
“Uh, yeah,” I answered, looking up from the screen of my cell phone. I pushed the glass across the top of the bar so it would be easier for him to reach as he replaced it with a new, fresh drink. “Thanks.”
I slid the drink closer to me with the help of the fresh napkin he’d placed beneath it, lifted the glass to my lips, took a sip of the bourbon, and set the glass back down without paying much attention. My thoughts were still on my parents. I had four missed calls from my mother, and four voicemails. I’d spent the night at Stella’s place and my phone went dead while I was at school. I’d plugged it in and charged it during my short shift at work. Now I’m scared to listen to the messages. Four calls from my mother was a lot. Usually, she called once a month. If I didn’t answer she would leave a message and I would get back to her when I could. She knew I was busy and would call her back. The fact she’d called so many times in such a short amount of time meant something was up…probably something with Dad.
“You’re looking at that phone like it’s going to blow up in your hand and rip your face off.”
I looked up, startled out of my dread-filled thoughts to see Stella sliding onto the barstool next to me. Her long, wavy auburn hair hung loose over her practically bare shoulders; she favored sundresses during warmer weather.
“Hey, beautiful,” I said, and leaned forward to give her a quick kiss.
She slid her hand up my neck and cupped the back of my head to make sure it wasn’t as quick as I’d intended.
“You coming home with me again tonight?” she asked as we separated.
I grinned. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” she asked, pretending to be hurt. “Didn’t you have a good time last night?”
“You know I did!” I laughed and held up my phone, growing serious. “It depends on what these messages from my mom are about.”
Stella frowned. “Didn’t she already call you this month? I thought she only called once in a while.”
I nodded and picked up my drink, taking a big gulp before putting it back down. “Yeah, we’ve already had our normal chat. That’s why I’m dreading this.”
The bartender came over and stalled our conversation; Stella ordered a drink. We waited silently until he filled her order and headed off to the other end of the bar to attend to another patron.
“The longer you put it off, the worse it’s gonna be,” Stella said, taking a sip of her drink. “Bite the bullet, get it done, so you don’t work yourself up into an anxious mess.”
“Aw, don’t you want to help me relieve my anxiety?” I teased with a lopsided grin.
She fought it, but a giggle slipped out. She bit her bottom lip and looked me in the eyes, her blue ones dancing with mirth.
I knew she was thinking about last night. We were electric in bed and we were both addicted to each other. We’d been hot and heavy for a couple months. I didn’t know if we were getting serious… She wasn’t showing any signs other than just wanting to have fun, and I knew I wasn’t ready to settle down yet. There was so much of life I still wanted to live. There were still parts of the big world I wanted to see and explore. Granted, we could do it together if we got serious, but we hadn’t known each other long enough for me to know if she was someone I wanted to do everything with. I wasn’t sure there would ever be one woman I wanted to do everything with.
“I wouldn’t mind being your sexual therapist,” she said with a smirk, putting her hand on my knee, “but I doubt you could keep me entertained long enough for a full session if you’re mind’s somewhere else.” She winked, removed her hand, and sipped her drink again.
I snickered, taking a long drink, nearly draining my glass.
“Go to the bathroom, or outside, and listen to the damn messages,” she said, growing serious and leaning over to nudge me with her shoulder. “I’ll be right here after, for whatever.”
I sighed. I had to admit it felt good to know someone would be waiting to share my burden no matter what it was. If there was a burden. I was really starting to stress myself, thinking the calls and messages may be about something sinister and not benign. Maybe Mom was excited about something and wanted to share it with me. Maybe it was good news. I wouldn’t know until I listened to the messages and found out.
I held up my phone, nodded to Stella, stood, and headed for the door of the bar that led out to the sidewalk.
People were coming and going, laughing, talking loudly, and joking. But, even with all the noise around me, I felt like I was in a bubble of solitude.
My hands shook as I dialed my voicemail and punched in my passcode.
I held my phone up to my ear and knew the instant I heard my mom say my name at the beginning of the first message that something was very, very wrong. She was crying so hard I had to close my eyes and plug my other ear with my finger to even halfway make out what she was saying. And it wasn’t until the end of the last message that I got what exactly was going on.
Dad was dead.
She wanted me to come home and help her deal with the funeral, the farm, and everything else.
I deleted the messages and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. My eyes were burning, my throat felt like it was closing off, and my stomach felt like a heavy weight had settled into it, while, at the same time, a giant bat was trying to escape from inside me with frantically flapping wings. I bent over with my hands on my knees, my phone dangling from the fingers of one hand. I closed my eyes and alternated between taking short, quick breaths, and long deep ones until I figured out what made me feel better and settled into that rhythm.
Someone bumped into me from behind, almost knocking me over.
“Damn. Sorry, man, didn’t see you there,” some drunk guy said as he reached out to help keep me on my feet.
I clutched his arms, dropping my phone.
I mumbled something, but if I’d been asked what I’d said with the threat of death hanging over my head I wouldn’t have been able to tell you what it was.
“Oh, shit, sorry,” the guy said again, picking up my cell phone and handing it to me.
I reached out and took it from him, muttering it was okay, vaguely noticing my phone was undamaged from the exchange.
One of his companions said something to him—a young woman.
He said something to her then turned back to me.
“I’m really sorry,” he said. “Are you gonna be okay?”
I nodded. “I’m fine.” I waved him away and turned toward the door and forced myself to put one foot in front of the other to go back to Stella. I had to tell her what had happened, what was going on…if I could.
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