Chapter 40: When the Party's Over

March

I've been thinking a lot about the way I hurt Peyton by not being honest with her. Not only about Bree, but from the very beginning. She never knew how I felt about her. And if I felt so much for her that it literally drove me to drink, I probably should have told her so.

Not for her sake, but for mine.

I was a coward.

I acted like a child who can't express what he wants and throws a tantrum when he doesn't get it.

But I'm also thinking a lot about Bree and how I haven't been honest with her either—about my lack of feelings for her, about how I was falling in love with someone else.

How I probably still am.

It seems to me, I'm no good for either one of them.

But I need to stick by Bree. I don't think it's an accident that I remembered that conversation with my Ma when she said that a real man takes care of his own, that he sets aside childish ways and thinks about the welfare of his family first. A man's job is to care for his children. Protect them. To be strong when things get tough. Not to let his own selfishness threaten his family.

I will never abandon my child the way my father abandoned me. The way he abandoned Joe. And I couldn't protect Joe then, but I can protect my child now.

So I'm here at Bree's to tell her goodbye before I head down to the Rio Grande with Jesse. I want her to know that I'm here for her, but that I also need her to care about what's important to me, and that's the welfare of our unborn baby. I have to tell her my plans for the future.

I'm really not looking forward to it.

She opens the door before I get a chance to knock.

She smiles and gestures for me to come in. She's in an oversized T-shirt and tiny shorts, showing off her legs, long and lean despite her growing middle. She tilts her head. "So, you still going to the border?"

"Yep, we leave first thing in the morning," I say as I walk past her into the family room. When I sit on the couch, she comes and snuggles up next to me.

"You've been busy," I say, nodding at her stack of books—CLEP and AP exam workbooks, What to Expect When You're Expecting, a book about Emily Dickinson, and her pink journal.

My fingers itch to pick it up the journal and read what she's been writing, possibly about me.

"Yeah," she says. "It's so hard to focus with pregnancy brain, but I really want to pass these exams so I can graduate with our class."

"Don't you have to take the GED?"

"I was going to do that, but my counselor recommended I finish my high school credits through reverse transfer of CLEP and AP exams. Since I only need English and Econ for my high school degree, that seemed like the best option."

"How is that possible?"

"Because I've been in advanced classes since eighth grade. I finished all the required math and science last year."

"Damn, Einstein." I smile and shake my head.  

"I really don't feel like a genius right now, but I'll take it." She puts her head on my shoulder.

It's so weird with her. One minute she resents me, and the next minute she's all lovey-dovey. It's a little like being on a rollercoaster.

She puts her hand on my thigh and trails her fingers along my quad muscle. I clear my throat and shift a little.

She looks up at me. "Why are you going again?"

"Just gonna ride with Jesse. Keep him company. And...uh...learn the ropes."

"What ropes?"

"You know, the buying and selling of cattle. Horses. It's time I started to take a bigger part in running the ranch."

She gazes out the window. "I thought you were going to college," she says.

"I was. But I'm not now. I'm gonna stay here, with you and the baby."

"We could come with you. I could help with your classes. You could major in finance or something like that."

Is she delusional?

I take a deep breath. She's not going to like what I have to say. "I'm thinking of my current finances. Food and rent for a family of three costs money. I need to work, and this seemed like the best option, given our circumstances."

She sighs. "I feel bad," she says.

"Why?"

"Because if it weren't for this baby, you'd be going to college."

"And so would you. There's nothing to feel bad about." 

She nods her head. "So, we're going to live on the ranch?"

"Would that be okay with you?"

"I guess. For a while, anyway. But...I'd like to get my degree eventually. When the baby's older."

"You should. Can't let that Einstein brain go to waste."

She smiles up at me and kisses me on the lips. Then I just about have a panic attack because she throws one of her legs over me and straddles my lap.

Jesus. Where'd this come from?

Her hands grasp the back of my head, and she starts kissing me. I don't know where she thinks this is going, but I want off the train.

I clear my throat and pull my head away from her so I can see her face. She looks down at me, studies my expression. 

"Did you talk to your Gram yet?" I ask her.

She groans.

"Bree, you told me you would."

"I will, okay!" she shouts. 

I put my hands up in surrender.

Then she says more softly, "I will, Chap. I promise," and gets up and walks into the kitchenette. She returns with two bottles of water, handing me one.

"You wanna watch a movie or something?" She asks.

"I'd better get going. Still gotta pack, and we leave before sunup."

She looks down at her feet and nods. I feel like a complete asshole, but I can't stay and risk being around Frisky Friskerson over there.

She walks over to her journal and carefully tears a page out along the perforations. Then she folds it three times and hands it to me.

"What's this?" I ask.

"I wrote it for you. Don't open it yet!"

I nod. "Okay, I won't."

"Open it later, like when you're on the road or something."

"Alright."

"You promise you won't read it until you're gone?"

"I promise."

*****

It's still dark when I throw my duffel in the cab and climb in next to Jesse. He's got a big Ford F250, crew cab with a Cimarron attached. The trailer is one of those new thingamajigs with room for horses and people. It's like a tiny horse-house on wheels and our home for the next week or so.

As we drive through the darkness, I close my eyes and doze, the hum of the motor and the soft voice of Willie Nelson singing, "Poncho and Lefty" lulling me to sleep. 

When I wake up, we're out in the open, past the trees, and closer to the coast. Jesse's eyes are trained on the road. He's a pretty quiet guy. Not much chatter with him like there is with Joe. Joe's the real talker, mostly bullshit, but he can be pretty funny sometimes.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty," Jesse says when I stir. "I'm about to pull over for some gas if you need anything."

"Where are we?"

"South of Houston. Glad we got through there before rush hour. This trailer ain't built for city driving."

The sun is just coming up over the horizon, igniting the sky in gold and pink. I glance around the cab looking for my wallet. I need coffee, a big one. My eyes come to stop when they get to a book lying face down on his center console. I turn it over.

All the Pretty Horses.

"Where's you get this book?" I ask him.

"Oh, thought it was yours. I found it under my couch when I was looking for my lead rope."

I nod. Must be Peyton's.

"When did you start reading books, Jack?" Jesse asks grinning.

"It belongs to a friend. She must have left it there on accident."

"Ah. That makes more sense."

When I find my wallet, I try to shove it in my back pocket, but something blocks the way. I pull out the folded paper Bree gave me.

Well, technically I'm on the road.

I open it and start reading.

Home to Be

My fingers on the keys

Stir something in me

Something like peace

The same way he feels

Up in the old oak tree

That place where he was free

Like Monarch butterflies

Returning home to be

By way of wind and sea

This is what I mean. It's like she's four different people—the soul of an artist, the mind of a scholar, the heart of a child who's known abuse, and the attitude of an entitled cheerleader.

And I never know which one I'm going to get.

I sigh. So this poem is about me—the one who feels safe in the oak tree. And she's the one at peace playing the piano. It seems like she's trying to tell me something about solace. Or security.

But there's not anything about love, thank God. I'd feel real bad if she's over there pining for me, and all I keep thinking is I'm trapped.

"Whatcha reading?" Jesse asks.

I fold the paper back up and shove it in my wallet. "Nothing."

Then I pick up All the Pretty Horses and start reading.

*****

We arrive at the fairgrounds a little after lunch time. Jesse parks the rig in a free space. Then he texts Joe to let him know we've arrived.

I hop down from the truck and help Jesse get the horses out of the trailer. Jesse rides a buttermilk buckskin quarter horse named Ash. Ma lent me Redbo for the trip. They're both pretty laid-back, not at all skittish, and always ready to work.

Someone whistles to get our attention. I look up and see Joe smiling at us.

"Well, well, well, if it ain't the bridegroom and his sidekick, Mr. Responsible."

I glance over at Jesse who just smiles. Joe runs up and gives him a big hug. Then he turns to me. "Well, chief. I hear you're gettin' hitched."

I nod. "Hey, Joe."

He hugs me tight. Then he steps back and looks the both of us up and down. "Welp, since you're gonna be married soon, we best party while we can. Cuz once you attach that old ball and chain," he says, smiling, "that's when the party's over."