Page 57 of Between Now and Forever

I’m still disorientedby the whirlwind of the last twenty-four hours when I walk into the drugstore in Winsome. I didn’t get to ask her, but I’m sure she’ll want to see me again. I grab a pack of condoms and get in line.

I wish I’d fucked her, even though, part of me is glad I didn’t. The anticipation is exciting—the challenge of it all—the distance, my career that’s about to take off. I like difficult things; I always have. The path less traveled is the one I’m always inclined to take. The last few months of being straight-laced have taken a toll on my nerves.

This thing with Liz is the first impulsive thing I’ve done since my arrest. But this doesn’t have disaster written all over it like my past impulse moves. She’s a nice girl with a brave big heart, and I want to spend the week dicking her down as much as I can. I have to go on this tour and then I’ll be busy with my new record deal, but I can come visit.

When it’s my turn to check out, I’m antsy. My mother’s been calling, and I’ve been ignoring her because I know she’s just being impatient and because I’m sure she’s running late.

“Did you find everything okay?” the elderly gray-haired woman at the register asks cordially. I like how friendly everyone here is. Well, except for Liz’s nutsack of a friend with a douchey name.Duke.How pretentious.

“Yeah, I did, thanks.” I hand her my credit card.

“We don’t take Amex her—” and she looks at me and gives a scream. Her face drains of blood like she’s seen a ghost.

“Oh my God,” she wheezes and clutches her chest. She sags against the counter and continues to stare wide-eyed at me.

I glance over my shoulder to see if anyone else is around. The store is as empty as you’d expect a drug store to be at 7:00 a.m. on a Sunday morning.

I rush around the counter and help her to a seat.

“Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?” I ask. She just stares at me, wild-eyed.

“Did you hear me?”

She makes a visible effort to compose herself and stands up straight.

“You are a spitting image of my brother’s wife…may she burn in hell. You kin to the Martins?” she asks scornfully.

“I’m sorry…no, I’m from New York.”

She purses her lips like she doesn’t believe me. “How old are you?” she demands.

She’s annoying, but the vicious urge to tell her to fuck off feels like an overreaction. She’s kinda old; she’s probably confused.

But she’s looking at me like she’s sure of something.

“Well?” she demands.

“I’m twenty-two.”

She looks up at the ceiling.

Longing clogs my throat. I wasn’t born here, so being related to someone who is from here is impossible.

She blinks like I splashed water in her face and then pulls her arm out of my grasp. “I can’t do the math. And you can’t be behind the register,” she says without a hint of gratitude for my efforts to help her.

“Okay,” I say and walk back to my side of the counter.

When I get there, she shoves my receipt at me and hands me the bag with my purchases.

“Thank you for shopping with us; hope you enjoy your visit.” She hands me my goods and then looks past me and yells, “next.”

There’s no one behind me, and I eye her for a second to see if she’s serious.

“Sir, I need to keep the line moving,” she says curtly.

“Sure. Sorry to hold you up,” I say sarcastically and she just keeps frowning at the imaginary customers behind me.

I pass a man on the way out. He’s standing by the entrance and turns his back when I walk by.

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