“Goddamn it! Knock it off, you assholes!” somebody yelled, and then from that same corner of the bar came the sound of a pump shotgun being racked. The scuffle came to an immediate halt. When Lisa looked up, she saw half a dozen men clustered around Kellen. They were all bloodied and at their feet lay the cowboy, his hat trampled underfoot. Kellen’s hair was mussed and someone had torn his shirt and popped open half the snaps down the front, revealing a solid-looking gut and a giant tattoo on his chest.
The man with the shotgun waded through the crowd.
“Goddamnit. Junior, what’d I tell you? You gonna get yourself banned again.”
“Sorry, Glen. I was just trying to teach him some manners,” Kellen said, snapping his shirt up.
“Manners, my ass. Get outta here before I call the sheriff.”
“Will do.” Kellen pulled a wad of bills from his pocket and tossed a hundred dollar bill on the bar. He glanced at Lisa and said, “You ready to go?”
“I think so.”
She had never witnessed a bar fight, and she walked out on Kellen’s arm unsure whether she had yet. She hadn’t seen anything beyond the first punch, but she felt sure that was permanently imprinted on her brain. Powell in a snapshot: drunk hillbillies beating the crap out of each other.
When they pulled up in front of Lisa’s house, Kellen turned off the engine. Panic engulfed her. She had not in fact invited him to spend the night, but there he was getting off the motorcycle and reaching to help her down.
“I’m fine from here,” she said.
“Coulda fooled me. You couldn’t walk yourself outta the bar. You’re welcome to try, though.”
She leaned on him all the way to the front porch and, once the door was unlocked, she remembered how empty the house was.
“Do you want to come in? I could make you some coffee.”
“If you don’t mind,” he said, right before she kissed him. With all the whiskey, it was hard to tell where her mouth ended and his began. He pulled back after just a few seconds and said, “We should go inside.”
Of course, he was right. No sense advertising her shame and desperation to the whole town. She stepped backward into the dark entry and he followed.
“Let me go put some coffee on.” Turning toward the kitchen, she nearly wiped out, the floor going crooked under her. He caught her under the arms and brought her upright.
“Why don’t you sit down and I’ll put the coffee on.”
It was ridiculous, but she nodded. He steered her to the couch, and then went into the kitchen. She slumped there, listening to him rattle around in drawers and cupboards. A few minutes later, the smell of coffee wafted out to the living room. He came in from the kitchen, carrying two mugs and handed her one of them. Then he stood there, sipping his coffee, and looked around at the dirty wineglasses, empty bottles, and record albums spread all over the rug. Having him witness the messiness of her grief embarrassed Lisa, and it seemed to bother him, too. He seemed to be thinking about cleaning it up until she set her coffee mug aside and patted the spot on the sofa next to her.
“So, where are you from?” he said as he sat down.
“Connecticut. I went to school there, too. I’d never been west of the Mississippi until I took this job. How long have you lived in Powell?”
“Forever. I was born six blocks north of here. Just across from the grain elevators.”
“No offense, but I hate this town.”
His only answer was a shrug.
“There’s nothing to do. Nobody I have anything in common with. Stacy, the girl I came to the party with, we’re only friends because everybody else our age is already married with kids. And everybody knows everybody’s business. I can’t even go on a date without everybody knowing about it.”
Kellen leaned forward to set his mug on the coffee table. Lisa scooted closer, so that when he sat back, their arms brushed together. She turned her head up to him as a hint, but he didn’t kiss her.
“Would you take some advice if I give it to you?” he said. Now that she knew how old he was, his tone of voice rankled. More paternal than he had any right to act. “You need to figure out how to live here or you need to get the hell out. I was you, I’d leave. Go on back to Connecticut.”
KELLEN
Miss DeGrassi asked me to stay the night, but I could see how she’d regret it as quick as she sobered up, and I’d likely regret it sooner than that. After I left her place, I shoulda gone home, as much as I’d had to drink. I shoulda taken my own advice, and got the hell outta Powell.
Except for Wavy. She kept me there. More than that. She kept me tethered, not just to Powell, but to being alive. In the whole world, she was the only person who cared whether I lived or died. If there was anybody who remembered tonight, it was her.
When I pulled into the drive at the farmhouse, there was a light on in the kitchen. I hoped it wasn’t Val, because I didn’t need that kinda grief. I was doing the best I could for Wavy, and Val always treated me like garbage.
I walked through the door, not sure what I was gonna find, but there sat Wavy reading a book. On the table in front of her was a chocolate cake with candles stuck in it.
“You made me a cake,” I said.
She put a finger up to her lips, so I reckoned Val and Donal must be asleep. I didn’t even know what time it was. While I took off my coat and pulled out a chair to sit, Wavy went to get the box of matches off the stove.
On the way back to the table, she stopped at the chair I’d put my jacket over. Leaning down ’til her nose was almost touching the collar, she took a long whiff of it. I started to laugh, until I figured out what she was doing. Wavy wasn’t sniffing my coat because it smelled like me. It musta smelled like Miss DeGrassi.