Page 34 of Passing Notes
One day we’ll be able to do what we want, go where we want, and no one can say a word about it. I can’t wait. - HB
As usual, the gravel parking lot of Genie’s Country Western Bar was full when I pulled in. This was Green Valley’s place to go when you wanted a mellow night to unwind with friends over a beer or a game of darts. Genie kept the place classy, for a bar anyway. Line dancing and pool were big here, rather than fights and indecent hookups in the parking lot.
My boots crunching through the lot kept me anchored against the swirling river of hope threatening to drown me. I wanted to see her so bad, the thought that she wouldn’t be here felt inconceivable.
Squinting against the dim light, I made my way through the small lobby area and onto the wooden dance floor. I tried scanning the sea of people as I made my way to the bar, but the winding strings of bulbs around the ceiling beams were the only illumination above the crowd of dancers and I couldn’t make out any faces.
“Hey, Nick! Over here.” Mari waved me over from her spot at the edge of the corner booth near the bar. “It’s just the three of us for now. Everyone else is in that line, dancing their booties off.”
She scooted over, patting the wooden bench so I could slide in next to her.
“Hey there, frickin’ Nick,” Clara slurred. I’d almost missed her, slumped in the corner of the booth. “It rhymes. You’re an English teacher and I’m a poet, don’t you know it. Ugh. That was dumb.”
I had known Mari for years, the way you would know anyone you grew up going to school with in a small town, but we became better acquainted when became co-workers.
Ally Dalbotten, the art teacher Clara had subbed for today, was on the other side of the booth. “Shh, I’m not here. I needed a mental health day.”
I chuckled. “These lips are sealed.” She probably needed a day away from Pin Dick. Ally was not shy about going toe to toe with that jackass.
“She’s a little bit tipsy,” Mari leaned in close to whisper. “Drunk Clara is grumpy. I ordered some fried pickles and Diet Coke, that should probably help. She’s fond of tequila shooters. I had no idea until a few minutes ago, when she had five.”
“Ahh, I see. Are you okay there, Clara?”
“Dandy and fine. Keen and peachy. Don’t you worry your little ol’ self about me now. Where’s Court? He drove us over here, that means we’re kind of on a date, frickin’ Nick, and I wanna dance.”
“He’s in the middle of that line dance over there, see?” Mari pointed him out. “He’s surrounded by all those PTA ladies.” Court was not a ladies’ man, but he could be if he wanted to. Somehow, he found himself surrounded by women everywhere he went.
“Maybe she should dance?” Ally suggested. “It might burn some of the alcohol off. Um, so is Clay coming tonight?”
“I’m not sure. We didn’t talk about it.”
“Okay, dang.” I had my suspicions; I would bet money that they had a thing for each other. We’d all grown up together. Ally was my age, but Clay was a few years older. Her older brother was Clay’s best friend and they’d always been close.
“I’ll dance with her.” I gestured to the dance floor. “Come on, Clara. It will make you feel better.”
“Let’s all go dance,” Mari agreed. “I need to burn off some of my excess energy or I’ll never sleep tonight.” She slid out and reached for Ally’s hand. “Come with me.”
With a laugh, Ally took her hand, and they were off.
I reached for Clara. “Let’s go, my tipsy little heartbreaker.”
“Mmmm-kay.” She took both of my hands and let me pull her along the smooth wooden seat until she was on her feet. “I’m not a big drinker anymore—those shots hit me like a ton of bricks. This sucks. Where’s Court? He promised me a dance. Maybe I’ll ask him out—what do you think? Or maybe we’re already dating? He did pick me up at my house, you know.”
“That Court?” I pointed him out in the crowd of middle-aged line-dancing ladies he’d found himself in. He smiled and waved.
“Yup, that’s the one.” She giggled and blew him a kiss, shooting me a look from the corner of her eye to make sure I was watching.
I laughed. “You mean my buddy Court who I play touch football with, who wouldn’t dare make a move on what he knows is mine? That Court?”
“Ugh, damn it, frickin’ Nick.” She threw her hands up in the air. “I’m so bad at lying when I’m drunk, and I’m not yours. I’m nowhere near yours.”
“As I recall, you’re bad at lying when you are sober, too. Remember when you bought me Foo Fighters tickets for my eighteenth birthday and tried to convince me we were driving to Nashville to tour some random college? And you know what I meant about you being mine—we have history.”
“Fine, I knew what you meant. Lying is hard. I’m much better at secrets, aren’t I?” She gave me a sarcastic smile.
“I suppose.”
“Anyhoo, you look nice tonight. I like your arms in that shirt.” She ran a hand up my forearm, stopping on the rolled-up sleeve of my plaid shirt. Her touch sent a burst of goosebumps shooting over my skin in its wake, and I shivered as I grew greedy for more. “You’re bigger than you used to be.”