Casanova Cowboy (A Morgan Mallory Story) Read online

  “So what next once you get back?” he asked.

  “I’m anxious to see Mom and Dad, catch up, drink wine by the pool. Then after that a job search. Then…I don’t know.”

  I knew I was faced with making decisions. I wasn’t certain what those would be.

  “If I keep in touch, will you?” Ryan asked cautiously.

  “Of course,” I answered. “I hope you will.”

  I figured he wouldn’t or maybe he would for a while and then not, like Mathew. Our night together had changed things, put a tension between us. I was sorry about that and hoped it would fade with time.

  “Can I come visit you in San Diego?” he asked.

  His expression was not relaying his emotion. I wondered if he meant me, or just San Diego in general. He’d told me he’d always wanted to see California.

  “You don’t even need an answer to that one. My mom has invited you to come more than once,” I said resting my head on his shoulder.

  He didn’t move away which made me happy.

  “I know, but I wouldn’t want to come if it makes you uncomfortable,” he said.

  I knew he was referring to Max. If he came, he knew Max would be around at some point, around the two of us, two of us with a secret.

  “It wouldn’t,” I said assuredly.

  When he got ready to leave, he reached out and pulled me to him, hugging me tightly. I buried my face in his neck, smelling his good smell, something fresh, something I couldn’t put my finger on exactly. As I stood there with Ryan holding me, I could feel the lump grow in my throat. I hoped he would come visit, his question not just being talk. I felt lonelier than I could ever remember feeling. I was going home.

  “Have a safe trip back,” he whispered, his lips touching my hair next to my ear. “You’ll be fine.”

  Pat’s boss had asked him to stick around to close up the rental shop for the summer, so he was leaving later in the month. My job was finished, so there was no reason to stay, and I was getting more depressed by the day. Ryan had been a good friend. I remembered when he helped me get a Christmas tree, could see him pulling it through my front door. How he’d laughed about me getting one so fat it might not fit through the single door. I thought back to Clown Day, and how it had ended. Ryan was right, it was a moment of insanity: two lonely people who found some comfort in one another for a night.

  Chapter 11

  I didn’t sleep well that night, and I thought about Ryan for the first hour of my drive home. I couldn’t shake my feelings of dread. I was anxious to see my parents, but getting home meant decisions would be staring me in the face. Mostly coming to grips with my feelings for Max. I hated that I felt like it would have just been easier if we had just faded away.

  I stopped in Beaver, Utah to get gas and a cup of coffee, then got back on the road. I played the radio loud, singing along with the music to keep me alert. The drive was long and boring, lots of miles of desert and straight roads. Songs randomly reminded me of times and places, having a drink at The Club, sitting in the plaza, sharing a pitcher at the Snow Hut. I stopped after another three hours in Las Vegas. I found a pay phone and called Mom collect.

  “Mom, I’m in Vegas,” I said sadly.

  The glass of the phone booth was scratched I noticed, most of it graffiti. Nancy + Victor, a heart etched around it. I wondered why girls did that; it certainly was not the boys.

  “Morgan, what is it?” she asked concerned.

  “I don’t know. It’s everything,” I answered trying my hardest not to sound like I was about to cry.

  “I know you’re sad and confused,” she said.

  “I know and I don’t know why exactly.”

  “Will you drive straight through or stop?” she asked, apprehensively.

  “Probably straight through.”

  “Don’t be afraid to stop if you need to,” she said. “I don’t want you getting too tired.”

  “I won’t Mom.”

  “Morgan, try not to be sad honey. Things have a way of working themselves out. Change is hard, but it makes us grow,” she encouraged.

  “I hope so,” I said, feeling like those things never would.

  I hung up the receiver and slumped against the glass, staring out at the desert. A tumbleweed rocked against the other side of the glass with the wind. Trash had piled up around it, a deserted feeling swept over me. Maybe the lonely feeling would go away once I got home. I tried to call Max collect, but the operator got his answering machine. I felt like calling Ryan and realized there wasn’t anything to say. He had already heard it, heard enough of my confusion I was sure of it.

  I got back in my car and drove. When I hit Los Angeles, I was exhausted, but determined to make it home. I didn’t want to stop and be alone for the night. I could feel the tension in my neck and upper back. The traffic was awful as usual, and I was white-knuckled by the time I got through. The last stretch to San Diego was brutal, but having come this far, home was, all of a sudden, looking good, and I became excited about seeing my parents. I knew my mom would somehow make me feel better.

  “I’m home,” I called out as I walked through the back door.

  Mom came rushing out from the rear of the house, a big smile on her face. She had quit dyeing her hair to cover the grey ages ago and strands of it streaked through her dark hair. It didn’t matter she still looked beautiful. I could feel the love between us fill me and wash some of the negative thoughts away.

  “I’m so glad you’re home,” she said, grabbing me up in a big hug. “I have missed you so much.”

  When she pulled back to look at me, I could see the tears in her eyes.

  “Mom, don’t,” I said, feeling my own emotions well up.

  I pulled her to me again hugging her tightly.

  “It’s hard being a mom. You wait, you’ll have your turn,” she cried. “You’ll have your babies run off to another place far away someday.”

  I saw my dad coming down the hall.

  “Stop, Patty,” Dad chuckled. “They grow up. They go out on their own. It’s what’s supposed to happen.”

  Letting go of Mom I stepped around her and hugged my dad.

  “It doesn’t make it any easier,” Mom said, wiping at her eyes.

  “I’m glad you’re home. I worried about you driving that far alone,” Dad said.

  I could see the relief in his blue eyes.

  “It was a long-ass drive, I’m pretty whipped,” I said.

  “I would guess. How about a glass of wine?” Mom asked.

  I laughed and Dad smiled at me.

  “That seems to be the cure-all for everything.”

  “To your mom it is,” Dad, said.

  The three of us headed towards the kitchen.

  “L.A. made my hands hurt. I hate driving through there. It was especially hard after driving so many hours prior,” I said. “Before I forget, I promised to call Pat and tell him I got here.”

  I picked up the receiver and dialed our old number. I listened to the phone ring and pictured our place in Park City. I saw the phone sitting on the table by the sofa, the ugly printed brown sofas in the living room. I would even miss them. Pat finally answered, and we spoke briefly before I passed the phone to Mom. She had all the mom questions for him, and they spoke for quite a while. Dad took over getting the wine open and poured.

  Mom came and joined us on the back patio once she hung up. She stopped to turn the pool light on before she sat down. It was getting dark out and the blue of the pool lit up the yard. The three of us talked about this past winter for a while before Dad excused himself, leaving Mom and me alone. I’d missed sitting out here, missed the warm weather. Start with the small things to be happy about I told myself.

  “It’s great to have you back,” she said, as she took out a cigarette and lit it.

  The tears came silently, running down my checks. I wiped them away hurriedly, hoping she wouldn’t notice.

  “What are the tears for?” she asked alarmed.

  I t
ook a deep breath. It wasn’t easy to hide my feelings from her; she seemed to see everything.

  “I took this big leap of faith to do something different, to break away. I thought it would give me some answers, give me direction. Now I’m back to where I started, more confused about what I want than when I left,” I said woefully.

  See leaned toward me and patted my leg.

  “Morgan, don’t be so hard on yourself. We make choices. We learn, or at least I hope you learn. You had a great winter in Park City. You met some fun people, and you can always go back if you decide that’s where you want to be…” she paused. “Is this about your feelings for Max?”

  We’d had a number of conversations about Max, and my mix-upped feelings. He seemed honestly excited about me coming home, but when I tried to muster up those same feelings, I couldn’t. I still had feelings for him, but I didn’t seem able to identify them. I thought maybe getting back together after my absence might pull back the love. Mom thought maybe there was too much water under the bridge.

  “It’s about Max, it’s about Mathew, it’s about Ryan, and it’s about me, about life and love. Mom, it’s everything, like I’ve told you,” I said in defeat.

  “Ryan?” she questioned, her voice raised.

  “Yes, Ryan,” I answered cautiously. “We accidentally fell into bed one night. I was lonely and sad, and he was there to make it better.”

  She took a drag from her cigarette, the end glowing red in the dark. I heard her inhale the smoke and blow it out, then again quickly. I could tell by the way she was smoking she was trying to process the new information I’d just sprung on her. I could tell she didn’t know what to say.

  “See, Mom, that’s what I mean; it’s confusing. I spent a winter having fun, nothing serious, no thoughts about the big picture. Now I’m back to the question of what do I want for myself?” I said.

  She sat back in her chair and took another drag on her cigarette.

  “I wish you wouldn’t smoke,” I said, irritated.

  I was more irritated with myself than her I realized. I looked at the water in the pool, so still and blue. Calm, it seemed calm. I looked back at her. She held my gaze.

  “You’re young Morgan, you don’t have to have it all figured out.”

  She knew me too well; I wanted things figured out, had liked things in order since I was little. I’d come to realize though there were pieces I couldn’t control.

  “You just got home; give yourself some time. You’ll sort it out,” she said softly. “You know you are always welcome here. Morgan, stay home for a while. Don’t jump back into staying at Max’s. Give it space. It will make things clearer.”

  Chapter 12

  Time didn’t make figuring it out any simpler. I applied for unemployment as I searched for a job, finally finding one at a clothing shop in the mall close to my parents’ house. I resumed dating Max, but our relationship had changed. I wasn’t the same girl who left Escondido six months ago. I had grown up in many ways, but nothing had changed with him. It didn’t take long for him to once again neglect us. We fell right back into the same routine as it related to our relationship: his routine.

  I started spending more time with Liz than with Max. She was an easy distraction, easy to be with. We had fun together, laughed constantly, and where Max made me feel I wasn’t good enough, she made me feel perfect.

  “Liz, I’ve decided to go back to school,” I said absently.

  I reached for the pitcher of margaritas and filled both our glasses. We were sitting in our favorite booth at the Mexican place in Del Mar.

  “Now that sounds like a good idea.”

  “I mean if I can’t figure out what I want to do, I might as well go back to school. Retail sucks, and I don’t think I can get a good job without a college degree.”

  “What major?” Liz asked, taking a chip and dipping it in salsa.

  “Business, I guess. It seems to be a rounded subject, and maybe I can narrow it down as I go,” I said.

  “What’s Max think about it?” she asked with a grimace.

  Liz didn’t verbalize strong feelings about Max and me. I think she tried hard to stay neutral.

  “He doesn’t really say anything. When I was in Park City, he wanted me back, and I think he had an expectation of what that looked like. I don’t think it looks like what he thought. I’m too independent now. I think it sort of threatens him,” I said.

  “College was some of the best times of my life,” Liz said dreamily.

  A loud crash of dishes on the first floor made us both jump and then chuckle.

  “You went right out of high school and finished. I’m starting back at almost twenty-three. It’s like starting over. The two years I did of JC were like Basket Weaving 101, so not many of the classes count towards a four-year degree,” I said.

  Liz slid her finger on the edge of her glass taking off some salt and put it into her mouth.

  “It will go fast. What else are you going to do? Hang out with Max? Get married?” she said sarcastically.

  “Like that’s a real possibility,” I said cynically.

  Although he’d said we would talk about where we were going, we hadn’t, there were no current future plans.

  “Would you want to even if he asked?” Liz questioned.

  I felt my stomach tighten and knot.

  “If you had asked me that before the wreck, I would have said yes. Follow the expected path. Now I don’t think so. You see our relationship. I don’t think, in its current form, it’s marriage material.”

  “Glad you said that,” she teased “because it’s not.”

  I picked up my glass and took a big sip of the cool frozen liquid.

  “It’s kind of funny, because when we started dating, I honestly thought we would be married and having kids by now. Instead I’m heading back to college,” I said, finding my younger wishes amusing.

  “I don’t think it would take you two too long married before you’d be sick of his wanting to make all the decisions and rebel.”

  “I already rebel,” I laughed.

  “I know, but you’re not married, you can go home.”

  It was like she’d opened a curtain and I could see outside. Yes, I could go home any time and in a marriage that wasn’t so easy.

  “I think you going back to school is great; I’m proud of you. Screw Max and his lack of support,” she said.

  “Can I get you ladies anything else,” the waiter asked stopping at our table.

  “The check is all,” Liz said. “Thank you.”

  We watched as the thin, very pale skinned boy walked away.

  “He certainly doesn’t hang out on the beach,” Liz chuckled. “You’d think working in Del Mar he would.”

  “I got a letter from Ryan yesterday. He liked the school idea. He said Park City is slow now, but he’s still got some work.”

  “Ryan was fun,” Liz said with a grin. “He was good to us when we were in town.”

  Liz and I spent a lot of time together at the beach that summer. As my relationship with Max continued to deteriorate, Liz and Mom kept me sane. They listened and refrained from giving me too much advice. I knew they thought I was crazy to hang in there with him.

  It’s just…Max was the only true boyfriend I’d ever known, so I thought maybe this was what happened in relationships, this was how it was supposed to work. My parents argued and loved each other, and then not so much sometimes. It was different though with Max, his selfishness always seemed to rear its head; his way or no way. I thought maybe I was being unrealistic about what love was. Max had even hinted at it. What I wanted in a man was a friend and a lover, a partner in life, and maybe that man didn’t exist, anywhere. I wondered if after enough time together all relationships turned out to be the same.

  That September I started back to school and between school, work, and homework, I had little time for much else. After going round and round, and fighting entirely too much, Max and I broke up in January. He said some r
eally mean things to me one night at dinner, and I left, fighting mad. The one thing that really stuck in my head was that he said I wasn’t a lady because I didn’t come and do his laundry and cook for him. I told him that was a fucked-up definition of a lady, that what he really needed was a maid.

  The words were enough to tip me over the edge of my indecision; I was finished. We never did have a blowout fight and officially end it. I left that night fuming, and we just stopped seeing each other. He didn’t call to apologize, and I didn’t reach out either. After almost six years together, we just stopped. He sent me a dozen roses three weeks later for Valentines Day. I wrote him a note and dropped it in his mailbox “Thank you for the flowers, however I do not understand them”. I thought he would call then, but he didn’t. We both just let it die a cowardly death. I turned my focus to everything except men. I had no interest in dating.

  That changed in the spring when Mathew had his own drunk-driving accident, and I all of a sudden found myself being his support system. He’d injured a woman badly and was in a lot of trouble. I found it remarkable that, even though I hadn’t seen him since Melanie’s wedding, the same fire was still there between us. After Max, the fire and the passion Mathew could evoke was welcome. I spent the spring and most of the summer flying back to San Jose to be with him. A relationship that had never come to fruition finally could. He asked me to take a chance on him and try for a shot at us. He asked me to move back to San Jose.

  “He’s pressing me, Mom. I know he’s been frustrated by my indecision. I don’t think I can give up my path right now for another man, even Mathew,” I said as we sat by the pool.

  I leaned forward with a sigh putting my elbows on my knees, my chin resting in my hands.

  “He says ‘you can switch to San Jose State and I’ll support you’, like it’s no big deal to change my whole world. I would be giving up what I know to fit into his world, and it’s not like he’s saying I’m in love with you, marry me; he wants to try. What the hell, try,” I said, exasperated.

  She didn’t say anything and instead pulled out a cigarette. She smoked for pleasure, but also when she was challenged or nervous. I knew the drags would be close together.