Finding Willow (Hers) (10 page)

That’s when I notice her, before she sees me. The woman working behind the counter is Seven's mother. Actually working, for once in her life; it is absolutely unreal. I pray she won't notice me, but I am pretty fucking sure it is too late.

“Starburst? Is that you?” She nervously pushes her long gray and white braid over her shoulder and starts to make her way around the counter with her arms extended. I don't want her to hug me, but I know she’s going to. It will be uncomfortable, like any affection Seven or I received from our parents over the years has been. Our mothers don't have a maternal bone in their bodies, even if they try.

“Yes, Mama Joni. It's me.” I just want to pay for my fucking paint and leave. I feel like a broken child all over again. I fucking hate it. I hate the way any of our parents make me feel. Every time I look at any of them, I can hear the moans coming from the bedroom they all shared. I can hear the heavy breathing, the panting, the bodies slapping against each other. It's fucking gross.

“It's been so long, baby girl, so long! What brings you back to Woodstock?”

I want to tell her I’m searching for the baby she and her BFFs stole from me, but I don't want them to know I am looking. All I need is them getting in the way. She seems just as anxious as I am about my reappearance in town, though.

When I became pregnant with Willow, it was a community effort to take her away. Not only did my mother easily convince my father that I could never take care of a baby, but Joni also put the final nail in the motherhood coffin with the threats of Blue being around more. I didn't believe her, but then again, I was young and impressionable. The thought of him puts me on edge because of his craptastic behavior toward me the moment I ended up pregnant. His years of abuse I could
almost
tolerate because in some sick, fucked up way I loved him. I loved the attention he showed me. The connection I craved with another human being. I said no, I realize this. Then I hurt for a long time. I should have reported it and sent him to jail. Instead, I feel for him. Just showing how much of a lost cause I always was. Needless to say, I hate them both. Deeply.

“Just taking a little break from the city. Wanted a little quiet time to myself.” Okay, so it’s only a half lie. I do want quiet time. I do want a break from the city. So I am only omitting certain facts.

“Painting, huh? You were always such an artistic little girl.” I want to ask her what the fuck she would know of me as a little girl. She and my parents were always too fucking busy doing drugs or fucking each other to know what I may have been good at. My own parents never fucking noticed, I am pretty damn sure this bitch didn't, either.

“Yeah, helps clear my head.” Can this fucking awkward conversation just end so I can get the fuck out of here? Next time I will drive a half hour to the big box craft store just to avoid running into her. I’m sure she will run right back to my parents and tell them I am somewhere within the city limits. It is going to be a big family reunion that I don't want to deal with. The only person from my family I had planned on spending any time with was Journey, my baby sister.

Coming to Woodstock, I had no idea my parents had migrated back to this area. They never stayed anywhere long but, according to Journey, this time they had been here quite a while.

“Have you seen Seven lately? Blue?”

That’s it. I want to punch this bitch in the cunt. I'm done. I am just fucking done. Rage pumps through my veins as I think about all the times they left me with their piece of shit son. How they knew, as a teenager, he knocked me up and walked away. What the fuck does she expect me to say?
Yeah, we did brunch last week
. Dumb bitch.

“Oh, your son who raped me all those years ago? No, can't say I've seen him,” I lie. The reality is he was pounding away at my pussy mere days ago. She grimaces at my words.
How the fuck does that feel?
She proceeds to start ringing up my supplies. She understands, to an extent, that she’s upset me.

“I'm sorry, Star. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.”

She continues ringing without making eye contact. I throw my credit card on the counter and turn to watch the townsfolk walking up and down the street. The cool fall weather is just starting to roll in, and people are decorating their shops for Halloween. Some sit with guitars on the sidewalk playing old Dylan songs, while a little girl in the distance hula hoops. Like it or not, this is home. It is a beautiful little town, and even though it holds so many bad memories, there are some good mixed in there.

Maybe it’s the rat race of the city that has worn my soul down? Maybe it’s the years of dealing with Blue? Whatever it is that I have gone through since I left, I pray Woodstock will be able to heal it this time around.

Closing the car door and popping the trunk open, I start to pull out all the art supplies. Walking around the car, I unlock my motel room door, and prop it open so I can start carrying all my goodies in. I’m like a child on Christmas morning. Not even the run in with Seven's mother can ruin my mood. It almost did, but knowing I am going to dive into something I love refreshes me.

The office door swings open, and River stands there, looking at me. His plain black t-shirt hangs free while he rubs his hands up and down his arms. No smile is in sight and I know why. His green eyes break my gaze, and when I smile at him, he doesn't return the gesture.

“Hey, Star,” he says as I walk by with a couple large canvases in my hands.

“Whats up, River?” I reply once I come back out. My plan? Act casual, as if I didn't notice him peering in my window the night before while I blew some stranger. I mean, for fuck’s sake, the entire world has seen me deep throat a couple dozen cocks. What’s the big deal this time around?

“Can we talk about last night?” He picks at a hangnail and tries to avoid eye contact. What do I do? Continue playing stupid. I’m so good at it.

“What about last night? We still on for dinner tonight?”

I want him to say yes because I need a friend. I don't want him to think of me differently, and I wish he hadn't seen that. But it is bothering him, and if I am going to get this whole friend thing down, I need to stop being such a fuck up. God knows I have fucked over Seven more times than I can count. I need to make amends with her, too; isn't that part of the twelve step program or something?

“What I saw, in the window. I thought...” He trails off before running his fingers through his jet black hair. “I saw what you were doing.” He doesn't want to say it. Is he embarrassed? I thought boys his age would be hitting on me after something like that. Trying to get their own rocks off; instead, he looks like he is genuinely hurt.

“I'm sorry you saw anything, River. I should’ve had the blinds closed. I hope this won't affect our friendship. I really need a friend.” For the first fucking time in my life, I speak and the God’s honest truth comes out of my mouth. I can do this. I can fucking be a good friend.

“It's just... I thought...” Oh, I can see where this is going. Oh no. I have to fix this; I don't want to lead this poor boy on.

“River, I don't know what you are looking for. But I can tell you, I am not the woman to give it to you. I’m not looking for a relationship. I am here for a short period of time, just to figure out my life. That’s it. Please, don't think of me as anything more than a friend. If you like me, give me your friendship, because that is what I need right now.” I pause and pick up another bag out of my trunk before slamming it shut.

“Please, I need a good friend right now. I enjoyed our time hanging out last night. I need that to help me get through this. Will you be my friend?”

I feel bad, because I think I just broke his heart. But at the same time, I need to set the record straight. I want his friendship. I don't want a twenty-one year old boy following me around with a puppy dog crush. He shrugs.

“I get it. It's cool. Dinner tonight at Maggie's again?”

I nod my head in agreement.

“Same time.” I turn to head into my room, when he stops me once again.

“Hey, Star, I gotta bring my little sister with me tonight. That cool?”

I'm not normally a kid person, but then again, I
am
on this journey to find my own kid. I can't really be upset that his little sister is going to be tagging along.

“That's fine.” And like that, I drag the last bag into my motel room and proceed to dump everything out on my bed. I’m like a little kid after a day in the toy store, gushing over all the new supplies I have been wanting for ages. This afternoon, I am going to take it all with me up into the woods and paint in the peace and quiet of nature.

It may not sound like much to anyone else. But to me, it is exactly what I fucking need.

It isn't until I pull into the dirt parking lot off the old mining road that I notice someone following me. It isn't just any person, either. It’s a big man, on a loud motorcycle. Had he not had the familiar cut and bandana, I wouldn't have recognized him. Maybe listening to loud music wasn't the best choice on the way out here, but I was rockin' out to Janis!

I put the car into park and grip the steering wheel. This guy gets under my skin like no one else. I want to get out of the car and yell at him. But instead I sit behind the wheel and completely ignore him. Like I don't know he is pulling his motorcycle alongside my car.

I pick up the fabric bag packed with all my art supplies on the passenger seat and swing the door open. I open the trunk and start to pull out my stand and the single canvas I brought for the afternoon. Completely ignoring him still.

“Hey,” I hear his voice coming from behind me. My heart skips a beat, or possibly just fucking stops. I have to choke down the lump in my throat.

I turn to face him, and he smiles at me. I’m taken aback, because a man like this doesn't smile. Ever. I want to return the smile, but that would make shit way too easy, wouldn't it?

“Following me? Don't you think that’s a bit desperate?” I want to laugh. He got what he wanted last night; why is he here now? Why do men have to be so confusing?

“So what if I was?” The smile fades and his stone-faced expression is back.

“You got what you came for last night, so why are you following me?”

I turn back around, pick up my supplies, and start walking for the path. I get a whole five steps in the opposite direction before his voice stops me once again.

“What did I come for? I mean, since you know me so well.”

“Sex. No strings. You know, just a quick fuck.”

He was out the door as soon as we were done. How can he claim anything different? Damn it, I am over fucking thinking this. This afternoon was supposed to be quiet, relaxing, a chance to focus on me. Instead, I am taunting a large biker in the middle of nowhere. He could kill me and bury me out here and no one would ever know I was missing. Fuck. My. Life.

“You’re right, Star. I was only looking for a quick fuck.” He takes a step. I can hear his heavy boots against the dirt and gravel. “But once I left, I wanted to come back. Fuck...” He shakes his head just as I start to turn around.

He’s gorgeous. Every inch of him radiates sex on a mother fucking stick. Dark blue jeans hug all the right curves, accentuating his growing hard-on front and center. A black thermal hugs his torso, leaving no muscular curve to the imagination. His cut hangs from his shoulders and a folded red bandana is tied around his smoothly shaved head. I've fucking died and gone to biker heaven.

“I don't fucking do this shit. I don't play games. I don't fucking date. Hell, I am barely ever fucking around, but I want you. Again.”

He takes another step in my direction, waiting to gauge my reaction. I want to throw myself at him, but that would be too desperate. And I am not fucking desperate by any damn means.

“I don't know what to say to that.” I honestly don't. I want him, but what exactly does he want? He’s fucking speaking in cryptic man, but then again, I don't think he has a fucking clue as to what he is looking for, either.

I rest the art supplies against the side of my car and lay my canvas on the hood, folding my arms over my chest and facing him. My mind is flying a million miles an hour and my stomach is slowly tying into a million knots, but I still want to hear him out.