“Leave
that alone!” Gator shouted. “It’s fine. Now
sit back down and slip that oar under my fishing line like I told
ya.”
Lindy Beth turned and faced the bow. Leaning forward, she stared
into the water, searching for the thread of fishing line.
Gator looked at his wristwatch. Well, now was as good a time as
any. Funny thing, destiny. Part of him wanted to hurt Lindy Beth,
wanted the truth to pang in her heart, wanted to see the tears
burn down her cheeks, followed by the cold, seething stare she
would put on him. But at the same time, he dreaded the moment
of longing that would play across her face when he told her the
naked truth. No. He refused to feel sorry for her. He must think
only of Shelby, her warm bosom, the scent of vanilla musk. He
must remember summer days at the park, playing catch with Gator
Jr., watching the boy slam baseballs over the outfielder’s
heads at Little League games. He filled himself with thoughts
of Shelby and the boy, sleeping in bed, the smoke creeping up
the walls. What dreams danced through their sleepy heads when
the fire leapt around them?
Gator felt adrenaline surge outward from his chest, flash down
his arms, and finally settle into his twitching fingers. Rage--it
made breakups so much easier.
“Lindy Beth!” he yelled.
Startled, she let go of the fishing line and looked at him across
the water. “Huh?”
“It’s over, Lindy Beth.”
“What?” Her face was knotted with confusion.
“You and I, we’re over.” He dropped the fishing
pole and shoved his hands into his pockets, swaying a little.
Lindy Beth half-smiled and cocked her head. She cupped her hand
to her ear. “I must not be hearing you.”
“I’m in love with another woman.” Gator bowed
his head and tapped his foot gently, letting his eyes focus on
the muddy pebbles at the water’s edge.
The silence made him look up. Lindy Beth’s face took on
that momentary appearance of longing he hadn’t wanted to
see.
“Who is she?” Lindy Beth choked out as the first tears
came. Her moist lips quivered and turned the hottest shade of
red he had ever seen. She placed her hand on her belly, grimaced
and belched. “I’m gonna be sick.”
“Don’t matter who she is,” he said.
Lindy Beth’s eyes narrowed. “It’s that blonde
bitch in the cutoff jeans, isn’t it! The one with the pigtails
who’s always puffing out her boobs and goo-gooing at you
when we drive through the car wash. It’s her. I know it
is!”
Gator tried not to smile. Honesty never felt so good. Destiny
was the truth, and the truth was destiny. He’d never wanted
anything more.
“No, it ain’t her,” he said.
“Who is it then?” Lindy Beth pulled an oar from its
ring and pointed it at Gator as though she were about to skewer
him with a spear.
“It’s Shelby,” he said coldly.
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