He and Hildy stand at the bar for a minute while the bartender sets down drinks in front of them. Bowen says something to Hildy and she starts gathering the bottles in her hands while he turns and heads in the other direction toward the restrooms. But instead of turning down the hallway, he veers to the right along the front windows and disappears out the glass doors. I scan the windows, following him until he stops in front of Hannah. She must be on her second cigarette by now. I crane my neck to see them through the crowd as Bowen says something to her and she looks up at him with a pained expression, one hand clasping the front of her long camel peacoat closed.
I stand up and walk in the same direction, weaving through the crowd until I get to the restrooms. I stop at the hallway, lingering next to the window, concealed by the crowd. Despite her frosty response, Hannah isn’t too offended to not stub out her cigarette on the concrete and follow Bowen across the parking lot. From my vantage point, I can see them walk between two cars and stop next to Hannah’s vehicle. Or, rather, I can see Bowen stop next to her vehicle. Hannah’s standing opposite Bowen, but she’s too short for me to see past the back hatch. It’s dim, but there’s enough residual light from the parking lot for me to see that Bowen is speaking.
It plays out like a silent movie; Hannah’s facing away from me and he’s standing opposite to her so I can see his face but not hers. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but I see his mouth moving. The first minute, Bowen looks calm, but serious. However, with each passing second, his face changes, becoming more and more irate. It’s around this time I wish I could read lips.
Bowen glares at Hannah, his mouth moving faster and faster. He throws his head to the side, leans forward as he speaks, and furrows his brow in disdain. In a way, he doesn’t look like himself. I’ve never seen Bowen angry at anyone. Granted, I don’t mind so much right now because I hope he’s letting her have it for sneaking around our house. I don’t know what Hannah is saying, only that she’s shaking her head and seems to be brushing off his aggressive posture.
Finally, the conversation appears to wind down. Bowen scowls at her in silence for a few moments and then says something quickly, nodding toward the bar. When Hannah turns around, her face is a chaotic mixture of contempt and distress. She storms back across the parking lot, her hands shoved in her coat pockets. Bowen follows her at a distance, and as he gets closer, I notice his demeanor changes again. He strolls across the asphalt like nothing happened, looking the same as when he left our table.
I wait for both of them to sit back down before I return. When I sit down next to Bowen, he slides one of the beers in front of me and raises his glass. I pick it up and clink the edge of mine against his before he downs a quarter of the glass.
I raise my eyebrows and lean against his shoulder, “Are you OK?” I chuckle.
Bowen drapes his arm around my neck, pulling me closer, “Don’t I look OK?” He flashes a smile.
I glance across the table at Hannah, now immersed in conversation with Hildy, “You do now.”
Bowen knows immediately who I’m referring to, but he’s unaware I saw what happened in the parking lot.
He settles his sights on Hannah and he raises his voice, “She’s acting like a fucking baby and needs to grow up.” He’s looking at her, but speaking to me.
My muscles tense, anticipating an awkward moment that never comes. Even if Hannah did hear Bowen’s snipe, she doesn’t let it show.
Bowen turns back to me, his mouth curling into a half-smile, “I told you I’d figure it out.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Brett
Present
“How was writing the book?” Judy flips through the pages in her lap, “This is a huge accomplishment.”
I promised her I’d bring her a copy. It’s not published, it’s only a manuscript, but I thought if she can read it, she’ll understand some things about me that I don’t know how to put into words—things I’m still discovering about myself. It’s technically fiction, but there are always kernels of truth hidden between the lines. Always…
“It actually didn’t take me as long to write as I thought it would. One day, it hit me like I just needed to do it. And once I started, I just kept writing as long as the words flowed.”
“How did it feel to finish it?” Judy glances up, “How does it feel now to see your story on actual pages in front of you?”
“I already know what it feels like to finish writing a book…” I trail off with a hint of sadness, “but now it feels weird, like I’m so happy it’s done, but I’m scared of what happens next.”
“Are you afraid of what will happen when people read it?”
“Yes…” I nod apprehensively, “this is what I’ve wanted my entire life, but it comes with a price. I can’t have my dream without the nightmare. And that…” I pause, scrunching my face up in frustration.
“Is really fucked up?” Judy finishes my sentence.
“Yes!” I explode in anger. “Why do I have to deal with all this shit after the fact? Why does that motherfucker get to wreck people’s lives and just go on like nothing happened?” I shout, flipping my hand through the air. “Why does he get to forget everything?”
“No, no, no, no…” Judy immediately drops the papers and raises one hand to stop me. Then she points her mauve fingernail straight at me, “He has not forgotten you,” her eyes bore into me from across the coffee table, “and he will never forget you.”
●●●
Episode 186: Brett Sorensen
The Spice Ghouls Pod
June 22 ∙ 42 min 41 sec
00:21:06
SYDNEY: So, we all know no matter how many fans you have, there will always be haters out there.
TYLER: Welcome to the club…
SYDNEY: What do you say to the people who think you’re romanticizing toxic masculinity and violence against women?
BRETT: Is that because Gage’s character is supposed to be hot?
SYDNEY: I’m sure.
TYLER: And then you immediately ruin their lives when he turns out to be the villain…
(LAUGHTER)
BRETT: I get it, it’s not fair. But I think it’s important to differentiate between romanticizing something and merely writing about it. Abusers romanticize themselves all the time. They don’t need help from me.
SYDNEY: Yes…
