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No. I swallow the lump of guilt in my throat and take deep breaths. I can’t tell anyone that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
I thank the caseworker and leave, disappointment weighing heavily on me. All through the bus ride home, tears threaten to spill, but I don’t let myself go. I fist my stress ball tightly, mentally holding myself together.
There’s only one place I let all my grief out. Under a scalding hot shower.
It’s been six years since I held my baby sister’s hand. I watched the light fade from her eyes, promising to look after her newborn.
After I lost her, I spiraled into a darkness filled with guilt and pain. The only thing that kept me going was the thought of fulfilling my promise.
I learned to stuff all my self-hatred and hate for men into a dark place. I kept it hidden deep under my bright smiles and bold flirting. Only events like these case worker meetings force me to remember how much I’m failing Vivian and Harriet with every passing year.
I grip the stress ball tighter.
Finally reaching my fourth-floor Brownsville apartment, my phone rings. I groan when I see it’s Greg. I’m so not in the mood but I pick up.
“Hey Greg, how are you?”
“Great, I just got back from Italy.” Greg had gone to Italy for a three-month modeling contract.
“Awesome. How did you find it?” For Greg and me, it’s out of sight, out of mind. As soon as he’d left, we stopped speaking.
“Unbelievable!” Greg gushes, “Everything is amazing. The food...the language...”
“The women…” I add, letting out a humorless chuckle.
“You said it, not me. But I agree wholeheartedly. I’m actually trying to wrangle another contract with the agency, and hopefully a longer one.”
“I bet.” I kick off my heels, smiling in spite of my dark mood.
“Listen. Are you still with that guy? Ryan?” Greg asks.
That brings me up short. “Greg. I told you, I’m not dating the man. He’s just a friend’s friend.”
“I see.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I have eyes, Stella. And seeing you two together at that wedding. I don’t know, I thought there was something there. Besides, I like the guy, he’s cool.”
I roll my eyes. Everybody just seems to love the guy, don’t they? “Well, I don’t like him.”
Liar. That inner voice accuses.
“O-kay.” Greg drawls, “Well in that case, what are you doing tonight? Why don’t we catch up?”
By “catch up,” he means hook up.
“No, I’m good, Greg, I’m not really in the mood to go out.”
“I can come over,” he offers.
I should be down with this, considering I’ve not had sex with another human being in months.
My trusty vibrator, on the other hand, should have packed up, given the kind of workout it’s been getting recently. Lately, I’ve been too busy trying to work hard enough to save for Harriet to meet guys.
“Sorry Greg, not tonight. I’ve got a lot of things on my mind. “Give me a call next week, okay?”
I think I hear him whine, but I don’t bother waiting for him to finish. I disconnect and leave my phone on the dresser, then strip off my clothes.
