When I made my way to the backdoor, planning to ask one of the skimpy-dressed people for a smoke, my phone pinged.
Otis.
I opened the text and saw a photo of him, Jeremy, and what looked like Jeremy’s parents—four smiling faces, three of them ginger.
Something I hadn’t felt in years stirred in my chest.
Jealousy.
Jealousy at something I didn’t even want.
I made a b-line for the bar. My ex, Claire, turned to me, concern etched on her face. But when I asked for the strongest, cheapest shot, she didn’t question me. She also didn’t add it to the tab.
It was 1:30 a.m.. when my back pocket vibrated again. I was in the bathroom at Garland’s. Some dude’s tongue was trying to reach my tonsils, but I had already forgotten his name. He protested when I pushed him off me, calling me a bitch. I flipped him off and stared at my phone with blurry eyes.
It was John.
The Uber halted and I rushed into the ER. John’s broken voice on the other side of the phone had effectively jolted me out of my drunken state. Now my heart was pounding so fast I felt sick. The overhead lights were too bright. The floor squeaked as I rounded the corner to the waiting area. There was a mom with a crying baby and a woman in a wheelchair and beside her—there he was. His broad shoulders were hunched. He sat alone, looking smaller than I had ever seen him.
I came to a sudden halt, not even realizing I’d been running. When he looked up at me, my breath caught in my throat. His composure was gone. The way he held himself told me he was tired to his bones. He’d been crying. All my resolve to ignore my feelings, to only think of myself, to hate him...shattered in that instant.
“Hey,” I said, trying for composure, fighting the urge to fling myself at him and hug him until the pain left his face.
“Hey,” he said hoarsely.
I held my hand out to him, and he took it, gliding his thumb over the back of it. His eyes were hollow.
I took the seat beside him and leaned my head on his shoulder.
“How is he?”
He intertwined our fingers, and I noticed that the spot where his watch used to be was bare. The skin there was paler than the rest of his arm.
I wanted to turn my head and kiss him. I wanted to breathe him in and make him feel better in all the limited ways I knew how to. But it would be selfish. I was here because John called, telling me he needed me.
“It was a heart attack. I’m waiting to hear from the doctor.” John shifted, moving his head closer to mine. “I’m sorry, Nora, about?—”
“Hey,” I interrupted, squeezing his hand tighter. “It’s fine.” Suddenly, I felt silly for getting bitter about his reasons for entering the contest. When in reality, he was living through his worst.
He sucked in a long breath, then leaned back, watching our fingers interlace on his leg.
“I started a fight.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I immediately said. Whatever had happened, it couldn’t have been his fault. This man was full of love for a father who didn’t deserve it.
“I’ve fucked up,” he sighed. His words reverberated through me.
I leaned closer, hugging his side like a weirdo. “We all fuck up sometimes.”
I couldn’t help myself. I breathed in his scent. He lowered his face to my head and I did the same. Two weirdos.
I caught our reflection in the dividing window across. One giant, brooding man, all hard angles that should intimidate but were now soft, vulnerable. And one small woman, her arm and leg laced over his, trying to hold him together. This didn’t look like competitors deciding to have fun. This was something else entirely.
“Nora, I have to tell you something?—”
“John?”
He stiffened, and I pulled my limbs from him, recognising the voice before he did.
