Page 6 of Wicked Games

“Goodnight.”

My phone beeps and I throw it onto the island near the vase of flowers.

Scrubbing my fingers through my hair, I think of what to do next. Even if the grocery store’s closed, the diner might be open and I could eat a late dinner. Driving doesn’t sound appealing, I’m woozy and light-headed, but I don’t have much choice.

I take a step toward the living room, and a piece of white paper taped to one of the French doors catches my eye. It’s still light enough outside that I can see the word FOOD and a thick black arrow pointing to what looks like a blue cooler.

Curiously, I open the door and look around. There’s no one outside, only Winnie who’s sleeping next door on Lara’s patio. She lifts her head, looks at me, decides I’m not a threat, and rests her head on her paws, closing her eyes. Avery’s house is quiet. She’s not sitting on her patio, and I don’t see her walking around inside the house. If she likes to get up early, she could have gone to bed already, but for some reason, I tag her as a night owl and I wouldn’t be surprised if she was writing. This time of night is good for it, I bet, though I wouldn’t know personally. Only the desperate despair I feel as the sun slips away, closing out another day and the fear that I have to do it all over again the next.

I untape the paper from the glass and bring the small cooler inside. Setting it on the kitchen table, I open the lid. A family-sized bag of cheddar cheese Doritos lies on top, and under that, something thick and long and wrapped in parchment paper. I rip the paper open and find a sub sandwich stuffed with cold cuts, cheese, tomatoes, pickles, and lettuce. There’s a bottle of lemon Perrier shoved into the ice that was keeping the sub cold, and another piece of paper is tucked behind the bottle. I slide it out.

I thought you might be hungry after all that booze. Better pace yourself. It’s going to be a long summer. –A

My first instinct is to be annoyed she was snooping when I told her to stay away from me. My second is to be thankful she was. She must have seen me passed out on the couch, and the bottle of champagne on the floor would have been a good clue as to what I’d been doing. Maybe she’d come over to, I don’t know. Say she was sorry about Theo. That’s all anyone says to me these days, and I don’t know what else she would have needed or wanted. It’s not like we had a meaningful conversation. In fact, she’d seemed distracted, maybe by whatever was making her cry, or maybe she was intimidated. I do that to people sometimes, especially when I’m angry. Maybe she wanted me to leave her alone too, and regretting her standoffishness, wanted to apologize. Or maybe she wanted you to have a reason to see her again and now you do because you’ll have to give her cooler back.

Right. Not everyone’s out to use you, I think, cutting the sub in half and taking a big bite. She made it just how I like them, lots of mayo and mustard. This will definitely save me from having to go into town tonight, but I will have to return her cooler. The thought should have pissed me off—when I told her I wanted to be left alone I meant it—but Vi piqued my interest. I’ve never met an essayist before, and if Vi thinks Avery would be someone I could talk to, maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to throw it away.

I wolf down the rest of the sub and munch through half the bag of chips. I feel better, but that’s not a good thing. It only opens me up to thinking about Theo, and waves of grief knock me down to the floor. I hide my head in my arms and let the tears out. My little boy. He loved animals, and Brooke and I were talking about getting him a puppy. We were so happy, the three of us, and in one afternoon it was all taken away. I never got to say goodbye, and I’ll never see him again. His bright brown eyes, his grin.

Tears run down my face, and I let them. This was what the summer was supposed to be for, and there’s no one around to make me feel ashamed.

I cry until there’s nothing left . . . this time. More tears always find a way, more grief threatening to choke me, suffocate me. But for now, I’m done, and I drag myself off the floor. I go out to the truck and bring in my luggage, find a bathroom upstairs, and turn the shower on. The hot water doesn’t thaw me out, but I’m afraid nothing will.

Feeling like I have the flu, I dry off and crawl into the king-sized bed in the master bedroom. The sheets smell like fabric softener, and shivering, I burrow into the bedding.

I didn’t dig out my toothbrush to brush my teeth, and with my mouth still tasting like the Doritos Avery so thoughtfully packed to go with the sub, I drift off.

It’s going to be a long summer, she wrote.

I don’t want to know how she knows.

I wake up the same as I always do, the nightmares that I always have swirling around in my brain like a black fog. The sheets are soaked, fear and dread. Fear I’ll never get over this, fear that I will. I can’t forget my little boy, but even after only four months, I know that if I keep this up, a heart attack will kill me before I’m fifty. Forget cirrhosis. Grief will get me first. It can happen, people wasting away to nothing, but I can’t do that. I have people who care about me . . . Violet, my parents. Friends. Maybe even Brooke if she would admit it. Doubtful now. Whenever she has to look at me, it’s all hate. I can’t blame her.

I don’t know what time it is, I left my phone in the kitchen, but the sun’s shining, bright, too, so I’m guessing it’s about nine or so. For being in bed for twelve hours, I didn’t get much sleep.

I shower again and dress in shorts and a t-shirt. That’s all I packed besides a few pairs of sweats and some jeans. This town has a beach, and I brought swim trunks, but I’m not interested in jumping off the dock that’s in the backyard.

Trotting downstairs, I realize I don’t have any coffee, and I look out the French doors, half expecting a Thermos and a mug. There isn’t anything, and I’m relieved. As caffeine-deprived as I am, that would’ve been creepy. I’ve had stalkers before and it never ends well. It’d be nice if we could find a happy medium. Not too much, not too little, though I don’t know what that is. I suspect if I start talking to her like Violet wants me to, I’ll become addicted.

I drive into town, and a few minutes later, I turn into the grocery store’s parking lot. It’s what I thought it would be, and taking my time, I fill up a small metal cart. I noticed a grill on the patio, and I add a lot of meat. It will be different cooking for one, but I have to get used to it. I need to start eating better, if not for Violet, then for myself. I throw a lot of fruit and vegetables into the cart too, hoping that I can stick to my plan and not let them rot in the fridge. Yogurt, milk, cereal. Bread. I try to enjoy the experience. What little things I took for granted four months ago will be my life now.

I haul everything out to the truck and walk across the street to the liquor store. The bar’s not open for business, but I can buy a couple bottles of wine and a case of beer. I should stop drinking completely, but that seems like too much too soon when I’m just trying to survive the day.

When I pass by Avery’s driveway, I try to see the front of her house, but the trees hide it from view. I park in front of mine, and unload. I’ve got nothing to do after I put everything away. I start a pot of coffee and flop on the couch with a steaming mug, the champagne bottle still on the floor.

This would be a good time to form new habits—go for a run, read, like I told Violet I was going to do. I could do some work, but if she sees I’m logged in anywhere, she’ll bite my head off. Work is what got me through the past four months, but I can’t keep doing a bad thing to feel better. Work never used to be a bad thing, but I turned it into a bad thing by not ever going home, sleeping at my desk or on the couch in my office.

The day stretches endlessly ahead of me.

This is going to be a long summer.

Fuck.

I ended up going for a run, six miles in the opposite direction of town. It was actually peaceful with the lake, trees, and sun. I found the beach and took a minute to explore the changing rooms and climb the empty lifeguard stand. There are a lot of rocks in the water, cattails and weeds where the sandy beach fades into the shore.

After I got back, I dug my tablet out of one of my suitcases and started a Stephen King novel, but I lost heart after a few chapters. Nothing he’s written is scarier than what I’ve lived through. I’ll try a different author tomorrow. I think about not reading at all, but I have two and a half months in Lakehaven Falls. That’s a lot of time to sit and do nothing except try to forget my little boy’s dead and that he’s never coming back.

At five-thirty, I snag a bottle of white wine out of the kitchen and grab Avery’s cooler. I owe her a thank you, at least, for checking on me, or whatever the hell she thought she was doing.