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“You thank me by remembering what I said,” Bonnie said. “I’m here anytime to talk.”
Tears welled in my eyes. They spilled over as I hugged Angie.
“Us girls got to stick together, right?” she said, her voice quavering. “We’ll talk more later, okay? After you’ve had some rest.”
I nodded, exhausted down to my bones.
My mother laid on the horn, and I sighed. “That’s my cue.”
I walked down the driveway holding only my phone, Angie’s skirt swishing about my legs. Angie and Bonnie and their sweet dog remained at the front door. A picture postcard of warmth and friendship and home.
I waved back, before climbing into the passenger seat. I let my hair fall down the left side of my face, hoping my mom wouldn’t see how bloodshot and swollen my eyes were.
“Hey, Mom. Sorry about last night. We got carried away and now I’m not really feeling well.”
“I guess not. Your voice sounds terrible,” she said as she pulled away from the drive. “But I don’t appreciate this, Willow. It makes me look bad in front of your friend’s mother that I didn’t know where you were last night.”
“She understands. She’s a therapist,” I added. “And I like her. A lot.”
“A therapist.” Mom sniffed. “Maybe I should send you to her.”
“Maybe you should,” I muttered.
My mom sniffed again and glanced over at me. Her frown deepened and I braced myself for a question. The one I almost wanted to hear. I could feel the truth bubbling up again. I’d told it twice. I could tell it again to her. She just had to ask.
Mom: What’s wrong, honey?
Me: Mom, it was Xavier…
But she fumbled her lines. “What on earth are you wearing?”
Isaac
You’re the girl I want.
Wednesday afternoon, my confession resounded in my head again and again while I worked at the HCT. Willow may not have heard me say it, but I heard me say it. And there was no taking it back. The line could not be unsaid.
“Fuck,” I said, pushing a broom around the scuffed black floor of the stage.
I should’ve just kept my mouth shut, starting that day in Daisy’s Coffeehouse. Talking got me into this fucking mess. I’d been silent for more than ten years, and then Willow came along and I told her everything. Now I was stuck. Somehow, she’d gotten under my skin, into the marrow of my goddamn bones. Her happiness was becoming the air I breathed.
I didn’t want to stay.
I didn’t want to leave her.
Especially after what had happened to her.
God, Willow…
I stopped pushing the broom and rubbed my fist against my chest. Willow’s story was a sledgehammer to the heart. Another slug every time I thought of it. Over and over, it ripped through my thoughts. Conjuring images of a faceless guy dropping something in her drink, leading her to a bedroom, sliding her clothes off her semi-conscious body, lying on top of her…
I closed my eyes and clenched my jaw until my teeth ached.
Xavier. His name was Xavier.
Hatred for the rotten bastard smoldered in me like a low flame ready to combust the instant I ever laid eyes on him. Beating the shit out of him wouldn’t do anything for Willow. But he hurt her. In the worst way. Something deep and primal inside me demanded I hurt him in return.
“She’s not your girl, for fuck’s sake,” I told myself, sweeping again. “The play. Stick to the goddamn play.”
