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“No more bruises, please, I have a shift tonight.”
He lessens his grip. “You bruise too easily. You think I don’t understand you?”
“You don’t know me.”
He dips, his breath hitting my ear. “I know you.” He brushes the loose hair away from my shoulder, and I’m barely able to control the shiver that slight touch induces. “And you’re afraid of just how much I do know.” He lifts a finger and runs it faintly along my collarbone. “You think it’s love, but the truth is, you’re an addict,” he slowly trails the pad of the same finger up my throat before brushing it lightly across my lips. The shift in intensity is jarring as my limbs begin to tingle with awareness. “You’re high right now. And that’s all your currency is, a high.” I jerk away from him and he crowds in, his eyes trailing from my pumping chest back to my lips before he steps away, collects his laptop, and strides out of the kitchen.
“You’re an addict.”
The weight of that statement has blanketed me my whole shift.
“You sure?” Melinda asks as she gathers the last of our tubs together.
“Sorry, what?”
She looks over to me. Evident worry etched on her features as I recall our conversation. An attempt by her to set me up with her church’s new youth pastor. She’s no dummy—in fact, she’s become an expert at gauging my moods. More often than not, she’s bringing extra lunch on her shifts to make sure I’m eating. It’s comforting to know she cares, her concern for me maternal.
“Yeah,” I say, wiping down our workstation. “I’m just going to head home.”
She pauses as we pack up. “Honey, it’s been months and months. I just don’t want you wasting away anymore.”
Months and months. And today more than ever, I feel the weight of that truth.
“You’re an addict.”
“I’m fine,” I assure her. “I went on a date not too long ago.”
This seems to perk her up. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yes. Great guy. And we’re going to give it another go, sometime soon.” The lie comes easy, but I feel no guilt when I see the relief in her eyes. Though invasive and maddening at times with her chatter, I’ve grown real affection for her and consider her a friend.
“That’s so good to hear.” She bristles. “Well, excuse me for saying it, but he’s a damned fool. And I promise you he will regret it if he’s not already. I can’t believe he just up and left like that.”
We both know the he she’s referring to is Sean, but I dart my eyes away. When the conveyor belt comes to a halt signaling the end of our shift, she takes a step toward me and hesitantly pulls me into a hug.
Left. Left me.
When the conveyer belt comes to a halt signaling the end of our shift, she takes a step toward me and hesitantly pulls me into a hug. “You’re good people, Cecelia. I’m going to miss you when you head off to school.”
I hug her back tightly. “I’m going to miss you, too.”
She pulls back and grips my shoulders. “You won’t miss my motor mouth.” She laughs and nudges me. “But I’ll sure miss your ear. How long do you have left?”
“Just a few months.”
She winks. “We’ll make it count.”
I nod and manage to muster a genuine smile as she leaves the line to punch out. I trail behind her, my thoughts going back to this morning’s conversation in my kitchen. To everyone close to me, I’m that girl now—the one who got her heart broken and retreated into herself.
Tobias sees me the same way—weak—but the irony is that it’s people like Melinda who struggle daily to make ends meet, and my affection for her and those in our circle that keeps me silent, compliant. If I thought for one second Tobias’s plans included hurting her or the people I’ve come to care about, I would have blown the whistle long ago. But that’s not the case. And despite my hatred for him, I know Tobias’s plans include giving the power back to the people of this town.
And that plan I’m all for.
Does it make me a bad person that I’m willing to let my father suffer because of it? Maybe.
But this is the part I chose to play.
And maybe some of my disregard for his welfare has to do with the grudge that he chose his empire over me.
