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Thirty-Nine
BJ
Jo drove the girls home and I rode back with one of the boys that works for him, Ambrose. He had to drive up anyway to bring Jonah a specialty tyre for the Rolls.
He’s nice enough but I’m not in the mood for chatting. My mind is fucking reeling.
I don’t know how I keep having her and losing her, and I’m fucking sick over it.
The whole drive down I’m trying to figure out what to do, how I can make it right — but I don’t even know if I can.
I asked her to her face, will I ever be good enough for her, and she didn’t say a fucking thing. I guess that answers that.
At least it was quick, like a band-aid ripping off.
Bit unfortunate that it wasn’t actually a band-aid, it was a skin graft and I wanted it there, but here we are.
The pain is unbelievable.
Thought I’d be driving home today to end things with Jordan but when I walk into my apartment and I see her just sitting there on my couch in nothing but undies and a big hoodie of mine, that old voice in the back of my head pipes up. I know it well, haven’t heard it in a while but that’s because I haven’t had anything to lose in a while. Loving something as much as I love her fucks you up a bit, have I said that before? And maybe it’s worth it, if you get to the end and there’s a happy ending and shit but what if we get there and there isn’t? What if I get to the end and it turns out that actually, there was no such thing as good enough for Magnolia all along, so why try? The chasm her absence creates in me cracks open wide and I only know two ways to fill it.
I’m seven months clean. I’m not using that shit again, even if I want to. Even if my dealer’s name is still in my phone. Maybe this one’s the lesser of two evils?
I swallow, breathe out. Scroll to his name in my phone — my finger hovers over ‘Send Message’ — think about it. For a good few seconds, I do. And then I delete his contact.
I blow out my mouth, relieved.
One option left. You’re not going to like it.
The other — well. You know what the other one is.
“Oi.” I nod my chin at her, cock my head towards the bedroom.
Jordan smiles, pleased. She stands and runs over to me, jumping up and wrapping her legs around my waist.
Probably a better way to numb it all, yeah?
And what’s it matter anyway? She’s technically my girlfriend. Magnolia and I aren’t together. We aren’t going to be. How can we?
“How was it?” she asks between kisses.
“Fucking shit,” I tell her and she laughs.
“Really?”
“Yep.” I nod as I pull the hoodie off her body.
It’s old. Burberry. Magnolia got it for me before she left. Toss it on the bed, lay Jordan down on top of it.
She grabs me by the collar of my jumper — same one I was wearing with Parks yesterday — and pulls me down towards her.
“Hey—” I pause, hovering over her. My mind is racing.
She looks up at me, eyes cloudy with how she wants me.
“I slept with Magnolia while I was away.”
Her face is hard to pick, I don’t think her eyebrows even move when I say that, she’s just frozen. Doesn’t let go of me though, just this strange staring at me for some of the five longest seconds of my life.
