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“I’m fine,” Shiloh says, smiling sweetly. “You should see the other guy.”
A one-notehaleaves my mouth, and Bonnie zeroes in on me. “Jackson, it’s just so nice to see you. It’s been a long time.”
What should I do? What should I say?
I settle on nothing.
Sweat percolates on my forehead and my gaze falls to the linoleum.
Shiloh’s eyes bore into me before she looks at Bonnie.
“You must be new to town. I’m Bonnie Richter,” Bonnie says, holding out her hand to Shiloh. They shake hands, ignoring the trickle of fresh blood down Shiloh’s leg.
“Bonnie, Shiloh Is bleeding.”
“It’s fine,” Shiloh says, and gives Bonnie a smile. “My grandpa is Earl Abbott. Do you know him?”
“Oh, of course. Is Stephanie your mother?”
“Yes,” Shiloh says softly.
Bonnie looks at her with wide eyes, a look I know all too well. She pities her, like she pities me.
“I hope your mom is doing okay. She was friends with my little brother…”
“She’s doing wonderful. I’ll send your best wishes. It was nice meeting you,” she says sweetly to Bonnie as I walk her to the chair to fill out her paperwork on a clipboard.
Maybe Shiloh is hiding something too.
As Shiloh reads each question carefully, I shove my hands in my pockets and pace. I haven’t been in a medical facility in ten years, not even to see my own doctor. In here it smells like fake rainforest, the antiseptic smell masked well enough. Walking back and forth helps with the nerves.
“Shiloh Abbott,” a nurse calls. I offer my forearm, and Shiloh takes it. Her fingertips feel like a balm on my skin as I walk her to the door.
“I’ll be here,” I say. All I get is a smile as the door closes behind her.
Bonnie still studies me like I’m a celebrity in the wild paying a parking ticket. I wish I could disappear, to avoid any questions she might ask. This town wants to see me break down, see me have emotions I can’t control.
Joke is on them, though. I’ve shoved my emotions down so far, I’m not sure where they went.
Shiloh
A little white lie never hurt anybody.
There’re things I’ve learned from being a woman. Tears sometimes get you what you want. A fake limp makes a handsome guy scoop you up like you’re a damsel in distress.
He carried me like I was a pound of feathers, and his skin was warm under my fingers.
Being close to him was as exciting as I thought it would be.
He may hate me, but I felt comfort in his arms. I hate myself for wanting his touch, although he’s given me every sign I’m the worst part of his day whenever he sees me.
Jackson’s hands on me are all I think about as I wait for the doctor on the exam table, kicking my feet. As soon as I was inside the door, the nurse offered her arm, and I walked normally, although the scratch on my leg hurt a little.
Of course someone would know my mother.
In AA, they talk a lot about environment, and my mother feels like coming back to Goldheart could tempt her into sliding into her own ways. It’s where she started drinking and doing drugs way too young, and where she would drop my sister and I off with my grandparents during the summers so she could follow around a new boyfriend. Goldheart reminds her of how she failed as a mother, even though Summer and I turned out okay.
When my mother decided to get sober four years ago, my sister and I decided to stop drinking with her in support and solidarity. Honestly, I never liked the taste of alcohol, and it always made me sick. Cutting it out was easy for me, especially knowing how addiction can be hereditary.
