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I miss having my brother as a roommate sometimes. I’ve visited but never frequent enough or long enough.
My stomach rumbles, and I head into the kitchen, opening a cupboard. And there they are, just where I knew they would be. A jar of peanut butter and a bag of M&M’s, exactly where they belong.
I take them into the den with me, scooping up peanut butter straight from the jar with a tablespoon and rolling it in M&M’s. Normally, this sugar binge helps me feel better on bad days.
I munch silently as I stare at the TV. I don’t even know what’s on. It’s just something to focus on, background static to drown out my noisy thoughts.
It doesn’t quite work, though. That mental image of Brock and Rosa forces itself into my mind’s eye again. No matter what I do, I can’t chase it away. Another teardrop trickles its way down my cheek.
I’ve been so dumb.
Obviously, Brock was only being so nice last night in the restaurant because he was cheating on me.
He thought he could have his cake and eat it too—string me along for easy sex, all the while carrying on with Rosa like nothing had ever happened. The sheer arrogance astounds me.
He always seemed so genuine. How much of a psycho does he have to be to be so convincing? All those times I stared into his eyes, all those things he whispered into my ear as we made love . . . and they were all lies. It’s actually quite frightening, just how well he masked it all.
I turn on my phone—I switched it off for takeoff and never bothered turning it back on. I haven’t felt chatty, to say the least.
There’s a ton of messages, voicemails, and missed calls. All from Brock.
I throw the phone to one side, absolutely not interested in whatever fresh lies he’s concocted.
I’m surprised he’s even bothering. He got what he wanted, and there are plenty more impressionable, vulnerable women out there for him to prey on.
I saw what I saw with my own two eyes. What possible lies could he come up with to counteract that?
I eventually drift off to sleep on the couch, feeling thoroughly sorry for myself, the TV still blaring in the background.
I awake to the sound of the front door opening and a voice calling out my name.
“Nina? Are you here?” It’s Dean, finally home from work.
I sit up. My head is all woozy from the sleep and the crying.
Dean comes into the lounge and sees me, a tight smile on his lips. “There you are. I was kind of worried you might change your mind and not get on that flight.”
He sits down next to me and pulls me into a hug. I lean my head against his shoulder, taking comfort in the solidity of his presence, feeling like a little kid again.
Dean has always been there for me, ready to help me through whatever issues I face. I didn’t think I had any more tears left in me today, but I break down again in his arms.
He sits patiently, waiting for my tears to stop, letting me get it all out without a word.
Eventually, I stop. My whole body is tender, but at the same time, I feel just a little bit . . . lighter, now that my brother’s here.
It’s like I know everything’s going to be okay now. I can work through this. With my big brother by my side, nothing looks too scary.
“Okay,” he says, getting up from the couch. “Now that’s over with, why don’t I get a couple of beers, and you can tell me exactly what happened? I mean I’m not dumb. I think I’ve got it figured out, but let’s hear it anyway.”
I hear him pop open a couple of bottles, and then he returns, handing me one. It’s ice-cold.
I sigh in satisfaction after taking a gulp. Then I start talking, and I don’t stop until the story is done.
Brock
Brock
Am I making a big mistake?
Once again, I check my phone. It’s almost like an unpreventable tick at this point, I’ve been doing it so constantly since this afternoon, when Nina walked away from Lindland Hotel.
She looked so dejected, even from the back. I’d hate myself forever if that was the last time I’d see her.
Nothing on my phone. No calls, no texts.
Well, nothing from Nina or Dean, anyway. I’ve got a couple of messages from work because I took off with no notice. And, of course, there’s a ton of messages from Rosa.
Fucking Rosa.
Why did I ever let her into my life? I should’ve run like hell the moment I discovered her first lie, when she told me about a deeply spiritual trip she’d taken to Tibet.
Listening to her at the time, I felt like I’d heard that story before because I had—from a mutual friend who had actually taken the trip and told us about it.
