Everything came back to me, much like it had last time after Angie had presented me with her “surprise.”
“Sweetie, I know you said you didn’t want me to reach out to your mother, but…I spoke to her, and she’s so sincere. She wants to see you.”
I uncapped another bottle of bourbon and took a swig.
I couldn’t believe I’d opened up to her. Angie knew everything, except for the most gruesome details. I’d told her about the games my mother had us play as kids. Hide-and-seek, tag, and “if you touch the floor, you’ll eat your dinner off it!”
I remembered those times when Finn and I had been forced to lick tomato soup off the fucking floor as if they’d happened yesterday.
After taking another few swigs, I screwed on the cap and tossed the bottle near my leg. The memories kept assaulting me, and I pressed the heels of my palms against my eyes.
“Mommy, please stop! He’s bleeding!”
The worst punishment I’d ever received was probably when I’d called my aunt for help. Finn had wet the bed, I recalled, so our mother had forced him to take a bath. He’d stayed in the water an entire day; he was cold, scared, hungry, but she refused to let him out of the tub. Then, hopped up on whatever pills she’d taken, she’d threatened to throw the toaster in there if he didn’t stop crying.
I’d darted out into the kitchen and called her sister, hoping she’d come save us.
Joke was on me. Our aunt had been worse.
I reached for the bottle again.
Whatever Finn was doing with his life now, I hoped he did a better job than me. I hoped he’d been able to move on. Last I heard, he lived in Seattle and worked in radio. Okay, I hadn’t heard it; I’d looked him up.
I blew out a breath and waited for the pain in my chest to dissipate.
If I died of a heart attack, I probably wouldn’t take it seriously until my last breath. I’d just mistake it for anxiety and another panic attack.
When my phone buzzed under my pillow, I made a bet with myself. Fifty bucks that it was Angie again.
The bitch hadn’t deleted my number, nor had she stopped texting me.
She was convinced that I was punishing her for anger directed at myself.
In other words, she could not be more wrong.
What would it take to finally be left alone?
I dug out my phone and saw that I owed myself fifty bucks.
Please answer me, Avery. We can’t end things like this. We shared everything for eight years.
I wasted eight years on her. I only shared everything for six, because I shut down once she’d betrayed me two years ago. There was no going back after that deceit.
She was really insisting on another way to end things, huh?
Fine.
I chugged from the bottle, then wrestled my way out of bed and peered down at myself. Damn, the ground was moving. Undershirt, jeans… I grabbed the nearest button-down I could find and put it on.
Angie would get her closure.
I grabbed my keys and stumbled out the door.
I could drive. She didn’t live that far away. I’d be careful.
After getting in my car, I put on my shades and backed out of the driveway.
“I don’t want you to reach out to her, Angie. I’m serious. You know what she did to my brother and me.”
“But you’re carrying this extra weight. Don’t you think I see it? You’re never truly happy. You’re content at best. If you could find it in your heart to forgive her…”
I laughed bitterly to myself and left my district behind. Fuck, I should’ve brought the bottle. Just thinking about Angie made me thirsty for a complete blackout.
“Shit.” I returned to my lane and drove through the small forest that connected Downtown to the Valley in the south.
“Promise me you won’t track her down, Angie. Give me your word. I haven’t seen her since I was twelve, and I want to keep it that way.”
She’d sworn to me. She’d looked me in the eye and promised to give it a rest.
Emerging from the forest, I drove past a sign letting me know I’d reached Cedar Valley, and I took a left toward the neighborhood where her new apartment was. Funny, when I was twelve and CPS took Finn and me away, I’d told myself it was over. I’d never see my mother again. Not too long ago, I’d said the same thing about Angie. We were over. She was out of my life. And yet…here I fucking was.
I pulled in outside her apartment complex and peered up at the building. It was a cluster of seven or eight three-story buildings, the forest in the background, and we’d looked at an apartment here before we’d decided to just take the leap and buy a house.
As I jogged up the outdoor steps to the second floor, I thought back on whether or not I had locked the car, but I decided it didn’t matter. It was a safe area, and I had no plans to stay very long.
“You promised me. You fucking promised me, Angie! Holy fuck, I…I can’t believe you.”
Apartment 4B.
I pounded on her door. “Open up, Angie!”
Was I really going to do this? Was I going to try to make her understand one more time?
“Angie!” I yelled.
I supposed I’d let the whiskey decide. Maybe I’d take one step inside her place and throw up on her feet.
Fucking hell. I pounded some more, and then I heard her on the other side of the door.
“What are you doing, Avery?” Her voice held plenty of anger.
“Open the goddamn door,” I demanded.
“Not when you’re like this,” she insisted. “You’re scaring me.”
I let out a hollow laugh. “You don’t know what fear is.” I smacked the door. “Let me in.”
“You’re drunk! Don’t make me call the police.”
“I fucking dare you,” I barked out. “You’re the one who wanted to talk, so let’s talk. Fucking whore.”
I was met by silence.
I glared at the door and gave it a hard kick.
There was no way she was calling the police on me.
“Angie!” I shouted.
Christ. My chest heaved, and the pain was back. It shot bolts down my arm and made it harder to breathe.
I blinked and scrubbed at my face.
Then the door opened, and I dragged my bleary gaze off the ground.
There she was. She did look frightened.
I removed my shades and pocketed them.
How had I ever found her remotely attractive? We usually had the same shade of brown hair, but she’d dyed hers reddish. She wore too much makeup too. Lipstick that bordered on orange. Dull, brown eyes.
“Just how much did you drink?” she asked coldly.
I cocked my head at her. “I sure as fuck wouldn’t show up at your doorstep sober, so…a lot.” Then I pushed her aside and entered her apartment. Figures, she was done decorating. She’d kept our couch. It was too big for her living room, but whatever. “I’m here to give you closure so you can finally leave me the fuck alone. What do you want?” I turned to face her, almost tripping over the coffee table in the process. “You’re too ugly to get me hard, so I can’t fuck you.”
She flinched as if I’d slapped her. “Why do you always have to be so goddamn mean? You like hurting me, don’t you?”
“You just figured that out? You really are as dumb as you look.” I shook my head. “Hurting you has been the only thing that’s kept me going these past two years. It’s the one thing I’m-I’m gonna miss.” I rubbed my jaw, wondering if I was slurring my speech. I sounded okay to me, but my tongue felt numb.