“What changed?” she asked quietly, picking at a nail. She wanted the same answer from me as I wanted from her. It made me wonder what else she wanted from me that I wanted from her too.
“I had a crush on a girl who wanted to go to a party. Long story, but I took her. I didn’t watch her, didn’t even really think anything could happen to her. I was naive. Someone found her getting taken advantage of after being drugged. The guilt had me searching for an outlet, and I found many … in a lot of different places other than chess club after that.”
The words were somewhat rehearsed. I had been saying them for a long time now. The pain was still there, but it got better with sharing. Zoey grabbed my hand and squeezed. That girl had demons of her own, like every one of us Heathen’s. I knew it the moment I met her.
She was one of us, she just had to figure it out for herself. We’d all done some bad shit or had something we blamed ourselves for. We found our healing in healing others, in giving them a place to let loose and protecting them while they did.
She’d see she could share her story and maybe find a way to share it with me one day soon.
“I can tell you it isn’t your fault, but you know that already,” she murmured.
“Yeah, I do. Sometimes it still feels like my fault though.”
“I know exactly what you mean.”
We sat there, lost in our own minds for a while longer. She never let go of my hand, and I rubbed my thumb over her soft skin, trying my best not to wonder how soft other parts of her were. Would we continue to get along as well as we did now if we fucked? Did I only want her because I couldn’t have her or was it something more?
Her phone buzzed and broke our connection. She pulled her hand away and leaned over to get it from her bag. When her fingers flew over the keyboard, texting someone back rapidly, my stomach twisted up in some feeling I wasn’t much accustomed to. Was she seeing someone else? I’d never asked her, never even contemplated it. I figured her car wreck, with all its jagged edges and dented parts, was all mine immediately. I hadn’t seen her with any guy hovering around.
I knew that didn’t mean a damn thing though.
“You got some guy back home that’s worried where you are?” I had to crack my neck just thinking about it.
She side-eyed me before she resumed texting. “If I did, what would it matter?”
“Gotta know who I need to draw your attention away from.” I wasn’t kidding.
She laughed, though, like I was. “I’m never going to be interested in you.”
“Seemed like you were the other night when you stayed to watch, Ladybug.” I waited for the blush that didn’t disappoint.
Her chocolate eyes became slivers of anger. “I froze in shock. I wasn’t—”
“You were watching. Don’t deny it. If you could have, your hand would have been—”
She stood abruptly and threaded her fingers through her long hair. “Don’t even finish that sentence.”
I chuckled at her pacing back and forth in front of the counter. “Want to go grab some food while we wait for your laptop?”
“Are you kidding me? I’m not doing anything with you after what you just said. I have to go anyway. My mom needs me to get back home for tonight.” She waved her phone in front of me.
All the twisted aches and pains in my gut unraveled. No other guy. She said it without actually saying it.
“How far away do you live?” I asked.
“Far enough that I need to catch a bus.” She paused and looked to where they were fixing all the laptops. “Do you think I can come back to pick it up?”
“Why don’t you pick it up at your next shift?”
“Cole!” She stomped her foot. “The city description has changed to stubborn asshole. Are you this persistent with all the waitresses you hire?”
“Only the ones who try to leave when we know we need them.”
“And how many of those have there been?” Her hands planted on her hips.
My smile was slow as I looked her up and down. “How many like you? Only one, Ladybug, only one. And that means I’m going to be stubborn as hell about giving you up.”
Her phone buzzed again. “Damn it.” She turned toward the door and then stalked back to the counter. Then she stomped over to me and poked a finger into my chest like it was all my fault. “One more shift and you bring my laptop. I shouldn’t even indulge you but I got to go.”
“You mean to say you shouldn’t indulge yourself,” I threw back at her.
Shoving her hat on and stuffing her hair in it, she scoffed and didn’t respond. As she left me, I watched her go and heard her mumble to herself, “If only you knew how true that was.”
Her words gave me hope.
5
Zoey
Mom: Can you make it home for dinner?
Me: I can try. What’s the occasion?
Mom: I just miss you. You’re so far away.
It wasn’t an SOS. It wasn’t a call for help or even a Bat-Signal. My mom had only been sober for two years, and while that was a long time to some, it felt like just yesterday that I’d dragged her home.
For a while, we dragged each other home, and we’d had fun. It all changed after that night.
She sobered up and begged me for forgiveness the next day. It’d always been her and me against the world, and that day was no different. I told her there was nothing to forgive and I believed that.
The only person who’d been in the wrong had been me. I knew of my mother’s addictive behaviors and still let her come to the bar every night and have fun with me. I’d thought she was strong enough until I found she wasn’t.
Every single time she texted me now, I didn’t hesitate.
Her and me against the world.
Against her alcoholism.
Against her drug use.
The bus only took two hours, and I was close enough to call an Uber at the stop.
“Mom!” I yelled as I took in the chimes playing in the wind that hung from the roof of the house. There were little gnomes she’d placed out there too. “I’m out front. I like your decorations.”
“Good!” She poked her head into the foyer with a smile on her face. “The guy across the street helped move some around for me, made sure they were placed right.”
I rolled my eyes and swiped my boots on a welcome rug that I never would have expected to be there a few years ago. “The neighbors shouldn’t be moving around your lawn decor for you, Mom. Just call me.”
“Nonsense. Better them than you, pretty girl.” She chuckled and I pulled her in for a hug. She smelled of lavender and pesto chicken. “Are you making cavatappi with the pesto?”
“You bet!” She squeezed me hard enough that I felt her need to be near me. “I missed you, Zo.”
“Sorry, Mom. School’s been busy and it’s a lot being on my own there.”
Combing her fingers through her bleached-blonde hair, she sighed as we walked together into the living room. The decor was all soft browns and gold tones this year. Next year, it would change again. She had a knack for decorating and bringing rooms to life, but she got sick of it quickly.