Page 41 of Fight
Oh.
No?
Callahan
Things have run their course with us.
My depleted energy, compounded with the events of this morning, forms a hot ball in my chest. I’ve been hanging on by a thread, and his text message severed the last frayed strand. My face burns, eyes brimming with tears.
Rejection.My first true experience with it, mixed with exhaustion and a hefty dose of humiliation.I pocket my phone and inspect the space I spent extra time sprucing up. This isn’t how I pictured the day going. I pull my phone out again and reread his message.
Getting attached too quickly was my fault, but after years of numbness, he came into my life and made me feel anything but.
I didn’t have a chance in hell to keep a boundary.
Still, everyone told me this is what he does. For whatever reason, I was charmed enough to, what, hold out hope? What an idiot. I fell into the same trap as every woman who came before me. How easy it is to be replaced when relationships aren’t forced upon you.
To punish myself, I scroll to our earlier messages. The ones that gave me butterflies and excitement. Even when I know it’s unhealthy, I still want to feel the memory of his affection anyway. I want to read just one of those texts from him and feel the warmth I felt the first time I read it.
I scroll higher;the words aren’t real. Any meaning I found in them were a product of my imagination. Yet I read them again because feeling pain is still better than feeling numb. This time, they are bitter with betrayal.
A tear slips down my cheek, and I swat it away angrily. No way am I crying.
“You’re being foolish. If you want to live in the real world, this is part of it.”
I don’t have feelings for him, I convince myself. This issimply a cocktail of mental exhaustion, rejection, and a silly crush on a boy who had no intention of taking anything further. I’ve weathered shit harder than this. I started a new life; I’m not getting tripped up by asinine feelings based on a few nights of sexual freedom andfun.
He had me in the palm of his hand and decided I wasn’t worth holding onto.
Okay.
Shifty’s is busy tonight. The buzzing chatter makes it sound like my head is stuck inside a beehive.
“Do you remember that time I bet you that you couldn’t eat all the carrots in Gram’s garden, and then you did? You blamed it on rabbits, and then barfed orange all over her sofa?” Teddy, my sister, struggles to get out the words through a fit of giggles.
We’ve been talking since I walked in—no, wait… no, that was Tiffany. I was talking with Tiffany last I checked. Did I black out? I jerk my head around. When did my sister show up?And where the fuck did Tiffany go?I rest an elbow on the bar and squint one eye at Teddy, trying to figure out which one I should be looking at. “How long ya been ’ere, Ted?”
“A while. You texted me you were at the bar and needed to talk, ’member? It’s not like every day your big brother asks for advice, so I left the kids with Logan.” She snorts like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard; she’s clearly as drunk as I am. “And now you’re too drunk to remember.”
I laugh right along with her, but then the ugly memory surfaces. I wanted to talk about Scottie.
Originally, I planned to pick someone up. The best way to getover one woman is to get under another, but Tiffany isn’t here anymore, and I’m way too fuckin’ sauced. Even if she was, I don’t think I could get my dick up if I was sober.
I’m just so damn disappointed. This afternoon, I jumped on the internet and did a deep dive search on her. I found out Scottie is married… to Jonathan Timmons. Timmons is her married name. I saw the newspaper archive of their wedding announcement. No doubt the woman in the photo was her.
On top of that, there’s the whole thing with Dave. I know the reason he’s fucking Scottie is to get back at me. For what? Not letting him on the crew? He was shitty as a seasonal in his prime. Now he’d be a total slouch.
Fucking married.Unbelievable.
I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. Do I tell her husband? Do I ignore it? It’s not like I knew. And if she’s having an affair with Dave, I’m sure everybody will find out eventually anyway. Doesn’t matter, I’m in no mental state to make a decision like that right now.
“’Ey Ma!” I call to the owner of the bar, Mae Taylor. After getting chastised a few times, she earned the nickname Ma from everyone on the crew. Usually, Lou is working, but she moonlights here every once in a while to give him a night off. “Top me off, will ya?”
I sway on my stool. This bartop feels so nice and smooth. I could rest here and close my eyes for a bit, perhaps just long enough for Mae to fill my glass. My cheek presses to the wood, and she slaps the side of my head. I sit up and laugh. My cheek is totally numb. I heard the smack more than I felt it.
“Can I call you a cab?”
“While I’m known for giving lots of rides, I’d prefer you call me by my name, Cal-uh-han.”