Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
SOPHIE
Up until now, this week has felt so dreamy and delicious. It was like the luck from those two small winning lottery tickets was carrying me along in a cloud. Or maybe it was the rainbow of condoms that was carrying me along. I’ve been so excited about the present that it felt like the past and future couldn’t touch me. Rob and I were in a bubble, but that changed yesterday, when he told me about the whole Thanksgiving thing.
And then today…
Well, today has felt cursed from early this morning, and no matter how many times I rub my fingers over Rob’s guitar pick, it doesn’t seem to get better.
First, the woman who bought my wedding gown emailed Otis a plea to cancel the transaction because her fiancée was cheating on her. Talk about bad omens. Of course we said yes, but that leaves us back where we started financially.
Second, I got my parents’ RSVP for my wedding this morning. Well, I suppose it must have arrived yesterday, but Otis and I aren’t particularly good at gathering the mail.
They RSVPed yes and ordered the fish.
Poor choice. It was cooked sous vide, whatever that means, and Patricia is the only one who’d liked it.
Their RSVP card didn’t even have a message on it. Just the penned circle around fish.
That’s how close I am with my parents. They think I’m still marrying Jonah Price.
It made me feel a sharper stab of unease about driving a wedge between Rob and his dad. Because even though he insists the damage to their relationship was done long ago, I suspect part of him still wants to repair it.
I got Rob’s text about dinner tomorrow while I was still stewing about all of this, and my first reaction was to start bouncing on my feet. It sounded like he was asking me out for real . But then panic set in…
It took me a while to figure out why I was panicking, but my ultimate conclusion was this: I’m going to have to tell him everything if we move forward, and also, he may have to give up half of his flipping family for me.
So I held off on answering him but spent all day thinking about it, hyperaware of my phone in my pocket. The only enjoyable moment of my shift was when Dottie came in to hone our drink offerings.
After work, I got home, only to find Otis was off on a bird-hunting mission. Texting Rob was the obvious next move. I wanted to do it, too, but I went up to my room to change and ended up tripping over the box Jonah had left on my doorstep last weekend.
It felt like a physical manifestation of my crappy past, and I had the firm conviction that unless I did something about it, I’d never be free to move on.
So I asked Hannah and Briar over to help me. Now we’re sitting on the floor of my bedroom with beers, going through it. It’s a big box, and we’re only half done.
“Uh. This isn’t mine,” I say, lifting up a lacy thong with a pencil.
“It’s mine,” Briar says, blushing, then pulls the big trash bag closer. “Bin it.”
“What a shithead,” Hannah muses as she flips through the paperback she’d claimed from the box. “He couldn’t even be bothered to sort through all of his various girlfriends’ crap.”
She’s not exaggerating. We’ve already found several things that don’t belong to any of us. A pretty pen with a jeweled top, an expensive-looking bra, and a journal with a list of rom-com movies inside. There is also a toothbrush that’s unfamiliar to all of us, but we figured it was some kind of trap. Please, use this toothbrush that looks deceptively new. I totally didn’t clean my toilet with it.
“Do you think this stuff belongs to GingerBeerBabe?” Hannah asks, gesturing to the unidentified belongings. “We could bring them to The Ginger Station and ask. She might want this stuff back.”
Hannah made a follow-up trip to The Ginger Station last week, but no one would tell her anything about Jonah’s possible fourth girlfriend. And she’d been warned to stop hanging up the STD flyers.
“Yes, whatever will she do without her bucket list of rom-coms and her sparkly pen,” I say dryly, recognizing this as evidence of Hannah’s leave-no-one-behind mentality. She’s looking for excuses to get involved. “I think we should throw it all away. In fact, I’m done looking through the box. Unless you two want to comb through the rest, I’m tossing it.”
“No,” Briar says, wrinkling her nose with disgust. “I’m done too. I don’t want any of this stuff back. It would only remind me of him.”
“I’m keeping the book,” Hannah says with a shrug. “And the rom-com list. I want to know if GingerBeerBabe has good taste.”
“You know,” I say, “I have a box of Jonah’s crap in my closet. Do you guys?”
“I only had one of his T-shirts,” Hannah says. “I burned it weeks ago.”
I try not to flinch. “Briar?”
She shrugs. “I have some mementos I boxed up. It’s…” She looks down, shrugging again. “I’ve been meaning to toss it, but there were some good memories. It’s hard to process that all of it was…”
“Bullshit,” Hannah finishes for her, springing to her feet. “Get your box, Sophie. We’re taking Briar’s car. She’s barely sipped her beer.”
“Where are we going?” I ask, caught off-guard by her shift in mood.
“Jonah’s house. We’re throwing that shit at his house. All of it. Do you have some eggs to throw too?”
“Uh, eggs are expensive these days. What about toilet paper?”
“Yes. Let’s do it. I haven’t toilet-papered a house in years.”
I haven’t done it since I was a teenager, before the incident . The bewildered look on Briar’s face suggests she’s never done it.
“We need this,” Hannah declares with conviction, and I can’t tell her she’s wrong. There has been something raw building in my chest all day, ever since I saw that RSVP card. Fish. I’m not sure whether it’s rage or grief, but it needs an outlet.
“Okay,” I say.
“I don’t know about this,” Briar hedges, glancing at the box of our things combined together, as if we were one person to Jonah. Completely interchangeable. Somehow that infuriates me more than anything. Possibly because it’s still easier to be angry on someone else’s behalf than my own.
“I do,” Hannah insists. “You’re not just sad, Briar. You’re angry. Be angry.”
She considers this for a moment, her expression serious, then nods. “You’re right. There’s a time and a place for anger.”
“Damn straight,” Hannah roars.
We gather my Jonah box from the closet, plus some of the gross one-ply toilet paper Otis buys whenever I fail to come home with the nicer stuff, and pile into Briar’s car.
“We deserve justice,” Hannah fumes, a war general if ever there was one.
“It’s not really justice to toilet-paper his house and throw his stuff around,” I admit as Briar makes her way to his house, following my directions.
Apparently, he told her that he had a mold infestation so it was better if they spent time at her place; he invented a loud roommate for Hannah.
“No,” Hannah says, “but it will make us feel better. The real justice is you banging his brother, the way he was banging your friends.”
Even though they didn’t become my friends until afterward, I have to laugh. “Yeah, that can’t be great for his ego. I just worry about getting between Rob and his family.”
“It might be a blessing,” Briar says. “I wish someone would get between me and my parents.”
Hannah laughs. “You act like you don’t have a sense of humor, and then you hit us with some real zingers.”
My skin feels itchy and hot as we get closer to Jonah’s house, where I spent so many hours. Where I thought I would live with him after the wedding…
That marriage doesn’t feel like a dream come true anymore, but a nightmare that almost became my whole reality. If Jonah hadn’t swapped phones with me that morning, I wouldn’t have found out he was a cheater until much later. Until we were married, probably, and I wouldn’t have my friends, or even Otis. I definitely wouldn’t have Rob.
Rob, who wants to make me dinner.
Rob, who touches me just because, even though he’s not my real boyfriend.
Rob, who makes me feel cherished.
Rob, who’s waiting for my text…
I’m feeling so many thing at the same time. Grief and rage, and a shocking glimmer of gratitude nestled into them. Because I’d escaped that fate I’d signed up for so eagerly. For once I’d gotten lucky.
“I’m feeling some big feelings,” I confess.
“I hope rage is one of them?” Hannah asks.
“Oh, it definitely has a presence.”
“Was there any shampoo in the box?” Briar asks practically. “It would be nice if there was something that would make a bit of a mess.”
“Yes, and it’s that expensive stuff with biotin,” I say. “Because he’s worried about losing his hair.”
“I hope he does,” Briar says. “I hope he loses everything but a funny little rim around the sides that makes him look like a medieval monk.”
We’re still laughing as I direct Briar to park on the curb in front of his house—a little crazy, a lot mad, and strangely… happy . His car is in the drive, but all of the lights are off. The house looks different tonight. Drab. Cramped.
“I almost lived there,” I mutter.
“Huh,” Hannah says, clearly disappointed. “I was hoping it would be a real villain lair. This just looks like?—”
“Someone’s great-aunt’s house?” I ask, laughing. Because it is basically the same model as my aunt’s house, only updated and with better amenities.
“But your aunt’s house is bright and inviting,” Briar says, hugging herself. “This place has a dark aura.”
“You know what?” Hannah says. “I’m gonna agree with you on that one. Let’s get this done.”
We’ve already assigned ourselves roles. Hannah is the toilet-paperer, and I’m going to chuck the contents of my box at his house while Briar launches the contents of hers. She has fewer things, so once she finishes, she’ll help Hannah.
“Ready. Set. Destruct,” Hannah says, grinning like a banshee.
My heart in my throat, I open the box and begin yanking out its contents. I throw the sweatshirt he gave me, and it gets snagged in a tree. I open the biotin shampoo, then hurl it at his porch, and watch it bounce and spill its contents everywhere. I throw his toothbrush. His nail clippers. His special pillow.
Just a few feet from me, Briar makes quick work of emptying her box, throwing her own collection. Ticket stubs. A sweater.
When she finishes, she starts helping Hannah, who’s running around, slinging toilet paper streamers, and I feel almost gleeful. Maybe this isn’t justice. Maybe it’s juvenile. But he deserves to have to clean up a mess. He deserves to have an imprint of us on his perfect little postage-stamp yard and his well-maintained house and?—
“Who’s out there?” a man shouts from the porch of the house next door. I know him a little. Alfred is kind, a bit overweight, and overly talkative. Or at least Jonah used to say so. I always brought him cookies whenever I baked a batch, and I liked hearing about his children, because he’s such a doting parent.
“Shit,” Hannah says, dropping her latest roll of one-ply.
Panic grasps me in its claws, and not again, not again, not again runs through my head.
I broke the rules.
He could have us arrested. He could…
He puts a hand on his hip. “Is that you, Sophie?”
“It’s me, sir,” I say, “and a few friends. We were…”
He waves me off. “You go ahead and do what you need to do, sweetheart. Don’t let me get in your way. I’m just going to come out here and enjoy a beer while I watch you finish.”
Apparently Jonah is a worse neighbor than I thought.
Tears well in my eyes at this man’s kindness, but the anxiety in my stomach doesn’t quit.
“Thank you, sir,” I say.
Then I bring what’s left of the box up to Jonah’s doorstep and stomp what’s inside of it twice for good measure as my friends unspool more toilet paper.
Once I’m done, I wave to Alfred. “Have a good night.”
“You too, honey. You tell your aunt hello from me.”
“She’s in Mallorca.”
“Well, I don’t rightly know where that is, but I hope she has herself a good time there.”
“Sir,” Hannah says, hurrying over to him, out of breath from her gymnastics around the yard. “I would be ever so grateful if you could take a video of Jonah discovering the mess and text it to me.”
“He done you dirty too?” he asks her.
“Yes,” I say. “All of us.”
“And more besides, I’m sure. You’ve got it, honey.”
Hannah gives him her number, and we pile back into the car, breathless, a little dirty, and agitated.
Or maybe that’s just me.
“That felt good, didn’t it?” Hannah asks as Briar pulls away from the curb cautiously, the way she always drives. Not at all like we’re in a getaway car.
“It did,” Briar agrees. “I didn’t realize those things were weighing on me, but I feel lighter. Sophie?”
I just swallow and nod. “Yeah.”
Hannah gives me a curious look but doesn’t press me. Just as I haven’t pressed her for more information about the situation with her brother Liam, which is obviously more complicated than she’s wiling to let on.
Hannah’s phone chirps when we’re halfway back to my house. “It’s from that cool old guy,” she says, excited.
“Don’t watch it until we get back to Sophie’s aunt’s place,” Briar says. “We need to watch it together.”
She actually goes three miles per hour above the speed limit to get us there. As soon as we arrive, Hannah leans in from the back seat and presses play.
We watch together as a car I don’t recognize pulls up to Jonah’s house. Jonah gets out in a burst of energy, swearing loudly enough to be picked up by Alfred’s phone camera. Hannah snickers as we watch him weave his hands through his hair.
Then a woman exits the car and joins him, placing a hand on his arm.
I can hear Alfred laugh. “Damn. Got himself another one. She’ll be the next to toilet-paper his house.”
Jonah must have heard him, because he comes stomping over. “Are you filming this?”
“It’s still a free country, last I heard,” Alfred says as he lowers the camera. “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”
“Who did this? Was it a little redheaded bitch?”
Briar gasps, but Hannah only laughs, shaking her head. “He couldn’t conceive of you playing a part, Sophie.”
But I’m barely paying attention anymore. It feels like all my muscles have seized and I’m in fight or flight. Fish. Breaking the rules. Getting caught…
“I need to go inside.”
Hannah drops the phone and wraps her hand around my arm. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re not upset about the woman, are you?” Briar asks.
Honestly, no. It hadn’t even occurred to me that I should feel upset.
“Nice to meet you,” a woman’s voice says, tinny from the phone’s speakers. “I’m Nora.”
Hannah’s eyes widen, and I know she’ll do an internet search as soon as she can.
“I don’t care about her,” I insist. “And you shouldn’t either. We have to let this go.”
“But she looks familiar,” Hannah says. “I’ve seen her somewhere before. I need to know if she’s GingerBeerBabe. And if she knows the whole truth.”
“I don’t care anymore,” I say flatly. I realize I’m trembling slightly. “I should…I need to text Rob back. I haven’t texted him all day.”
“How dare you have a life,” Hannah says with a small, encouraging smile. “What are we up to? Purple?”
“We?” Briar laughs. “It’s not a team sport.”
“You guys know way too much about my sex life.” I turn away from Hannah’s stare. “I think he wants to talk. He invited me over to dinner tomorrow night. He said he’s going to cook.”
“That sounds nice,” Hannah says slowly, eyeing me in the dim light from the car’s ceiling. “Why do you sound so terrified?”
I could tell them everything. I could tell them right here in my great-aunt’s driveway, as if it’s nothing. As if all of the pain and guilt I’ve carried around is the kind of baggage that can be stuffed in a box and left on someone else’s doorstep. But the thought makes me want to hyperventilate.
“Take a slow breath in and out,” Briar says softly. “It’ll help.”
I do, and then I say, “Rob and I have been having fun. A lot of fun. But I don’t see how we can have a future. When I think about it, it feels like my chest is caving in.”
“So don’t think about it,” Hannah insists. “Just enjoy the fun you’re having and the present will become what you now see as the future. You don’t have to fix everything right away.”
She’s right, probably. That’s basically what I’ve been doing, and I’ve been enjoying myself. In a strange way, the last month of my life has been the happiest in…probably over a decade.
That doesn’t say anything good about the way I’ve been living.
“I’m afraid,” I admit. “About everything. That we’re going to get arrested for TPing Jonah’s house, that Rob’s going to drop me, that you’re going to drop me?—”
Hannah reaches forward and squeezes my arm lightly again. “Jonah would never tell a policeman he thinks his mean ex-girlfriends ganged up on him to make his house messy. They’d make fun of him, and he hates it when anyone makes fun of him. So that’s not gonna happen.”
“But what if he retaliates in some other way?”
She shrugs. “Then we retaliate back. My neighbors actually like me. And we’ve already established you can never get rid of us, so you can toss that fear right away.”
“And Rob?” I ask, my voice quavering.
“I think it’s time for you to talk to him about that, don’t you?” Briar asks sweetly.
“I thought you’d given up on men,” I say in disbelief. “You said you wouldn’t even adopt a male cat.”
“That’s me,” she says. “It doesn’t mean I’ve given up on men for you.”