Chapter 39
Russ drank too much at the Christmas party to drive home.
He probably wasn’t properly drunk. Cherry wasn’t a good judge of drunkenness because she never drank, and she was never around inebriated people anymore—except
for her dad, who drank so much, he never seemed drunk. It was easier to tell when her dad was sober. He snapped at everyone.
Cherry drove them home in Russ’s car. It was a Polestar. Electric. She’d never even heard of that car before she met him.
Cherry’s heels were too high to drive. She had to take off her right shoe to feel the pedal.
Russ was uncharacteristically quiet on the way to his house.
Maybe he got quiet these days when he drank. There was still that tension from earlier in the night around his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Cherry said softly.
He looked over at her. “What? Why are you sorry? I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, Russ. I had a nice time.”
He laughed, bitterly.
“There were a few awkward moments,” she said, “but everyone was nice.”
Russ shook his head. “Was that normal for you?”
“It was on the intense end of normal . . .” She shook her head, too. “This movie’s changed everything. I’m kind of just waiting
for people to forget about it.”
“That could be a long wait. Isn’t there a sequel coming?”
Cherry’s heart caught in her chest. “What? Is there a sequel? Is that confirmed?”
Russ looked startled. “I don’t know—Molly said there was a whole series.”
“Oh,” Cherry said. “Well, it’s a series of books. I don’t know if there’ll be a movie sequel. I guess I should want that,
from a financial standpoint.”
“Do you get money from all this?”
She glanced over at him, to see if he was kidding. He wasn’t. “Yeah,” she said. “I mean, it’s Tom’s money, but yeah.”
Russ was nodding. He looked far away. When he used to get drunk in college, he’d get silly. Affectionate. Not like this. “That
makes sense, I guess.”
“Here I thought you were a gold digger,” Cherry said.
“Huh,” he said, still far away. “Yeah.”
“I keep expecting you to know more about all this. I thought you’d have googled it by now.”
“I figured you’d tell me what you wanted me to know . . .” Russ said.
If Cherry weren’t driving, she would have kissed him for that.
He pushed both hands into his hair. “. . . but you never tell me anything.”
“What?” She looked over at him. “What do you expect me to say? I mean—it’s not really my story. Thursday isn’t mine.”
Russ laughed. His voice got high: “It is, Cherry. It follows you around. Actually—it arrives before you do.”
“Well, I can’t help that.”
“I’m not saying you can. But you could have prepared me for it.”
“Prepared you how? Was I supposed to make you read a Wikipedia page at the Goldenrod concert?”
“We’ve been together for months now! I’m serious about you!”
“I still don’t know what I was supposed to say, Russ. Was I supposed to warn you?”
“I don’t know, maybe.” He clenched a hand in his hair. “Doesn’t it bother you? All of it?”
“Yes, it bothers me. I’m getting a divorce.”
“You’re not getting a divorce,” he muttered.
“What?”
“You told me you were getting a divorce. But you’re not. Have you even talked to a lawyer?”
“I’ve talked to a lawyer—I have a lawyer.”
“Then why aren’t you getting a divorce, Cherry?”
“Why are you picking a fight with me?”
“I’m not,” he said. “I’m talking to you.”
“You’re angry.”
“I’m unhappy, not angry.”
“What did I do wrong tonight, Russ? You invited me to a party and I went. I can’t help that people look at me and see . . .
a character!”
“You could help it.”
“How?”
“I don’t know, do you have to look so much like her?”
Cherry laughed. “Yes! Literally, yes!”
He waved his hand around his face. “I just mean the necklace. And the hair.”
“I’m not even wearing my hair like that tonight. I thought you liked my hair?”
“I do! I like your everything! It’s just . . .”
Cherry gripped the steering wheel. “It’s just that I look like a cartoon character—who was drawn to look exactly like me.
I can’t change my entire appearance!”
“Your sister did!”
Cherry sat back against the seat . . .
Like a five-thousand-pound wrecking ball had just swung through the windshield and hit her in the chest.
“Cherry,” Russ said. “I didn’t mean that.”
She ignored him. She’d been driving north on Saddle Creek Road. She got into the left lane and made a U-turn.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m taking myself home.”
He covered his face with his hand. “Cherry, I’m sorry.”
She ignored him.
“I didn’t mean it.”
She ignored him; it wasn’t hard.
They weren’t far from her house. After a few minutes, she parked behind the dumpster in her driveway, blocking the sidewalk.
Russ had turned in the passenger seat to face her. “Please don’t get out of the car, Cherry.”
Cherry put on her right shoe and got out of the car.
Russ scrambled out, too.
“Go home,” she said.
“I can’t drive.”
“Take an Uber.” She was walking up her sidewalk.
“Cherry, wait!”
She didn’t wait. She went in the house and let Stevie out of her kennel.
Stevie followed Cherry upstairs, and Cherry let her. She let her sleep on the bed.