Cat
It’s odd that sometimes life is monotonous and other times, the shifts in the universe are palpable. These entire last three days have felt so strange, the world seemingly off-kilter. Steve and Vada’s breakup, Adam’s menacing presence lurking like a shadow—his threats and demands looming over my head—the rumors at school. It makes me want to take a sick day from life.
Vada hasn’t been to school this week, though Tori and I went over to Vada’s house yesterday to provide comfort and help dry her sporadic tears.
I’m in between classes, exchanging textbooks in my locker, when Tori sighs next to me. “I haven’t seen Shay since Saturday. I miss him.” Then her gaze snaps to me, embarrassment causing her big blue eyes to widen. “Ugh, sorry. I’m whining about not having seen my man in seventy-two hours, and you haven’t seen yours in months.”
I wave her off. “It’s not a competition. Although, I’d say if it was, I’d win,” I giggle at her. “But should we maybe grab some dinner at Murphy’s tonight? You could ogle your guy, and I’ll get to eat some yummy food.”
Tori’s face brightens. “That sounds fantastic. Want to head to Vada’s first and then Murphy’s?”
I shake my head at her. “No, I actually can’t make it to Vada’s this afternoon. I have… I have a couple of errands to run. I’ll meet you at Murphy’s? What time does Shane work tonight?”
“Uhh, I haven’t talked to him yet, but I think he starts at five today, but the first half hour he tends to run around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to get a feel for the night. So let’s meet there at five-thirty when he’s simmered down a bit and he knows all his waiters are showing up?”
We agree on the plan, then disperse for our afternoon classes.
As soon as classes let out, I rush home, toss my backpack onto my bed, yank open my closet, and pull out the bag that holds one of my most prized possessions—the beautiful black-and-gold ice hockey skates Ronan gave me for my birthday last year—the day before life as we knew it imploded.
I open the bag and pull out one of the skates. They’re in near-perfect condition; no scuff marks despite my frequent falls, freshly sharpened blades. I’ve been babying them partly because they’re just a beautiful pair of skates with their pristine white laces and the brand name embossed in golden letters, but mostly because they’re the one physical gift Ronan has ever given me. They hold an incredible amount of meaning for me.
I allow myself a moment to live in the past, to feel the feelings sweeping through me in insurmountable waves before I put the single skate carefully back, then sling the bag over my shoulder and leave home.
But I’m not heading to the ice rink to practice. I’m meeting a person I know only as Tillie, and by her online marketplace username hockey_romance_bookdragon17. She was the only person who responded to me when I did the unthinkable and posted my skates for sale when I came home from Vada’s on Sunday.
I did as Adam ordered; once he hung up, I finally put the bag with the gyros on Vada’s bed, went into the bathroom, and took yet another incriminating picture. The moment I hit “send,” I deleted it as well as the text message chain with Adam, desperate to erase any trace of my ongoing betrayal. Luckily, Vada didn’t interrogate me about my phone call, didn’t ask me who I was talking to. She was in no state to pick up on my despair, and I was grateful for it. In fact, Vada’s plight took precedence over my own, and I relished the opportunity to focus on her.
I spent the night at Vada’s, wanting to distract her as well as myself. Unfortunately, I couldn’t sleep at all that night, lying awake, trying to think of a way to come up with a thousand dollars in a matter of days. I do have a little bit of money sitting in my checking account—$659.36 to be exact—which means I’m short less than $350. But my mom won’t deposit my allowance again until the first of the month, and I don’t have a job that could help me supplement, or at least offer my friends the prospect of getting paid back soon if they loaned me the money.
When I left to go home Sunday morning, I was overcome with such suffocating remorse and worry that I’m pretty sure I experienced my first real panic attack. My mom thought it was because of the news my dad had shared the day prior, and that’s at least partially true. Adam is out there; he hurt a girl—badly—but what’s worse is that he’s exerting his power, his control over me, and there’s nothing I can do about it. Not unless I want the world to find out what I’ve done.
I hid myself in my room the rest of the day, quite literally burying myself underneath my blankets, ignoring anything and anyone—including the boy I love. I just couldn’t talk to him. I was convinced he’d hear the betrayal in my voice, would immediately be able to tell what a cheating, conniving, horrible person I am. I’m so scared of hurting him, of losing him.
Eventually, I came up with the outline of a plan to scrounge up the money. I asked my mom for $350 with the excuse that I wanted to buy a new winter coat. In return, I told her she could keep my allowance for February. She didn’t agree to the whole amount, giving me $200 instead. I obviously knew I needed to actually buy a coat, so I spent fifty of that money yesterday on a significantly marked-down wool coat that definitely looks like it could have cost four times as much. But that still left me short. I didn’t have anything of significant value that I thought could fetch me $200 in this short amount of time.
I was aware that hockey skates can be quite expensive, and even though I was extremely reluctant to even consider selling them, I eventually looked up my skates and gasped when I saw that a brand-new pair costs nearly $400. I can’t even properly explain the war that raged inside me as I weighed my options.
If I thought I was betraying Ronan before, I was most certainly doing it now. It took me a long time to hit the “post” button and list the skates for sale, but eventually I did, tears cascading down my face.
Tillie was the only one to bite, offering me exactly the amount I needed to get Adam off my back for now and hopefully forever.
Tillie and I agreed to meet at a small coffee shop—I’m not so stupid as to give out my personal address and I’m certainly not meeting anyone at their home, so a public place it was—and the subway ride is quick, though not quick enough that I don’t find myself getting angry. I’m angry at Adam, obviously, but even angrier at myself. Once again, I ask myself why I’m like this. Why do I allow him to do this to me? Why am I so easily manipulated? I know this entire thing could be shut down if I just made better choices, if I found the courage to come clean. And maybe that’s my way out. Maybe I just need to suck it up and finally tell—on Adam and myself.
Then again, I can only imagine my dad’s reaction. What is he going to say when he finds out that I messed up so badly? And not just once, but over and over and over again.
I spot Tillie immediately—her hair is the same shade of bright pink as it was on her social media—and make a beeline for her. I just want to get this over with; I don’t want to spend too much time holding on to my skates because I fear I won’t be able to hand them over if I think too deeply about what I’m about to do.
I approach the small table where she’s sitting, a small paper cup of some hot beverage in her hands. “Hi, Tillie?”
“Are you ?”
I nod, then tap the bag by my side. “I got the goods,” I say, forcing myself to smile even though I feel like crying.
She smiles delightedly. “Do you mind if I take a look?”
I place the bag on the table and pull the zipper open, allowing Tillie to inspect the skates.
“These look great,” she says, then digs in her jeans pocket and pulls out a wad of bills. “One-fifty, right?” she says, already counting out the money.
“Uh, no, I think we had agreed on two hundred.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh, shoot, we did? I don’t know why I thought we agreed on one-fifty,” she says, placing the last of the ten-dollar bills on the table.
I get the distinct impression she’s purposely shorting me. Normally I’d say it’s the perfect reason to take my skates and leave, to renege on the deal. Obviously the universe is telling me that my skates are more important than any amount of money, but I’m desperate. The money is due to Adam tomorrow morning, and I can’t think of another way to come up with $150 this fast, let alone $200. Ugh, my heart is screaming in my chest.
I deflate. “Yeah, we did. But we can do one-fifty, I guess,” I say quietly.
“Oh, are you sure? I don’t want you to think I’m ripping you off or anything.”
I do think she’s ripping me off, but I don’t think I really have a different choice at this point. “Yeah, it’s fine,” I say, suddenly very aware of the fact that, once more, I’m allowing someone to walk all over me. Do I have no backbone?
Tillie and I finalize our transaction, and I leave the coffee shop only moments later, the money securely stowed in my pocket. I still need to figure out a way to come up with an additional fifty dollars by tomorrow, and I have no clue how to do it.
I decide to stop by the bank to deposit the money, then head to Murphy’s early. I’ll just wait for Tori there. Maybe the bartender, Jack, will take pity on me and sneak me a shot of tequila so I can numb the dread in the pit of my stomach.
***
It’s a quarter to five when I arrive at my destination, and already Murphy’s is loud and lively. It’s not a total surprise, though; Murphy’s is always popular, and their happy hour from two to five bridges the lunch-to-dinner gap, ensuring a steadily revolving door of patrons from the moment Murphy’s opens for brunch at eleven until it closes at two in the morning.
I don’t really know any of the people who work the day shift at Murphy’s. Last summer I was usually here when Ronan worked, which was mostly in the evenings. Since Ronan’s departure I’ve been at Murphy’s much less frequently, and there are definitely some new faces amongst the servers.
I figure I’ll seat myself and wait for Tori. I look around for a spot with a good vantage point for her to ogle Shane while we eat dinner. I know that would be a priority to me if Ran was here, so I find a small booth and wander toward it. The patrons who sat in it before me must have only just left because the table still hasn’t been cleaned, but I don’t mind. They’ll get to it soon.
I slide onto the cushy leather bench seat and stack up the empty plates, pushing the dishes to the end of the table for easier cleanup. I notice the twenty-dollar bill on the table—obviously the tip left for whoever provided service.
I don’t know what sort of evil spirit possesses me in that moment. Without even thinking, I glance around, then swipe the twenty bucks off the table and deposit them in my pocket.
Oh my god, . What the hell is wrong with you? You didn’t have to do this! Your dad was right, you are a bad kid.
“Hey!” Shane’s deep voice snatches me out of my thoughts and my head jerks in his direction. “Are you okay?” he asks, a crease between his eyebrows as he studies me and my red-hot face.
“Oh, yeah, hi Shay,” I stammer.
He raises his eyebrows. “What just happened? Did I interrupt some dirty thought you had of Ran?”
I force my lips into a smile. “You caught me,” I say, feeling that twenty-dollar bill with my fingertips. I should put it back. It’s not right for me to take it. In fact, it’s very, very wrong.
“I figured as much. Your face is always such a dead giveaway. Where’s my girl?” Tori obviously told him about our plans to have dinner at Murphy’s tonight.
“She said you always run around all frenzied when you first get here, so we were going to meet at five-thirty. I’m just early,” I say, and laugh at Shane’s offended expression.
“She said I run around all frenzied?”
“Well, actually, she said you run around like a chicken with its head cut off, so…” I laugh even louder when Shane visibly pouts.
“Unbelievable,” he mutters, shaking his head.
“Aww, but Shay, if it makes you feel any better she was very sad at school today, telling me how much she missed you because she hadn’t seen you since Saturday.”
His face softens, a lovestruck look flashing in his eyes. “Yeah, I’ve been working a lot,” he says. “Okay, well, do you want something to drink or, like, an appetizer while you wait for her?”
What the hell. I’ve already made one bad decision after another today. What’s one more? “Yeah, actually, do you think I could maybe… could I maybe get one of those L.A. waters Jack makes?”
Shane expels a throaty chuckle. “Rough day, huh?”
I nod. “You could say that.”
“You got it. Jack should get here any minute now. I’ll make sure you’re his first order of business.”
I get up from my seat and follow Shane a few steps as he makes his rounds through Murphy’s while I head to the bathroom.
When I’m done, I linger a moment, waiting for the other woman in the bathroom to finish washing her hands, then follow her out of the restroom. Ever since the incident with Adam last August, when he cornered me in the secluded hallway to the restroom at Murphy’s, I try to avoid going to the bathroom alone. A part of me always expects Adam to just pop up out of nowhere, especially now that I know he’s on the run. He could be anywhere, even here in New York. The thought alone is enough to make my skin crawl.
I wander to the bar rather than back to my table. I figure I’ll let Shane do his thing as he begins the evening shift and just wait for Jack here. It’s two minutes until five, so it can’t be much longer before he arrives.
I sit down on the only empty bar stool and watch as the young-looking bartender closes out some tabs.
“Hey,” a suited guy with graying temples says, nudging my shoulder gently. “I’m leaving for a board meeting. Can you make sure she gets this?” he asks, then points to the fifty-dollar bill on the bar counter while motioning his head toward the bartender.
I nod, then watch him get off the stool and leave.
I exhale noisily through my nose and let my eyes fall shut with the heaviness of the decision I’ve already made. I don’t look while my hand glides over the smooth mahogany of the counter, then gently grasps the bill in my fingers. I pull back slowly, my eyes still closed, lift my hand—and the money—off the counter, then deposit the money in the same pocket where the previously nicked twenty dollars are already burning a hole in my jeans.
The guilt crashes over me like a building collapsing. I’m going to pay this back. As soon as I’m able, I’m going to come back and give the girl her fifty bucks. And I’ll ask Shane whose table I’m sitting at so I can make sure that person gets their twenty dollars, too. Just as soon as I have it. I’m only borrowing, not stealing, I tell myself.
I open my eyes then and notice Jack standing behind the bar, his eyes directed at me as he shrugs off his leather jacket. Oh no, did he see what I just did?
I plaster a tentative smile on my face, raising my hand in greeting. Jack reciprocates my smile and walks over to me. “I’m already aware of your L.A. water request,” Jack says with a nod, his brown eyes warm. “Things are kind of tough right now, huh?”
I study him, attempting to discern whether he knows what I just did, but I can’t read him at all. So I nod. “Yeah, kind of,” I say, and fish the fifty dollars back out of my jeans pocket. I can’t believe I’m flaunting the evidence of my crime, presenting my loot, but I only need thirty dollars to have the full amount Adam demanded. I’m not stealing to enrich myself. I’m going to leave a ten for the other bartender, and a ten for Jack once he makes me my drink. “Could you… could you please break this for me? Into tens?” God, it’s all so wrong.
Jack’s gaze moves to the fifty-dollar bill and lingers there. He knows. I know he knows. Why doesn’t he call me out? I wish someone called me out, forced me to come clean about… everything.
Jack takes the bill. “Yeah, sure,” he says, then looks up at me. “I know we don’t know each other well, and it’s probably none of my business, but if you’re ever in trouble, I happen to know that you have some really good people around you I’m sure you can talk to.”
Jack looks at me for a moment, his face full of warmth and empathy, while I just sit there, unspeaking, before he turns and walks to the register to break the fifty into tens.