Chapter 33 Larissa
LARISSA
Chris ghosted me.
The last time I talked to him was at the pharmacy two weeks ago.
He texted me a membership number, said he wasn’t feeling good, and was gone by the time I got back.
Since then he’d barely replied to my messages.
He said he was sick so the day after the pharmacy, I made a batch of chicken and dumplings soup just for him and went over to drop it off.
He didn’t answer the door. I left it on his porch and an hour later he Venmo’d me the money to pay for it with a generic Thanks.
I didn’t want him to pay me—the soup was a gift.
When I texted him that, he didn’t reply.
Something felt wrong, but I didn’t know what and I didn’t have time to figure it out.
I was working nonstop, packing the rest of my stuff, selling off what little bedroom furniture I had since I wouldn’t need it.
I was officially moving in with Mike tomorrow.
And I was nervous in a way I’d never known.
The relief that I wouldn’t have to live with Phil anymore had faded, replaced with a weird sense of dread.
I kept telling myself it was probably just the change making me uneasy, but I think it was something else.
I was about to be dependent on a man for the first time since Dad, and I was terrified.
I stayed at home these last two weeks instead of at Mike’s place.
I wanted to spend as much time with Mom as I could before she moved six hours away.
But I also had a foreboding feeling that I was making a mistake, even though I knew moving with Mom and Phil to South Dakota would also be a mistake.
Leaving Lexi, my job, the customer base I’d spent the past few years building, my dog—Chris.
Leave all of that or move in with Mike. Those were the options.
I had to pick one and it was obvious which one was the correct choice.
I’d be able to save money, I’d be living somewhere nice for a change, I wouldn’t have to live with Phil.
But my anxiety didn’t care. My brain was alarm bells going off nonstop.
Mike was leaving early for the cabin tomorrow to do some repairs. I’d be able to get unpacked and situated in peace. Maybe I’d feel better once I was settled in? It would all be fine.
And then Christmas Eve Chris would pick me up. And I was going to ask him about cleaning the snow off my car.
I hadn’t told Mike my suspicion that Chris had shoveled me out. If Chris hadn’t told him, he didn’t want Mike to know, probably for the same reason Mom said: It would make Mike feel bad for not doing it himself.
It was funny because I hadn’t really seen Chris or Mike in the last two weeks, but it was Chris I was most looking forward to spending time with. I felt a void where that friendship usually was.
I didn’t realize how big a part of my life he’d become until he wasn’t around anymore. And nothing filled that space. Not work, or Lexi, or Mom.
Or Mike.
Maybe I was just a little down. Leaving Mom, seasonal depression, the stress of moving, the exhaustion of the new graze board business and all the hours I was working at the diner and my side jobs. I was out of sorts.
I flopped onto my air mattress and tried to get into a book but I couldn’t, so I lay there, alone, staring at the dusty popcorn ceiling.
Maybe I should just go to Mike’s tonight.
Mom had left with Phil to get drinks, so it wasn’t like I was getting to spend one last night with her anyway.
They’d come back loud and buzzed and wake me up.
What was the point in sleeping on the floor when I could sleep with my boyfriend in an actual bed?
I could swing by and say goodbye to Mom before they took off in the moving truck tomorrow.
Practicality won out. I got up and headed to Mike’s.
I texted him before I got in the car and called him on the way, but he didn’t answer his phone. Probably asleep. He’d been going to bed early all week. It didn’t matter, though, because I had a key.
When I got there, I noticed all the lights were on in the living room.
I put my luggage by the front door, set my purse down, and walked around, flicking switches.
When I got to the kitchen, I saw an empty fast-food bag and a dozen balled-up taco wrappers on the counter next to a two-liter bottle of club soda and an empty bottle of vodka.
That was weird.
Mike didn’t do fast food. Maybe Jesse was over?
I picked up the vodka bottle and tossed it in the recycling bin.
Put the soda water back in the fridge, threw away the trash, and turned off the kitchen light.
Came around the corner toward the bedroom and stopped in my tracks.
Mike was passed out on the floor of the hallway.
Sleeping in his own vomit, shit-faced drunk.