14. Regret is a hell of a drug
FOURTEEN
REGRET IS A HELL OF A DRUG
? Collide - Howie Day
CLIO
Darkness surrounds me as I perch in a worn-down recliner with cigarette burns on the fabric-covered arms. I bring the glass in my hand to my nose and sniff. Vodka.
Voices drift down the dimly lit hallway to my right—one angry while the other lets out agonizing wails.
Their shadows grow ever closer until a faceless man comes into view, holding Lexi by the hair.
He shoves her to the ground at my feet, and she gazes at me with pleading eyes.
I try to reach for her, but my body is frozen.
My hands don’t belong to me. They’re wrinkled, with yellowing nails and scars from a life of suffering, given and received.
A piercing crack draws me back to the scene playing out before me. The man’s belt whips against Lexi’s back. I try to speak, beg him to stop, but nothing comes out. Tears track down Lexi’s cheeks as she cries out for help to no avail.
No matter how hard I try to break the spell, I’m stuck. All I can do is watch as the person I love most in this world is torn to shreds before me.
A tear escapes past my lashes, charting a path down my cheek, and I scream internally, my piercing cries drowning out all else until…
“I’m here. Open those pretty eyes for me, princess.”
NOAH
“See you Monday,” Gwen says.
A rush of air sends a chill coursing through me as she steps out onto the sidewalk. I follow her, watching until she’s safely on the road, then I lock up behind us and turn the sign to closed.
It was past midnight when I finished up with my last client. We stay open late on Saturdays and take Sundays off—not for spiritual reasons; we just realized that Sundays were our slowest days. It works better this way. We get an extra day off on weekends without losing any income.
Still riding the high from the last client, I walk back to my station to finish cleaning and sanitizing the equipment, then I grab my sketch pad and pencils and settle in. There’s nothing like the feeling of watching a tattoo come to life, from the initial sketch to the finished piece.
I built this place from the ground up, pouring everything I had between these four walls. When I bought the building, it was nothing but crumbling brick. I used up all of my savings to make it what it is, and in eight years, I’ve more than tripled my investment.
The pencil glides against the paper in a wide arc. Delicate strands of hair begin to form around a heart-shaped face, wisps of grey charcoal that glow a brilliant copper and gold in my mind.
A piercing cry rends the air. I toss my pencil and paper onto the desk and rush up the apartment stairs with a baseball bat in hand, taking the steps two at a time, desperate to get to her. When I reach the landing, Lexi is standing in my doorway, her face ashen.
“Go back inside and lock the door. Stay with Auggie. I’ve got her.”
She nods and steps back into my apartment, and I wait to hear the lock click.
Another scream travels through the paper-thin walls, and I rush into Clio’s apartment, prepared to fight like hell. But there’s no intruder to fight against—only a frantic Clio crying out in her sleep. Her face is tear-stained and pale as she writhes against the pillows.
“No. No. No,” she chants. “Stop. Please.”
Each word feels like a fist gripping my heart.
Swallowing down the remnants of the abject terror that carried me here, I lean the bat against the wall and sit on the edge of her bed.
As if it has a mind of its own, my hand cradles her cold, damp cheek.
“I’m here. Open those pretty eyes for me, princess. ”
Her eyes move beneath their lids, but she doesn’t wake up.
My thumb captures a tear, gliding gently down the slope of her face. “You’re alright, Clio. It’s just a bad dream. Come back to me.”
Her thick lashes flutter against her freckled cheeks until those familiar green pools I’d been sketching only moments ago come into focus. “Noah?” she says, her voice hoarse.
A deep sigh escapes me, and my hand drops away. “Hey.”
“What are you doing here?” She slips up the bed until she’s propped against the headboard.
“You were screaming so loud. I thought someone was attacking you.”
She lets out a humorless laugh. “No. Just my mind playing tricks on me again.”
“Wanna talk about it?” I don’t know what compels me to ask, but something tells me this isn’t new, and despite my best efforts to pretend otherwise, I care.
She shakes her head as she gazes down at her hands twisting in the sheets. “I’m ok.”
The words ring hollow, at best.
I should walk away. We’re not in public, so there’s no reason for me to be this close to her, yet I can’t seem to make myself leave. “I was gonna grab something to eat. Hungry?”
She shrugs. “I could eat.”
“How does frozen pizza sound?”
“Sounds perfect.”
“Good. I’ll be back.”
This is a bad idea. I’m supposed to be keeping my distance, so why can’t I seem to leave well enough alone? It was just a nightmare, and Clio’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.
When I get to my apartment, Lexi is curled up in the corner of my sofa with a blanket wrapped tightly around her. “What happened? Is Mom ok?”
“She’s fine. It was just a nightmare.” I open the freezer and pull out the box of pizza. “Do you mind staying the night? I’m just gonna make sure she’s ok, but I’ll be home late, and you should get some sleep. That couch pulls out if you want.”
“Yeah. We’ll be fine here. Tell Mom I love her.”
“Thanks, Lex. I owe you.”
When I get back to Clio’s place, she’s curled up in the corner of her sofa on the opposite wall, a perfect mirror image of Lexi. I run my hand down my face to hide my amusement.
She eyes me curiously. “What?”
“Nothing.” I set the box on the counter and preheat the oven.
“Everything ok with Lexi and Auggie?”
“He’s asleep. She’s staying at my place tonight, and she said to tell you that she loves you.”
A small smile spreads across her face, but there’s something solemn lingering underneath. “I haven’t had a nightmare in years,” she muses, tugging at a stray thread on her blanket.
I continue with my task, opening the box and setting the pizza on the round pan, letting the silence stretch.
“They started after Lexi was born, when I was struggling with postpartum depression. I was a young mom. A high school dropout just trying to survive. Thank god for Penny. She always knew what to say to make it ok. The nightmares got better as Lexi got older. Now, they only happen once in a blue moon, when I know Lexi isn’t home, but never like this.
I’ve always been able to bring myself out of it. ”
I want to ask what she dreams about, but it’s none of my business.
Beyond this fucked up arrangement, I’m not sure what we are to each other.
This feels like a crossroads. I could walk away and keep my distance as I told myself I would, or I could follow the more complicated road and see where it leads.
One thing I know for sure is that Clio needs a friend, and I can be that for her, even if it’s temporary.
It can’t be more than that—my past would only complicate her life—more than it already has.
For now, I’ll be a shoulder to lean on if she wants it, and tomorrow, we’ll go back to being neighbors.
The oven beeps.
I set the pizza inside, and slump down on the sofa at the opposite end.
She shifts to face me, and something tells me I’m about to be tested. “So, Noah Weston. Aside from rescuing damsels in distress from imaginary threats, what do you do for fun?”
I stare across the sofa, letting the silence linger.
“What? We’re engaged. We should at least get to know one another.”
That’s the last thing I need. A sarcastic response is on the tip of my tongue, but she cuts me off before I can let it out.
“No wait. Let me guess. Kicking puppies? Making babies cry?” She purses her lips and stares up at the ceiling. “I know! You stand outside Saps and Swirls waiting for unsuspecting children, then you scare them into dropping their ice cream.”
“You’re a menace.”
She smirks. “I’m not the one who likes to scare children.”
I throw my head back and groan. “I don’t scare children.”
“You didn’t deny it.”
“I draw. For fun. There. Are you happy?”
She hums. “Nope, but it’s a start.”
“Fine. I’ll play. What do you do for fun? Summon all of the animals in the neighborhood to clean your apartment and sew elaborate ball gowns for you?”
She tosses a pillow across the sofa, and I catch it one-handed, hugging it to my chest.
“Stick to drawing. Sarcasm isn’t your strong suit.
” Her expression sobers, and she gets a far-off look in her eyes.
It’s like her thoughts are somewhere else, lost to time.
When she finally speaks, there’s a new melancholic edge to her voice.
“I knit. My Aunt Penny taught me as a way to keep myself busy when it felt like the world was closing in around me. Lexi was just a tiny little thing. I still have a bin full of handmade sweaters and booties from back then. They were a mess at first, but it gave me somewhere to focus my energy.”
It all makes sense now. The ridiculous, brightly colored sweaters she wears all the time—she made those. And the blanket she’s wrapped in now, no doubt she made that, too.
She clears her throat and sits up straighter. “What’s your favorite color?”
“I don’t have one.”
She snorts. “Everybody has one.”
Her almond-shaped eyes catch in the lamplight, glimmering and curious.
She thinks I can’t see the sadness, but it’s impossible to miss, even from a distance.
What would you call that shade of green?
It’s not quite emerald, but it’s not warm enough to be olive.
It’s somewhere in the middle with lighter sage around her iris.
“Green.” The answer slips out of my subconscious as effortlessly as a swift exhale. I tear my gaze away, blinking rapidly, and the oven timer beeps, putting an end to my dangerous train of thought.