Chapter 20 Sorry I’m an Asshole
Chapter twenty
Sorry I'm an Asshole
Beau
The next morning, I lie in bed, going over all the events of last night. Jo being remorseful wasn’t something I counted on, and it completely took me off guard.
But I’m wondering if it was all just alcohol-induced. Knowing Jo, probably.
It takes me longer than I’d like to realize that I’m wasting my Sunday sitting there thinking about her. Sundays are the one day a week where I don’t plan shit. It’s my day to do whatever I want—play video games, watch TV, and nap with my dog.
Speaking of my dog, I should probably take her for a walk before the laziness commences. With the way my mother feeds her, the girl needs some exercise before she ends up 500 pounds.
Dragging myself out of bed, I quickly feed Mia, take a shower, and get ready for the day.
As I walk out the front door, I see my vomit-covered shoes on the porch.
I sprayed them off with the hose before I came inside last night, but judging by the way they smell, I think they’re going to go in the trash.
Man, I really liked those shoes.
Fucking Jo.
Mia and I walk through the town, and of course, it takes quite a while because she has to stop and say hi to everyone we pass.
She’s the friendliest dog in the world. I sincerely hope no one in this town ever tries to rob me because she would do nothing but probably help them look and beg for treats.
I decide to stop at Dina’s and grab some donuts to take a couple to my mom. I haven’t heard from her in a couple of days and want to make sure she’s okay.
A few minutes later, with donuts in hand, I knock on Mom’s door. Although she looks surprised to see me when she opens it, her expression quickly warms.
“Hey, sweetheart. I didn’t think I’d be seeing you today.” She kneels to love on Mia.
“Which one of us are you talking to?” I ask.
Her eyes flick up to me. “What do you think?”
“I think you should be nice to me because I brought you donuts.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so? Come on into the kitchen.”
I unhook Mia’s leash and follow my mother inside. Before she even sits down, she gets in the cabinet to get the dog a bone.
When we are all seated at the table–Mia included–Mom asks, “So, what’s going on? I feel like I haven’t talked to you in a few days.”
“Not much.” I can’t help but let out a big yawn.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I boring you?” She smiles.
“No, sorry. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Did you hang out with Christie?”
“No, Jo is to blame for my lack of sleep.”
Her eyes threaten to bulge out of her head. I jump back in before she gets the wrong idea.
“Not like that! I went to Giddy Ups with Adam. We ran into Jo. She got drunk. Adam had to leave, so I walked her home where she apologized and then threw up on my shoes.”
“She did what? Why would she do that?”
“Well, she had too much to drink, so she hurled–”
She smacks my hand to cut me off. “Not that! Why did she apologize?”
“For everything. She admitted fault for leaving and said it was a mistake.”
“Wow.” She looks surprised.
“What?”
“I just never figured she’d apologize like that.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter. It’s not like it changes anything.”
“It doesn’t?”
“No,” I answer matter-of-factly even though I’m not so sure anymore.
“Beau, can you look me in the eye and tell me you’re willing to hate this woman for the rest of your life?”
“Isn’t that what you told me I should do?” I ask.
“No, it’s not. And even if it was, when have you ever listened to me?”
“I listen to you.”
“No, you don’t. If you did, you wouldn’t be playing hide the sausage with Christie.”
“Mom!” I cry. “Gross!”
“You’re the one doing it.”
“Yeah, but you don’t have to call it hiding the sausage.”
“Stop trying to change the subject. Tell me how you feel about this whole situation.”
“I don’t know, Mom.”
She lets out an obnoxiously loud sigh. “Can we skip the back and forth, and you just tell me how you feel?”
“Why are you so sassy this morning? Can I plead the fifth?”
She doesn’t answer but just gives a stern, “Beau.”
I try to think about how I want to respond, but I open my mouth, and everything comes pouring out.
“My head tells me I need to stay the fuck away from her. It continuously reminds me that this woman ripped me to shreds. Then, I get around her, and…” My voice trails off.
Mom says, “And you suddenly get all the warm and fuzzy feelings?”
“No. She still drives me insane. But every time I’m around her, I’m also reminded how much I miss her. I think about the good times we used to have.”
“And you don’t think you guys could be friends again?” Mom asks.
“I feel like it’s one of those fool me once, shame on you, but fool me twice, shame on me things. What if she fucks me over again?”
“Do you think she would?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t think I’m ready to find out.”
She leans back in her chair and takes a bite of a donut.
“Mom, when did you become Team Jo?”
“I’m not Team Jo.”
“No? That’s what you’re acting like.” An attitude seeps into my tone.
“While I wasn’t exactly thrilled about Jo being back in town, I also know that for a long time, her being back is what you wanted. And it sounds like she’s really trying to make amends.”
“What makes you say that?”
Her eyes narrow on me. “When have you ever known Jo to apologize? And more than once for that matter?”
She has a point, but I don’t know that I’m ready to admit that.
She keeps going, “Look, it’s your decision, but it sounds like maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to just hear her out.”
I fall silent for a minute. “I’m scared that the moment I let her back in, I’m going to fall in love with her again.”
She nods but doesn’t say anything for a while. When she finally does speak, she says, “Have you ever thought about the idea that maybe she could feel the same way?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Mom, she had years to fall in love with me. I don’t see it happening now.” I love my mom, but I’m not wanting to continue talking about this. “Look, I’ll think about what you said, but–”
She cuts me off again. “Alright, alright. I’ll stop meddling…right after I say one final thing.”
I sigh. “What?”
“You just came in here the other day and told me I had to stop living in the past. I think maybe you should take your own advice.”
She then changes the subject, but I don’t stay much longer. I’m ready to get home and enjoy my relaxing day. I’m done talking about Jo.
On my way home, though, she plagues my thoughts. Maybe she has changed. Maybe she really is sorry. But neither of those things negates the damage she did. I don’t think anything can undo it.
As I get back to my house, I see something on the porch. When I get closer, I see it’s a shoe box.
A box with a brand new pair of the shoes that were ruined last night.
Same size. Same color. And there’s a note.
Sorry, I’m an asshole.
-Jo.