3. Lorraine
Chapter Three
Lorraine
A week earlier.
“Okay, I got us some bread, eggs, and milk, but we’ll have to do without sugar again,” I said as I put the plastic bags with groceries on the counter.
Catherine stood up from the couch where she’d been reading. “We don’t use sugar anyway,” she said. She took the milk from me to put it in the fridge.
“That’s because I can’t ever get it,” I said.
Cat put her hand on my shoulder. “It’s fine, sis. It’s bad for us anyway.” She smiled at me, and I returned the smile, nodding.
“How was work?” she asked.
I groaned. “The same as always. Same shit, different day.”
I worked at a pub and grill that was open for breakfast and ran all the way through to midnight. It wasn’t my life’s dream to work there. The men groped me when the manager wasn’t looking, I always smelled like beer, and when I worked back-to-back shifts, I was dead on my feet. But the job brought in money, and that was all we needed.
“I could get a job, you know,” Cat said.
“No,” I said, shaking my head firmly. I put the bread in the bread bin and took the last two slices from the last loaf to make myself a sandwich. “As long as you keep up with your studies, we’re fine. You’re going to make something of yourself and get out of this hole.”
Cat nodded. She was five years younger than I was. When our parents died in an accident, it was just me and her. I’d quit college and gotten a job so we could keep living, and she’d finished high school. I’d been on her about getting good grades, and now she was studying to get a better job than my miserable existence at the pub.
“I’ll get us both out of here, okay?” Cat said.
“You take care of yourself, sis. I have Oscar. We’ll figure something out.”
Cat called her out. “Sure, because Oscar is going to walk into the sunset with you.” She filled the kettle and put it on the burner.
“He’s not that bad,” I insisted, preparing cups for tea. “He’s just…” I didn’t know what word to use. “He’s been with us through thick and thin.”
“He has,” Cat agreed. “And I know you love the guy, but don’t you ever wonder what he’s sticking around for?”
I frowned and leaned my hip against the counter, crossing my arms. “What do you mean?”
“You were high school sweethearts, and it was great to have someone who wasn’t so caught up in our grief when we lost Mom and Dad, but you guys were never supposed to be the forever couple. He gambles.”
“He stopped doing that.”
“Did he?” Cat frowned. “I don’t think so.”
I shook my head. “He’s had trouble, but he’s really trying, Cat.”
“Trying isn’t doing,” Cat pointed out. “And he’s not helping you bring money into the house—he’s taking the bit you have as extra and gambling it away. We don’t have that much to begin with.”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I hear what you’re saying, but I can’t just get rid of him. He stuck by us when things got really bad. How can I tell him it’s over now, when things are better?”
“You’re not obligated to stay tied to him when he doesn’t give you anything in return. Isn’t a relationship supposed to be give and take?”
I shrugged. Cat was right. When had she become so wise? My little sister had grown up while I hadn’t been looking—I was always so busy trying to make ends meet.
She was right. Oscar hadn’t exactly been helping me.
He had redeeming qualities, though. He was always there for me, no matter what. I could talk to him. I could dream with him. We always talked of a better life, a brighter future. We just had to get out of this hole.
The kettle whistled, and Cat filled our cups with boiling water. I added the tea bags, and we waited while the tea steeped.
“Things won’t be hard forever,” I said.
“No, it won’t,” Cat agreed. “I just worry about you. You’re all about me and putting me first, but you should put yourself first once in a while, too.”
“I’ll put myself first when things get easier,” I promised. “I just have to make sure it all works out now.”
Cat studied my face for a long time. I began to squirm, uncomfortable under her scrutiny.
“What?” I asked, shifting my weight from one foot to the other.
“It’s not your fault, you know.”
“Don’t,” I said.
“You can’t keep blaming yourself. You keep trying to make it right, but it’s not your fault.”
A lump rose in my throat, and my eyes stung with tears.
“Dammit, Cat,” I said in a trembling voice. “I was fine today, and now…” Tears rolled over my cheeks. “I’m a blubbering mess.”
Cat crossed the small kitchen and wrapped her arms around me. “I’m sorry. I just wish you’d stop blaming yourself.”
I let out a shuddering breath and hugged my sister back. “I’m not.”
Cat let go of me, her eyes telling me she knew I was lying. Without a word, she picked up her tea. I brought my cup and the plate with my stale sandwich, and we sat down on the couch.
“Tell me about your studies,” I said, nodding toward the book that lay on the coffee table. “How is it going?”
As Cat started talking about her classes, I smiled at the way her face lit up and her eyes sparkled. She loved studying, learning, growing. She was going to be great one day. She had a bright future ahead of her.
I wished our parents could see it.
I’d just graduated when my parents had died. I’d been at a party that night; Oscar and I had gone in his car. He’d had too much to drink, and I hadn’t wanted to get in the car with him.
“Why are you being like this, babe?” Oscar asked, irritated. “You always get in the car with me.”
“Not when you’re so drunk, you can’t walk straight. You’re wasted.”
I turned around and walked away from Oscar. He grabbed my arm and pulled me back. His fingers bit into my arm.
“Ow,” I said. “Oscar, what the fuck? You’re hurting me.”
“You’re just as drunk as I am,” he sneered.
“Yeah, but I’m not trying to drive.”
“You think you’re better than me?”
I yanked my arm out of his grip and stepped away. “If you want to drive home and write yourself off, you do that. I won’t be in the car with you. I’m going home.”
I walked away from him.
“Babe,” he called after me. “Babe! Lorraine!” I ignored him, pulling out my phone to dial my parents.
“I’m sorry to make you drive,” I said to my dad after I told him I needed a ride home. “I just don’t want to take the chance.”
“Never be sorry for doing the right thing and asking for help,” Dad said. “We’re on our way.”
My parents arrived ten minutes later. Oscar had already left in his car. I sat on the curb, waiting for my parents. When they arrived, I got into the back. Neither of my parents were angry with me. They asked about the party, made small talk.
Mom looked in the rearview mirror at me. “I know you love him, honey, but you have to think about the bigger picture,” she said. “Is this the type of guy you want in your future? Is this the life you want to build?”
“He’s been there for so long,” I said. “How can I throw all that away?”
“I think you deserve more,” Dad said, glancing at me. “But at the end of the day, it’s your choice. We just want you to realize your worth.”
“It’s not a long-term thing,” I said. “We’re still kids.”
“Before you wipe out your eyes, you won’t be a kid anymore,” Dad said. “And we won’t be around forev?—”
A car hit ours head-on. The car crumpled, and glass shattered. I hit my head on my dad’s seat in front of me. The seatbelt broke my collarbone.
Ambulances, red flashing lights, shattered glass glittering in the car lights. Being cut free from the car, the journey to the hospital, the lights in the ER sliding by as the nurses pushed me into an operating room.
When my sister and Oscar came to my room, Cat’s eyes were swollen and red. Oscar’s face was grim.
Our parents had died.
They’d come to pick me up from a party because I hadn’t wanted to go home with Oscar, who’d been driving drunk.
The other driver had lost control. He was dead, too.
I was the only one alive because my blood alcohol had been so high, my body had stayed limp, and it was what had saved me. I’d heard of a lot of people who’d survived because they were drunk.
My parents had died even though they’d been sober.
And Oscar had made it home safely.
After the accident, after I’d healed and my parents had been buried, Oscar had moved in. He’d been a pillar of strength after I’d fallen apart. He’d been supportive when I’d given up my studies to work and take care of my sister.
We’d become a little family in the absence of our parents, fighting through every day so that we could survive.
How could I point out all the small things about Oscar that bothered me after the big things he’d done for me and Cat?
My sister kept telling me I didn’t owe him anything, but it wasn’t that simple. My parents had told me I deserved more, but how could I measure what my worth was? I was the reason my parents were dead, after all.
The bigger picture had changed in the wake of that accident. Life wasn’t what it used to be. And Oscar was still here, after all we’d been through.
Cat was still talking about her classes, and I forced myself to focus on what she was saying. She was going to have a good life, and that was all I wanted for her. I could figure out the rest later.
“Tell me about your book,” I said, changing the topic. I nodded toward the book that lay on the coffee table. It was a thick book, almost like a tome, and it was all about Greek gods and magic, creatures, and the myths surrounding them.
“Oh, I’m reading about minor gods and goddesses, spirits and demons.” Her eyes twinkled when she talked about it. “They’re the link between us and the gods, bridging that gap, you know? It’s thanks to them that we can reach each other.”
“You always talk about this stuff like it’s real,” I scoffed.
Cat shrugged. “I know you think they’re just stories, but I think there’s more to it.”
“There’s no proof,” I said.
“There’s no proof to the contrary, either,” she challenged. She leaned forward, her eyes spewing fire. The atmosphere became electric. I could get into it with her right now, and we’d debate and argue all night long.
I smiled. It was this stubbornness that would get her far in life. It was frustrating when we argued about stuff, but I knew it would take her where she needed to go.
“Let’s agree to disagree,” I said.
Cat giggled, and the tension bled out of the room. “You’re just giving up before I beat your ass with arguments that make sense.”
“I’m stopping you from humiliating yourself,” I teased back.
We both laughed before the sounds of our voices faded away again. Cat yawned and stretched. It had become dark outside, and I got up to switch on the lights in our little home.
“Did Oscar let you know when he would be back?” I asked Cat.
She shook her head.
“Yeah, me neither. He’s probably working a late shift,” I said.
Cat eyed me dubiously, and I knew what she was thinking. Maybe he was working. Or, more likely, he wasn’t.
If she was right, he was out gambling.
I didn’t want to believe that. He’d said he would stop. He had a lot of flaws, but no man was perfect. What mattered was that he was trying, and he’d said that he would stop.
I said goodnight to my sister, who walked to her room with her book bag slung over her shoulder. She would spend more time studying before she finally went to bed. She had tests this week.
Though I was dead on my feet, I had two shifts tomorrow. I undressed, brushed my teeth, and pulled on the large T-shirt I always slept in.
I crawled between the sheets of the double bed Oscar and I shared and closed my eyes. Oscar would be home at any moment, and then he would crawl into bed around me and wrap his body around mine. It was my favorite part of our relationship, when he did that. It always made me feel like no matter what came at us, he and I were in it together. It was another reason I didn’t want to let go of him.
It was scary to think about facing this world without someone by my side. Sure, Oscar brought his fair share of problems to the table, but at least I knew he had my back. And no matter what, we were going to get through this life together.