Chapter Thirteen #2
He swirls his glass before taking a sip. A sharp little click escapes him as the whiskey settles. “Ah, what’s wrong? Your girl’s not here, so you want to skip out early?”
I flinch and let out a forceful breath of surprise. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Whoa, relax,” Tom says, jerking back. “I just meant Tris never showed up.”
A flush of heat rises up the back of my neck and into my face as my shock turns to anger.
“Tris is not my girl. In case you’ve forgotten, my girl’s ashes are spread throughout Oregon on the other side of the country,” I growl, nostrils flaring and breaths coming rapidly.
Beside me, Ellie paws at my side, sensing my spike of adrenaline.
Tom nods slowly, and his shoulders drop. “I didn’t mean to upset you. We loved Krystal, too, don’t forget that.”
We’re both quiet for a minute as I slowly rein in my anger. I know they loved Krystal, but hearing him refer to Tris as my girl... It feels like a betrayal.
But, is it?
“Listen,” Tom huffs, like whatever he’s about to say is going to make me want to punch him in the face, but he’s willing to say it anyway.
When he sees my eyes narrow, he smirks and shakes his head.
“Maybe I’m way off here, and I could be wrong, but I know you.
If there’s even the slightest chance that there’s another human on this planet who makes you feel something, don’t run away from that. ”
“Feel something? Yeah, she makes me want to pull my hair out,” I chuff.
Tom shrugs. “For you? That’s something.”
The last of my anger drains out of me, and in its place, I’m left with nothing but a dreaded emptiness in my chest. “It’s barely been six months, man,” I choke out, my throat feeling as if it’s closing. I drag a hand over my jaw like I can scrub away the ache, if only it were that easy.
Tom takes in my words, understanding passing over his features. He pours me my own glass of whiskey, and we walk to the edge of the wrap-around porch to lean on the railing, taking in the distant mountains and lake below.
“I wasn’t sure if Callie was going to choose me,” he says after some time passes between us in silence. “I mean, talk about the timing being way off. Pregnant with another man’s baby? Yeah, that was just one of many obstacles we faced together.”
He takes a sip from his glass and shifts his stance to face me.
“I know there were people who judged Callie for being torn between us. Hell, I know she struggled with the guilt herself. Whispers in this small town might as well be posted on a bulletin board or shouted out at the town meetings.” He rolls his eyes.
“What’s your point?” I ask, finishing my whiskey in one gulp, embracing the burn as it travels down and warms my chest.
“She didn’t let others’ thoughts, or her own, stop her from following her heart. It doesn’t mean she stopped loving Parker when she fell in love with me, but that love changed. It changed and made room for something else.”
“Tom...” I drawl out slowly. Urging him to spit it out.
“Don’t let your guilt over what can never be stop you from embracing the possibility of something that can. In short, don’t be an idiot. You know Krystal would want you to be happy, that’s who she was.”
“Don’t tell me who she was, what she would have wanted. She didn’t choose to leave me,” I spit out, my grip tightening around my glass, body trembling.
Tom’s steady hand comes down softly on my shoulder. “You’re right. She didn’t choose to leave you. She chose to save you. You know deep down that there’s truth to what I’m saying. Just know that we’re here for you. No matter what and in whatever way you need us.”
I inhale slowly, taking a deep, pained breath, and close my eyes. Maybe he’s right. Is it betraying Krystal if I have the chance to possibly be happy and take it? Or is it a betrayal to have the possibility and shut the door on it? “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Tom squeezes my shoulder with the hand still resting on it.
“That’s never stopped you before. If anyone is strong enough to get through this, to find something to hold onto and come out on the other side, even if it’s from pure will and stubbornness alone, it’s you.
” He finishes his whiskey and offers me a smile. “You just have to want to.”
I nod slowly, feeling more messed up in the head and conflicted than when I walked over here. “I just want to go home.”
“I can take you and Ellie home.”
Tom and I both jump and turn around at Rory’s announcement.
“My God! I didn’t see you there,” I say, startled since I didn’t hear her walk up.
“One of the perks of only being 4’9. I come with superpowers. One of them is constant stealth mode.”
The lopsided grin she throws our way looks so much like her brother Blake’s, it’s uncanny.
“Right,” I say slowly.
“If you want to go home now, have Rory take you. I won’t drive for at least another hour.”
I weigh my options, knowing that Tom never budges on his “one drink, one hour” rule. I can wait, or I can let Miss Super Powers over here drive. As Rory waits for my answer, she sways side to side, bobbing as if she’s listening to a musical beat only she can hear.
“How much have you had to drink?” I ask, still on the fence.
She tosses her keys in the air and catches them. “I don’t drink, so move it or lose it because this offer expires in five, four, three...” She heads toward her Ford Focus that looks like it’s seen better days, and I whistle for Ellie.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I call out as she continues to count. I let Ellie into the backseat and hop into the passenger seat.
Rory starts the car, and some instrumental covers start playing over the radio.
“So, is there a reason you don’t drink?” I ask once we hit the main road.
She snorts. “Why does everyone always ask that and not something more interesting? Like, why not ask, ‘Hey Rory, what’s your favorite color?’ But no. Everyone always goes for the obvious.”
I chuckle, feeling more at ease thanks to her easy-going silliness, and decide to play along. “Fine, let me guess.” I glance between her face and her hair. “Is it pink?”
A satisfied glow shines through her expression.
“Nope,” she says, popping the ‘p’ with a laugh.
“See, isn’t that more interesting. Now you might wonder, well then, why would I make my hair pink?
Right? But can you imagine if I walked around here with green hair?
I mean, I already get enough looks as it is with the pink hair, but green?
Some people can pull it off. I had a friend back in Tampa named Jes who rocked it, but for my complexion? Yeah, that’s a hard pass.”
Listening to Rory speak is like trying to follow a riddle. I’m not sure how I’ll get to the answer, but I know it’s in there somewhere. After a second of processing what she’s said, it hits me.
“So, green is your favorite color?”
“Exactly.” She smiles with satisfaction. “And the reason I don’t drink is because I watched my alcoholic mother drink herself into an early grave and choose to drink every day of my life instead of raising me. So, yeah, there’s that.”
My brows shoot up, and I blink rapidly at her nonchalant confession.
She continues to drive like the weight of what she’s said has no effect on her, but something tells me that this is her way of dealing with whatever it is she’s been through.
For some reason, I can understand that. Recounting trauma using facts without the emotions tied to it?
Yeah, I’d say emotional dissociation is one of many coping skills that I’m familiar with.
Sometimes it’s the only way to survive. I’m still working on the whole “slowly processing those emotions in a healthy way” part.
“I’m adopted,” I find myself saying after a minute.
“That’s cool,” Rory says politely before I can elaborate.
“I mean, I know what it’s like to have a parent not choose you,” I stammer, not sure why I’m telling her any of this except that it feels like I get it and want her to know that.
“I was taken from my mother when I was three because of her addiction, too. Luckily, there was a family, my family, that had been waiting for a chance to adopt for years and had almost given up when they got the call about me. In a way, I know I’m lucky, but that type of thing leaves a mark, you know? ”
She rolls to a stop at a red light
“Don’t I know it,” she huffs, more serious than I’ve seen her.
“Now, anyone who wants to be a part of my life has to prove it and be willing to stick around. I’m not exactly easy-going, if you hadn’t noticed.”
Her lips pinch as she fights a grin. Her tongue is poking at the inside of her mouth as she shakes her head. After hearing a muffled laugh escape her, which she tries to disguise with a cough, I narrow my eyes at her.
“Okay, what is it?”
“Nothing,” she says too quickly. When she sees my face, clearly not believing that, she continues. “You sound a lot like someone else I know.”
My stomach drops as Rory parks the car in front of my duplex.
“Speaking of,” she says. When my brows furrow, she dips her chin and looks over my shoulder and out the window. I turn in time to see Tris waving at Rory, but she stops when she sees me.
I let out a heavy sigh and drop my head. “Thanks for the ride.” I open the door, but pause, remembering something. “Can I ask you why I’m not allowed to talk about you at the station?”
Rory’s eyes grow comically wide, and she barks out a loud laugh. “Now that is a story for another time.” She leans to the right and looks past me. “Thanks for answering the phone, bitch. Better not pull that on Friday.” She shakes her head. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Tris waves her off, but even from here, I can see a small smile.
“Thanks for the ride.”
“Good luck.” Rory’s knowing smirk remains on her face as Ellie and I get out of the car and wave her off.
“What’s Friday night?” I ask Tris, climbing up the stairs.