Chapter 20 #2
The phone gets quiet on the other end, and I get that uneasy feeling in my stomach that keeps happening whenever we talk. The feeling that something isn’t right.
“Anything else?” Axl says, as if he’s hurrying me off the phone. As if my call interrupted something.
“Are you at work?”
“No. Just having dinner.”
With a girl. A girl I don’t know. A girl he won’t tell me about.
“Could I call you later?” he says. “Maybe tomorrow sometime?”
Tomorrow? Why wouldn’t we talk tonight? We always talk at night.
“I need to tell you something,” I say. “It can’t wait.”
“Go ahead.”
“It’s about next weekend.” I pause. “I bought you a plane ticket.”
“A what?”
“A plane ticket. For you to come out here. Isn’t that great?” I say, sounding breathless because my heart’s going so fast.
The phone is silent. I check to make sure we’re still connected.
“Axl?”
“Yeah, I’m here,” he says in a quiet voice.
“You’re not saying anything. Aren’t you excited? We get to see each other.”
“Babe, I’m sorry but I can’t next weekend.”
“What do you mean you can’t? Because of work? Just switch shifts with someone.”
“It’s not that. I just . . .” He gets quiet again.
“What? What is it? You don’t want to see me?”
“Of course I want to see you.”
“Then what’s wrong? Why can’t you come out here?”
“I just can’t, okay?”
“But I already bought the ticket.”
“You shouldn’t have. You should’ve talked to me first.”
“I don’t understand. You have something you’d rather do than see me? You don’t even have to pay for anything. My uncle bought the ticket and I have an allowance to cover anything else. All you have to do is—”
“I can’t, okay?” he says, getting angry. “I said no.”
“Why?” Tears trickle down my face. “What’s going on?”
“Things are just . . .” He sighs. “Different now.”
“Different how? What are you saying?”
“I’ll call you later. I can’t do this right now.”
“Do what? What are you talking about?”
“Axl, what’s taking so long?” a girl says in the background. It’s the girl who answered his phone.
“I told you to wait at the table,” he says, his voice muffled like he covered his phone.
“Who is she?” I demand.
“Rumor, I have to go. This isn’t a good time.”
“When is a good time? When you’re not on a date?” I yell, my anger skyrocketing.
“Babe, just calm down. It’s not what you think.”
“Really? Then what is it, Axl? What the hell’s going on there? Why are you out with that girl and why is she answering your phone?”
He blows out a breath.
“Just say it.” Tears are now pouring from my eyes. “You’re cheating on me with that girl.”
“I’m not—” He blows out another breath.
“Tell me the truth, Axl. We always said we’d tell each other the truth. So tell me.” I pause, more tears falling. “Are you cheating on me?”
“It’s just . . .” He takes a breath. “You don’t understand how hard it’s been.”
“Are you serious right now?” I yell. “You think I don’t understand how hard it’s been to be apart?”
“It’s different for guys. We have . . . needs.”
“You did not just fucking say that!” I’m pacing the floor again, wanting to throw something. Punch something. Anything to release all this anger inside me. “You’re telling me you cheated on me because of sex? Because you couldn’t go without it?”
“If you were a guy, you’d understand. You can go for weeks, months, without it but I can’t go that long.”
“So you went out and found some other girl? And you weren’t going to tell me?”
“She means nothing to me. You’re the one I love. I just can’t figure out how to make this work.”
“Save your limited brain cells because you don’t need to find a way to make it work. It’s over!”
“Rumor, don’t be this way. We can still be friends.”
“Friends?” I yell. “I don’t even want to see your stupid face again. Or your scrawny body. Or listen to your crappy music.”
“You said you like that music.”
“Because you like it. I was being nice, which is something you should work on.”
“You’re saying I didn’t treat you well?” he says, anger in his voice. “That’s bullshit, Rumor, and you know it.”
“You didn’t even ask how I was doing after my mom died.”
“That’s not true.”
“You never asked. Not once.”
“Excuse me for not saying what you wanted. I didn’t know I was supposed to read your damn mind.”
“You wouldn’t even help me clean her stuff out of the apartment.”
“I had to work! I sent my mom over there. She’s better at that shit, anyway.”
“I didn’t want your mom there. I wanted you. I needed you, but you weren’t there. You were probably with her that day.”
“I wasn’t with Halo.”
“Halo? That’s her name? Let me guess. She has tats and pink hair?”
“Green, but it doesn’t matter. I wasn’t with her that day.”
“How long has it been? Did it start before I left?”
“We were friends. That’s it.”
“Did you even wait a day? Or did you fuck her that night? The night I left?”
“Rumor, I’m not talking about this. You need to cool down. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“I’m not talking to you, Axl. This is over.”
“Rumor—”
I end the call and toss the phone across the room. It hits the wall with a loud thud.
“I can’t believe he did this,” I say to myself as I rip open the dresser drawer where I was keeping all our stuff.
Photos, cards, gifts he’s given me. I take the photos and cards and toss them in the white wicker wastebasket that’s beside the dresser.
Then I pick up the toy guitar he gave me, which I didn’t even want, and throw it against the wall, splintering the wood.
Next, I pull out the necklaces he gave me, all cheap rope necklaces with cheap stones.
I used to think they were cool, like the kind a rock star would wear.
Now they just look like junk. I add them to the trash.
Someone knocks on my door. “Rumor?”
It’s Braden.
“What?” I bark back.
“What the hell’s going on in there?”
“Nothing! Go away!”
He opens the door and sees my phone on the floor, the screen shattered. “Was that the noise?”
I stare at him, my hands on my hips. “You seriously heard that above your music? How is that even possible?”
“What happened?” he asks, coming into my room. “Decide you didn’t want it?” he asks, pointing to the broken guitar.
“I don’t want it or the guy who gave it to me.”
He nods. “Broke up with the boyfriend.”
“I didn’t have a choice since he’s already replaced me with someone else.”
“Fuck, that was fast.”
“I know, right? I’m gone a week and he’s already found someone else?” I yank a stuffed bear from the dresser and throw it in the trash.
“You sure he didn’t already have her?”
I glare at him. “Way to make me feel better, Braden.”
“What’s the answer? Did he or didn’t he?”
“Like I really want to think about that right now.”
“Might make you feel better.”
“To know he was cheating on me when I was there? How would that make me feel better?”
“Makes him an even bigger fuck-up.”
“Yeah? And how does that help?”
“Makes you hate him more. Hate gets you through this shit. Better to hate someone than cry over them.”
His comment reminds me of what Jackson said earlier — how I use anger to deal with my pain. How he does the same thing. Does Braden do it too? Is that why he’s telling me this?
“I don’t know how long it’s been going on,” I say. “But I don’t need to. Knowing that wouldn’t change anything. I couldn’t hate him any more than I do right now.”
Braden leans against the dresser, a cocky smile on his face. “What are you going to do about it?”
“About Axl? Nothing. It’s over. I’m done with him.”
“You don’t want to get revenge?”
“My revenge is him not having me in his life anymore. I was the best thing that ever happened to him.”
Braden chuckles. “You sound like a Halliway.”
“Why?”
“We know we’re the best. We don’t need anyone telling us. And if someone doesn’t want to be with us? It’s their loss.”
“Is that how you felt about Kristen?”
His smile drops. “Why are you bringing up Kristen?”
“You said you guys dated. I wondered if it didn’t end well.”
“None of your damn business.” He folds his arms over his chest.
“I thought we were sharing. I told you about Axl. Tell me about Kristen.”
“She’s a bitch. End of story.”
“Why is she a bitch?”
“Get to know her and you’ll find out.”
“She seemed like a bitch at the bookstore the other day. I tried to talk to her, and she acted like she wanted me to go away.”
He walks over to the window. “You want to do some shots? Smoke some weed?”
“I’m not really into pot.”
He turns to me. “You ever try it?”
“Yeah. Axl does it, which is another reason I don’t want to be around it. It’ll just remind me of him.”
“You like whiskey?”
“Not really.” I sit on the bed. “I think I’ll just take a walk. Maybe go for a run.”
“You don’t run.”
“Yeah, I do. I run all the time.”
“And come back looking like this?” He shows me his phone, which has a photo of me in my running shorts and t-shirt.
“Where’d you get that?”
“Trystan took it from the security video. You’re not even sweating.”
“I was walking that day.”
He smirks. “Whatever you say.”
What does that mean? Does he know where I go? Is he following me? Is that why he was telling me to stay away from Jackson? He can’t be following me. He’s never home.
“I don’t really give a shit what you do,” Braden says. “But Trystan does. He doesn’t trust you. I don’t either but I’m not gonna waste my time playing detective.”
“Is that what Trystan’s doing? Spying on me?”
“I don’t know. Haven’t asked. I never even see him now that football season’s started.” He walks to the door. “You sure you don’t want to do shots? I guarantee they’ll make you feel better.”
“Not now.” I meet him at the door. “Are you going to practice?”
“The gym. Practice is later.”
“Do you know when your dad is coming home?”
“No idea. He doesn’t tell us.”
“Is he like that about everything?”
“What do you mean?”
“Does he keep secrets? Not tell you stuff?”
“Depends on what it is. Why are you asking?”
“I want to know where my dad is, but he won’t tell me.”
“He’s in rehab. Everyone knows that.”
“But which one? Trystan said it’s in the desert somewhere. Is that true?”
“I don’t know. I thought he was in Malibu at the one he always goes to.”
“Could you ask your dad?”
“I could, but he’d know I’m asking for you, and if he doesn’t want you knowing, he won’t tell me.”
“Why doesn’t he want me to know?”
“Why do you care? And why are you trying so hard to find him? Your dad’s fucked up. He didn’t even want you living with him.”
“He would if he wasn’t in rehab. If he’s getting out soon, maybe I could move in with him.”
“I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”
“Why? Do you know something?”
“I need to go. Told the coach I’d be there at three.” He takes off.
He didn’t answer my question. Is it because he doesn’t have an answer or because he doesn’t want to tell me what he knows?