Page 26 of The Heartbreak List

“Fuck that noise,” I growl. I can’t help it. She’s trying to remain within the parameters of normalcy when there is no normal here. Death is one of the only sure events that we have in this life, but our reaction to it is never standard. If it were, I wouldn’t have gotten up and walked out on everyone and everything I knew. I wouldn’t have moved to a different state in an attempt to put my guilt behind me. I wouldn’t be facing another month without hearing from my little sister who has decided that I find her calls a burden. “Don’t be careful, Indy. Not with me. Your life is shit right now. No one is jealous of you.”

“Wow.” She glares at me as she wipes the wetness from her cheeks. Her spine grows straighter “Shall I… take that as a compliment?”

“My point is you don’t have to be cautious. And you don’t need to apologize for voicing human thoughts about your own mortality. You should be speaking your mind. To everyone. Especially the people you love. Give them the very best of you, and rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

“Poetry?”

“Dylan Thomas,” I say. “I minored in English Lit.”

“Really?”

“In another life I might have planned to be something other than a bartender.” I shrug like all those hours I spent studying law weren’t a complete waste when I dropped out so close to graduating.

“That must be a real gift with the ladies.” She glances over my shoulder, possibly at the blonde I forgot all about. “Let me get out of your hair so you can work your magic.”

“Actually…” Part of me is aware that I should let her leave. I should go back to work. Back to the blonde who is probably still curious enough to be waiting for me to return. Keeping some distance between Indy and me would be clever for both our sakes. I snag her wrist. “Come with me.”

“What are we doing?” she asks as I lead her around the bar.

Past the blonde who props her head on her fist and guzzles her wine. Past Lucas who thrusts out his chin until the hinge swells. And Heath who laughs as I body block Indy’s view of his mimed doggy style.Dickhead.Pez throws me a two finger salute while he gets on with his job.

“You’ll see.” I shove through the doors to the employee only area and grab a cardboard box from the storage room. Then, still holding onto Indy as well as the box, I head out into the alley.

She glances around the alleyway then reaches up to fiddle with the stud in her ear. “What’s going on, Theo? Why are we in an alley?”

I put the box down on the ground and open it up. It’s full of pint glasses. We lose a few each week so we always have backups. It’s not going to matter if we lose a couple extra to a good cause. I stand, the glass weighty in my hand. I hold it out to her. “Here.”

Her expression slackens. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

“You throw it at the wall.”

“What? No.” Her gaze follows the imagined trajectory from the glass to the wall, eyes growing wider the whole way. “I’m not going to do that. Why would I do that?”

“You’re upset, right? Let it out.” I wind my arm back and let the glass fly. It explodes with a loudpop, and Indy jumps. A small yelp bursts out of her at the same time.

I grab another one and throw that too. It’s been a while, but the shatter is still satisfying. Indy watches with the inside of her cheek between her teeth.

“You want to throw one, don’t you?” I pick up a third and offer it to her.

She makes a noncommittal sound in her throat but takes the glass out of my hand and faces the wall. She throws the glass with her whole body. Arm flying over her shoulder and the momentum carrying her forward a step.

The glass detonates into tiny shards.

“Oh my God. I can’t believe I did that.” She covers her mouth with her hands, but her eyes are bright and alive. Her pain, at least for now, is tempered by the distraction. Her anger is hopefully lessened.

“It’s not wise to hold everything in.” I hold out the next glass. “Do it again.”

Chapter Nine

Gray

“Ican’tbelieveyougot Manilow.” My colleague Samson Crew fills the doorway as I turn off my laptop and grab my briefcase from its spot under the desk. It’s already late. Later than I intended to finish for the day.

Samson’s forehead is craggy and he’s already working the tie around his neck loose. A couple of our coworkers head out behind him. He looks as tired as I feel.

Looks a little uncomfortable too, like he doesn’t really want to be talking to me.

“Thanks,” I reply.

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