Page 35 of Crave

“Are you out of your fucking mind? I’m not taking you to meet my family.” The look of hurt on her face reveals that this was not just a good time for her.

“Why not? You’ve had no problems fucking me, but I’m not good enough for your family?”

“It was just sex. I don’t bring women around my family, especially not ones who don’t bat an eyelash about me fucking their so-called friends.”

“I didn’t force you to do anything.”

I ignore the tremor in her voice. “You’re right. You didn’t, but let’s not make this more than it is, Sonya. You were sex and free pot, a distraction for a few days from my private life. That’s it. See yourself out.” I call her the wrong name to prove a point, and when she jumps off the bed to look for her shoes, I grab the stash of pot and shove it in my pocket.

“You used me, and now you just toss me aside like I’m nothing, you piece of shit. You’re toxic, you know that? Whatever shit you’re dealing with, I’m sure you deserve it and brought it on yourself, you selfish, vile human being.” Those words hurt more than they should, considering who they’re coming from.

“Here’s a tip for you, sweetheart. Next time you want a guy to bring you around his family, you might not want to watch him get his dick sucked by your friend.” Tears fill her eyes, but I turn my back on her.

“I feel sorry for any woman who comes into contact with someone so miserable. You’ll only drag her down and make her as miserable as you. Here’s a tip foryou,sweetheart.” She uses the same condescending tone I used. “Stay away from women, toxic asshole. You’re the type of person who will destroy everything you touch.” I don’t even spare her a look as she storms out of my room, only grateful she forgot to take the pot with her.

Here she is, years later and with a baby in her arms and a man by her side, reminding me of what a disaster that entire holiday was, the fight with Samantha being the least of it. If anything, that was the high point of the weekend.

I’m transported back to when Troy walked into the party with his wife on his arm, and a new baby in tow, everyone circling around them to get a look at their new bundle.

I remember how my mother tried to distract me by introducing me to a pretty blonde, the daughter of one of our Cape Cod neighbors. I remember how I embarrassed my mother by barely even saying hello to her. I remember grabbing a bottle of whiskey, walking out of the house through the back door, taking the short walk to the beach, and smoking the rest of the pot between swallows of hard liquor straight out of the bottle.

I never returned to the party. I decided to get in my car and drive back to my hotel room. Getting pulled over by the cop was a blur, as was getting arrested for driving while under the influence.

I think I was still drunk and high when I called Troy to come bail me out, and like the dutiful brother he believes himself to be, he showed up to save the day. Hours later, I was released, and my brother told me he had to call in several favors, but there would be no charges filed or any record of my arrest.

Without even uttering one word of gratitude, I walked out of the police station and took a cab back to the hotel, where I stayed holed up for several more days.

Troy has never once brought up the incident, but for several months after, he would look at me with such hurt in his eyes, and because I was so mired in my own bitterness, I told myself that bailing me out of jail was the least he could have done.

I haven’t thought about any of that in years, but seeing Samantha here brings it all back, and with it, a shame so strong that I can hardly reconcile with it.

Before I can sneak away like the coward I am, Samantha sees me. I know the exact moment she remembers exactly who I am. She holds her baby tighter, and without acknowledging my existence, she walks away with her family.

Still unable to move, I watch as her husband places his arm around her waist, leans down and places a kiss on top of her head, a gesture so simple, yet so intimate that it makes my stomach drop.

“Stay away from women, toxic asshole. You’ll destroy everything you touch.You’repoison.” Those words, when spoken at that time, barely registered. I didn’t react, and I haven’t thought of them until this very moment.

You’ll destroy everything you touch. She didn’t know it then, but those words were prophetic.

I’ve destroyed many things.

Countless family functions and holidays.

One can even argue that I’m the one who ruined my relationship with my brother.

I can deny it, but I’ve forced people to take sides.

What’s next? Will I destroy Sandy too? Leaving her a confused, broken mess because I’m unable to let go of past hurts? How will she feel when I use every opportunity to remind my brother of his betrayal? Will she walk away, having wasted her time on me, hating and resenting me in the process?

She’d be perfect for JD. Those are the words my mother said to me that night weeks ago. She never once considered Sandy might be perfect for me. Maybe on some level, my mother knows I’m toxic too.

I drop my basket in the middle of the aisle, leaving the store, defeated.

“If Sandy had to reschedule, why the hell are we here? I need to get home and rest up for the overnight shift,” JD whines to me again.

“Just thought you’d be hungry,” I say as I pull into a tight parking space in the restaurant parking lot.

“You’re acting weird, man. You’re up to some shit.” Avoiding all eye contact, and cursing the fact that JD knows me so well, I hop out of the Escalade. Thankfully, he shuts up and follows me inside. “I hope people don’t think we’re a couple. This is a place for couples.” He never shuts up for long.

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