Page 3 of Crushing Clover

A weird calm settled over me.

This was rock bottom. There was nowhere lower to go from here, right?

I’d survive. I always did.

“I’m okay,” I said, wondering if I really was, or if my medication had kicked in. She smelled like the fabric softener we used on our sheets. Yeah, she’d changed our bed—probably because it had needed changing after they’d screwed in it.

I felt ill. Both queasy and like my heart was being ripped out. Slowly.

“Of course you’re not okay.”

I shook my head. “It’s not your problem.”

“I just blew up your life. The least I can do is give you a chance to talk it out.” She gave me a pained smile. “Do you have any questions for me?”

So many, pointless as they were. “How long have the two of you known each other?”

“Nine days.”

“And you’ve been staying here?”

“I have a few times. I’ve been dropping by to help him out.”

“If you hadn’t stayed over tonight, he probably would have used the apartment being clean as a way to earn brownie points with me. I never would have found out about you.”

“What an asshole. I’m so sorry about this.”

“It’s his fault, not yours.”

Silence fell, broken only by the hum of the fridge.

“I’ll get out of your hair,” she said awkwardly.

“You can wait until your ride comes. It’s cold out there.”

She squeezed my hand. “I’m good. I’m parked across the street.”

Wow. She had a car? Noah was moving up in the world.

“You’re welcome to him, if you want him,” I offered, everything feeling surreal. “I’m packing my shit and leaving.”

I hadn’t realized I’d made a decision until it came out of my mouth.

“Good. You deserve better,” she said, opening the door. “I don’t want him either. Even if he wasn’t a liar and a cheat, he’s a slob. It seems like he relies on you to do everything. That’s way too much work for me.”

“Smart.” Smarter than me.

She headed out the door, and I stared at the back of it long after she was gone.

It was pretty bad when a woman you’d just met took one look at your life and could tell you were a doormat. While I’d been in the system, I’d been raised to be quiet and helpful—a good girl with no needs of her own. It was time I stood up for myself.

I sat on the couch and stewed, alternating between despair and anger, scrolling through social media and envying the seemingly perfect lives of my acquaintances.

Noah and I had been together since we’d met at a respite group home when we were fourteen. A couple of years after that, we’d been emancipated, and had moved out on our own. We’d been each other’s firsts for everything. Sure, I was pissed…but was I really going to abandon all of that?

I sent our late rent money to our landlord, along with next month’s rent and a texted apology, letting him know I’d been out of town for work. I should have paid him myself before I left.

Sighing, I eventually went into the bedroom and squeezed Noah’s foot. Either he slept through it, or he ignored me. I then sat on the edge of the bed and patted him possibly harder than necessary.

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