Page 6 of The Most Dearest
“Oh, he’s okay. He fell into Emma’s beaver and got lost. He found his way out in time to apologize, but then they left, so he probably fell in there again. Maybe you should go after him, but make sure you use one of those rope guide thingies in case you fall in too.”
Who the fuck was Emma? He fucked some chick named Emma? That would explain the burning mattress, the tears, and the booze. What an asshole.
“Okay. It’s okay. Maybe we should move inside. It’s getting cold and the smoke isn’t helping your eyes.”
She sat there, staring at the discarded mattress.
“In my bed. In my fucking bed. When you’re having fun, time flies apparently. I wasn’t even home early. He just was ... Emma has a chipmunk face. Like a girl Alvin. Or maybe the other one, the nerdy one with the long t-shirt. She had the fucking nerve to ask me to look away while she got dressed, like I wanted to see her fucking pussy ever again.” She took a swig of the tequila bottle.
“Yep, okay. Let’s just move it inside.” I put my arm under hers, guiding her up and out of the chair. She stumbled, obviously more drunk than she seemed.
We reached the backsteps, and she slapped the door. “Motherfucker,” she yelled drunkenly. I winced. Peggy was all about shutting down profanity in the neighborhood. Her priority was dealing with all the stray cats in the area, but profanity was a close second. Opening her door, I moved her into the kitchen and guided her to a chair. She sat and flopped face down on the table, crying fresh rivers of tears.
I was out of my depth here. “Have you called one of your sisters?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she slurred. “Randa is coming. Jules is working. Maybe she’s on the Emma’s beaver medical team? Maybe Harrison hit his head in there? It was probably really dark. I don’t know. He said he loves her.”
I was a little over discussing this Emma woman’s vagina, but I knew Cordelia was angry and needed to vent.
I poured a glass of water and grabbed the tissue box, putting both in front of Cordelia. She was pretty quiet now, muttering random words every now and then. I heard the key in the front door and a split second later, a furious-looking Miranda was in the kitchen.
“Shit Cords, I can’t believe it. I’m gonna castrate the bastard.” She pulled a chair up next to her sister and put her arms around her sobbing frame. “Oh, hey Damon.” She looked briefly at me, maybe confused as to why I was there.
“I extinguished a burning mattress in the backyard,” I explained. “I wanted to stay here until she had someone with her.”
“Thanks,” Miranda said sadly, kissing her sister’s head. “I’ll sort it from here. But truly, thank you.”
“No problem.” I stood up to leave. As much as I felt out of my depth, it felt wrong leaving Cordelia like this. “If Harrison comes home and gives you any trouble, my number is in Cordelia’s phone.”
“Thanks, but I can handle that weasel. In fact, I consider ‘handling’ Harrison my new full-time occupation,” she said, with a glint in her eye and a devious smile.
I rubbed Cordelia’s back awkwardly and said my goodbyes. By the expression on Miranda’s face, I’d say Harrison had more to worry about on his return than an angry, hungover girlfriend. Hell hath no fury like the fiery sister of a woman scorned.
Chapter 7: Cordelia - Alvin
I'll fight, till from my bones my flesh be hacked
Macbeth, William Shakespeare
Miranda stayed the night, thank God. I was a fucking mess. I woke up so hungover and broken that I wouldn’t have moved unless she’d pushed me to get up and eat. I downed three juices and a coffee before I dared attack the fried breakfast she put before me.
“Did the asshole say when he’d be coming back or should I throw all of his shit on the front lawn?” Miranda asked. We didn’t talk much last night. I’d been too drunk and teary.
“He didn’t say. He just sputtered that he was sorry, he was in love with her and then they left. Together.” Between the hangover and the tears that I'd shed since last night, I had no liquid left to produce tears.
“Well, if you don’t want to see him, I’ll talk to him for you,” Miranda said firmly. Randa was a total sweetheart, but she could turn into a viper quickly if someone hurt a loved one. For her friends and family, she was fierce. “I told Cameron I was going to be spending a lot of time with you. I can move in if you want. He’s furious by the way. He offered to take him hiking up Bellinger’s Mountain.” I laughed. Bellinger’s Mountain was known for its high incidence of climbing accidents.
“Thanks, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m not leaving here. If I leave, he’ll just claim the house on the grounds that I abandoned it. Fuck, I need legal advice. He put more money into this house than me, but we’re both on the title. I shouldn’t have to leave. We haven’t done major stuff to the house, but I’ve done a heap in the garden and the minor renovation things we’ve donehave been completed and funded 100% by me. I shouldn’t have to walk away with nothing.”
“No, you shouldn’t, and you won’t. Kick him out, then he’s the one who is technically ‘abandoning’ the relationship. Technically, my ass. He abandoned it in every way when he fucked Alvin the Chipmunk.”
We ate mostly in silence. Miranda tried to cheer me up and provoke my righteous anger, but I was still way too broken and hurt. She was telling me a funny story about her boss Leticia when we heard the front door. Slow footsteps sounded in the hall, like someone was approaching tentatively.
“You’ve got a fucking nerve showing that pointy little face in here,” Miranda snapped, looking over my shoulder. Her tone and her icy glare told me that Harrison was home.
“Miranda, I’m sorry. Can I speak to Cordelia please?”
“You’re not fucking sorry. You’re sorry you were caught. Pack your girly-ass shit and go back to your whore.”
