Page 53 of Beautiful Lies
Becauseyou’rethe rocket man and you were gone for such a long, long time. High as a kite. Maybe the song wasn’t about drug abuse at all, but that’s how I’d always interpreted it. “It just sounds so lonely,” I said, because to me, it did.
“I’m back on earth,” he said, and I guess he understood all the words I hadn’t said. Maybe he could still read my mind the way he used to. What a scary thought.
“See you tomorrow,” I said, walking away. “Same bad time, same bad place.”
“Best part of my day,” he called after me.
Mine too. I waved goodbye over my shoulder. Connor probably didn’t need my help, but I enjoyed the hour I spent at the shop each day. I loved seeing him in his element. I loved seeing him clean and sober, and happy in a way he hadn’t been in a long, long time. As I walked to the bar in the mellow sunshine, the air crisp and cool, smelling like freshly-sharpened pencils and wood smoke, I thought about what Claudia had said. The reason Connor and I had broken up wasn’t an issue anymore. He was drug-free and working hard to stay that way. Like he’d said at the diner, his lies and empty promises had stemmed from his drug use. He’d always tried to cover it up, justify it, hide it from me.
Should I continue to blame him for all the wrongs of the past, hold a grudge, refuse to forgive him for the hurt he’d caused? I wanted so much to let it all go, to trust him and believe in him again. My life didn’t feel complete without him in it.
14
Connor
Iblew smoke out my open window and watched it curl into the night air. My new plan was to stick to vaping during the day and reward myself with the real thing at night after the shop was closed, and I was home, alone. Pathetic. But smoking was the last vice left to me and I wasn’t ready to give it up.
My TV was playing in the background, a nature program, and I watched from my spot at the window as a lioness chased a gazelle across the African plains. The gazelle was beautiful. Swift and graceful. And about to become the lion’s next meal. Against all odds, I was rooting for the gazelle to win. Nature was cruel. Survival of the fittest. The gazelle didn’t stand a chance against a hungry lion. I turned my head. I couldn’t bear to watch it.
My phone rang in my pocket and I slid it out, checking the screen. Why was Ava calling me at midnight? “Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yeah. I couldn’t sleep.”
“You need me to sing a lullaby? Some Elton John?” I took another drag of my cigarette and exhaled out the side of my mouth.
“Are you smoking?”
“Yep.”
She was silent for a few seconds and I waited for her to curse me out or deliver another lecture. “That’s really good.”
I laughed. “Yesterday you went off on me like the Attorney General issuing health warnings. And now it’s really good?”
“Not the smoking. Your honesty.”
There was a time when everything I told her was the truth. But that was a long time ago. “How was class? Were you flying high?”
“Yeah. It was a total rush.” She talked about the way it made her feel and I was listening to her words, but mostly to her voice. Her speaking voice was sexy. Breathy. But when she sang, it was different. She could sing low and sultry, with a smoky, jazzy quality to her voice and she could hit the high notes when she sang those Adele songs she talked about belting out. When I was in the hospital and she sat by my bed, singing softly, or talking to me, it was her voice that had soothed my troubled soul. Her voice that had dragged me back from the edge and gave me hope that the world couldn’t be so fucked-up if she was in it.
I heard a rustling sound like she was settling into bed.
“Are you in bed?”
“Yeah.”
“What are you wearing?” I pictured her in one of her sexy, matching sets. Her lingerie was the stuff of my wet dreams. Underneath her flea market clothes, she always wore lacy numbers. Or silky ones. At night, she wore those little silky camisole and panty ensembles. Feminine. Sexy as hell.
“We’re not playing this game,” she said.
I let my imagination fill in the blanks. Her outfit was silky and red, the same shade as her lipstick. The camisole was trimmed in lace, showing off her cleavage. I tossed my cigarette out the window, making a mental note to clean up the butts tomorrow, and sank into the sofa I bought from Jared. Midnight blue velvet and comfortable as shit. I propped my feet on the coffee table and leaned my head back against the cushion. Across from the sofa sat two distressed leather chairs. My flat screen TV, sound system, and books fit into the modern shelving unit on the opposite wall. It was the perfect set-up. I pointed the remote at the TV and flicked it off, plunging the room into silence and darkness.
“Why can’t you sleep?” I asked.
“Just thinking about you.”
I wanted to ask if she was thinking good things or bad things, but I didn’t. “That keeps you up nights?”
“I like listening to your voice in the dark. It’s been a while.”
