Page 90 of Deja New
She shook her head. This, too, was shameful; she couldn’t be bothered to get her head out of the files long enough to ask, though she knew it must have been bad.
“We were kids, and he caught me with drugs. Again. And when I refused to go back to rehab, he decided to show me how destructive it was, what it was doing to our family, so he smoked it right in front of me. Which was how we found out the cook was shit. His heart stopped while he was still holding the pipe.”
It was like the muscles in her face and throat had locked; shecouldn’t say anything, couldn’t swallow the sudden blockage in her throat. After a long moment, she managed, “I’m sorry.”
“My parents did their best, but Pat’s death was shattering. They both fell off the wagon—I hail from a long and distinguished line of substance abusers—and were killed when Dad mistook an oak tree for the turnoff. My grandmother took care of me while I finished high school. And then she...” He gestured to his beautiful home.
“I’m sorry.” Stupid, worthless phrase. How was it that you could use the exact same phrase for when you spilled juice?
“I live with it every day. As you live with your burdens. But, Angela: This life is so, so hard. There’s no guarantee the next one will be any easier, no matter what the Insighters or the priests or the therapists promise. Why not grab any bit of happiness you can? You’re entitled to love. And on my good days, I think I might be, too.”
“Youare,” she said thickly. “Jeez. Of course you are. Teenagers are dumb, right? Crack-addicted ones especially. They make stupid decisions and it’s a miracle any of us lived through it. It wasn’t your— I know if you could do it over again, you wouldn’t buy the drugs.”
“But you’ve got it wrong, Angela. Again.” He said this to her in a gentle tone devoid of the smallest bit of pity for himself or condemnation for her. “I’d buy them and take them myself. With no hesitation. Because my brother was the one who deserved the fulfilling life with the beautiful home and the wonderful girlfriend and the challenging work. Not me. Never me.” He gestured to his beautiful home. “I am living a stolen life, my brother’s life. None of this should be mine. Most days, I know it, I believe it. Days like today? I wonder.”
“No-no-no. I’m leaving for my own reasons, it’s not a punishment I’m handing down to you because you were bad. My decision has nothing to do with your brother. We’re both reading too much into this, because we’re not breaking up. We weren’t even dating, really.”
“I suppose not,” he said quietly. “Just hoping to. Or perhaps that was one-sided.”
“No,” she whispered. She cleared her throat and forced her voice to rise. “No, it wasn’t, but it’s just as well that our whatever-it-is ends now. Thank you for a lovely day, which got weird and unpleasant and then briefly lovely, and then I wrecked it again and where the hell are my shoes?”
He went to the living room and brought them to her without a word. Said nothing while she slipped them on, found her purse and slung it over one shoulder, made sure she had her phone. He just looked at her with that intense blue-eyed stare. Looked at her while he was standing there all brazenly gorgeous and lightly tanned and flat-stomached and big-dicked and a revelation in bed, that hour between the sheets had been the best sex of her life and if she kept thinking about it she’d go and do somethingreallystupid like strip and spend the night and then possibly linger in the morning and maybe stay forever.
“I don’t need a ride,” she said before he could offer. If he was going to offer. “I’d like to— I’m going to take a cab.”
He nodded.
“Okay.”It was nice meeting you? Thanks for all your hard work? Sorry about my fucked-up family life? Sorry about yours? You have a lovely home and no matter what anyone says, you deserve a nice life?Nope. None of it would work, and almost all of it would make things worse. “See ya.”Really? That’s the platitude you went with?
“One thing I don’t understand.”
She turned back, almost relieved. It wasn’t over until she crossed the threshold.
“You indicated you’ve wanted me for a while.”
“Yes.”The minute I saw the socks. And the dimple.
“But not for a relationship.”
“Right.”
“And decided to have me regardless.”
She cringed internally. “Yes.”
“Despite knowing that you would make your feelings plain when we were finished.”
“Yes.”
“Cold.”
“Warned you.”
She left before he could see her tears. He didn’t demand she stay. Or call after her to come back. Or rush dramatically after her.
It wasn’t a movie. It was real life. Which was awful. And that was the point. Both their points.
