Page 19 of Archer
“Are you serious?” My eyes were wide. What kind of normal, smart, good-looking girl should be hidden away from society?
“Yeah,” she said, frowning a bit. “I hated it. Well, I don’t think I hated it then. But I sure hate it now.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if I got out more, maybe I’d have a friend I could stay with instead of here.”
I chuckled. “Point taken.”
“But too, I don’t know…” she said. “I haven’t experiencedanything. I’m so behind on everything! Any time Itryto talk to someone my own age, I don’t know what the hell they’re talking about. I got my first social media account last year andnoneof my ‘friends’,” she mimed quotation marks, “are people I’ve ever met before.”
“Damn, Rose,” I said, feeling genuine sympathy. Never before had I thought to appreciate my high school days, but they were sure a lot better than sitting at home with my old man. “I get that your dad is crazy. Trust me, I know. But… why? There has to be a reason why he’d shelter you so much…”
“Um, well.” For the first time since I got home, gloom took over her. “My mom passed away when I was young and since then, I don’t know. Guess he just… didn’t trust the outside.”
“Why? How’d she pass away?” I asked before realizing how nosy I was being. “Erm, if you don’t mind. Sorry, too, about your mom. I heard about that. My mom also passed away.”
“Really?” she asked. Something flickered in her blue eyes for a moment, intrigue or surprise, I wasn’t sure. “When?”
“I was eleven,” I said. “Cancer. My dad drank a lot after that…and I started soon after, soon as I was old enough to know what booze was. You?”
“Four. She slipped on a patch of ice, and well… she never got back up, was the way my dad told me, I remember.”
“Damn. Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” A small smile grew on her lips. “You, too. About your mom.”
“Thanks,” I said, a warmth building inside that I didn’t recognize, and I sipped my drink. “Here, let me play you a song, I think you’ll love it.”
A couple hours later, only a quarter of the rum remained and each of us were clutching our ribs from laughter at a story I told from my high school days about a prank I performed.
“…and we got back to our desks in time before they found out who let the ferret in the bathroom!”
“No way,” she said, giggling. “How did you get away with that?”
“Pays to be charming, what can I say?” I said and she rolled her eyes, brushing me off, before returning her blue gaze back to me.
“So, why aren’t you married?” She asked and I burst into laughter at the change of topic.
“’Cause I don’t wanna be married.”
“Why not?”
“Because, why would I get married to one woman when there’s a whole sea of them out there?”
“Because that’s what people do,” she said like I was dumb, and I scoffed. “Have you ever been close?”
“Close to what? To marrying someone?”
“Yeah.”
“Nah,” I said. “Well, actually…”
“Oh, so there used to be a girl?”
“I guess so. God, it’s been so long ago, I think I was twenty-three when I met her. Anyway,” I said, trying to remember the face of the brunette from my memories. “Fuck, I fell for her. Hard. She was something else. We were together for about a year, nothing was planned, but I really thought I’d marry her…”
“What happened?”
