Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“You’re on.” He shakes his head, about to turn around. “I know this week has been rough, but”—he runs his hand through his dark hair—“it’s good to have you back.”
I listen to the settling of my heart, as the thumping in my ears eases. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this.” I laugh nervously. “It’s good to be home.” The tears well up in my eyes as I lift my hand and pinch my fingers together. “But only this much.” We both have our laugh before I turn and walk to the office to grab my stuff, picking up a bottle of whiskey and tossing it in my black bag before walking out the back door.
I drive home with the windows down, the hot night feeling like the world is on hold. I don’t bother with the lights when I get home. I kick off my shoes before placing my bag on the floor next to them and grabbing the bottle of whiskey. Going straight to the counter, I put the whiskey on it before walking over to the cabinet on the side and grabbing a shot glass. I pour the whiskey to the rim before taking a shot, which leads to two, then slowly leads into three before I open my eyes. My breathing becomes easier, and the burning down my throat goes numb. My head hangs forward, and I hear the voice of the reporter fill my head, “follow-up segment.” I shake my head, grab the bottle as my hand shakes, and take another shot. I untie the shirt from around my waist and toss it on the table before walking to my bedroom and grabbing a pair of shorts and a tank top.
The moonlight comes in from all the open shades as I grab the bottle and head out to the back to sit in the swing. Sitting in it, I listen to the deadness of the night. Some chirps are going on here and there as I stretch my feet on the bench and put my arm on the back of it, laying my head down on it. Taking a pull of the whiskey, I try to forget the day.
My eyes watch the fireflies in the distance as I put one foot on the wooden deck to push myself back and forth gently. Minutes turn into hours, and I take a pull from time to time. I look at the clearing as I see a figure there, but I’m not sure if my eyes are playing tricks on me. I watch him move closer and closer to me, his white T-shirt sort of shining in the darkness, his jeans dark as the night. He looks down as he makes his way to me, and I take another shot of the whiskey to brace for whatever it is Charlie wants to throw my way. The last time I saw him at the cemetery I made sure that I avoided him like the plague. It wasn’t hard since I went to work and then home. I never ventured out anywhere, especially at the two places he told me never to go.
He must feel me looking at him because he glances up and his eyes see me, and I know because his body goes tight. I take a deep inhale as I turn on the swing and put the bottle of whiskey on the floor before getting up on my feet and walking over to where the three stairs are. My head spins just a bit. “Seriously?” My mouth is talking before my brain can even realize it is. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“Seriously,” he replies when he’s standing at the bottom step, looking up at me. His hair is longer than I remember it ever being. “What the fuck are you still doing here?”
I swallow down the lump in my throat. “Fuck you, Charlie.” Everything is building up inside me.
“No, fuck you!” he roars, and I can smell the alcohol rolling off him. “You ruined my life.”
I shake my head. “Your life is ruined?” I ask him and laugh bitterly. “Your life is fucking ruined? I lost everything that night. Everything,” I hiss at him.
He takes a step up. “I lost my whole life that night.”
“Really?” I ask, baiting him. In the past eight years, I’ve never, ever challenged Charlie, but tonight after a whole fucking week of feeling like a pariah, I’m done with it. “You look to be doing just fine.” I raise my eyebrows. “You have a thriving business. You have no one trying to run you out of town, and if talk is still right, you have your choice of girls lining up to pick up those pieces.” I shake my head, knowing I’m probably hitting him below the belt. “You lost Jennifer that night. You weren’t the only one who lost her. But I lost more than just my best friend. I’m the one who lost it all.” I point at my chest. “Me, not you.” I exhale. “And trust me, every single time I turn a corner, someone is always there to let me know exactly what I did that night. I don’t need it coming to my fucking house.” I turn on my feet and walk to the door, opening it, but it’s being slammed before I can step inside. His hand is over my head, stopping me from opening it. His chest is to my back as I close my eyes, telling myself he’s going to go away if I don’t move. But the anger in me makes me turn to look at him. “Go away.” I push at his chest, and he moves back, but he’s a lot bigger than me. “Why can’t you just go away?” I shout at him, going to push him again when he grabs both my wrists in his hands, pushing them into the door beside my head. My chest rises and falls as we stare at each other with hatred. “I hate you,” I whisper. “I hate you.”