I sniffed a gentle chuckle as I hung my head, turning away as she took a pull from the bottle, if only to try—pointlessly, I might add—to keep from thinking about those lips being around something else. Then, when I heard the glass clink against the table, I swung my gaze back to her to notice she was no longer wearing the hideous brown shirt she’d worn at the shop. Now she was dressed in a pink sweater with a neckline that dipped low enough to reveal just a hint of cleavage. Her hair was twisted into a messy-looking knot with free-falling strands framing her face. She looked casual but put together, and I turned around to sweep my eyes around the dark room, if only to keep myself from staring too long.
“I’m sorry. Were you meeting someone?”
“No,” she answered quickly. “I actually came out to do some grocery shopping and thought I’d stop in for a quick beer.”
Just like that, hope reached out toward her with long, desperate fingers. I glanced at my table in the corner,where my burger and beer still sat. I was hungry again, I was alone, and God, this ache in my chest hurt so much that I dreaded going back to the motel by myself.
“Would you, uh …”
I swallowed, realizing quickly that I had never done this before. Laura was supposed to be the first, but …
“Would you like to have dinner with me?”
She seemed startled at first, then hesitant, an unspoken battle warring behind her blue eyes. I almost told her to forget it, to pretend I hadn’t said anything, before sulking back to my table with my tail between my legs. But before I had the chance, she seemed to make up her mind, held her head high, and smiled boldly.
“Yes,” she replied, nodding. “I think I would like that a lot.”
***
“So, what made you join the Army?” she asked after the bartender brought a burger over for her.
I’d already eaten half of mine—now barely warm but still every bit as good as the motel guy had said it would be—but I waited for her to start eating to finish the rest. Now, she grabbed her cheeseburger in both hands and watched me with expectant eyes as she took a bite.
“My father,” I answered honestly because what did it matter?
There was a freedom in sitting there with this woman. I could be myself. I could be uninhibited. I could be unapologetically truthful because she didn’t know me, where I had come from, or the people I knew—and shenever would. Because I was always just passing through, wasn’t I? And this moment, this night, thisdatewas no different. It couldn’t be, and it didn’t matter how much that struck a painful chord against my already-aching heart.
She didn’t seem at all surprised by the answer. Instead, she nodded. “Was he in the service too?”
“No,” I said, threading my fingers together and resting my chin on my knuckles. “He just wanted to get rid of me.”
That answer did surprise her, however. “Why would he want to do that? Were you a bad kid or something?”
I shrugged nonchalantly. “Not particularly. He’s just always hated me.”
“Hehatesyou?” she shouted disbelievingly. “What parent hates their kid?”
“I mean, I have my theories.”
“Like what?”
I cleared my throat and continued to ride the rush of adrenaline that seemingly only came from telling the truth. “Well, I think maybe he actually hates himself, and I am too much like him. I think it could also be that he was never shown enough love as a child or some stereotypical shit like that. But I can’t really say since I never knew my grandparents.”
She watched me with a type of suspicion that should’ve left me uneasy, but didn’t. Instead, I wanted her to figure me out. I wanted her to peel back my layers and see who I truly was, the me even I was scared of, and I wanted her to tell me there was nothing to be afraid of at all.
Her lips pursed as she swallowed, and then she asked, “He hurt you a lot?”
I nodded and unfolded my hands to gesture at my ears. “He smacked me around so much that I have chronic ear infections. My hearing isn’t as great as it probably should be at my age.”
“And what about your mom?”
I groaned, poking at the inside of my cheek with my tongue, unsure of how to explain the woman who’d never been much of a mom despite always being there. As present as a lingering ghost. “She might as well have not been there at all,” I explained. “I used to think she just didn’t give a fuck, but now that I’m older, I think there’s more to it. Severe depression maybe. Could be something else. I don’t know. But she’s a shadow, and she hates me about as much as he does. I have no clue why. I just existed for them to despise me, I think.”
Her questions stopped with that, and I looked ahead to watch a sadness blanket her face. I laughed good-naturedly and shook my head, pointing a finger at her.
“Oh, don’t you go feeling bad for me now. I don’t want your pity.”
“Too bad. No kid should grow up feeling like their purpose in life is to behatedby theirparents. God, that is so fucking sad, and you don’t even see it. That makes it worse.”
