|
"obviously, we're done right?"
she had been silent telling him earlier that she was giving him the gift of shutting the fuck up since she both "scared" and "annoyed" him. And most importantly, he just let it fucking stand and let her hang. It was the equivalent of when she was younger and would test them by leaving to see if they followed. She was still as stupid, but more sophisticated.
He had been just fake jovial the entire eight or six hours of the trip. They had even stopped at a sit down Mexican restaurant instead of the drive thru where they wouldn't have to talk. She ordered the soup. She was mildly hungover. She drank so very very much with him trying to be someone else - someone he could talk to. Someone.
someone who mattered.
someone who counted.
But she was still four years old. It was obvious. He had already clocked her. He was so very good at the critical blow. he was well practiced. she was an expert at hiding and pleasing. And she hated hiding and pleasing.
He looked at her, "not necessarily, but we'll have to talk about it - and not while I'm driving."
She was surprised.
The script she had written had said, "yes. be a big girl. we've had fun."
She was absolutely wrecked though. She had been flying high and so very confident that she was finally showing him a family where she wasn't the loser little sister - where she was the prize. She was showing him beloved Wilmington.
They were driving away from it back to Athens.
As they approached, "don't you wish we had rendezvoused at the WalMart in Augusta? You'd be there by now."
Her face crumpled. It had been crumpling for hours. There was no way he didn't notice she had been weeping piteously. She had wanted him to see. She had wanted him to say.
He didn't play such foolish cards.
He was an expert at not giving a fuck.
But why string her on?
She later realized he just didn't want to be looked at as some douche.
but she was getting ahead of regret.
So, they arrive in Athens. She had seen the most gorgeous stand of sunlit gingko biloba trees as they were arriving in Watskinsville. She almost said something to him or maybe she did. He just wore his smug half-smile and continued.
They arrived at his dark house in the evening. She was going to have two hours to head home. He shocked her by saying, "stay. we can watch a movie - not go out - and you can have some of my prize-winning chili."
more than many many things, she wished she had said 'yes'. she almost did. instead she stared at him wondering what the fuck he meant - what he was thinking - did he understand her - did he want to.
"well never mind. not if you're going to stare at me like that."
she was kind of relieved. she wanted to go home and hang out with someone who would let her cry and tell her it was ok that she was broken but she was pretty cool. she wanted to hang out with the only person she kind of trusted - herself.
he let her go. she was sure he was relieved.
she went home and got stoned on some remnants of a joint she had saved from the village market. she searched her bag over and over thinking she had bought more. But she was grateful for the oblvion-esque feeling. She was grateful to cry - to be scared in the safest place she ever had: her mind.
and of course she beat herself silly, but more than anything, she was sorry. she had loved him. She had flubbed her lines so very badly.
why had he said "not necessarily"? Why had he invited her to stay the night with him? she couldn't believe he actually loved her. that was not going to happen. she had to think that it was his script - his story.
and she wished they could have talked about it. maybe if she had stayed, they could have passed the whiskey bottle and let their hair down. but she'd had so much of whiskey from the last night - and she had really carnival-ed and he had been repulsed. she had slept alone. he didn't fuck when she sidled into him the next morning with another "I'm sorry."
he had her under his thumb.
always.
it sucked.
and the neighbors yard was full of maple leaves. she almost wanted to put a sign in her yard, "leave the leaves: it's environmental" but she knew she wouldn't. it was going to be all she could do to clean the toilets, wipe the counters, wipe everything down. to clean for a visit from someone she hoped might save her from having to depend on other people - someoene who could help her.
but she was beyond believing except for a tiny bit.
he never called her.
he never talked about it with her.
she never brought it up.
they just died.
|
