Page 66 of Little Do You Know

I wake with a pounding headache. Reflecting on all the horrible things that came out of my mouth last night doesn’t make me feel better. The apartment is surprisingly spotless, with a note from Owen on the counter saying he took Penelope and Thalia back to their parents’ house for the rest of the weekend. I crumple the note and throw it in the trash can before grabbing my running shoes and earbuds.

I crank my running playlist way too loud for how hungover I feel, but the pounding in my head can outrank the heaviness I feel in my chest.

I miss Thalia already. I should have tried harder to tell her before about Vera. Thalia was upset that Vera threw the party; we all assumed it was Thalia’s doing. It didn’t make much sense to me at the time why Vera would throw a party and let Thalia take the blame, but now it’s starting to all piece together. My brain hurts just trying to consider the idea of analyzing every interaction the three of us have had since Thalia returned.

I have a habit of jumping to conclusions, especially regarding Thalia. Part of it is how I protected myself by thinking the worst of Thalia, so I could get past the hurt of being rejected by her.

She didn’t even really reject me. I wouldn’t allow her to explain, and now I know how that feels. Neither of us was in a state of mind to be having that conversation, but now I’m afraid I won’t get the chance to tell Thalia my side.

I push my feet faster, as if it will help me forget how Thalia looked at me last night. I told her I wouldn’t hurt her, but that’s precisely what I did.

There was no real reason to keep what happened with Vera a secret. The truth is I’m embarrassed it occurred in the first place. It was a mistake I wish I could take back.

~

It was an awful day with Mimi. She didn’t recognize me at all. She just kept yelling at me to get out because she thought I was going to hurt her. Mimi threatened to call the police until one of the nurses came and got her.

I run my hands through my hair before slamming a fist down on the steering wheel, as if it will make a difference. Nothing can change it.

Irreversible.

Permanent.

Final.

Mimi’s memory is disappearing. One of these days, it’s going to be completely gone. At least the next time I go, I can hope she’ll have a better day. That hope doesn’t erase the fact that the future will look like today. There won’t be any hope of getting her back at some point. How does someone prepare for that?

I already lost Grandpa a few years ago, and that was hard enough. It was a stroke in his sleep, and there was nothing anyone could have done. But knowing I’m going to lose Mimi and watching it happen is almost worse. I’m not ready. Every time I visit, it could be the last time I see her. That thought haunts me more when it’s a bad day because that isn’t the final memory I want to have.

My brain switches to autopilot, instinctually taking me back to my house where Vera’s car parked in the driveway catches me off guard.

Fuck, I told her she could use the pool today. Walking inside, I skim through what’s left of Grandpa’s liquor cabinet to get so drunk I can forget how Mimi looked at me today. Vera is sunbathing on one of our lawn chairs when I step outside. I take a large pull of whiskey, embracing the burn in the back of my throat as I land in the seat next to Vera.

Vera takes her sunglasses off to look at me, squinting from the bright sunlight. “Is it a drinking kind of day?” She tilts her head toward my bottle, and I nod, taking another swig.

“Yeah.”

“Are you sharing, or do I need to find my own bottle?” she asks, raising her eyebrows. Her dark hair is wet and hanging over her shoulders. Her purple bikini compliments her warm skin nicely, and I instantly feel bad for looking.

I clear my throat, looking at the pool. “I’m not sharing. Just make sure you dry off before walking on the hardwoods. Mimi will kill you if you wreck them,” I say casually before remembering that Mimi will probably never see the house again. Then I take another drink.

I should probably look into selling the house, but I don’t know if I can part with it. It’s just a house, but it’s where I grew up. It’s where Grandpa and Mimi raised me, and it’s where they lived their life together, raising my dad.

My thoughts are interrupted by Vera sitting back down, a bottle of wine in her hand. She asks another question I drink to. “Have you talked to Thalia?”

I laugh bitterly and shake my head. “Now, why would I talk to her?” I’m lying through my teeth. I would talk to her for a hundred reasons, but none of them are good ideas. The same kind of bad idea that led me to kiss her last year. Still, it didn’t stop me from framing her photo that was featured on the cover of National Geographic. Pathetic. That’s what I am.

Vera drinks from her bottle. “Maybe because she’s our friend? You really haven’t talked to her since that fight at her party?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“I’m sure she’d be happy to hear from you,” Vera suggests, giving me a scrutinizing look. I don’t try to analyze what that means. I shouldn’t care if Thalia asked about me.

“Which is exactly why I don’t want to talk to her. She dug herself a hole, and it’s not my job to fix it. I couldn’t care less if it’d make her happy.”

“Owen and I have tried to figure it out for months, but nothing adds up. What happened between you guys?” Vera finally asks the question I know they’ve both been skirting around for the last year. Thankfully, I start to feel the effects of the liquor hit me, taking some of the sting from the day away.

“There’s nothing to tell,” I reply, taking another drink. I stand up, pull my shirt off, and slide out of my shorts. I take a few steps toward the water’s edge to set the bottle down, diving in. The coolness of the water compared to the sweltering humidity is shocking to my system. I swim back to the edge to grab my bottle, because it’s the only thing that can help me right now. It’s unhealthy, and I should slow down, but it’s helping.

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