Page 43 of Tell Me Again

“Thanks again. I appreciate it,” I say, and then I head out.

I’m gonna just pretend I don’t actually have to walk three miles carrying this nearly forty-pound battery awkwardly in one hand. At least the weather isn’t terrible. It’s a bit chilly and breezy, but the sun is shining.

So, yeah, at least there’s that.

But after about the first half mile, just as I pass the diner, I’m already wondering how fucking stupid I am.

I briefly consider stopping to ask Mel if I can borrow her car, at least to get the battery home. But she was so out of sorts earlier that I’m not even inclined to do that. When I left at the end of my shift just about a half hour ago, she was holed up in her office on another phone call. And she hadn’t sounded happy.

No, I can’t ask her. She’s dealing with her own shit.

So that leaves Angie, who’s out of town today, and Chuck, whose car isn’t any more reliable than mine, and...

Shit, I mean, I guess I could call Josh.

God, damn, I can’t even think his name without feeling it again—a rush of heat through my chest, a sharp tingling in my hand where he’d touched me. And it’s fucking intense and persists longer than maybe it should.

I wish I had the fucking nerve. I wish I wasn’t too fucking embarrassed—by my shitty house, my broken-down truck, my ruined finances. It was bad enough that he overheard my phone call with Hank and then insisted I take his money.

I mean, I needed it. More than I want to admit.

But I’d like to think that I have my shit together enough to be able to buy a fucking battery for my fucking truck.

He’s got a doctorate and a well-paying job and a shiny new car and a beautiful fiancée. And I’m just fucking happy that Mel didn’t kick me out when my rent was weeks late and that my electricity hasn’t been shut off yet.

I switch the battery to my left hand and shake out my right arm. Yeah, this is gonna be a long walk. Because I’m really not ready to call him.

I pass by the motel, and another ten or fifteen minutes goes by where I’m having to repeatedly switch which hand is holding the battery. But the time I can tolerate holding it in either hand is getting shorter and shorter. And after I’ve walked maybe a mile and a half, the ache in my shoulders is a real thing.

“Fuck it,” I mutter aloud, and I stop and set the battery down for a minute with a sigh of relief. Fuck.

Why the fuck am I so stubborn? I mean, I guess I’ve needed to be to, you know, survive and all. But this isn’t a fucking survival thing. It’s a pride thing.

My life is so fucked-up. And I can blame it on whatever I want—how fucking screwed up everything was after my mom died is probably the biggest reason. I still remember how it had felt to be kicked out of our apartment after she’d died. Nowhere to go, no one to turn to. Fuck, social services hadn’t even shown up to send me to a group home or some shit. I don’t know why. Being suddenly homeless and broke, with no idea where to go or what to do—that had been a shock enough. But it was the loneliness of being on my own, without my mom for the first time in my life... I think that’s what had made it so unbearable. It’s still something huge and grief-filled and painful.

But all that’s not an excuse. Not really. Everyone has struggles. I mean, I know Josh has had it rough too, with all that fucking messed up shit with his parents. Despite that, he’s managed, somehow, and he’s successful enough to be able to just throw forty bucks at me without batting an eye.

Yet here I am. Fucking nineteen dollars to my name. And at least a mile and a half left to carry this fucking battery.

God dammit.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a minute, and for some reason, I see her—my mom. She’s kneeling in her garden at our house back in Garrington, trimming roses. Happy and content and pain-free. She looks up at me with a soft smile and a quiet expression. And I know it’s not real, but I can still wish, right?

Fuck, I miss her. More than I can even say. It’s been a long time since she died, but it really does hurt. Still. And even after so long, I don’t know how to deal with all this pain. I also don’t why I’m still thinking about her now, when all my thoughts are being so intrusive, reminding me what a fucking screwup I am. Barely getting by with my fucking minimum-wage job.

Fuck. All I ever wanted was to make her proud.

My cell phone rings in my pocket, and I blink my eyes back open and dig it out. It’s Mel. Of course. I mean, no one else usually calls. I swipe to answer and then clear my throat as I bring the phone up to my ear.

“Hey, Mel. What’s up?”

“Hey, Coop. Glad you answered. Look, I just...” She pauses, sounding slightly out of breath or something, and I hear what might be the door to her office closing, followed by a long sigh. “I wanted to talk to you earlier, and I didn’t get a chance. Fuck, it’s just... I know I’ve been acting all weird and shit, and I wanted to say thank you again for stepping up like you have lately. You’re really... appreciated. And I know I haven’t been the easiest person to be around these last few days, but you’ve just fuckin’ been there, whenever I’ve needed you. And I wanted you to know.”

I’m not sure what to say or that my voice would work right now anyway. I take a long breath and let it out slowly. “Uh, I... Shit, Mel, are you dying or something?”

Ah, why the fuck did I blurt that out? It’s been on my mind, but, shit, really?

Thankfully, she’s not mad, and I hear her hoarse laugh through the phone.

---