Page 23 of Sweet and Salty

“I was going through a lot, babe.” Ugh, I hate when Chris calls me this. He never listened when I asked him to stop, either. “I can be different.”

“You’re not invited.” I sniffle and pull down the visor mirror to check my hair. It’s Bride of Frankenstein frizzed. Perfect. “Besides.” A brilliant idea occurs to me, one that will not solve my problems, but will at least get this particular butthead off my case and off my phone. “I’m with someone.”

“What?” Something falls to the floor on his end of the line. “Who? No one in town would date you.”

My head fills with a hot flush of rage. “I’m hanging up.”

“No, don’t!” The switch in his tone is dramatic, from angry to needy in two syllables. “Please. Just tell me who.”

“Jesse,” I say. It’s the first name that pops into my head. “Jesse Vanek. From the hardware store?”

“Him?” Chris scoffs. “He’s, like, old.”

“You mean an actual adult? Yes. Yes, he is.”

“Are you sleeping with him?”

Only in my dreams. “That’s none of your business. Goodbye.”

“Wait!”

I have to stop letting him do this. I have to just hang up the phone, but the old, people-pleasing Laura is so hard to ignore. “Leave me alone, Chris. Move on.”

“I can’t. I miss you. I think about you with that old guy, and it just makes me sad.”

“Thanks for caring.” I pick up my water bottle from its holder and take a long swig. “Goodbye.”

“I’m sorry, Laura, really. I’m being a dick.”

Yes, he is. I settle deeper into the seat. I can wait for an apology. They’re so rare from him. “You really are.”

“I know. I’m just so stressed out, babe. The whole job thing isn’t going great. It’s been hard, finding an apartment. Paying for gas. Groceries are so expensive right now.”

My bullcrap meter tingles. “Life is hard, Chris. We all have to deal.”

“I know, I know.” He sighs, loudly. “I just…couldn’t I borrow some money? To tide me over? I helped you out so much on the farm, and with the bakery, and you never really paid me for it.”

I throw my phone onto the passenger seat like it’s made of flaming volcanic rock. If the apology came from left field, what the fuck is this?

Ooooh, and that dick made me swear.

“Laura?” His voice is small and mealy from the speaker.

New Laura sweeps in on a magic carpet of white hot rage. I’m so tired of all of this. Tired of the gaslighting, and the white male insecurity. Tired of the lies. “Fuck you, Chris. Absolutely not. How dare you ask me for money? Youneverhelped out on the farm or with the bakery. Maybe once or twice, but only if I begged you and hounded you, and I don’t need to feel like that. You are not a real man, Chris, and you know how I know? Because I have one now. And more than that, I know my worth. So piss off and stop calling me.”

With that, I swipe the bar and end the call, then bury the phone deep at the bottom of my purse so I won’t be tempted to answer it again.

My breath heaves, and everything on my face feels tight, from my lips to my ears. Tears scratch at the back of my eyes. My fists are so clenched, my nails dig little crescent moon shapes into the flesh of my palms.

I glance up again at the visor mirror and my eyes are red and inflamed. I hate Chris. I hate that he does this to me. He doesn’t deserve to have any power over me at all.

How the heck am I supposed to go inside and see my family like this? They’ll know something happened, and I don’t want to rehash the whole thing.

Frannie’s in town, too. She’ll see right through me.

I close my eyes and focus my senses. I can smell the scent of the jasmine iced tea in my water bottle, and the floral-sweet tastelingers on my tongue. There is the heat of the sun through my windshield. The buzzing of my phone in my purse. I’m going to leave that in the car.

It’s time to fake it.

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