Page 49 of Finding Our Reality

The interview with Holly was not an afternoon filled with sunshine and rainbows, as you can imagine. She was high. The complete and total opposite of Christina. Christina crawled her way out of the shit of her past. Holly decided to keep crapping and then roll around in it for good measure. Her arms were full of track marks. Her hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in months, her clothes were filthy, and her face was covered in scabs from drug-induced picking. Even her nails were stained with the black smoke from whatever she cooks up.

The outside of the house was bad but not horrible, dilapidated but not a total dump site. So, I had high hopes when we knocked on the door. Those hopes came crashing to the ground the second we stepped over threshold. In fact, my hopescrashed to the ground, spontaneously combusted, and then the ash blew in my face, making me vomit.

Her house was covered in trash—rotten food, empty beer cans, soiled clothes, piles of dog shit from the little puppy whimpering in the corner. The smell was so bad, I had to spend most of the time with my fingers underneath my nose, trying to suck the last little bit of scent from my cherry almond lotion into my nasal cavity.

And then… the kids got off the school bus.

A little boy and a little girl.

We didn’t realize there was only a half day of school today. The boy said he was nine, and the girl said she was seven. While Ry was interviewing Holly, I attempted to keep the children occupied. I was glad for the distraction; I couldn’t stand to be in her presence anymore.

Well, I thought I was glad for the distraction.

Until the kids showed me their bedroom.

One half of the room looked like the rest of the house, meaning it was completely filthy. The other half of the room is what the kids actually considered ‘their bedroom’. There were two bare mattresses lined up against the wall, both stained brown and yellow.

But what really broke my heart was their few meager personal belongings, neatly stacked by their makeshift beds. Stacked and organized to display everything, the way only a child would do. The little girl told me that her brother has a rule that they have to keep their part of the house very clean. They each had a small pile of folded laundry, a few books, and a few toys.

When Ry finally came to get me, he froze in the doorway, watching me as I played with the children. Even the little boy was so happy to have someone to play with him, he allowed hissister to choose a game of dolls. She owned three small plastic dolls. We each got one.

As soon as we got in the truck, I started crying. And I absolutely hate crying in front of people. That’s probably what added to my anger. When the tears finally subsided, I decided the best thing to do would be to lash out at Ry.

Taking a deep breath, I nod. “Okay, I understand. I’ll let you handle it. But youwillhandle it? Today?”

“Lulu, I promise you, no one will be laying a head on their pillow tonight until they know about this situation. I can swear to you, shit will happen. It may be Monday. But I will make sure it happens.”

“Okay.” I reach for my bottled water, eager to wet my dry throat. I look down and see Ry already drank his. Offering him my bottle, he takes it, tipping it up to his mouth. While he’s drinking, I turn the heat back down. It’s suddenly very hot in here. “So, how did the interview go? Did you get anything useful?”

“No, her brain is complete mush. She barely remembers her own name.”

“Not surprising.”

“I taste you.”

My head whips around and my face blushes beet red. “Excuse me?”

He nods at the water bottle. “Your lip stuff. It tastes like oranges.” Placing the bottle back in the cup holder, he leans against his door, narrowing his eyes in amusement. “Why? What did you think I meant?”

The bastard always liked it when I was tongue-tied and embarrassed. “Nothing. I just didn’t hear what you said.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

I nod my head at the windshield. “Do you plan on driving anytime soon?”

Chuckling under his breath, he pulls back onto the road. He’s making me furious. And horny. Leaning my head against the cold window, I close my eyes, rubbing my scar to calm my nerves. Visions of Ry burying his head between my thighs makes the breath hitch in my chest.

I taste you.

He sure tasted me alright. Moisture drips down my leg just thinking about it.

And that makes me even angrier.

***

“You’re a grown woman, now. Do you think it’s appropriate to have your feet up on my desk?”

“You’re a grown man. Do you think it’s appropriate to keep secrets from your best friend?” I retort, still guilt-tripping him about keeping Ry a secret all these years.

---