Page 28 of Waiting for Tuesday

She sat slumped over on the couch, her legs spread wide, and her head resting in her hands.

I took the chair at her side and pulled it over so I was sitting right in front of her. “You okay?”

She shook her head but didn’t look up. “I’m drunk.” Then her shoulders began to shake with laughter. “Drunk as a skunk.”

I lifted her chin with one finger and stared at her, not stopping until she looked me in the eye. “Are youokay?”

Her eyes met mine as if it was difficult for her to focus, and her lips began to quiver. She shook her head again. “No.”

Em was normally confident, strong, and I’d never actually seen her cry before; it broke my heart. I hugged her to my chest, causing her drunken body to sag against me.

“It’s those damned demons.” Her voice was sloppy, raw, but the words so real.

I nodded, knowing all too well what she was talking about. We both had them, Em and I. Demons that were buried deep, embedded in our bones. “You want to talk about it?” I squeezed her tighter, wanting to protect the girl who was like my first sister.

“No.” She buried her face into my chest and sniffed.

“Are you sure?”

She pushed against my chest and looked me in the eye once more. “Will you just take me home? I don’t want to be here tonight.”

Her eyes were barely open, and I pushed my fingers through her short hair, wondering what had rocked her so hard she’d let herself go like this. “Of course.”

* * *

It was justafter nine when I locked her apartment door and pulled it shut behind me. Rain poured from the eaves of the building, and I rushed toward the stairs, taking them two at a time on my way to the parking lot.

Seeing Em like that brought back memories. Things I spent a lifetime trying to forget. Things I wished I could shield her from ever thinking of again.

Memories of Em and I huddled under the kitchen table at the Clarks’ home flashed through my mind. She’d only been three years older than me, an eight-year-old girl, but her arms squeezed me tighter than anyone had in my whole life. Seeing her like this—broken, hollow—shook me.

I hopped into my truck as rain pinged on the ceiling of the cab. The sound stirred memories of Mrs. Clark’s heels clicking on the hard ceramic tile; the sounds as clear in my mind now as they were twenty some years earlier. She was the woman who was supposed to provide us a stable home, but Em and I were huddled under a damned table, hoping it would offer protection. We only spent three months together in that house, three months of never being able to please the family who should have loved us—but Em had become my sister.

I flicked on my headlights and turned out of the lot. Visions of being pulled out of Em’s arms entered my mind. Her screams, my tears… I didn’t want to leave her. She was all I had…

I forced out an emotional breath and rubbed my eyes.I needed a drink.To settle my mind before the memories took over. I turned my truck down Parker Road, intending to stop by Donovan’s for a pint, but as I passed the parking lot of the shop, Tuesday’s truck was still parked by the dumpsters, only now it sat all alone.

“Shit!” I shook my head and kept on going. She wasn’t my problem. I had too much shit to deal with to worry about a girl who obviously wasn’t worried about herself.

But I only made it a half a mile before my conscience took over, and my hands flipped a U-turn of their own accord. Five minutes. That’s it. I’d check on her, tell her she was crazy for being in the building alone, and then I’d leave.

Chapter TWELVE

Tuesday

* * *

The rain was cominghard and fast as I stood in the middle of the shop. Row after row of pieces were laid out on the floor in front of me like a puzzle, all alphabetized, just as I’d done before. And just like last time, slot X was missing. I grabbed the box and held it upside down, shaking it a few times, praying that somewhere, slot X was hidden inside. Nothing. It was empty. Completely empty.

I lifted my glasses and rubbed my eyes. Hard.This wasn’t happening.Thisreallywasn’t happening. I could feel the blood boiling under the surface of my skin, and I took a calming breath.You can go back to the warehouse in the morning, get a totally different unit. Or better yet, try to find something already assembled.The pressure of the last few days was crushing me. I needed sleep, I needed a vacation, a day at the beach with a mojito in my hand. But… the shop hadn’t even opened yet.

Then I heard a loudpingfrom behind me, echoing through the silence of the empty back room. It was a sound I’d heard a few other times in my life, but one that was never welcomed. I turned around, just in time to hear it again. The sound of water—dripping. Another drop of rain hit the metal counter in the middle of the room, and I closed my eyes. This was a nightmare. There was no way I could handle this. I was out of money, running out of product, and out of time. I could handle going to the warehouse in the morning. I could handle losing another day of work, but a leak in the roof was something I just couldn’t take.

Then it came again, the sound barely audible, but one that caused every cell in my body to explode. I picked up a piece of shelving from the floor and slammed it as hard as I could against the counter. I let out a cry, the impact so heavy it caused my palms to ache—but the shelf remained perfectly intact. I wanted to scream. I needed it broken. Ineededsomething to take the pressure from my life. Tears fell to my cheeks, and my whole body began to shake. I lifted the shelf over my head and slammed it down again. Harder. Then again, and again, and—and someone grabbed me from behind and hauled me against their chest.

“Shhh… It’s okay, you’re okay.”

John wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me backward, holding my shaking body firm against his. I lowered my arms, letting the solid board fall in one piece to the ground. Defeated.

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