Page 80 of Uncovered
But it won’t matter.
Nothing can erase the look of betrayal on Phoebe’s face as she left my house.
“Her shit!” I slur out to no one and everyone, as a thought occurs to me.
“Yes. Everything is shit!” Knox declares, tossing some cardboard onto the fire.
“No, her shit--her stuff. Phoebe, she left her bags inside. She always carries about a thousand and she needs them. One’s for work and one’s for food and one’s for school and she needs them,” I say, attempting to stand, as though I’m gonna hike my drunk ass across campus to hand deliver them.
“Slow down, Tiger,” Ollie says. “Might not be an awesome idea to pay her a visit right now.”
“You don’t need to,” Book says, sounding almost sober. “I saw her bags. I took them along when I drove her car over to Ian’s earlier today. She’s--”
“You saw her?” I ask, as though Book now holds the keys to my sanity, such as it is.
“Shit,” he mutters, and I’m half-shocked. The guy does not cuss. It’s a good habit we’ve tried hard to break with no success, until now.
“I didn’t, not really. I mean…”
“Tell me, Book,” I plead. “Is she okay? I know she’s angry as fuck right now, hates my fucking guts, and god, I get it, but just tell me she’s ok.”
He’s also too honest for his own good. “Yea. Um, yea. She’s fine. Looked great--good, fine.”
“You’re killing me, dude. You can’t lie for shit.”
“Is it really gonna make you feel better if he tells you she was balled up on the couch, her face streaked with tears, her hands trembling with anger? Is that what you wanna hear?” Knox asks, getting right to the fucking point, as always.
“Dude. Way to paint a bleak picture. Jesus. Kick him in the balls, Knox. It’d hurt less.” This from Whit, who’s lighting a joint from the flames in the fire pit. Holy hell, we’re a mess.
“It’s true, Whit. All of it’s bullshit. I love you, Ty, you fucking know that. But the minute you gave your heart away, you were well and truly fucked. Because it’s easy to give away, but you’ll never get it back. Love is an illusion, nothing more.” And with that, he heads inside. Any other time, I’d reach out, because he’s been through some shit and I know he’s hurting. But right now? I have no room for anyone else’s pain or sad love stories. Phoebe’s absence has invaded every part of my body. I can’t fucking breathe without missing her.
In his gentle way, Book looks at me. “She’s torn up, man. And I know you get that. You knew it would be this way. But give it time. She loves you. She has to. The way she looked at you when you guys were together? I hope somebody looks at me that way someday. Just, just give her some time and some space, ok?”
“And Ian?” I ask.
“What about Ian?” Booker’s tone is strange, but that could be the alcohol.
“Has he put a hit out on me? Guy’s protective as hell about her and Mel both.”
“Oh, yeah. He is. Probably feels about Phoebe the way we feel about each other, you know? But no, actually. Before I left, we stepped out in the hall and he asked how you were holding up. He’s a good guy, Ty. She’s lucky to have him in her corner.”
I’ve thought those very same words. But right now, I’d give anything to be in Ian’s place--to be able to see her, touch her, take care of her.
“Dude, Booker’s right,” Ollie says, stoking the fire. “Give her some time. It sucks big hairy donkey balls, man, but you gotta let it ride a minute, ok?”
“Time isn’t going to matter,” I say. It’s too late. Irrevocable damage has been done.
***
Phoebe
“Babe, you gotta get up.” Mel’s voice barely registers. I’m covered in blankets to muffle out the noise and the light. I still can’t sleep, but I also can’t do anything else. Literally nothing appeals to me--not even the art studio. And it really should. I haven’t been there in a week. I called sick into work, which is totally out of character for me. And I haven’t been to class, either. I’m sucking at life right now, but I can’t even muster energy to care about that.
I peek over the covers to see she’s drawn back the curtain. Hag. I love her, but come on. That’s brutal. I pull an earbud from my ear to hear what she’s saying. She swipes it from my hand, gives it a listen, and rolls her eyes.
“Ok, we are not doing this. Hand over the other one.”
I clutch it closer to my ear. “No way.” There’s panic in my voice.
