Page 90 of That Conflicted Feeling
JesusChrist. “Youused me to find out what made them tick, then you bought them off.”
Oh,God, this is awful and out of control, and more people have stopped on either side of us.I’mnow making what is officially known as a scene.
“Oh.”Maxsighs as he looks to the sky and his shoulders relax. “You’reupset about the season ticket and the donation.”
Hesays it as if, now he understands, he thinksI’mmaking a fuss about nothing.
“Yes.Usedme.Forinfo.Andbought them off.Andtried to buy me.”Iswallow past the throat lump that’s now the size of a dragon fruit and twice as spiky. “Bywhisking me off to an island.Aprivateisland.”
“Wasthere more sexing there?” asksMrs.Bentley, who’s parked her walker and is using it as a front row seat for the impromptu street entertainment.
Theadrenaline that took control of my senses and sent me storming out here to giveMaxa large chunk of my mind is draining away.
Myarms are limp now, my hands cold.
Theanger in me starts to fade and is replaced by heart-stabbing hurt and grief at the loss of the amazing man whoIallowed myself, for one brief island moment, to thinkMaxwas.
Ipoke an icy finger into my chest. “Iam not for sale.”
Allthe fight’s gone from my voice.
Atear rolls down my cheek.
Someof the bystanders shake their heads and walk away.
“It’sbusiness,Polly.”Max’svoice is calm and affectionate. “That’sall.That’show it’s done.It’snot buying them off or bribing them.It’sschmoozing.Everyonedoes it.”
“You’rejust the same as them.”Thewords crack as another tear spills out.
“Aswho?”
“Thepeople who bought the farm.”
Hesteps closer, his brow pinched. “No.Christ,Polly.Don’tcompare me to them.”He’shurt and pleading. “YouknowI’mnot like that.I’mfair.”
Ihave no energy left to tell him to back off.Noenergy to back off myself.Ijust stand there, like a rag doll about to crumple, as the floodgates open and tears pour silently down my cheeks.
Idrop my head and manage to squeeze out a faint whisper. “You’renot.”
Hereaches out to touch my arm, andIdon’t have it in me to move away.
Hisfingertips graze my skin as, out of nowhere, an arm swoops in, wraps itself around me, spins me around, and marches me back toward the shop.
“Fuckoff, you total bastard,”Carlyyells over her shoulder.
26
POLLY
“Okay,MissDoomandGloom.That’sa week of you looking like the last dog in the shelter.”Carlygrunts as she stretches up to reach the broken cord and pull down the blind over the front window at closing time.
“So, are you more upset the council voted ‘yes’ last night, or that you haven’t heard fromMaxsince you yelled at him so spectacularly?”
It’shard to know where the scales of misery fall on that particular conundrum.
Irepeatedly stick and unstick my fingers from a tacky patch on the counter whereI’dabsentmindedly put a bag of potatoes on top of someone’s grapes earlier.That’show muchIhaven’t been able to concentrate.Iwould never knowingly damage a perfectly good bunch ofConcords.
DespitewhatMaxdid, the thought of never seeing him again feels like being kicked in the heart by a horse.Oran elephant.Ora hippo.Orany other kind of weighty animal.
