Page 10 of Sexploration

My gaze shoots to my dad, who casually takes a sip of his lemonade as if he hadn’t just overtly threatened Tommy’s life, and I laugh. It’s a full-bodied, can’t catch your breath kind of laugh. By the time it subsides, my stomach hurts.

“I appreciate the gesture,” I wheeze. “But that won’t be necessary. Tommy isn’t worth risking a life sentence for.”

“Who says I’d get caught?” he teases, winking at me.

“I can’t believe that little bastard is leaving you for some trollop,” Mom hisses.

“I’m the one who left, technically. Packed up all my shit and walked right out the door.”

“You did? But where have you been staying?”

There it is. This may be the question I was fearing the most. I already had to deal with Parker being offended that I didn’t ask to stay with her. As my best friend, she felt she should’ve been the first person I called. And I know parents expect their children to turn to them in their time of need. But going to Milo’s made the most sense to me. I thought I’d have the place to myself, that it would give me time to process all this shit in solitude. Though I’m very grateful August ending up staying.

“Milo is letting me crash in his bed while he’s away. Hopefully, I’ll be able to get a place of my own soon.”

“You could’ve stayed with us.” The hurt in Momma’s tone causes my stomach to knot with guilt.

“I know... I just—”

“It’s okay, baby. I understand,” she reassures me, reaching over to pat my knee. “I just hate the idea of you sitting in that house all alone during a time like this.”

“I’m not alone.” My cheeks heat, thoughts of strong hands and soft lips filling my mind. “August is there.”

Mom’s eyebrows shoot up, a knowing twinkle in her eyes. “Well... that’s good. Have you heard from Tommy since you left?”

I shake my head. “Nope.”

Truth is, I don’t know whether Tommy has tried to reach me or not. I blocked his number before pulling out of our driveway that night. There wasn’t anything left for him to say, and I need time to process everything before we speak again. I was quiet that night, unsure of what to say or how to feel. But the next time we talk, I’ll have plenty to say.

“Good,” Dad huffs. “I hope August hands him his ass if he comes sniffing around.”

I laugh, and it feels like a giant weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Logically, I knew my parents would support me in anything I wanted, but a small part of me wondered if they would be disappointed. Even though the dissolution of my marriage is not my fault, not even a little bit, it still feels a little like losing. Like giving up. But then I remind myself that I’m not the one who gave up.

Tommy did that years ago.

He gave up on himself and then on me. He let himself go. Each day that passed, he lost a little more motivation, his drive and will to be something. To be someone. I was the only constant, the never-changing aspect of his life. But he treated me like a place setting. Something that isn’t needed. Isn’t even required. Sure, it looks pretty when the table is all set. But after a while, you quit noticing it’s even there.

AUGUST

Saturdays were always my favorite day of the week growing up. My sisters spent the weekends at their dad’s, leaving me free to go anywhere or do anything I wanted. During the week, my afternoons were spent watching and taking care of them—making sure their homework was done and they were fed. My mother certainly wasn’t capable. She struggled with depression and barely got out of bed most days. At some point, I gave up on hoping things would get better and just adapted.

It’s what I always do. Make the best of shitty situations.

It’s why I always make a joke of everything. No one wants to know about the bullshit you carry. It makes them uncomfortable, so I taught myself early on to laugh about everything and let it roll off my back.

The doorbell rings a quick chime through the house, and I yell up the stairs to let Josie know the pizza is here. This particular Saturday is special because I get to spend it with her. It was obvious how nervous she was to tell her parents about the divorce. But her talk with Paul and Caroline must have gone well because there was more pep in her step when she returned home this evening. She suggested that we order some pizza and have a movie night, and I jumped at the opportunity.

My blood heats with volcanic rage when I open the door, finding it’s not the delivery guy but Tommy fucking Jones.

His bald head is glistening in the sun, a muffin top of fat hanging over the waistband of his khaki pants. Those beady little eyes narrow as they focus on me, the tightening only accentuating the deep lines around them. It amazes me that someone like him could ever get a woman like Josie. Even more so that he could manage to make her feel like she’s not good enough. This joker took her for granted then tossed her aside. He deserves to be punched in his smarmy face.

“What the fuck do you want?” The words are bitten out.

The asshole has a lot of fucking nerve showing up here. Judging by the look on his face, he wasn’t expecting me to answer the door. It makes me wonder if Josie told him she would be staying here while Milo and I were out of town on business. Leave it to the slimy son of a bitch to think he could drop by any time he pleases.

“I want to talk to my wife.” Spit spews past his yellowing teeth.

“Your wife?” I scoff. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Get your sorry ass out of here before I...”

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