Page 10 of Because of Dylan

I flashback to a scene I'd give anything to erase from my mind—the hot breath on my face, the stink of cigarettes and cheap alcohol. His weight pressing down on me, stealing my childhood—my entire body shudders in rejection of the memory, streaming across my mind like a reel of film. My stomach rebels and turns inside out. The nausea and bile can no longer be contained. It rises up my throat, ready to purge the memories along with the contents of my stomach. I bend forward, into the gyrating hips of the dancer in front of me, and I puke all over him.

He jumps back with a curse and steps away from me, disappearing into the dark hall next to the stage. I stay in place, paralyzed under the weight of the past and what just happened. My face burns, sweat beads on my hairline. River grabs me by the shoulders and gently pulls me up. We step around the mess, and she walks me toward the back where the bathrooms are located. The dimmed lights hide our exit. If Sabrina and Juliana noticed anything wrong, they don't say. I don’t dare look at them.

We walk into the bathroom and I blink at the too bright lights. My heartbeat is steadier now that we left the noise and men behind. River's holding me still. She stops halfway into the bathroom. “Stall or sink?”

“Sink. I think I'm done puking.”

We veer right, and she turns the faucet and holds my long hair back so it doesn’t get wet.

I cup my hands under the water and rinse my mouth until the taste of regret fades away.

River hands me a few paper towels.

“How much did you have to drink?”

“Five shots,” I lie. The falsehood easily slips out. Lies and secrets have been my companions for far too long. They're second nature now.

She narrows her eyes at me, arms crossed over her chest, and I notice a purple silk scarf I’ve never seen her wear before. It must be new. My mind locks on that minor detail. It's a trick I learned long ago. Pay attention to something else, focus your entire being on it. For a few seconds or even minutes. However long it takes me to ground myself again.

River is about to say something else when the bathroom door opens, and a woman walks in and into a stall. We're no longer alone, and the silence between us is like a thick fog as we wait and stare at each other.

The woman leaves the bathroom without washing her hands. Nasty.

River opens her clutch and out comes a package of Tic-Tacs. The cinnamon kind. I empty half of them into my palm and put them all in my mouth. There’s an explosion of flavor as it burns my tongue.

“I'm sorry. I fucked up your birthday.”

She dismisses my apology with a headshake. “I worry about you, Becca. What's going on?”

“Boy trouble,” I lie again. There are no boys. My mind flashes to Tommy, but he's no trouble. Tommy is a little spot of sunshine in my life. He's kind and uncomplicated. And unlike every other guy, he's not trying to use me or get anything from me. Other than my salt and vinegar potato chips.

Her shoulders drop, and she uncrosses her arms. I know her well enough to know this is River letting go of the inquisition she wants to unleash on me. For now, at least.

“What do you want to do?” Her voice is low, even though we’re alone now.

“I don't want to go back out there again,” I gesture at the door. “You can go back. But I'm going home.”

She scoffs at me. “As if.”

River does her best imitation of Cher in Clueless. We watched the movie a few nights ago. I laugh. A genuine laugh this time.

“Leave your car here. I'll drive you and tuck you in.”

“Yes, Mom.” I try for sarcasm, but my voice cracks a little when I say Mom.

River squeezes my arm. “I love you, you know that, right? And I don't know what's going on with you, but whatever it is, I'd never judge you because of it. You can tell me anything.”

She has been more insistent with her questions lately.

“It's a two-way street, River. Feel free to open up about what's eating at you any time.”

That shuts her up.

Chapter Six

“I don’t knowwhy you put up with me. I’m not a good friend.” I squeeze the phone between my ear and shoulder and grab a rag to clean the already clean bar top.

“This again? Yes, you are. I don’t need someone to hold my hand, Becca. I need someone who gives me space but is always there when I need them. That’s you.”

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