Co-WRECKER

  “Of course.”

  I nod. “Okay, that’s what I figured.” Taking a deep breath, I ask point-blank, “Are there any other naked days I need to worry about?”

  There is a knock at the front door as Leena starts to laugh. “Oh, Andrew. You want more naked days?”

  “No, no, no, no.” I shake my head. “Nope. Just wanted to make sure I had all my days covered. There isn’t anything like Snatch-Showing Saturdays?”

  “What’s snatch?” Her face contorts in confusion.

  “Never mind—”

  “Andrew, lady is here,” Katja calls out from the living room.

  Lady is here?

  What does that—

  The knock at the door.

  Sadie was getting off work soon.

  Oh fuck. Fuck.

  Please, oh please, oh fucking please let Katja be covered up. I rush past Leena who keeps repeating snatch over and over again, probably liking the way it sounds, and run into the living room where Katja is holding the door open to no one, eyes trained on the TV, fucking boobs bouncing with her laughter as she mumbles something about Chip Gaines.

  Fuck me.

  Dread coiling in my stomach, I run to the screen door where I open it just in time to see Sadie driving away.

  Fuck.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  I turn to Katja and ask, “Let me guess, you answered the door like that?”

  “Shhh,” she waves me off, “Chip and Joanna.” I turn to the TV to see two Texans talk about demolishing the inside of a house they’re fixing up for a client. Great.

  Leena comes into the room with her eyes trained on her phone. “The Google told me snatch is another word for vagina.” Looking up from her phone, she makes eye contact with me. “You want to see vagina?”

  “No! For the love of God, no!” Leaving my roommates to themselves, making a mental note to talk to them about keeping things PG, I take the steps two at a time while I reach for my phone. I cringe from the three text messages from Sadie.

  Sadie: Getting off a little early. Do you want me to bring you ice cream?

  Sadie: You’re not answering. I’m bringing you ice cream anyway and it’s not going to be sugar-free vanilla. You’re addicted and it’s getting out of hand.

  It’s the last text message that really has my gut churning, making me feel sick to my stomach with each word.

  Sadie: Now I see why you weren’t responding. One-woman man. Funny. Very funny.

  She tops the text message off with a middle finger emoji.

  Fuck.

  Chapter Twenty

  SADIE

  “One-woman man. Right. Blonde, tall, and topless,” I mutter while I struggle to escape the small confines of my car. As I grab my purse, the strap gets caught on the gearshift. “Let go, you motherfucker.” I yank on the purse, which only tears the strap. “Oh no. No,” I gasp. Tears start to well in my eyes, my shoulders wilt in defeat, and I bow my head, threading the broken strap through my fingers.

  I tell myself the reason I’m on the verge of crying is because I’ve had this handmade purse for years. It was one of the first things Smilly made for me. I’m not crying because I walked into the valley of boobs at Andrew’s place.

  Nope, it’s not that at all.

  A silent tear streams down my face and falls onto my black pants, the same pants that have several bleach spots.

  Another tear.

  It’s the purse. I swear it’s the purse.

  I take a deep breath and focus on vacating my car. With my now-torn purse, I make my way to the apartment where a pirate’s skull is hung on the front door for no particular reason. Smilly must have gone to the Thrifty Shopper again and found some treasures.

  When I open the door, both Smilly and Saddlemire are sitting in the recliners, a bowl of tortilla chips and salsa sitting between them, watching a Yankees documentary. Smilly must have lost a bet.

  “Hey, Ma!” she calls out just before she puts a chip in her mouth. I give her the best smile I can, but it must not work because she pauses the documentary, causing Saddlemire to grumble. “What’s wrong?”

  “Long day,” I lie, but not good enough because tears start to fall down my cheeks—uncontrollable, fat, wet tears. Horrified expressions stare back at me. I don’t cry, not in front of anyone. Including Smilly. I’ve cried in front of Andrew. No. Don’t think about Andrew. Needing to come up with a reason for the crying, I hold up my purse and say, “I tore my purse strap.”

  Slightly frightened and definitely uneasy, Smilly slowly puts down her recliner and makes her way over to me where she takes the purse, caution in her every step. “I can fix this, Sadie. It’s not a big deal.”

  “But it’s the first thing you made me and I tore it.” Cue the sobbing.

  I’m a pathetic mess. The funny thing is, Smilly and Saddlemire have no idea what to do. They’ve never seen me as a tear-jerking emotional mess. They’ve seen me angry, so freaking angry that they’ve feared for their lives, but sad . . . over “a purse,” this is new territory for them. Honestly, this is new territory for me. Even when I lost . . .

  Why did he lie to me? He pursued me. He made me feel beautiful. But why did he lie? Or am I just so terribly naïve? He told me he’s always been into girls, and he is living in a house of them. I’m so stupid.

  Smilly puts her arm around me and asks, “Are you sure it’s just the purse that’s bothering you?”

  “Yes.” I cry some more, just as there is a knock at the door.

  “Pizza!” Saddlemire jumps up from the recliner. “Don’t worry, Sadie, we got enough for you too, so you don’t have to cry about that either.”

  Smilly’s arm flies out and slaps Saddlemire across the chest. “Don’t be an insensitive ass. If she wants to cry over pizza, she is more than welcome to.”

  “I don’t want to cry over pizza.” I shake my head, and my tears scatter to the floor.

  “Don’t make up your mind just yet, you haven’t seen the topping we picked.” Smilly pats my shoulder and guides me to the kitchen. “Let’s get you something to drink.”

  “Uh, she might want to stick around,” Saddlemire calls out as he opens the door wider.

  Turning around, there he stands, Andrew in the doorway.

  What’s he doing here? And why the hell must he be so handsome? His hair is in an unruly mess; he’s wearing jeans and a tight-fitting shirt. And those glasses . . .they can’t help but highlight his sorrowful eyes.

  A myriad of emotions hit me at once.

  He came.

  What is he doing here? He’s blowing our cover.

  Why does he have to be so freaking attractive?

  There was a topless girl opening his door.

  Why do I care this much? It was casual between us.

  I shouldn’t care.

  More tears stream down my face.

  “Sadie,” he calls out, stepping forward only to have Saddlemire stop him with a hand to the chest.

  The wiseass that he is, Saddlemire says, “I’m going to take a wild guess and say the real reason you’re crying has to do with this guy and something stupid he did instead of the torn purse strap.”

  I shake my head, and squeak out, “I’m really upset about the purse.”

  “Yes, we’re all upset about the purse.” Smilly gives me a hug and then charges over to Andrew and stabs her finger into his chest. “What the hell did you do?”

  Hands up in the air in defense, he answers, “I didn’t do anything.”

  A sarcastic laugh rumbles from my throat. I cross my arms over my chest and stare him down. “That’s funny, because it sure seemed like you did something.”

  Both Saddlemire and Smilly look back at me and then at Andrew again. Saddlemire pipes up, “Uh, I’m going to make an assumption here and say you two have been seeing each other in secret.”

  “Ugh, don’t state the obvious,” Smilly groans. “What I want to know is why she hasn’t said anything about it to me, especially since she’s capable
of crying over him.”

  “You’re crying?” Andrew asks, trying to look past Saddlemire.

  “I’m not . . .” I catch my breath. “I’m upset about my purse!”

  Ignoring me, Smilly asks, “What did you do to make her cry?”

  “Nothing.” Shaking his head, he asks, “Can I please just talk to Sadie in private?”

  “No.” Smilly is resolute. With her hands on her hips, she stands tall, which would be funny if I wasn’t this hurt, because Smilly is barely five foot three. I love my friend’s unswerving defense.

  Concern transforms into frustration and before we can do anything, Andrew says, “Fuck this,” and charges into the apartment, past Saddlemire who doesn’t take kindly to being pushed to the side.

  His reaction: take down Andrew, bouncer style.

  Coming from behind, Saddlemire grabs Andrew in a headlock and starts to drag him back toward the door, but Andrew doesn’t give in. Instead, he runs backward until Saddlemire’s back hits the wall, causing a huge crash-like sound to reverberate through the apartment. Both Smilly and I screech as picture frames fall to the ground.

  With his elbow, Andrew plunks Saddlemire in the stomach, which unleashes him from Saddlemire’s grip. His agility and strength take me by surprise. How can he fight like this? Then it hits me. Two older brothers. As Saddlemire bends to take his breath, Andrew steps aside. But when Saddlemire looks up, there is rage in his eyes. I have to stop this before Saddlemire uses Andrew’s face as a punching bag.

  Running up between them, I block Andrew and say, “Stop it.”

  “Get him the fuck out of here, Sadie,” Saddlemire says, spitting venom in our direction. I’ve seen him cross before, but not this angry.

  Nervous, I take Andrew by the hand and try to bring him to the door but he doesn’t budge.

  “I’m not leaving,” he says, his voice unwavering. “Not until I talk to you.”

  “This isn’t the time, Andrew.”

  “It sure as fuck is.” When I turn to look at him, he scowls at me. “I have a right to talk to you, to let you know what happened.”

  Sighing, I cross my arms over my chest and step back from him. “Fine. Explain.”

  Smilly and Saddlemire file behind me, building an audience for Andrew’s “explanation.”

  Taking us all in, he shakes his head. He pauses for a moment and truly studies me, making me feel raw once again. He’s angry. Yet he can still reach into my soul and see me. How he has the capability to do that I will never know.

  “You know what? What’s the fucking point?” he finally says. “There is no point in me talking to you about what happened.” My stomach starts to churn, and anxiety rolls around in my veins. He’s capitulating before he even starts? “Do you know why, Sadie?” He shakes his head, places his hands on his hips. “Because you won’t believe me. Even if what I tell you is the truth, there’s no point. You’ve been looking for a way out from the start. What we have between us has never meant anything to you, as it’s always been casual. Fun.” He steps forward and points at his chest. “But it’s meant something to me and when I said I’m a one-woman man, I fucking meant it. I gave you my word. And for you to so quickly think anything else is a fucking kick to the damn dick. You’ve never fully given me yourself; you’ve never truly wanted to be with me. You wanted fun and casual, and you got it. Fucking, fun, and casual. But I’m done. I don’t want casual, Sadie. I want all of you, not just a small piece.” He steps forward, getting close enough that I’m enveloped in his masculine cologne. It pulls me in, making my stomach churn even more. Tears start to well in my eyes again, and this time, I won’t bother blaming the purse. “But you don’t want to give yourself to me. I can only pound my head against a brick wall for so long, Sadie. Now? I’m done trying.” He leans forward and grips my chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Just so you know, I really fucking liked you. I can’t force you to like me. I can’t force you to open up to me. So, I think it’s a fucking shame you remained hidden behind your completely impenetrable walls.”

  He quirks his lips to the side in disappointment and heads for the door, taking the air between us with him. When he opens the front door, about to exit, he turns to me and says, “For the record, the woman who greeted you at the door was my roommate. The two girls from Finland with zero awareness about covering up came home early. I was working on my computer and had no idea what they were up to downstairs until I went to grab a drink. Sometimes everything is not as it seems, Sadie. That’s something you should know pretty well by now.” As he turns, I swear I hear him say, “Fuck this. Fuck.”

  Not even glancing back, he shuts the door, leaving the apartment in silence, and my heart in utter turmoil.

  I don’t say anything. I don’t even look at Smilly and Saddlemire. With tears in my eyes, I go straight into the bedroom and quietly shut the door. I’m tempted to fall to the floor right there, but instead, I change into my favorite pajama bottoms with orange fish on them and put on a T-shirt. Once I’m comfortable, I slip into my bed, keeping the lights off, and rest my head against my pillow where I cry. I cry fucking hard. “I can only pound my head against a brick wall for so long, Sadie. Now? I’m done trying. Just so you know, I really fucking liked you.”

  I really fucking liked him too.

  ***

  Light filters into the room, stirring me from my somber-induced coma. My eyelids feel like they’re glued together, and my throat is scratchy and feeling as dry as the Sahara. This is why I don’t cry, because you feel like utter shit during and after.

  “Sadie?” Smilly asks, toeing her way into the room, a plate of pizza in hand. “I thought maybe you might be hungry.” From her sweatshirt pocket, she pulls out a can of orange soda and sets it on the nightstand we share.

  When she sits on the bed, I sit up, propping the pillow behind me. We uncomfortably stare at each other for a second before Smilly says, “You cried.”

  “I know.”

  “Over a boy.”

  I can’t help but smile. “I know.”

  “A boy who isn’t Tucker.”

  I sigh this time and start picking at the pizza she brought in. “I know.”

  “Care to explain?” She snags a pepperoni from the piece and smiles at me when I give her a playful look.

  “I don’t even know how to explain it.” I press my head against the wall, wishing I could knock some sense into myself. “I was just having fun with him, Smilly. I didn’t want to make a big deal about it because I knew once school started, I would be breaking it off. But, somewhere along the way, I started to like him. I started to become addicted to his smile, to his teasing, to his nerdy quirks.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

  “Because,” I pick at the crust, “I didn’t want it to get around that I was dating someone other than Tucker, especially since I knew it was only short-term.”

  “Is that what it was, dating?” Was it? We did go out on dates, but were we dating?

  “I have no idea. All I know is he wanted more but I couldn’t give him anything else.”

  “Why not?”

  Her question is a little shocking. Given her love for everything Sadie and Tucker, I’m surprised she isn’t delighted about Andrew’s demise, trying to push me into Tucker’s arms right now, and calling him to talk about the good old times.

  “There is a world of difference between us, Smilly. He values education—”

  “So do you,” she says, snagging another pepperoni.

  Annoyance filters through me. “My goals are different now. I lied to him and said I was still going to Cornell. If he knew the truth, if he knew I was a dropout, I don’t think he’d look at me in the same way.”

  “You’re not giving him enough credit. I barely know the guy, but I don’t think he’s a school snob. He likes you for you, not for what school you’re going to. I was there, Sadie. I was there when he danced with you at the bonfire. The way he looked at you, seemed so ecstatic to see you, it wasn
’t school that snagged his attention.” That was weeks ago. He barely knew me. But he was looking at me?

  “I’ve been such an asshole to him, Smilly. From the very beginning, I’ve been a bitch, and yet, he still wanted to get to know me, he still wanted to hang out with me. And when I told him I didn’t want to talk about anything deep with him, he took what I gave him.” I shake my head in shame. What does that say about him? About me? “And the first moment I got a chance to break it off, I did. He was right. I didn’t want to give myself over.”

  “Because of Tucker?” she asks, a little hope in her voice.

  “No, not because of Tucker. Because I’m ashamed of who I am.” I take a big, depressing bite out of my pizza and talk as I chew. “Look at me. I have a mom who preferred hanging out in jail rather than parenting, an emotionally absent father who’s denied his sole-parent responsibilities since I was eight, and then I have two sisters I don’t talk to. That’s just my family. On top of that, I’m a college dropout with no future ahead of her. I have nothing to be proud of.” I am nothing.

  “You know I don’t believe that,” Smilly says. “But if you feel that way, why don’t you do something about it?”

  I take another bite of my pizza, waiting to talk until I finish chewing. I can’t. I can’t do anything about it. “Because, I have no fight left in me, Smilly.”

  And that’s the God’s honest truth. I’ve been fighting for as long as I can remember, and now there is nothing left inside me. My spirit, compassion, and will to try have been irrevocably broken. I’m exhausted and ready to throw in the towel.

  Losing Andrew just falls in line with the shit journey of a life I’m living. It’s done. It was casual. I just need to accept it and move on.

  Except, why do I hurt so much?

  I can’t force you to like me. It’s too late. I already do.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  SADIE

  So this is what rock bottom really feels like? I thought I hit that fucking slab when I dropped out of school and then lost the baby. Nope, this is it. It has to be it. I don’t know if I can take any more.