Serves Me Wright

I took the cat food outside with me and dumped it into their bowls. Before I could even call their names, Bacon walked right up to me, purring and running her body along my legs.

“Hey, Bakey,” I said, dropping back on my heels so I could pet her.

Tears came again as my cat comforted me. She probably just wanted her food, but right now, it felt like she loved me. And I could use one more person loving me.

Then to my surprise, Avocado slunk out of the bushes. I nearly startled at her presence, but I stayed perfectly still. This was the closest she’d come to me since I’d moved her. She hadn’t even looked at me when I called her name.

Now, here she was, staring right at me. I didn’t want her to run off, so I actually held my breath. Avocado sniffed the air as she went to her food bowl. She smelled it, and I thought she’d go back to ignoring me. But she turned away from it and came to press her body against mine. Not running it along me, like Bacon had been, just pushing into me. As if to say that she was here. She knew something was wrong, and she would be here for me.

I tentatively put my hand out and ran it down her ginger fur. She didn’t purr. Only met me with her bright stare. I got two full pets in before she trotted off back into the bushes. But that was enough. I was forgiven.

A weight fell off of my shoulders. I hadn’t known how much I was holding it all in, waiting for my cat to not hate me anymore. But if Avocado could forgive me after traumatizing her…maybe I could find a way to go on.

I hauled myself back to my feet and got into Bertha. I slammed my hand on the air-conditioning unit, trying to force it to turn on. Something went clunk on the inside, and I screamed at it with every horrible word I had in my vocabulary. But it was no use. Something was finally broken in Bertha, just like inside of me. We were the same now.

I rolled all of the windows down and already started to sweat in the Texas heat. I’d have to do something about the AC. There was no way I would survive the rest of July and August like this. I might have to have Blaire sell Campbell’s image to a few magazines so that I could cover the costs. Just another fucking thing.

I pulled up in front of my parents’ house. It was the same place they’d had since I was in elementary school. Cluttered with memories, a wall covered in crosses—as was so popular in Lubbock—and all the half-finished projects my father had said that he was going to get to and never did. It was a house, but it had never felt like home.

“I’m here,” I called as I entered.

Mom was seated on the couch. Chester on a chair nearby. Mom raised an eyebrow at my appearance. Chester even startled. Great.

“Hi, kiddo!” my dad called from the kitchen. He was a pancake connoisseur. Something about his short time in the Army. My parents otherwise had a pretty traditional marriage. Mom cooked and cleaned and balanced the budget, and Dad worked. Even though she’d always had a job to help make ends meet.

“Hi, Dad.”

“What happened?” my mom asked, coming to her feet.

“Nothing,” I lied.

Chester blew out a breath. “Your eyes are all puffy, sis.”

“Thanks, Chess,” I practically growled.

He looked at me in surprise, as if it was the first time he’d seen me with teeth. Which, to be fair, it probably was.

“Have you been crying?” Mom asked. She wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Tell me everything.”

I sank into the couch and sighed. I didn’t want to do this. And yet there, in the house that wasn’t a home, with family that felt too familiar and yet so distant, and Chester’s reassuring nod, I let loose. I shouldn’t, but it was so fresh, and I couldn’t stop.

“I broke up with Julian,” I said as I started crying again.

My mom gasped. “You broke up with him?”

“Yeah. I mean, I guess.”

“He didn’t break up with you?” she asked.

“That’s what she said, Mom,” Chester broke in. “What happened, Jen?”

“I don’t know. It just…it didn’t work out. God, I hate to tell you this, but it was fake.”

“What do you mean, dear?” Mom asked.

“When I brought Julian to graduation, we weren’t dating. I hate lying to you, and I can’t hold it in any longer. We were fake dating so that I wouldn’t have to go alone.”

They both stared at me in shock.

“Well…that’s…” my mom said.

“But it was real after,” I said quickly. “It was real, and we were together. But then he hid something from me and lied about it. I might have forgiven that, but then he saw my anxiety medication and assumed I was on drugs. Well, his ex assumed. I don’t know if I’m even explaining all of this. But I either had to tell him about my anxiety before I was ready or give it up. And I didn’t want him to be okay with me because I’d told him about my mental health.”