1
Lainey
Daddy issues. That is what got me here. In this worn, old chair at the wobbly wooden table that never gets fixed at the Sugar Cube, our small-town cafe that has stood the test of time. I always pep-talked myself that I wouldneverbe “that girl” with the classic daddy issues written about in pages, portrayed on screens, and gossiped about in grocery checkout lines. And yet, they were all right there from the very start. There was absolutely nothing the little girl I used to be could do to stop the parental flood damage from carving my future.
He used his words instead of his fists to leave bruises on my soul. Marks that are permanent. Places that partners push on, making me ache, making me feel like I deserve the scraps of attention they gave me. So yes, daddy issues were the reason I was right here, right now, having this insane conversation with my boyfriend.
“Like I was saying, we just don’t get to spend enough time together. So, I am going to head back to the city tomorrow,” Brett says with total exasperation.
“Let me get this straight,” I say, trying to stay calm and keep my voice contained to our wobbly table. “We have beendating for over a year, been long distance for eight months. I haven’t seen you in person in three months. You came here to celebrate my birthday, which was a week ago, by the way,andyou were supposed to stay here for three more days.”
“Riiiiiight ...” Brett drawls, listening to me bullet point our plans that we had made weeks in advance.
“Now, you are telling me the big issue in our relationship is not spending enough time together because of the distance? And instead of actually spending time together that weplanned,y-you are really going to leave? It makes absolutely zero sense,” I say to him, baffled.
“Babe, I just think we need some space,” Brett says, looking anywhere but me and taking a big, sloppy bite of his double club breakfast sandwich, egg yolk and tomato juice running over his fingertips.
“Are you freaking serious?” I exclaim, not caring that eyes are being drawn to us, and people are starting to listen to what should be a very private conversation.
“Hey, hey, hey!Keepyour voice down, Lainey. I knew that you were going to have an overreaction when I told you I think we need a break.” He sighs like I am the problem.
“I see,” I hiss, “you took me here to keep me quiet and calm. To not cause a scene because we are in public? Well fine, let’s go finish this conversation at my apartment where it should have been happening in the first place.” I abandon my favorite wild blueberry muffin and fruit platter combo, untouched on the table, my stomach having turned to lead. Brett is finishing his own food, acting like he didn’t just drop a bomb on our life, when his phone screen lights up on the table with a text message.
And then another . . .
And another . . .
JuneBug: Are you finally free yet, Big Daddy?
JuneBug: I miss you . . .
JuneBug: I need your big cock.
Brett tries to snatch his phone, but I get to it first.
What. In. The. Actual. Fuck.
“Babe, I can explain, please. Let’s go to your place and talk,” he whispers, eyes darting nervously around the cafe.
“Explain what exactly? That you are a total lying, cheating, piece of shit?” My voice carries across the now silent cafe. All eyes are on us, and I don’t care. We are in our own wobbly bubble and it’s about to burst for everyone to witness. “We were committed to each other, made promises and plans. Did that mean nothing to you?”
Brett looks at me like I am someone to pity, like I am childish. “I have needs,Lainey.I am a man, and being so far away has been hard. June is there and you are here. This is exactly why I think we need some space. To see if this is what we really want.” He glances around, looking for some manly support from the crowd, gaining nothing but gasps and looks of disgust.
“No.YOUwant ‘space’ so you can feel good about cheating on me and getting your dick wet with your little Junebug while I am here, waiting and fully committed to you. Because you know that I would not want space, and if we had it, even with the distance ... I would not cheat on you. You know that I wanted a life here and a partner.”
I grab all of my things, slamming his phone back down onto the table. I look at his unremarkable blue eyes; lightly freckled, pinched face; and cinnamon-colored hair that has a bit of a curl around his ears. How did I ever find him so attractive? How could I not see the snake under his plain, unassuming, business-frat-bro charm. I was so desperate to have attention and affectionI settled.
This is not love.
This is not the life that I deserved.
What am I doing with my life? He is such an idiot ... but I am too, for wasting so much of my time and letting assholes like this take pieces of me, hoping to get anything in return. I spent all my time convincing myself that the scraps they tossed my way were as satisfying and nourishing as a full meal that I got to see served all around me but never actually tasted myself.
Enough. I deserve so much better.
With as much steel in my spine as I can muster, I spin fast on my heel, march toward the door, and yell, “Fuck you, Brett! Junebug can have your tiny dick and faking her orgasms all to herself. Enjoy the freedom.”
I hear clapping from the Sugar Cube patrons, some laughing, and Brett yelling back, “It’s not true!” I walk over toward my small SUV, not giving a shit how Brett will get back to my place. He will find his bag on top of his car, if nobody steals it before he comes to pick it up. But let’s be real, this is Fox Grove, nobody is going to mess with something that isn’t theirs.
