The older I get, the more I see him in my reflection every time I look in the mirror. I’m starting to look more and more like he did when he was in his twenties and I hate it. Every time I see myself in a shirt and tie, it just brings back memories of when Dad would get home from work, pissed off about something, only to then take out his anger on me. Dad was rarely ever happy when he was wearing a shirt and tie.
There’s no way I’m sticking around here. I want to go home and tear off this damn shirt and grab a beer, then relax. Mom was right. Ithasbeen a bad week, and that’s why I’m pleased when I shove my hand into my pocket and realize I have Mom’s car keys. She hates parallelparking, and so I parked for her when we got here. Nice. I have a getaway vehicle.
Pulling the keys out of my pocket, I head across the parking lot toward the Range Rover. Dave’s Lexus is parked next to it, because as we discovered when leaving the house, as a family of six we no longer all fit in one car. I don’t feel so guilty about heading off in Mom’s now, because at least they still all have a ride home.
I climb into the driver’s seat and sling my tie back over my shoulder. I don’t start the engine though, because I end up staring through the windshield at the shrubs lining the parking lot.
No, I didn’t take my meds today. Did I take them yesterday? I don’t even know, but what does it matter? I’ve been on them for years and Istillfeel like hell, so it’s not like they work. I’m constantly feeling like this, always so low and so bummed out, so I’m over it by now.
There’s a small knock at the passenger window. I snap out of my thoughts and look over. It’s Eden, standing on the other side of the door, staring back at me through the glass. Her dark hair falls over her shoulders in loose waves, and she plays with the ends. Maybe she’s nervous, I don’t know. But I like that she’s come out here. For as much as I figure she hates me, she sure can’t stay away. Maybe she actually gives a shit, unlike most of the people in my life. That’s the only reason I roll down the window.
“What?”
She anxiously steps back, retreating away slightly and putting more distance between us. Probably because I’m in a crappy mood, which means I can be unpredictable. “Are you coming back inside?” she asks.
“Screw that bullshit,” I tell her. “I’m not heading back in there.” I turn back to face the shrubs, clenching my jaw. As if I’m going backinside. Not with Mom and Dave trying to turn us into some sort of happy family, andespeciallynot after Mom mentioned my meds. It’s embarrassing, and it only reminds me that I’ve got something wrong with me that pills are supposed to fix.
“You’re kind of melodramatic, don’t you think?” Eden says, and I can hear it in her voice that she’s holding back a sigh. “It wasn’t that big of a deal. She only asked you a question.”
“Are you stupid? For real—are you?” I flash my eyes back over to her. Only a question? It’s a big fucking deal to me. “You don’t understand shit, goddamn Eden Munro.” Sometimes I wish people knew the truth, so that maybe theywouldunderstand. But at the same exact time, the truth is the very last thing I would ever want people to know. People would never look at me the same.
“There you go again, overreacting about every little thing. I’m trying to understand what the hell is wrong with you, but you treat me like shit every time I talk to you, so forget it,” Eden mutters, rolling her eyes. “Now I’m going back inside, because I’m not a self-centered douche bag who throws tantrums when things don’t go my way.” Without waiting for my reply, she turns around and struts off across the parking lot, her hair swinging. I watch her in the side mirror, and I realize I don’t want her to leave.
God, why does she do this? Why do Ilikeit when she tells me the truth so brutally? Sighing, I lean across the passenger seat and out of the open window. I softly call out, “Eden!” and pray that she hears me. And she does because she looks back at me over her shoulder. “Come here,” I gently order. “Come get in the car and I’ll be honest with you, and then we’ll go back inside.”
It’s like it’s an offer she can’t resist, because her eyes light up for a fraction of a second, and then she turns around and walks back over.I start the engine just before she pulls open the passenger door and climbs inside. “Okay, what?”
Man, I’ve got to stop focusing on her damn lips. I grip the steering wheel a little harder as I stare at her, taking in her gaze. I like that I can see the green of my own eyes in hers. A perfect hazel. I don’t want her to go back inside. I want to be selfish, to keep her here with me, so that I can watch her lips move as she tells me everything I can’t bear to hear.
“Alright, you want honesty?” I ask her. As subtly as I can, I move my free hand to the gearshift. We’re sitting in park. But not for much longer. “Okay. I’m being totally honest right now when I tell you that we’re getting the hell out of here.” I slam the gearshift into drive and step on the accelerator, and Mom’s Rover spirals out across the parking lot, wheels spinning until it gains some traction. We’re going home, and so I pull straight out of the lot and into the flow of traffic.
“Are you serious?” Eden screams at me, desperately pulling on her seatbelt as though she’s terrified I’ll drive us straight into the damn Pacific Ocean.
“Not serious,” I say. “Just honest.”
“Take me back,” she orders, pressing her hand to the dashboard. She’s facing me now, those hazel eyes piercing straight through me. Clearly, she isn’t finding our spontaneous getaway as much of a relief as I am.
“You really want to go back there?” I ask her, my eyes flicking to meet hers. I accidentally swerve a little to one side, but I quickly correct and keep my eyes trained on Eden. “Look me straight in the eye and tell me that you want to go back to that place and eat that gross food and sit with your dad for an hour. Tell me that you honestly want to do that.”
“No. I don’t,” she reluctantly answers, her full, wet lips moving slowly. God, I almost crash the fucking car. “But I know I have to, so go back before they kill us both. Are you even allowed to drive this?”
“Are you even allowed to look like that?” I mutter, mostly under my breath, because it’s seriously beginning to frustrate me, but I say it too loud and she hears me.
She grits her teeth and snarls, “Okay, there’s no need to insult me.”
“It wasn’t an insult, Jesus Christ.” I slam on the brakes as we hit a set of lights, and I look over at her, throwing my hand into my hair. She’s driving me crazy. “We aren’t going back. We’re going to the house so that I can get a beer and tell you that Jake’s playing you, okay?”
“Thank you, Tyler,” she drawls after a moment, her words dripping with sarcasm. “Thank you for getting me into even more trouble.”
“Last night was on you,” I remind her. She has her elbow propped up on the doorframe now, her fingertips massaging her temple. “Sure, I took you out, but it was you who chose not to come home, so don’t try and call me out for that one.”
“Fine,” she says. “But new problem: your mom is going to flip when she sees that her car is gone. How’d you even get the keys?”
“Chill out, they’ll all fit in your dad’s car.” The lights flash to green, and I slam my foot straight down to the floor, letting the engine growl. “And I still had them from when I was parking. Now stop distracting me, I’m trying to drive.”
“Try harder.”
Eden doesn’t say anything else after that. She’s too pissed at me to speak, because she keeps her arms firmly folded across her chest and her body angled toward the door, her mouth a scowl as she watches the passing scenery.
