My hangover hasn’t yet lifted; in fact, it’s gotten worse. A dull, persistent ache throbs behind my eyes, and even an earlier dash to get a cheeseburger and fries has done nothing to quell how ill I feel.
It’s fucking Callie and the roofie she slipped me. If I could find a place in town that makes wheatgrass shots, I’d slam a dozen just to clean my blood, but that doesn’t exist in sleepy Mapleton.
Instead, I uncork the bottle of merlot that I grabbed on the way back to the room from the burger joint. I roll the wine around the glass, inhale its jammy scent before taking a long sip. I dropped nearly forty bucks on it and feel guilty for it, but if I have to live in this dump for now, then I deserve at least something nice once in a while. Especially when I feel this low. But I’m sure Graham would disagree.
Graham. Jack. Fuck. I can’t stand this. And I wish Margot would call me, tell me that she’s going to Flynn to demand that he listen to her about Callie.
After I’ve downed my first glass, my chest relaxes and my headache starts to loosen its grip. I scroll through my phone and hit the Photos icon. Jack’s sun-kissed face fills the screen, and hot tears sting my eyes.
I close out and head over to Messages. Scroll until I land on Graham. And punch out a text before I change my mind.
Can I call you?
Only a few minutes tick by before his reply comes through.
No.
A cry bubbles up in the back of my throat and I sit on the edge of the bed, sobbing for a moment. But then I get pissed. I understand his not wanting me to be around right now, but he can’t keep me from speaking to Jack.
I type back:
I want to talk to Jack.
Fine. But give us five minutes. Finishing dinner.
I’m now crying and smiling at the same time. Five minutes is perfect. Enough time to sprinkle water on my face and pull myself together.
Four minutes later and my cell starts chiming. FaceTime from Graham. Inearly start to cry again but I suck in a deep breath and exhale before accepting the call.
It’s not Graham’s face that greets me, though, it’s Jack’s, his cheeks smeared with what looks like Hershey’s syrup. His eyes dance over the screen, taking in my face and the background of the motel room.
“Mommeeee! Mommeee!” His mouth opens into a wide grin.
“Oh, baby! I miss my Jack-o-licious so much! What did you have for supper?” My hands shake and it’s all I can do to stop the floodgate of tears.
“Grilled cheese samm-ich!” He lifts the crust off his plate and guides it through the air like it’s a toy airplane. “And Dad-eee made meice creamfor dessert!” He shouts the words, and my chest seizes with longing.
“Mommeeee, when are you coming back?” A scared smile plays across his lips.
I suck in a breath, paste on my best grin. “Soon, honey, very soon. I just have a little more work to do.” I can’t help it, the tears start forming and I flick them away, but I know I need to end this call before I dissolve in front of Jack.
“Love you so much, honey!”
“I wuv you, toooooo!” He’s still airplaning his crust around.
“Bye, sweetie!”
“Bye-bye!” He’s waving now and I wave back until I see Graham’s tanned forearm grab the phone and end the call.
I toss my cell on the bed and fall back into the too-soft mattress as a howl rips through me. Ugh. I’ve become a far worse mother than Nikki ever was to me. That was a mistake. And selfish of me. Kids are smart, and I can tell that Jack senses something is up.
I’m not going to do that again.
I’m going to get out of this mess and get backhome.
59
Friday, April 27, 2018
