I would. I’d rock my fucking fleece off. I whipped the jacket onto the couch, then took up the sticks. I’d beat any high score that asshole had and wipe his name from the board forever. It was easier in mindset than actual practice. The stupid left panel wouldn’t always register, no matter how hard I hit it. Sweat dripped down my back and clung to my T-shirt. It was impossible to build up momentum. The virtual audience booed.
“Oh, fuck you.” I kicked the drum set down and smashed the power off on the game. It wasn’t one of my favorites, anyway.
I slicked my hair back and panted. The drum set flickered, glowing faintly.
What the hell did it want from me? I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t sell or even donate the damned thing if it wasn’t working. It’d be better off as spare parts.
I hauled it into the basement, accidentally bouncing off the door frame and walls. Whatever. Once I had my handy screwdriver, it was all over. I tugged on a spare light and splayed the first panel open on my work table. My phone lit up.
Victor.
I swiped to answer on speaker phone. “What?”
“I could ask the same question,” he droned in his usual affected tone. “You never responded to my text last night. I’d presumed it was because you were busy with a guest, but now, you’re home in the middle of the work day, dismantling your game. What happened?”
“I called in sick. I quit. Who gives a shit?” I tossed a screw into a container with a clatter.
“I’m sorry your talk didn’t go well,” he said.
My shoulders tightened, and I froze, battery acid snaking up the back of my throat. What would my little brother know about rejection?
“I hope you didn’t do anything reckless, burn your bridges. We can talk about options to navigate any awkwardness,” he said.
I snorted. “I’m done trying to fix my relationships.” Not that they could even really be considered ‘relationships’ in a typical sense. “This was a stupid experiment. It failed. On to the next project.” I yanked the colorful wiring out of the panels. “Maybe I’ll move to Alaska and build a nice boyfriend.”
“That seems a bit drastic.”
“Yeah, well, if I’m lucky, he’ll be just as dysfunctional as me. I can fix him without anyone trying to fix me.”
“Oh, you’ve achieved personal perfection?” he said drolly. “So, now you quit? No job? No relationships? No self-reflection?”
I threw the wires into a bin. “I don’t need your condescension. I made one mistake and you act like I have to grovel for the rest of my life for it. The Widow was a freak accident. I’m sorry I didn’t help you better. I know youthink this relationship is one-sided with you protecting me for all those years. But I bought this house for us, I invested in that theater, and I took a demeaning job in glorified customer service to get back in your good graces. Hell, I even offered to let your girlfriend of two minutes and her cat move in when you were scared for them. I did my part. I’m done. If you don’t like who I am or you can’t move past it, then you can stay at your girlfriend’s.” I hung up, my heart in overdrive.
Shit.I didn’t actually want him to move out. But we both needed time to cool off. I paced the basement, slowly working one of the drum set stands loose. My phone pinged again, and my stomach dropped when I saw the name on the text thread.
As if he cared.
I sent a thumbs-up emoji, which was stupid, because I shouldn’t have sent anything. I groaned and shook my phone. Why had one stupid crush rewired my brain? What happened to all my logic, all my critical thinking?
My confidence, actually.
I sighed and set my phone on Do Not Disturb. Something was missing in my life, and it wasn’t a boyfriend.
I went upstairs to decompress and watch some TV. Space Spies 3009 lit up my streaming app.
Continue watching?
My eyes glazed over as my stomach twisted in a knot.
How had something I loved turned into a painful reminder of what never would be?
I needed to get my show back, my love.
The security camera app pinged, and I tensed. Who the fuck was visiting during working hours? Had Sal come to comfort me? My heart fluttered as I checked the camera. A pizza delivery person left some boxes onthe doorstep and marched back to their car. What was this about? Wrong address? Prank? Or had those fuckers from my old class found me?
I tentatively opened the door and checked the receipt.
