Idon’t even remember driving home. And I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting on the front porch, but Bernie calling my name pulls me from my thoughts. Dark, dark thoughts.
“Zep! Look!” Bernie calls and points at her backpack. “I’m going to my first sleepover!”
I smile. At least, I hope it’s a smile. My face is completely numb.
It’s not good enough, assuming my face even moved at all, because she looks both ways before crossing the street.
“Bernie?” Misty calls from the front porch.
The little girl doesn’t even glance at her mama as she runs up to me. “Zep? What’s wrong?”
“Bernie, what are you doing? Carly’s mom will be here any minute.”
“Zep needs a hug.”
She wraps her arms around my neck, and for a brief moment, I feel better. “Thanks, Bernie.”
A car pulls up outside of the house, and I see Carly in the backseat. Her mom gives a waving motion to Misty as she runsacross the street toward us. “Baby, Carly and her mom are here. It’s time to go.”
“You don’t want to keep your friend waiting,” I say to her. “Thank you for the hug.”
“You were my friend first. Are you okay?”
The concern of an eight-year-old nearly does me in. A lump forms in my throat, and I can’t swallow it down to answer her. All I can do is nod.
“I’ll take care of him, Bernie,” Misty says and sits next to me. “Promise.”
“If you need me, Mom knows where I am,” she says and kisses my cheek.
I manage to get out, “Thanks, kiddo,” somehow.
Hugging her mom, she says she loves her and rushes to the waiting car. Carly steps out to take her bag.
“My friend was sad, but Mom said she’ll take care of him.”
“I think it’s safe to say she loves you,” Misty says and bumps my shoulder as we watch them leave, Bernie waving to us from the backseat. “Come on.”
“Where?”
“My house. You look like you need alcohol, but that’s about all you have in your place. If we’re going to dive in like that, I need food. Which I have. Come on, big guy.”
I shouldn’t take her outstretched hand because she doesn’t deserve this, but I can’t deny my desire for comfort from her. Just being near her eases the chaos in my head.
“Okay.”
“Talk to me. What’s going on?”
How do I tell her this? I can’t accept it myself as it is. Saying it out loud makes it real. But it’s real regardless of whether I say it or not, right?
We walk into her house, and she looks at me with so much concern that I just want to bury myself inside her and forget all about this. Fuck her until her moans distract me from the horrible truth that is my life.
“Zep, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”
“My mom didn’t have an affair with Butch.”
Misty smiles and leads me to the stool at the kitchen island. “That’s good, right? That jerk isn’t your dad?”
“He’s my dad.”
