“So, she dumped you because you didn’t want her to remove it? Help me out, I’m a little confused.”
“No, she dumped me because she said I didn’t know the real her. She said the real her isn’t vulnerable and the only reason I loved her is because I had the cheat code for making her happy. Olive said if we stayed together, she would never know if what we had was real. I would never know if she was opening up to me because she wanted to or if it was because she had to,” I explain, a long sigh leaking out of me as I finish.
“You know that’s bullshit, right?” my brother asks, taking a pull of his beer.
“I mean, yeah, of course it is. But that’s what she believes. Olive thinks I’m manipulative to the point that I would use this thing that made her vulnerable to my advantage.”
“I don’t think she actually believes that. It sounds like she was scared. I mean, who wouldn’t be? If that happened to me, I’d freak the fuck out.”
“That’s what she said. She made it seem like she never would have fallen for me without Irina’s interference. And do you know what the worst part of the whole thing is? I wouldn’t have done a single thing different, even if she never had the tattoo. I fell in love with her, and I tried my best to show her that, but it wasn’t enough.”
“Sammy, you were enough, you still are. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but she’s going to come around. She was in love with you, too, I could see it,” Max reassures me.
“Nah, I don’t think so. She went to see the witch, and I haven’t heard a word from her since. I’ve walked past her house a few times this week, and it never looks like anyone’s home. Beau said she took an extended leave. I think she’s g-gone . . .” I choke out the last word, tears beginning to streak down my face.
“Nope, let’s go. Get up, we’re going to Union. You aren’t sitting here and wallowing.” Max stands, snapping his fingers at me.
“I can’t, what if she’s there? What if she’s with someone else? I can’t even go home,” I admit, covering my face with my hands.
“What do you mean you can’t go home?” Max demands.
“Too many memories. I’ve been sleeping here.”
“Get the hell up, right now!” Max shouts. “You have two choices: You can go with me to Union, or I can call Mom.”
“Fine.” I stand and chug the remainder of my beer before grabbing a second and sucking that one down as well.
We head out into the back alley, and the cool November air bites at my skin. I tighten my jacket and wipe away any signs that I’ve been crying. Max leads the way for a few steps before I muster my courage and catch up, syncing our strides.
“Okay, if she happens to be in there, which she won’t be, I will make some sort of distraction so you can duck out and go back to hiding at the shop,” Max rattles out, strategizing how we can handle this without causing me further emotional damage.
I appreciate the effort he’s making, even if I don’t feel like drinking with a crowd. Max is a great brother, always there to pick up the pieces when one of us needs him to, not that I’ve ever needed it before now. I guess I’ve taken care of him enough over the years that we are finally evening the score.
Max clutches the handle and opens the door into Union. For a Friday night, it’s remarkably slow. We walk to the far end of the bar and slide onto two worn black stools. Howie is working. I notice the pity in his eyes as he looks in our direction and holds up a finger to tell us it’ll be a second.
“Do you think he knows anything?” Max asks, pointing toward Howie.
“Yeah, he knows. I think he went with her to see Irina,” I say, groaning a little. Howie is the other person I didn’t want to run into. I’m embarrassed about how everything went down, that at the end of the day she didn’t pick me.
Howie approaches, slinging a bar towel down in front of us before leaning in and placing his forearms on the bar. “Sam, Max, what can I get you guys?” he asks.
“A pitcher of beer. I need this one to be at least three beers deep before I take him home.” Max pats my shoulder before giving it a gentle squeeze.
Howie nods and moves to grab the pitcher, filling it with ice-cold beer before returning to set it in front of us. He reaches into the cooler below the bar and pulls out two frosted glasses. Maxwastes no time pouring, and I begin with a long gulp of the cool skunky liquid before looking Howie in the eyes.
“Have you talked to her?” I ask, knowing I shouldn’t.
“About fifteen minutes ago,” he replies, that same pitiful look bubbling on his face again.
“Well, at least I know she’s alive and well.” I chug almost my entire glass of beer.
“She’s alive, but I wouldn’t say she’s well,” Howie says before turning to help a new customer at the other end of the bar.
“What the hell does he mean, she’s not well?” I ask, looking at my brother.
“She’s probably heartbroken,” Max replies, drinking down his own glass and refilling both of ours.
“She’s not heartbroken, she dumped me.”
