TWO WEEKS LATER,Gavin called and asked what I had planned for the day. I told him my mom was taking me to physical therapy at ten that morning.
“Want me to pick you up afterward? We can go grab a bite.”
“Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll be done at eleven thirty.”
“See you then.”
“Peace.”
On our way to physical therapy I asked my mom what she was doing for the rest of the day.
“Kiki and I are going to see a therapist as well, but a different kind. I just thought it would be good if we both had someone to talk to. Let me know when you’re ready, Penny. I can set up an appointment with Dr. Rush for you, too.” She was still on an impressive proactive streak, hoping my father’s sudden death wouldn’t fuck us up too horribly.
“Thanks for the offer, Mom. I just wanted to let you know that Gavin’s picking me up, so I’ll see you guys back at home. Good luck at therapy today.” I hobbled into PT.
Stephanie, my physical therapist, worked my knee hard that day. I was finally doing weight-bearing exercises for the first time, and it hurt like hell.
At eleven thirty, I made my way out to the bench in front of the clinic and waited for Gavin. Even though it was summer, there was a chill in the air. I had on a tank top and shorts.
At eleven forty-five, I texted him.
Me: Where are you?
No response.
At noon, I tried calling my mom but her phone was turned off. She must’ve been in her therapy session with Kiki.
At twelve thirty, Gavin still wasn’t answering. I was worried that he had gotten into a car wreck and started to panic. I called Lance. He was there in just ten minutes.
“What happened?” he said after I got in the car.
“Gavin was supposed to get me, but he’s an hour late and not answering his phone.”
“What were your plans?”
“We were just going to get some lunch,” I said, irritated.
“I was just asking, Penny.”
I looked at him and felt guilty. It wasn’t his fault Gavin flaked. He was there to get me in ten minutes flat. I noticed he had on suit pants, a dress shirt, and a tie. He must’ve come straight from his new job.
Finally, I got a text from Gavin.
Gavin: Fuck, P. I just drove by your PT and you were gone. I’m so sorry. Fucking Lottie locked me out of the house and threatened to kill herself. I almost called the police. She finally let me in to get my keys. She’s at work now. Where are you? I’ll come get you?
Me: GO. FUCK. YOURSELF. I waited an hour. I was cold and my fucking knee is killing me. I’m done with Lottie’s shit and you should be too. You thrive on having a psychopath for a girlfriend. I got a ride. Thanks anyway.
Gavin: Please don’t do this.
I didn’t respond.
“Getting a lot of texts?” Lance remarked.
“It’s Gavin. He got into a fight with Lottie. Shocker.”
“She’s kind of a nut, huh?”
“Yes, but people like Gavin like that sort of thing. Makes him feel cool, you know?” I wasn’t in the mood to psychoanalyze Gavin. “So, are you working right now?”
