She Drives Me Crazy(56)
Irene slumps against her car. “I can’t be part of your mess, Scottie.”
“No, but that’s the thing,” I say frantically. I don’t want her to walk away from me. “I’m trying to figure out the mess! I’m trying to fix everything so I can be with you!”
She stares hard at me. “But you couldn’t tell me that? You couldn’t be honest about how wrapped up you were in your stupid, toxic pining and bullshit?”
“Don’t talk to me like that,” I say, my defenses rising. “Don’t act like you’re so much better at breakups when your ex is still pulling shit like she did just now—”
“I don’t go looking for her to do that,” Irene says sharply. “At least I’ve tried to cut her out of my life—”
“You didn’t cut her out, she cut you out. But sure, good for you for keeping your dignity instead of backsliding. That doesn’t mean you can stand there acting all high and mighty as if you’ve never done anything wrong in your life. You—towed—my fucking—car”—my voice is shaking now, and tears are falling from my eyes—“because you used to be just like Charlotte, picking on people simply because you could. That doesn’t make you better than me. That doesn’t even make you better than her—”
“Shut up!” Irene yells, slamming her door and barreling past me. “Shut up right now. You have no idea what you’re talking about!”
She paces manically on the sidewalk, her eyes wild, her whole body shaking. I have never, ever seen her like this.
And then she bends over and vomits into the grass.
“What the—?” I say, stunned.
Irene draws a slow breath, hands on her knees. She’s silent for a moment, and I don’t know what to do. “Did—” She swallows hard. “Did you know Prescott used to drive the same car as you?”
I blink. “What?”
She collapses onto the curb, wrapping her arms around her calves. “His parents took his Audi away after the drunk driving incident, so the ‘spare’ car he used when Charlotte first started dating him was a rental car. A green Jetta. When she invited him to that party last year, I lost my mind about it. I called a towing company and read them his license plate.” She looks up at me, her eyes shiny. “But it wasn’t his license plate. It was yours.”
I can only stand there, buffeted by this reveal.
“I’ve been where you are, Scottie. That kind of crazy, flesh-eating pain that consumes every part of you. I understand wanting to get back at them. Wanting their attention, even if it’s in a negative way. But the shitty thing is, that never helps you feel better. It just lands you in a worse situation, like towing the car of a perfectly nice girl who had nothing to do with the pain you’re in.”
The world goes quiet. I try to feel my body. My stomach is like ice.
“This entire thing was a mistake,” Irene says, standing up. She leans against her car again, tears streaming down her face. A detached part of my brain says Go to her, but I’m frozen where I stand.
“Let’s consider our arrangement finished,” Irene says hollowly. “I’ll return the money if you want it. You’ll just have to give me some time to get a job.”
A shard goes through the center of my body. That’s not what I want, but I still can’t bring myself to speak.
Irene opens her car door and settles into the driver’s side. “You might wanna back up. I don’t want to hit you with my car.”
She pulls the door shut with a dull thud. The engine starts, the brake lights flash red, her car starts to move. I back up, numb from head to toe, and watch her drive away.
* * *
“Is everything okay?” Mom asks when I trail listlessly through the front door a full hour later. I meant to come straight home but ended up sobbing in my car until I felt light-headed. I’m grateful to have both my parents here, since Mom is working remotely today and Dad only worked a half day at the clinic. I know it’s time to tell them everything, and I just want to get it over with.
I swallow. It takes everything in me not to start crying again. “I messed up.”
Mom and Dad swoop over to me. Daphne looks up from the couch, wide-eyed. “What’s wrong?” Dad asks. “Are you hurt? Are you safe?”
“I’m fine,” I say tonelessly. “But I’ve been lying about something.”
My parents trade looks. “Okay,” Mom says in her steady, soothing voice. “Let’s sit down and talk about it.”
Mom and Dad settle themselves on the couch together, a united front, and wait expectantly. I curl up on the couch across from them. Daphne places BooBoo in my lap, but before she can sit down next to me, Mom and Dad ask her to leave. She gives me a bewildered look and trudges upstairs to her room.
Once her door snaps closed, Mom and Dad focus all their attention on me. And before I lose my nerve, I start talking.
I tell them everything. The anguish I felt after Tally transferred. The attention I got when I carpooled with Irene. The plan I concocted to “date” her and the summer job savings I used to pay her deductible. The ruse I dangled over Tally’s head. The deep confusion about my new feelings for Irene, and the feelings I still have for Tally, and whether I deserve to be loved by either one of them. And just when I’ve almost covered everything, Thora gets home from the lunch shift, takes one look at us in the family room, and asks, “Who died?”