Sweet Forty-Two(46)

“You’re too drunk to drive!” My heart raced, wondering what the hell he was thinking.

“I’m not too drunk to operate the heater. Just pull over, G, and talk to me. Tell me what happened.”

A few seconds later, I pulled over into the safe confines of a scenic overlook. I stayed in the car, though, because between the ocean breeze and the highway noise, I’d never be able to hear him.

“K. I’m off the road.”

“Can you start over?” Whatever alcohol accent he’d had when he answered the phone was gone.

I caught CJ up on everything with my mom right through my storming out of the facility like a pissed off teenager.

“Sounds like she’s going to do the ECT, then, right? You can’t stop her, can you?”

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I stared, unblinking, into the light traffic passing by me. “No, I can’t stop her.”

“Do you think she’s really going to go through with it?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t flinch at my reaction. Wasn’t affected by my emotions.”

“It does work for a lot of people, though, doesn’t it?” CJ’s words were softer and further apart as he asked.

“I guess! But, I was indoctrinated to believe otherwise. By her. Now she’s asking me to rearrange my ingrained belief system. Not just for some random patient. For her!” I slammed my hand against the steering wheel.

“Stop punching your steering wheel.”

I gasped. “Did you hear that?”

“No, but I’ve sat with you in your car a time or two when you’ve been pissed. If you’re not driving, then the dashboard gets the brunt of it. I’m sorry I’m not there, G. I have no idea what to say. What does Regan have to say?”

His question confused me, causing me to look around. “About what?”

“Your mom.”

“He doesn’t know.” My stomach dropped. “You haven’t told him anything, have you?”

“No. Calm down. I told you I wouldn’t tell. I just figured since you guys lived together, basically, he’d know by now.”

“What has he said about me?” The question sounded juvenile, but I was still trying to get a sense for how he viewed me. Rae Cavanaugh aside, I could never get a clear read on him. He was reserved, each layer I peeled off—intentionally or unintentionally—only served to create more questions than answers.

“We haven’t talked much. A text here and there. And, we’ve never talked about girls.”

“Ah, yes,” I laughed, “must be the different philosophies you operate under.”

CJ scoffed. “And what the hell does that mean?”

I sighed, thankful for the shift in our conversation. “Oh, you know, he believes in love, and you were a signer of the declaration of one night stands.”

He laughed, and I could almost see him throwing his head back. It made me smile. “Oh, G, how glad I am you’re not here to mess up my game tonight.”

“I kind of am, since you’re not in pledging your allegiance to miniskirts right now and you’re stuck in your car.”

“So...” CJ hesitated for a moment. “He told you about Rae?”

“Yeah, a little heads up would have been nice before that letter showed up on his doorstep.” I lifted off my seat to check my mascara train wreck in the rearview mirror.

“What letter?”

“Huh?” My heart actually skipped a beat.

“You said before that letter showed up on his doorstep. What the hell are you talking about?”

Son of a bitch.

I responded by not responding.

“G...”

“Please don’t say anything to him, okay? Shit, I figured he would have told you. I’m sorry!”

“You know I’m not going to say anything, but, what letter?”

I groaned. “There was this envelope addressed from New Hampshire. It had a letter in it that I didn’t read, but also it had a card addressed to Regan, unopened, sent from Rae Cavanaugh.”

“Shiiiiiiit.”

I’d bet anyone a hundred dollars that CJ’s head was on his steering wheel.

“What did it say?”

“I don’t know. He was going to leave it at the bar. He got shitfaced and walked away. I took it and put it in my backpack.”

“Has he read it?”

“No.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I still have it.”

“He hasn’t asked for it?”

“No.”

CJ sighed. “Christ.”

“Should I make him read it ... or something?”

“God, I don’t f*cking know. But ... if he does ask you for it, stick around while he reads it, okay? He went off the deep end in a flee-the-country kind of way when she died...” CJ trailed off, having expressed more concern over another human being besides myself than I’d ever witnessed.

“I promise.”

“G?”

“Yeah?”

“Regan’s a good shit. Tell him about your mom, okay? He’s just ... he’s a good listener.”

CJ hadn’t ever suggested I tell anyone about anything. I started to protest. “Ceej—”