Chapter FOURTEEN
(Colleen)
That idiot is in love with you.
THIS IS WHY I’ve never tried anything with Brad in the past. Aside from the fact that he is a smelly, loud, hairy, jackass; he is also an aloof womanizer who hops from bed to bed, sometimes before the condom even comes off. And to think I was about to have sex with that pig.
I hold the tears at bay as I rush to my car. I need a drink, or maybe… no, no. I haven’t done that since college when my stupid brother and stupid Brad walked in on me and Lindsay and nearly arrested the both of us. I’ll give Dumb & Dumber one thing—they sure are a couple of goody goodies.
I hastily climb into my car and the tears fall. Before I know it, my hands are covered in snot, my eyes hurt, and I’m hiccupping. I choose not to analyze why I’m this upset. Is it over my gift gone awry or over that other thing—that amazon-looking Barbie in Blue? The station isn’t far from Brad’s house, but I don’t want to go there just yet. My condo is empty, and the very last place I’d want to go right now is my mom’s house. I can’t very well explain the whole fake marriage fiasco and Brad practically dry-humping Vicky the Bimbo at the station to my mother. Okay, rationally I know that it was nowhere near dry-humping, but that’s how it’ll forever be burned into the caverns of my brain.
So, I drive to Darla and James’s house. Not that any of us live very far from one another… I mean, Southie isn’t very big. I park my car in front of Brad’s house, happy to find a spot so close, and I walk the few houses down to see Darla. I just know she’ll see my side of things and we can sit and cry over how much boys suck.
The house is silent, so I use my key to get in; knowing better than to ring the bell if the kids are sleeping. I creep toward the living room. Darla is on the sofa reading a book. She looks up and smiles at me, probably happy to have a conversation that doesn’t include boogers and Disney Princesses. I smile back through my red, puffy eyes and her expression changes. She sets down the book and looks at me solemnly.
“What happened?” she asks, moving her feet and patting the sofa beside her. I curl into her side and sniffle as I begin to tell her the whole story—sans Brad crying at the theater. Okay, that part might be important to Brad’s reaction, but it feels like a major violation of trust—even if half of the station now knows about it now. That was a total accident.
“Oh, honey,” Darla says, stroking my hair. Her tone is motherly and consolatory. I knew I came to the right place. She rubs my back and strokes my hair one more time and then she hits me upside the head. I shriek and lean away, horrified that she just hit me. Why did she just hit me!
“What the hell, Darla?” I ask, huddling into the other end of the couch.
“Are you dumb or just plain stupid?” she asks, her eyes boring into my skull.
“There’s a difference?” I say, honestly perplexed. Aren’t dumb and stupid the same thing?
“Why in the world would you do something so stupid?” Darla yells. Fitz starts making noise through the baby monitor. She quiets down immediately and scowls at the contraption. “I hate that thing,” she says, “makes me want to run away, but I’m sure the moment I turned it off flying monkeys will come and snatch him.” I stare at her like she’s got three heads; because did she really just admit to worrying about flying monkeys? I mean, really? Mothers are so weird.
I try to defend myself, but it’s no use—she is not going to let up. Not one bit.
“Colleen,” Darla whines, “we’ve talked about this. Men and women are different. It doesn’t matter that you would have liked a gift like that at work… Brad is a guy. He is a man. Food is good. Personal notes about embarrassing events that you’ve kept secret are not okay, not ever! Not at work. Not in private. Not at work! Do you hear me, not at work!”
I hang my head in shame. Sure, now she tells me. Where was she when I had this bright idea?
“You want to know why you’ve had such trouble finding and keeping a man, it’s because you don’t listen. You just go about doing what you want with no regard for how it’s going to affect anyone else; which, by the way, is how you wound up in a fake marriage to begin with! God, Brad gets enough crap at the station because of you!”
Ouch. And she’s back to yelling, but as least it’s not as loud… then again, if she does wake up the baby then I can probably play with him.
“Is nap time over yet?” I ask, changing the subject and doing my best to ignore what she’s just said; because my fragile ego can’t handle that kind of honesty right now.
Darla leans over and hits my leg—hard. I yelp and swat at her. Getting hit is getting really old. I’m not into that freaky crap and definitely not with my sister-in-law.
“Listen up, stupid,” she glares at me. “You are not going to wake up my kids. I finally got some time to myself. So if you wake them up, you take them with you for the night… all of them.” I cringe. My little monkey, Alex, is bad enough on his own. Lilly is pretty well-behaved. All I’d have to do is hand her over to Brad. She prefers him anyway. It’s Fitz that makes it difficult. Don’t get me wrong—I’d lay down my life for that kid, he’s just so needy. I’m okay with just him, but with the other kids? Nope, I’m a goner.
“Now,” Darla says, “did you hear me?” I nod my head unhappily. “I don’t think you did. I said Brad gets enough crap at the station because of you.” My ears perk up. My heart speeds up.
“Why?” I ask. Darla laughs, a honest-to-goodness laugh. I smile at her sadly. I don’t know why, but I think she’s been waiting for me to ask this.
“It’s about time,” she says. “That idiot is in love with you, but you’ve got your head too far up your own butt to see it.” I scoff, but she’s not laughing anymore. Not even a tiny little smile. She’s not joking. She really believes this. Darla wouldn’t lie to me about this. If she’s saying it, it’s because she believes it; but do I?
“You know what’s worse?” she asks. I shake my head, looking away. This conversation has not gone how I expected it to. We’re getting into some very serious territory here that I hadn’t planned on. “You’re in love with him, too. But once again, your head is up your own butt and you don’t even realize it.”
Marital Bitch (Men with Badges)
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