Never, ever again.
Even before he let her get in her car, he gave it a once-over. Tires were good, no maniac hiding in the backseat. Then he followed her, his headlights a comfort in her rearview, and waited at the curb in front of her house—it was all she could do to make him stay in his truck and not let him make a sweep of the place before she entered. After she waved at him from the living room window, he finally drove away. At least they still had power. Even better, Doug had apparently found someone to actually sleep with him, so he was staying at that poor soul’s place for the night. Julie was just going to bed, so Starla piled on the couch and continued the Twilight Zone marathon that had been so beautifully interrupted earlier. She’d never think of “The Purple Testament” the same way again. Despite the ugly note she’d found, she was able to fall asleep with a smile on her face.
But there was always tomorrow to face.
***
When she got to work at two, Brian’s truck was already there. She groaned out loud, having hoped he wasn’t planning to come in today—having to face him after that shit yesterday wasn’t an idea she relished. Sighing as she let herself in the side door, she figured he would be in his office—he was—and would call her in as she passed by—he didn’t. She didn’t know if she was more relieved or pissed off by that.
It was maybe a little premature to think she could possibly be moving on. This thing she’d had for Brian had gone on too strong for too long—one night of getting her * licked wouldn’t undo years of pain and frustration over that man. She knew that. And she shouldn’t be resentful it had gone on for so long. It wasn’t Brian’s fault she’d thrown away so much time on adoring him. It wasn’t anyone’s fault but hers. Her anger at everyone else was mostly a reflection of her anger at herself, she knew that. So she tried to remain pleasant, she tried to be nice. She chatted and did her work and even got along with Ghost. So it made her all the angrier when Brian caught her alone in the break room as she was getting coffee at the Keurig and opened with, “Why do I always feel like I need to ask you if you’re okay?”
What the fuck? Hadn’t she been acting okay? She didn’t look at him, focusing instead on stirring sugar into her cup. “I don’t know. Why do you?”
“Because you’re not okay, and I know it. I’ve always dumped my problems on you. Now you’re not returning the favor.”
“Brian…” Sighing, she stopped stirring and tossed the spoon into the sink, where it fell with a clatter. “Just leave it.” She was saying that too often lately.
“Fine.”
But he didn’t leave. She felt his presence lingering behind her. And lingering. And lingering.
Goddamn it. She faced him at last, leaving her cup untouched on the counter. “What does it matter?”
His eyebrows shot up in surprise and then drew together. “The fuck you mean by that?”
“I’m always the one screwing up. I’m always the one who’s the walking fucking catastrophe around here. Getting shit on myself and everyone else, you said so yourself. So what surprise is it to any of you guys that I’ve finally gotten into something that’s over my head? You all knew it was coming.”
“We—or at least I—can help you if you’d just—”
“I don’t need or want your help. It’s one more debt I’ll owe you.”
“You don’t owe me shit. What the hell, where did all this come from?”
Starla rubbed her temples, where her pulse was beginning to throb. The words just came out. The words she’s been stewing over for weeks, the words hung up in her throat all this time… They just erupted. “I have to quit.”
Silence, absolute and postapocalyptic, stretched out for a full ten seconds—which didn’t sound like much but was really an eternity. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t breathe through the burning in her lungs. She was going to throw up.
When at last he spoke, his voice was quiet, almost dangerously so. “Quit what exactly?”
“Here. This.” She gestured around her, indicating the building as a whole. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“Starla, don’t do this to me,” he said, still quiet, but now…Jesus. Destroyed.
No matter how she tried to hold the tears at bay, they welled in her eyes anyway, a cruel testament to the truth she’d just spoken. She had to go. It was the only solution. “I have to.”
“Did I do something? Because you’ll have to refresh my memory if I did. I know that shit yesterday wasn’t cool, but we’ve had worse, haven’t we?”
“Yes. No. I mean…it wasn’t something you did.” He’d done nothing except find the love of his life, nothing except drive home what a failure, what a complete fuckup she was.
“Did someone else?”
“No!”